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

by Evie Alexander

  Zoe turned to Duncan. ‘Please excuse me whilst I make myself presentable. This will be the first bath I’ve had in four days.’

  Duncan stood and offered her Liam. ‘Fancy doing him whilst you’re at it?’

  Fiona thumped his arm. ‘You daft bugger, you’ve only been back a few hours and you’re already skipping out on the dirty jobs.’

  Duncan kissed Fiona tenderly on the top of her head. ‘Only playing, love, only playing.’

  Zoe felt she was a witness to a private moment not meant for her. She grabbed her glass and went up the stairs to the bathroom. She was going to have a bath, and by god, was it going to be bubbly.

  An hour later, the only thing that could be seen under a blanket of foam was her head. She’d washed her endless locks, put on a deep conditioning treatment and wrapped them up in a towel. She cut her nails, shaped her eyebrows, and let the hot water soak away all her cares. From downstairs, she could hear the crash of pots and pans from the kitchen and the sound of music. She couldn’t work out what they were listening to, maybe an acoustic album, but it was beautiful.

  After a while, Fiona knocked to give her a fifteen-minute warning. Zoe reluctantly sorted out her hair, got out of the bath, pink and glowing, and redressed, feeling much more human.

  She followed Fiona into the small dining room, where the table was heaving with food. Apparently, Christmas dinner had married an all-you-can-eat buffet. Her eyes bulged. Jamie had arrived and gave her a hug. ‘Zo, you’ve got to come around every Sunday if this is what Mum puts on.’

  Zoe grinned. ‘Are you up for the challenge?’

  Jamie patted his stomach and pulled the waistband of his trousers away. ‘Aye, I’ve got my fat pants on ready for some serious food action.’

  Fiona shook her head as Zoe dissolved into giggles. Morag brought the last dish in, whipped off her pinny and ushered everyone to the table. They held hands as Morag said grace.

  ‘Dear you upstairs. Bless this family and bless this meal. Thank you for bringing Zoe back to us and keep safe in your love the ones who are no longer with us. Amen.’

  A squeeze ran through the hands around the table.

  ‘Now then, girls, boys and babies, let’s eat!’ said Morag.

  Zoe ate as she had never eaten before. There were two roast chickens, a side of ham, roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots, and cabbage covered with at least half a pat of butter. Morag was a feeder, and the moment anyone’s plate looked a bit empty she piled more food on, whilst fretting she hadn’t cooked enough. After too many basic meals at the cabin, Zoe felt like she’d been dropped into the middle of Sunday lunch in heaven. Even though Morag and her mother had kept in touch sporadically over the years, it seemed there was a lifetime of catching up to do. Zoe was happy to talk about home, but the more she did, the more homesick she felt. She wanted to learn more about Kinloch, to immerse herself in the history and culture of her new home.

  ‘So, the castle,’ she asked. ‘Does anyone live there?’

  Morag shook her head. ‘Not for decades. It gets opened up every summer to the public, but even that stopped a few years ago. It’s such a shame.’

  ‘Who owns it?’

  Morag shrugged. ‘We’re not sure. It was for sale a while ago, but then the boards went down and we didn’t hear anything. It might still belong to the current earl, Stuart MacGinley, but apparently he lives in London.’

  ‘He’s a wanker,’ supplied Fiona.

  Morag jerked her head towards Liam. ‘Fi! The baby!’

  Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry, he’s a banker.’

  Zoe grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I know the type. So why doesn’t he come back?’

  ‘Why would he?’ asked Jamie. ‘Down south he’s got a cushy life. If he came back, he’d have to spend time and money sorting it out. I’m sure he just wants to forget about it until he can find someone nuts enough to take it off his hands.’

  ‘Is it really that bad?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Duncan. ‘It’s a mess. I think that’s why they closed it to the public.’

  * * *

  When people couldn’t eat any more the table was cleared and dessert brought out. Jamie made a noise that sounded half joy, half fear as he confronted an enormous apple crumble with a jug of custard, and a tiramisu. By the end of death by food, Fiona was green, Jamie’s trousers were completely unbuttoned and Duncan was breaking a sweat. Only Morag, Zoe and Liam were still going strong, although most of what went near Liam ended up on the floor.

