Secret Things and Highland Flings

by Tracy Corbett

  The barmaid arrived with their food. Lexi waited until they were alone again. ‘What did you do in the school?’

  ‘Taught English mainly. That and removed snakes from the classroom each morning.’

  She flinched. ‘Did you ever get bitten?’

  ‘Not by a snake. I did get stung by a scorpion in Botswana.’

  ‘You’ve been to Africa?’ Her expression was a mixture of wonderment and envy. ‘You’ve certainly seen more of the world than I have.’

  ‘It’s never too late.’

  Her expression turned regretful. He wondered what her story was. He knew she was a successful businesswoman, but her private life didn’t sound overly happy. Did that make her a kindred spirit? Or an emotional car crash best avoided? He wasn’t sure.

  She ate some of her dhal. Her expression switched to one of pure bliss. She certainly liked her food. A definite plus in her favour.

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Delicious.’ She tucked in, smiling as she ate.

  It was nice to have company. He’d never divulge all his shameful secrets, but it was good to relax. Something he couldn’t do with Sophie or Louisa. Not completely, anyway.

  They chatted while they ate their food. She asked more about his travels, genuinely interested, so he told her about teaching in Vietnam, fruit picking in Australia and working on a commune in Goa. He told her about visiting Angel Falls in Venezuela and getting stranded for three days in the rainforest. All the while, she listened intently, seemingly fascinated.

  When they’d finished eating, the barmaid removed their empty plates.

  ‘There’s one thing that puzzles me,’ she said, settling back to enjoy the open fire. ‘The way you talk about your travels makes it sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.’

  He knew what was coming next.

  ‘And yet, it wasn’t enough, was it?’

  He tilted his head to one side. ‘Why do you say that?’

  She chewed her lower lip. ‘Well, you didn’t leave through choice, did you? So although you’ve made the best of it, there’s a sadness behind the story that you cover with humour. You talk about being free and the joys of travelling the world, but when no one’s watching you look troubled.’

  She was astute, he’d give her that. ‘Been watching me, have you?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Which just proves my point.’

  ‘What can I say? No one said life was easy. Whether you’re travelling the world, or stuck in an office all day. Shit happens.’ It was time to change topic before she delved any deeper. He didn’t want to lie to her. Well, any more than he had to. ‘Ready for another adventure?’

  She sighed. ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  It was dusk outside but not fully dark. That was the beauty of living so far north. They walked down the lane to where his Vespa was parked. He unlocked the security chain and handed her his open-faced helmet.

  ‘What are you going to wear?’

  ‘There isn’t much traffic this time of night. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘But it’s illegal.’ She looked horrified.

  He grinned. ‘Haven’t you ever broken the law?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Her left eye started twitching.

  He laughed and lifted the seat. ‘Put your rucksack inside, little Miss Innocence.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean?’

  He helped her on with the helmet. ‘I mean, never play poker. You’ll lose badly.’

  Her cheeks coloured.

  He secured the strap and lowered the visor. She looked cute with her hair squashed inside the helmet. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Not really.’

  He switched on the ignition and kicked the start lever. ‘Climb on,’ he said, straddling the Vespa.

  She lifted her leg over. ‘Don’t drive too fast.’

  ‘It’s a scooter, not a superbike.’ He turned to smile at her. ‘Hold tight and lean into the bends, okay?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Her arms tightened around him so tightly he could barely breathe. He considered asking her to loosen her grip but decided he quite liked being hugged, which spoke volumes about his lack of female company of late.

  She squealed when he pulled away. They were barely doing ten miles an hour.

  They headed away from Gairloch. He kept the speed below forty. Partly because of his nervous passenger, but also because he wasn’t wearing a helmet.

  The first couple of times he braked, she head-butted him, which hurt more than he let on. The lanes were quiet, winding and narrow. He was grateful for the lack of traffic. Especially as it was so dark. There were no streetlights in these parts.

  By the time they rode through Kinlochewe, her grip had relaxed and he could breathe again. It was another forty minutes before they reached Rubha Castle. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed the ride. It was a clear night, so the stars were visible. Scotland might not feel like home, but he loved this place more than any other he’d visited on the planet.

  As they approached the bridge leading from the mainland to the castle, he slowed and parked up. He switched off the engine and flicked the stand down.

  She lifted the visor. ‘Why have we stopped?’

  ‘It’s your turn,’ he said, getting off.

  She did a comedy double-take. ‘What? No way. I’ll crash.’

  ‘No, you won’t. Move forwards on the seat. It’s lesson time.’

  She opened her mouth as if to protest but then sighed. ‘Don’t come crying to me if I kill us both.’

  He placed her hands on the front levers. ‘Your right hand controls the throttle and front brake. Use your left hand to change gear. Squeeze the clutch lever and twist the handle to engage first gear. As you release the clutch, slowly rotate the accelerator clockwise.’

  ‘Which way is clockwise?’

  ‘Seriously?’

  She grinned.

  ‘You had me worried there.’ He started the engine and climbed on behind her. It was nice to hold her for a change. ‘The rear brake pedal is on the floor by your right foot. Don’t pull the front brake too hard or we’ll go over the handlebars.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ She twisted to look at him. ‘Suppose I crash into the loch?’

  ‘Then we’ll get wet again. You’ll be okay. You don’t have to negotiate any turns. Just ease the bike forwards and aim for the portcullis.’ He kicked up the stand. ