Highland Games: sparkling, sexy and utterly unputdownable - the romantic comedy of the year! (The Kinloch Series)

by Evie Alexander

  ‘I, I lost my torch.’

  Rory brought it out of his trouser pocket. Zoe snatched it from him and walked out of the bothy.

  Rory followed her out, the cold air hitting his cheeks. The moon was setting. It was the darkest hour before dawn. He stood beside her, looking down the glen towards the loch.

  Zoe pulled the thermos out of her bag and held it up. ‘How did you know about the hot chocolate?’

  ‘If I get to try some, I might tell you.’

  She frowned, took the blanket out of her bag, draped it over a tussock and sat down. Rory sat next to her and she shuffled to the far edge away from him.

  ‘Very cosy.’

  Zoe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you on drugs?’

  What the fuck? ‘Drugs?’

  ‘Yes, you’re being nice to me. My guess is ecstasy?’

  His laugh burst out of him, before he could stop it. ‘I had a black coffee yesterday morning. Does that count?’

  Zoe unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured some steaming hot chocolate into the mug. She handed it over and he breathed it in. It smelled of warmth, decadence, and long kisses by the fire.

  ‘Are we sharing this?’ he murmured.

  Zoe’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Absolutely not! I’ll wait till it’s cooled down enough to drink from the flask. Now you’ve got your hot chocolate, you can talk.’

  He inhaled the vapours and blew lightly over the top. What to tell her? He took a sip, feeling the heat slipping down to his knotted stomach and warming the cold memories. ‘I spent a summer in Kinloch when I was nearly eight. My parents didn’t care where I was, or what I did, so I spent my time with Willie. At the end of the holidays, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t get on with my dad, and decided I was big enough and strong enough to fend for myself. So, on the last night I ran away to live with Willie. I was about a mile from the cabin when it started chucking it down. Within ten minutes I was soaked through, freezing cold and my sandwiches were soggy.’ Zoe giggled. He raised an eyebrow. ‘For a seven-year-old boy, soggy sandwiches are a very serious matter.’

  ‘I apologise. Please continue.’

  ‘Willie dried me out in front of the Rayburn. I begged him not to tell anyone he’d seen me, but he said no matter what I ever thought about my dad, I could never hurt my mum. He said I could stay the night and go back in the morning after we’d woken up the sun. We came up here when it was still dark with hot chocolate to watch the sunrise. He said I was the king of the world. By the time we walked back down, I knew something inside me had changed.’

  ‘He did the same with me when I was a few years older. It really helped.’

  ‘You ran away from home? You got a lot farther than I did.’

  Zoe smiled. ‘No, my father got made redundant, mum got cancer, and we had our house repossessed. Everything fell apart and they didn’t want me to be around it all. Willie came down on the train and brought me here halfway through the summer term. I stayed until September.’

  ‘Did she make it?’

  ‘Yes, thank god. She’s wonderful. In every way.’

  Rory paused before he replied. How much more could he ask without cocking up? ‘So, what made you want to come back?’

  Zoe stuck her nose into the flask, inhaling before she spoke. ‘When I came to live with Willie, it was the saddest and happiest time of my life. Knowing Mum might die made everything more urgent, more vivid. Those three months were the most important of my whole life. They shaped something deep within me. London never felt like home, but Kinloch always did, even though I was only here that once. For the last three years of his life, Willie lived with my parents. His mind wasn’t really in the present, it was here, in the past. He remembered more about the time we spent together than I did, and it brought everything flooding back. When he died and gave the cabin to me, there was no questioning, no hesitation. I knew immediately I was going to come back here to live.’

  ‘What do your parents think of you coming here? Your friends?’

  ‘They all think I’m crazy, and I’ll be back before Christmas.’

  The moon had set and the world was still, holding its breath for the arrival of the dawn. Rory felt as if they were in a liminal space, a space outside time, where he could be anyone he wanted to be. He wanted to know more about her.

  ‘And your job? You’re an accountant?’

  Zoe let out a puff of air. ‘Yes, I am. My parents wanted me to have a stable career after all they went through when Dad lost his job. I’m good at it, and Morag is helping me get work in the village, but it doesn’t challenge or inspire me.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I love photography. And in my last job, I was in charge of overseeing the rebranding of the company and the building of a new website. I loved that. Being in charge of a big project, creating something new, building something from scratch. It was amazing. What I did more than doubled the company’s turnover.’

  ‘That’s incredible.’ The words were out of Rory’s mouth before he could stop them. She dipped her nose towards the flask.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  Rory stiffened. ‘That depends on what you want to ask.’

  She didn’t meet his gaze, apparently absorbed in her hot chocolate. The sky was getting lighter. Eventually she spoke. ‘Why don’t you have a Scottish accent?’

  Tension shot through him. The box to his past was being opened. ‘Not everyone born here speaks with an accent,’ he said carefully. ‘I’ve just spent a lot of time in England, that’s all.’

  ‘Why?’

  Rory hesitated, unsure how much or what to tell her. ‘I went to boarding school in England, then joined the army at seventeen. I’ve spent more of my life in England than I have here.’

  ‘How old were you when you went to boarding school?’

  ‘Seven.’

  ‘Seven?’ squeaked Zoe. ‘Didn’t your parents love you?’

  An old wound tore open. He couldn’t speak.

  Zoe angled her body towards him, a frown puckering her forehead. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean it to come out like that, sorry.’

  He looked into her deep dark eyes, pulling in his emotions. ‘It’s okay. My mother does love me but she always deferred to my father. I’m sure he loved me in his own way, but he had very clear ideas about how children should be raised.’

  ‘Had?’

  ‘He died a couple of years ago. I came out of the army and back to Edinburgh to be there for my mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’m glad you never met him.’

  ‘Does your mum miss him?’

  ‘Every minute of every day. If there was one good thing in his life, it was his relationship with her. He treated her like a queen and she worshipped him.’ Rory tried to keep his voice calm but he recognised the edge of bitterness in it; the voice of a little boy whose mother always put him second.

  ‘Do you have any siblings?’

  ‘Nope. I think one was enough for my dad. Once my mother had produced me, that was it.’

  Zoe took a breath in, as if to speak, then chewed her bottom lip. ‘And now you’re here, working for the estate?’

  He managed to shrug, even though his muscles were strained with tension. He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, what about you? Brothers? Sisters? Apparently, your mother was a wild one who ran off with your dad.’

  Zoe snorted. ‘Wild? My mum? Her definition of wild is giving my dad pasta with pesto for his tea. The wildest thing she ever did was leaving Kinloch to marry him. She used up her lifetime’s allowance on that one.’

  ‘How did they meet?’

  ‘My dad was on a walking holiday and got lost. Willie was out wandering, found him, and brought him back to my granny’s house. When my parents saw each other it was love at first sight. In less than a week my mum had left with him. I don’t think my granny ever got over the shock.’

  ‘Did they have any other kids?’

  ‘No,
just me. Not through lack of trying though, I know they wanted more. But it’s all good. They love each other and they love me. I know how lucky I am. I know what unconditional love is.’

  Rory’s heart expanded and contracted with every beat. Expanding with Zoe and contracting with memories and the knowledge he wasn’t sure he’d ever known unconditional love. He needed to change the subject. ‘Have you considered selling the cabin? Buying a small place in town? The estate would buy the lease back from you, turn it into a holiday let. It would be for the best.’

  ‘Best for who? In what way exactly?’

  Rory cringed. ‘Don’t you miss toilets, hot showers, a bed?’ he mumbled.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. ‘There’s more to life than modern plumbing. And I have a bed, it’s just currently on the floor.’

  She turned back to the loch as the sun rose. Her face flooded with golden light. Rory watched her. She was more beautiful than any sunrise or sunset could ever be. He thought back to what had happened in the bothy, the thought that he may have hurt her. ‘I’m sorry, Zoe, god, I’m so sorry about earlier.’

  Zoe put her hand to her throat and swallowed. ‘Yes, about that.’ Her voice rose with a crescendo. ‘What the fucking fuck were you doing? I thought you were going to kill me!’

  Rory put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair and pulling at it. He dropped them into his lap as if they were toxic. ‘I was in the military for years, and in some bad situations. I was asleep, but my subconscious took over when you fell on me… It won’t happen again.’

  She nodded. ‘What were you doing here anyway?’

  ‘I came up last night to get away from everything and wake up the sun. I just forgot the hot chocolate.’

  Zoe held out the flask to refill his mug. ‘Well, we managed it. We woke up the sun. Willie would be proud.’

  Rory clinked the edge of his mug against the side of the thermos and they said ‘cheers’ in unison, as the sunlight crept towards the loch.

  ‘King and queen of the world,’ Zoe said, looking out.

  ‘King and queen of the world,’ repeated Rory, looking at her.

  * * *

  They walked back down to the road together, Bandit bounding ahead, walking side by side when the path was wide enough, and single file when it narrowed. When it got narrower, Rory would hang back, his palm outstretched, ladies first.

  His actions might have appeared chivalrous but were entirely selfish. Walking behind, he could admire her, lust after her, without guarding his expression. But as they descended the glen, the reality of what he was going back to pricked at the tiny bubbles of happiness Zoe had brought fizzing into his heart, popping them with every step. By the time they reached the truck, he was beginning to think his mother might have been right. Zoe was trouble. Her very presence rocked the foundations of his carefully constructed life. He needed to avoid further involvement before her smile brought his walls tumbling down. However, he still needed to sort the shingles for her roof. It was the least he could do after the animals he had inflicted on her.

  They stopped by the muddy estate truck.

  ‘I know you don’t have any signal at the cabin, but we might as well exchange numbers so I can text you when I’ve finished making the shingles,’ he said, bringing out his battered phone. Zoe fished in her pocket, bringing out a phone with a pink glittery cover and a picture of a unicorn on the back. She ignored his raised brows, concentrating on the screen. When she finished tapping away, she handed it to him.

  ‘You can put your number in now. I’ve created a contact for you.’

  Rory took her phone. ‘Man-bear, yeti, mutant-redneck-hobbit, hobo?’

  ‘You should be pleased that I left off attempted murderer.’

  Rory shook his head, and typed in his number before passing her phone back. He then made a big show of putting her contact details into his phone, occasionally pausing and pretending to think.

  Zoe held her hand out to receive it, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently.

  He eventually handed it over. He’d only typed one word – Zoe.

  She looked up at him and he shrugged. For a moment she seemed disappointed. She put in her number, then handed it back.

  ‘So, you’ll message me when the shingles are done?’ she asked briskly. He nodded. ‘Okay, bye then, have a nice day.’ She turned on her heel to walk back down the road towards the cabin.

  Rory watched her go until she disappeared from sight.

  10

  Back at the cabin, Zoe let Basil out of his cage and checked on the Rayburn. The morning sun was melting the frost outside, but unless the clouds came back it would be sub-zero again that night. The logs were diminishing faster than she had anticipated and she mentally recalculated how much it would cost to live here through the winter.

  With her back to the Rayburn, she stared at the inside of the cabin. She wanted to sit down on a sofa, put her feet up and read a book. Despite what she had told Rory earlier, she yearned for her bed. As soon as the roof was fixed, she was collecting her furniture.

  She got out a bag and filled it with her dirty clothes. Morag had insisted she took her laundry to do at hers and Zoe wasn’t going to argue. She was also going to go early for a big long soak in a bubble bath and to wash her hair before being fed. She was more excited about the bath than the food. She may have had a lot in common with her great-uncle, but did not share his scant regard for personal hygiene.

  As she gathered up Fiona’s finished accounts, Basil scampered onto her shoulder to play with her hair. She nuzzled him. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but there are actually people in this world who are immune to your charms, so you can’t come with me. I’ll see what treats I can bring back, and I promise I’ll get you a friend to play with. I know it isn’t fair leaving you here on your own. Have a lovely sleep and I’ll be back soon.’

