“I do know. Okay, I’ll make camp.”
It would be our last night on the trail.
Chapter Forty-One
Amelia
While Rory set up the tent, I meandered through the ruins of Boreraig. The slower pace we’d set today had been relatively easy on my knee, and unlike the other days, when I’d basically collapsed after we’d finished the day’s walk, I wanted to explore.
The buildings were mostly just walls—the roofs would have been made out of some kind of thatch that burned immediately when put to the torch.
I wandered into one of the larger structures that was more intact than some of the others. As I walked through what remained of the rooms, the mist swirled around me once more. A chill ran down my spine. It wasn’t like the mist was a rare occurrence around here, but here, in this place, it felt like the ghosts of all the wrongly dispossessed people were watching me.
“Okay, I’m going,” I whispered. I ducked back under the lintel and joined Rory at our campsite, grateful he’d set it up closer to the shore of the loch, a short distance away from the ruins.
We shared our final “dinner in a bag,” passing back and forth Szechuan beef and Chicken Pad Thai. After we packed up the trash, we sat by the loch, sipping from Rory’s flask, which the landlady at the B&B in Torrin had kindly filled for him from her stock of Talisker.
“When do you fly home to New York?” he asked as he passed me the flask.
“The morning of the sixteenth.” Too soon.
“Today’s the…thirteenth. So once we finish tomorrow, that gives us a day to get you down to Glasgow.”
“Us?” He was going to come with me?
“I thought maybe I could drive you down, if that’s okay with you? Unless you had a train ticket or something else lined up?”
“No, I have a hotel room near the airport for the night of the fifteenth, and I’d planned to take the train down, but I hadn’t bought my ticket yet.” Even if I did have a train ticket, I’d happily forfeit it to spend another day with him. “Do you have a car?”
“I do. Well, Gav has a car. Which I will borrow from him. If you can bear spending one extra day with me.”
“I could be persuaded,” I said, feeling a surge of happiness welling up inside me. One additional day—and night—with Rory.
He took the flask from me, capped it, and set it aside. “Will this persuade you?” he asked, kissing my forehead.
When he pulled back, I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m afraid it’ll take more than that.”
“This?” He cupped my chin in his hand and kissed my right cheek, then turned my head to kiss my left cheek.
“No,” I whispered. “I need more.”
He nodded. “I think I understand. How about this?” He tipped my face to his, his lips capturing mine in a slow, tender kiss.
I’d fully intended to see how far he would take this little game, but the moment our lips met, I was lost. My hands came up around his neck, and I pulled him closer, opening my mouth to touch my tongue to his.
When he pulled back this time, the sun had dropped low, casting a fiery aura around him. “Have I finally persuaded you?”
“Yes,” I replied, pulling his head down to mine once more.
…
I sat by the loch, staring up at the glittering black sky. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful.
There was a soft rustle and then someone sat down beside me. “Hey, lady.”
Startled, I looked over. It wasn’t who I expected it to be. “Carrie? Are you really here?”
She didn’t answer, just tipped her head back to look up. “I’ve never seen a sky like this before,” she mused. “It’s magical. I can see why you don’t want to leave. You have to travel really far to get a sky like this back home.” She turned to look at me. “I think you’d also have to travel pretty far to find a guy like Rory back home.”
“You saw him?”
She looked at the sky once more. “I didn’t have to. I see you. Ever since we were kids, your every thought and every emotion have always been written all over your face. I heard it in the way you spoke of him to me, and I see it in your eyes now.”
“What am I going to do, Carrie? I love him. I know it sounds crazy—I’ve only known him for a week. But it’s true.”
“I know it is.”
“So what do I do? My life is three thousand miles away from here.”
“You’re going to have some difficult decisions ahead.”
“Great, thanks. If you’re going to appear mysteriously to me in my dreams, you could at least have something useful to say.”
She grinned. “Sorry, dude. But I will say that if I had a man like that lying beside me, and just a couple more days to spend with him, I certainly wouldn’t be sleeping. You should wake up.”
“But if I wake up, you won’t still be here. And I miss you so much, Carrie.”
She pressed her lips to my forehead, then drew back. “I miss you, too. But you should wake up. Wake up!”
I came awake with a start. “Carrie?” I whispered. But there was no answer. It was only a dream. I was lying on my side in a dark tent with Rory’s body wrapped around mine, his hand lightly cupping my breast, his breath gently stirring my hair.
I lifted his hand and pressed my lips to his fingers, then put it back where it was, covering it with my own. He murmured something in his sleep and snuggled closer.
I was about to close my eyes once more when I saw it—a flicker of green light outside the tent.
I blinked a few times to clear my eyes, but when I opened them again, the light was still there, green and unearthly.
Oh shit, why did we make camp near the creepy ruins?
“Rory, wake up!” I hissed, turning in his arms. “Rory!”
“Wha’ss wrong?” he murmured.
I shoved at his shoulder. “It’s the ghosts!” The words sounded ridiculous even to my own ears, but we were a few yards from the ruins and there was a fucking green light outside.
He opened his eyes. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Look!”