  When they finally conceded defeat, everyone staggered through into the living room. Morag flicked the TV on for background noise and they slumped in their chairs, unable to move. Zoe was the first to fall asleep, followed by Jamie. One by one they all dropped into a happy food coma.

  It was over an hour before Zoe woke. The smell of coffee percolated through the air and the sounds of a guitar had replaced the TV. She opened her eyes to see Jamie gently strumming a tune. He grinned at her.

  ‘I took it up after you left. The first tune I learned was Joleen, only I changed the lyrics,’ he said. He sang in an atrocious American accent, changing the word Joleen to ‘Zoe’.

  Fiona threw a cushion at him. ‘Yeah, you drove me and Mum mad.’

  Jamie threw the cushion back at his sister, and went back to playing a melody that was familiar to Zoe.

  ‘Earlier, that was you playing? It wasn’t a recording?’

  He nodded and started singing. Zoe let the music wash over her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so content. She was full to the brim with food, love, and the sense that she had found her way home. Kinloch was where she belonged.

  It was dark by the time she prepared to leave. Morag led her into the kitchen, handed her a pile of warm, clean and folded laundry and filled plastic boxes with the remains of the lunch. Morag was unusually quiet, a little hesitant, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

  ‘Is everything all right, Morag?’ asked Zoe finally, when her nerves prompted her to speak.

  Morag bit her lower lip. ‘Love, I wanted to talk to you without the others around. I’m a bit embarrassed.’

  Panic rose in Zoe’s stomach, a fear that something could affect her magical relationship with this family. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  Morag rested her hands on the outside of Zoe’s arms. ‘It’s not that bad, sweetheart, we’ll find a way around, it’s just the businesses I had lined up for you to do their accounts have changed their minds.’

  Zoe felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘What do you mean?’ she stammered.

  Morag looked embarrassed and troubled. ‘I don’t understand it, love. Yesterday, Chantelle and Sally told me they’d had second thoughts, and were going elsewhere. It’s not like them to behave like this. I don’t understand what’s going on.’

  Zoe’s head was spinning. What had she done wrong? Why had they both backed out? She looked at Morag’s anxious eyes and pasted on a smile. She would not allow Morag to see how badly this had affected her state of mind and the practicalities of being able to last the winter in the cabin.

  ‘It’s okay, these things happen. They don’t know me from Adam. I’ll find other work. It’s okay, I’m fine.’

  ‘I still haven’t got to everyone in the village yet. I’ll find work for you, I promise.’

  Zoe needed to leave before she broke down. The bubble of warmth and security she had been encased in all afternoon had just been shattered by an ice pick and she felt cold and vulnerable. She called out to the others that she was leaving. They came through and hugged her with promises to see her in the next couple of days. Zoe knew it might be longer now Duncan was home and Jamie was back to work, so held them extra tightly. She could feel the tension radiating out of her. She saw Fiona give her mother a questioning glance. Morag shook her head, imperceptibly, as if to say, ‘not now’.

  As soon as Zoe was out and safely back in her truck, the smile fell off her face and she let out a sigh th
at was almost a sob. She wanted her mum. She brought out her phone to call home, then stopped. Her mother didn’t need to hear this. It was possible she would take a couple of days off work and drive up. Zoe’s resolve might break and she’d go home with them, her Scottish dream at an end.

  No. She would not tell them. She was not going to be upset – she was going to be angry. The only explanation that made sense right now was that someone swayed their minds against hiring her. But who was desperate enough to get her out of Kinloch they could have convinced two important businesses to drop her before she’d even met them? She took a gamble, unlocked her phone and sent Rory a text.

  Zoe: How could you stoop so low? Basil is one thing, but cutting off my livelihood? I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.

  She put the phone down, and drove off. On the outskirts of Kinloch, it beeped a notification and she pulled over. Rory had replied.

  Man-bear, yeti, mutant-redneck-hobbit, hobo: What have I done?