  A little later, Zoe knocked on the back door to Morag’s house, loaded down with laundry, a bag of her toiletries, Fiona’s accounts, and a bottle of Prosecco. She was enveloped in steam and the aroma of cabbage as a red-faced Morag opened the door and beckoned her in. ‘Come in, love, I’m going to give you a feast! I hope you haven’t had any breakfast?’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘Fi told me to come prepared.’

  Morag laughed. ‘Rightly so! Ah, you brought your dirties. Well done, lass, I’ll pop them on now and have them clean and dry for you before you leave.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t have you sorting through it, Morag! I’ll do it.’

  But Morag was having none of it and grabbed the bag. ‘Nonsense, love, it’ll be roses compared to Liam’s nappies, and besides, the machine is a bit temperamental. You have to have the knack and a strong right foot.’ She exited the kitchen yelling into the passageway. ‘Fi! Fi love, it’s our Zoe, come through and give her something to drink.’

  Fiona came into the kitchen and Zoe handed her the accounts and the Prosecco.

  ‘What? You’ve finished them? Already? I only gave you them last night. And Prosecco. We are going up in the world.’ She hugged Zoe. ‘You’re the absolute best. Thank you. I’ll get you cash in a bit or do you want me to send it via bank transfer?’

  ‘Either’s fine, whatever’s easier.’

  ‘Let’s get us both a drink, and you can meet Duncan. Jamie’s not here but he’ll be along in a bit.’

  Fiona poured out three enormous glasses of Prosecco and handed the third one to her mother as she re-entered the kitchen. Morag took the glass and necked half of it. ‘Woohoo! Now the party’s started! Now off with you both.’ She shooed them out of her kitchen. ‘Go and chillax, or whatever it is young people do nowadays, and make sure Zoe gets the comfiest seat.’

  Fiona led the way into the living room where a man with deep auburn hair was bouncing a delighted Liam up and down. He stood as Zoe entered, holding his free hand out to greet her. Fiona did the introductions, shining with pride. ‘Duncan, this is Zoe. Zoe, Duncan.’

  Zoe saw with relief her own open
smile mirrored back at her from him. He took her hand and shook it firmly, as if a promise was being made. ‘You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard your name spoken for years. It’s great to finally meet you, Zoe, and I’m happy for Fi’s sake that you’re back.’

  Zoe felt a lump form in her throat. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you, Fi described you perfectly.’

  Duncan looked at Fiona who blushed. He was tall, lean and handsome, with deep brown eyes that were full of love for his wife and son. But Zoe could also see shrewdness, a maturity, born from working offshore. She knew immediately this was a man who could be counted on, one who would always put Fiona and Liam first.

  Fiona ushered Zoe into the biggest armchair and they chatted about the cabin, about Willie, and about Duncan’s work on the rigs. He was an electrician and rope access specialist, which meant he was the person hanging off the platform in the middle of the North Sea fixing things that no one else could get to. He downplayed the dangers, but Zoe could see Fiona’s gaze drifting to the sideboard where an old photo was framed in pride of place. It was of a young and handsome man, a two-year-old girl held in one arm, the other wrapped proudly around his beaming pregnant wife. It was a photo Zoe knew as well as she knew this family. It was of Robert MacDougall, Morag’s husband and Fiona and Jamie’s dad, with the family he held in his arms all too briefly.

  There had been a fire on the rig shortly after the photo was taken. A series of small and preventable errors had cascaded into one, fatal tipping point. Robert, an electrician, like Duncan and Jamie, had been one of three men to lose their lives that night. Zoe didn’t need to ask to know that Jamie had not followed Duncan offshore because of his mum. The money was way better on the rigs, but he was too good a son to make his mother live out her nightmares each time the helicopter took off from Aberdeen with him in it.

  Fiona shook herself as if to shrug off bad memories and fear fantasies. ‘Zoe, your bath.’