He sat up and looked toward the door of the tent, where the green light was visible through an opening in the zipper.
He kicked free of the sleeping bag and got to his feet, reaching for his shorts. “Come on, let’s go!” he said, a huge grin on his face.
I stared at him. “Go? Go where?”
“Out there. Quick, get dressed…and grab your phone.”
My phone? “Are you out of your mind? I’m not going out there with the ghosts!”
His grin got bigger. “It’s not ghosts, I promise. Trust me.”
I pulled on the clothes I’d discarded earlier and shoved my feet into my flip-flops, then followed Rory. “There better not be freaking ghosts out here, or I’ll—”
I broke off as I emerged from the tent and stared at the green swirls shimmering and dancing across the sky. “Oh my God,” I breathed.
“It’s the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. It’s extremely rare to see them so late in the spring.”
We walked down to the loch. I pulled out my phone and set it to record video, then panned across the sky, as well as the loch, which was reflecting the swirling green light. “Oh Carrie, I wish you could see this. Although maybe somehow you did, and that’s why you made me wake up.”
I’d been hearing her voice in my head here and there throughout the trek. But this was the first time I’d really felt her there with me, as if she had been there all along, seeing every spectacular view through my eyes. And maybe, if there was any weird mystical chance that she was on this journey with me, maybe it meant I’d done the right thing by coming to Skye, by doing this trek. Maybe she’d be waiting for me when I got home.
At this moment, with this magical sight before me, I would believe anything. I recorded another few seconds, took some stills that I knew probably wouldn’t come out, then put the phone in my pocket. I had enough pictures for Carrie. Now it was
time for me to see it for myself.
Rory helped me sit on the ground, then dropped down beside me. I lay back and gazed at the unobstructed view.
I’d seen photos of the aurora, but no photo on a website could possibly compare to seeing it in person. The lights moved as if they were dancing to some kind of heavenly orchestra, and as I stared at the spectacular show before me, tears welled in my eyes.
“Are you all right?” Rory murmured, obviously hearing me sniffle.
“Yeah, I don’t even know why I’m getting so emotional over this.”
“The first time I saw the aurora was on an overnight trek I did with Tommy after Connor died. It was winter, and we were up in the Cairngorm mountains, which are in the East Highlands, not far from Inverness. There was snow up there, and the aurora went on for an hour, maybe, dancing across the sky and reflecting on the snow. I’d never seen anything like it before, and I was struck by this idea that Connor was up there, trying to communicate with me through the lights.
“I got all choked up, and being a fifteen-year-old lad, tried my damnedest to hide it, but then I looked over at Tommy, and he had tears in his eyes as well but made no effort to wipe them away. And I thought, if Tommy wasn’t ashamed of his tears, I didn’t need to be, either.”
I could see it so clearly: Rory and Tommy, two boys brought together by tragedy, standing on that snow-covered peak, their shoulders hunched against the wind, tears falling unchecked down cheeks reddened from the cold, silently watching this incredible phenomenon.
“Most people I’ve spoken to who have seen the aurora have a similarly emotional response to it,” he continued. “I mean, how could you not? I know there’s a scientific explanation for it, but to me it will always be magical.”
It was magical. “I love how it reflects on the loch,” I said.
“And I love how it lights up your face,” he whispered. He rose up on his elbow and kissed me, tenderly at first, then more passionately as I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him down to me, my body rising to meet his.
“Let’s go back to the tent,” he murmured against my mouth.
“No. Let’s stay here.”
He looked down at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. I was a little surprised, too, to be honest. But there was no time left for being timid.
“I want you here. I…want this memory, of making love with you on this quiet beach, with the aurora dancing over our heads. Right here. Right now. Please.” Please don’t deny me this one thing.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up and heading back toward the tent. He returned a moment later with our sleeping bags and mats, laying them out to make a pallet on the pebbly beach. He scooped me up in his arms and lay me down on the makeshift bed.
“I thought you were going to tell me no,” I said, kicking off my flip-flops.
He joined me on the pallet. “Are you kidding me? I just figured we didn’t need to lie directly on the pebbles. Now, where were we?”
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I took his hand and brought it up under the hem of my fleece to cover my breast, sucking in a breath at his touch. “I’m fast-forwarding a little.”
“Works for me,” he said, and straddled me, supporting his weight on his knees so he didn’t squash me. His hands trailed along my ribs, dragging my shirt up and off. He folded it and placed it under my head for an additional pillow, then sat back, his eyes shining as he stared down at me.
“Look at you,” he breathed. I raised up onto my elbows so I could see. “The aurora lights up your body like it’s a gift, just for me. First here,” he said, tracing a pattern on my skin with his fingertip, and then with his tongue. “And then here…and here,” he said, tracing a new spot each time.
“It is just for you,” I said, arching into him, shivering as his touch raised goose bumps on my flesh.
He scooted back to kneel at my feet. His hands moved to my waist, and he unsnapped the trekking pants I’d quickly thrown on, drawing them down my legs and baring my body to his hungry gaze.