  She rolled her eyes.

  Zoe: You don’t know? Pull the other one, it’s got fucking bells on. The businesses Morag had lined me up to work for have changed their minds. There’s only one person in this village who is so desperate for me to leave they would resort to this, and that’s you. Congratulations. Once again, you win arsehole of the year.

  Once the text was sent, she switched her phone off, needing to get home. If she couldn’t have her parents for comfort, Basil would have to do.

  11

  Rory stalked into the tiny kitchen where his mother was washing up. He loomed, his head almost grazing the ceiling. ‘What have you done?’

  His mother peered at him over the top of her glasses, then turned back to the dishes. ‘Not a lot, dear, I didn’t need to. I called upon an old acquaintance, Francesca Huntington-Smythe. I forgot her estate is only a few miles west of here. Her cleaner is from Kinloch. A frightful gossip, however terribly well informed. The squatter is indeed the progeny of Mary Laing. Apparently the cabin is even more dishevelled than her, and she can’t afford to make the necessary repairs to survive the winter. The women who run the boutique and the cafe in Kinloch had rather ill-advisedly agreed to employ her, but it only took a few well-chosen words from Francesca to make them reconsider their decision.’

  ‘I told you to leave her alone! What has she ever done to you?’ Rory exploded.

  His mother fixed him with a look. ‘I’m more concerned about what she’s done to you, dear.’

  Rory ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots, looking around the kitchen for something he could break. When would she ever listen to him?

  ‘Go and chop some wood, darling, that always helps you work off steam. As soon as she’s back where she belongs, she’ll be out of your head. It’s Lucy you need to devote your attention to. Lucy and the estate. As soon as you’ve confirmed the agreement with Colquhoun Asset Management and set their plans in motion, we can get back to Edinburgh.’

  ‘Mother! The decision hasn’t been made. Even if it works, we’ll never have enough money to return, unless you’re happy to live in an ex-council flat in bloody Wester Hailes. Lucy and I are over. As for Zoe? I’m not interested in her and she’s not interested in me.’

  ‘Honestly, darling, disinterest is just a ploy to make you work harder. Now, go and throw an axe at something and you’ll feel much better.’

  Rory strode out, slamming the door behind him. She didn’t care about what he wanted, she never had. He had to find a way to fix this.

  Zoe closed the lid of her laptop. She could do this. As long as she had the roof secure, her furniture out of storage, and enough wood, she could last the winter. It wouldn’t be pleasant, in fact without a proper front door it would be bloody miserable. But she could do it. Then, in the spring she could do without the Rayburn and find work in Inverness.

  She sighed. Who was she kidding? As if on the first of May it suddenly became so tropical, she would no longer need heat or hot water? No, her savings wouldn’t last that long. She needed a plan B. She absentmindedly stroked Basil who was investigating the new smells in her hair and ran through different scenarios, none of which were very practical.

  The sound of a truck coming up the track brought her to her feet and she went out onto the porch. By now it was dark and she couldn’t see who it was behind the glare of the headlights. They cut out and a figure emerged. Rory.

  He strode purposefully up the steps to the porch and stood in front of her. ‘It wasn’t me.’ Zoe snorted. ‘I promise. The cows were stupid. Buying Basil was insane. Throwing your wood on the ground did indeed make me arsehole of the year. I’m sorry for all of those things. I’ve been a total dick. But I did not do this. You have every right to live here and I’m not going to try and stop you.’

  ‘Then who did it?’ When Rory hesitated, Zoe pounced. ‘You know. Jesus Christ! What have I ever done to anyone here?’

  ‘Nothing, you’ve done nothing. It’s someone you don’t know and are never going to meet. It won’t happen again, I promise.’

  ‘It’s too bloody late!’ Zoe cried. ‘The damage is done. I’ve been rerunning the numbers, and even with the roof fixed I can’t last the winter. I can’t go to work in Inverness because I can’t leave the sodding Rayburn without fuel all day, and without that, I’ll freeze to death. And the rate at which I’m getting through the wood, I don’t know if I can afford the fuel bill as it is. And that’s without even addressing the water issue. If the stream or loch freezes then I’ll be hauling chunks of frigging ice up here to melt!’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Why? No, you cannot.’