He took my left foot in his hand and pressed his lips to the inside of my ankle, then my calf, then the inside of my knee, then did the same with my right, careful not to jostle it too much. He kissed the inside of my left thigh, then draped it over his shoulder, then did the same with the right. He cupped his hands under my butt and kissed my belly button, then looked up at me, his eyes glittering.
I watched as he lowered his head to press his mouth to where I ached for him. I gasped as his tongue touched my sensitized flesh, my head falling back to the makeshift pillow. I delved my fingers into his hair, holding him to me as he drove me wild.
My thighs began to quiver as he brought me higher and higher, and then I cried out his name as I was swept away.
When I opened my eyes a few moments later, he was sitting at my feet once more, just gazing at me. I sat up and held out my hand. He came closer, kneeling over me.
I skimmed my hands down his abdomen to unsnap his shorts, then reached for the zipper, my fingers grazing over his rigid flesh.
“Careful there,” he hissed, setting my hands at his hips while he eased down his zipper. I pushed his shorts over his butt, watching as his body was revealed to me, inch by inch. He kicked them off, and then stretched out beside me on his back.
I turned on my side so I could see him, illuminated by the shimmering green light overhead. I brushed a wayward curl behind his ear and then kissed him as my hand trailed down his body. He gasped into my mouth when my hand closed over him, and then gasped out loud when I dragged my open mouth down his belly…and lower.
His breath grew ragged, his hips arching up off the sleeping bag, his hands tunneling into my hair. He lifted me up and rolled me onto my back, then reached for his shorts. I heard the sound of foil tearing and then his fingers found me, making sure I was ready for him.
I was.
My breath caught as he brought my bad leg around his hip and slipped into me. He began to move, and I met him thrust for thrust, my hands roving up and down his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles. His hand came up to caress my breasts, and then moved down my belly to where we were joined.
All the while, our eyes were locked together, as if neither of us could bear to miss even one second of this. I loved him. I loved him so much, and I wanted to say it. I wanted to shout it to the aurora dancing overhead, to the ghosts at the ruins. To this amazing man, whose body was making my body soar, who’d gotten me through this trail, who’d shared his guilt, his sorrow, his beautiful country with me. To take the chance that he felt the same way.
But I couldn’t. I could only cry out his name as my body shook, as the aurora continued to skip across the sky, as he pressed his mouth to my shoulder and joined me in sweet oblivion.
Chapter Forty-Two
Rory
I watched as the dark of night faded into the gray light of dawn. Before long, the sky was light enough for me to see Amelia, curled against me with her head resting on my shoulder, her hand splayed across my chest. The early morning mist sparkled like diamonds in her long hair. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks; her lips curved in a slight smile.
I wondered what she was dreaming about.
After our wild lovemaking session under the aurora in the wee small hours of the night, Amelia had snuggled against me and fallen asleep. I’d thought to carry her into the tent, but she seemed so comfortable in my arms that I didn’t want to disturb her. Instead, I’d pulled up the sleeping bag to cover us both and watched as Mother Nature continued her spectacular light show. When it was over, I tried to sleep, but my mind was spinning. So instead, I’d lain awake for the few hours remaining until dawn, staring at the glittering expanse of night sky above and thinking.
I almost told her I loved her while the aurora danced overhead, when I’d stared into her eyes as her body shuddered around mine and my own body raced toward completion. But I caught myself, burying my face in her shoulder instead.
We’d be finishe
d with the trek in a few hours. I’d have the long drive with her tomorrow, and a night in Glasgow, but then I’d have to let her go. She had a life to get back to across the sea. What if I told her I loved her, and she decided to stay here in Scotland? For me?
How could I let her do that? I was on the road week after week after week, on Skye, or on the West Highland Way, or up on the north coast, or crossing the Great Glen. When I wasn’t doing that, I was taking kids and teens hiking and camping in every corner of the Highlands, or on Orkney, or in the Western Isles.
I couldn’t ask her to give up her job and her life back home for that.
My life didn’t lend itself to long-term relationships—I knew that well enough. But it was a good life. It was lonely sometimes, especially during the downtime of the winter months, when I had too much time on my hands and got tired of my own company. It was physically exhausting, more so if I strained a muscle or if the weather wreaked havoc on the trail, and it could be mentally exhausting when I worked with the teens, many of whom were troubled or had tough home lives that made me remember my own.
Every now and again, when I’d had a particularly trying group or a week of shit weather, I wondered what it would be like to sit at a desk in an office.
But I got to spend the majority of the year outside, exploring the wild beauty of my country and sharing it with others. No office job could ever compare to that.
Maybe Amelia would be okay with my crazy schedule, and maybe it would work for a while. But it would only be a matter of time before she began to resent it, to resent me. Like Emma, she would start to wonder if a lass in one of my groups had caught my attention. Or I would start to wonder whether she’d found someone to keep her company on the long, lonely nights back home.
We both deserved better than that.
So, while my instincts had screamed at me to tell her I loved her last night, I’d held back.
It was for her own good. We’d finish the Skye Trail by midday, spend the next day making our way down to the city. One final night together, and then I’d say goodbye.
Under a Storm-Swept Sky Page 25