  ‘I have a suggestion that could help.’

  Zoe fumed, eyeballing him.

  ‘It would solve most of your immediate problems and wouldn’t cost you a penny. Please, just hear me out.’

  Zoe turned. ‘This had better be good. And take your boots off.’

  Rory followed her in, putting his boots by the flimsy door. Zoe took the only chair and sat down, the table between her and Rory. She picked Basil up, holding him to her as if for protection. Rory stood on the other side of the table

  ‘Well?’ said Zoe archly.

  Rory swallowed. ‘I, I’m not very good at my job.’

  His face was taut with tension.

  ‘And what exactly is your job?’

  Rory paused, and stared at the floor. Zoe could see his hands opening and closing into fists by his sides, muscles working in his jaw, his body primed to fight or flee. He took a big breath. ‘I’ve just started working on the Kinloch estate. It’s big and complicated. There’s only me, and I don’t know what I’m doing. Chopping wood, mending fences, herding cattle, I can do all that. But the admin just fries my brain. If I can’t find a way forward, the castle will have to be sold.’

  ‘What about your boss?’

  ‘The estate is still in the possession of the Earl of Kinloch.’

  ‘Stuart MacGinley? Isn’t he a wanker banker in London?’

  Rory glanced up. ‘Wanker banker?’

  Zoe shrugged. ‘Typical toff. Born with every advantage in the world, but still wants to make more money off the backs of ordinary people by playing fast and loose with their pensions, before becoming a Tory MP. Why isn’t he doing anything to help?’

  Rory dropped his head again. His hands contracted back into fists. He hesitated. ‘He’s as clueless as me. There’s a proposal by a big asset management company on the table, but it’s not right. It’s not right for the castle.’

  ‘And what has any of this got to do with me?’

  Rory fixed her with his luminous eyes. ‘You’re clever. You rebranded the last company you worked for, did their new website, doubled their turnover. And you’re good with numbers. If there’s an answer to be found then you’ll find it.’

  ‘And is the estate going to pay me for this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then we’re done here. I’m not doing a favour for someone with a silver spoon up thei
r backside.’ Zoe rose to her feet, Basil scrabbling for her shoulder.

  ‘Wait, just listen.’ Rory raised his hands in supplication. Zoe lowered herself back down, folding her arms in front of her. ‘The estate can’t give you money, but it can give you wood. And me.’

  Zoe fought with all her might to control her features. He was offering her his body, his wood. She must not laugh. She must not ask him to undress. She coughed. ‘Please elaborate.’

  Rory took another big breath.

  God, he was gorgeous. Heart-stoppingly beautiful. She could stare at him forever.

  ‘The estate doesn’t have money but it does have wood,’ he said. ‘I can bring you more than enough to last the winter for free. I’ll provide the materials to mend the roof and replace it entirely next summer. Again, for free. I’ll install your back boiler, a greywater system and make you a bathroom and a kitchen. I can install solar panels and a wind turbine if you get them so you’ll have power. I can make new windows and a new front door. None of that will cost you anything.’

  Zoe kept a straight face, but inside she was at the Rio carnival, on the top of a float, sambaing away in sequins. She was getting his wood and then some. Not only would she get everything she needed for the cabin FOR FREE! but she would get to ogle Rory. She’d have to crank the Rayburn up to full blast when he was around. She had to make sure his top came off again. The only issue was making her side of the bargain take longer. She reckoned she could get the website sorted within a few weeks, so she’d have to work super slowly, something she wasn’t used to doing.

  ‘If I can get the small quarry on the estate reopened then you can have as much hardcore as you like for the track,’ he said. ‘And I’ll see what I can do to get the telephone line extended down from the road. Whatever you want I’ll try and make it happen.’

  Zoe stood up, loving how insecure he looked. She held out her hand. ‘Deal.’

  Rory took her hand, then dropped it like it was on fire. He moved towards the door.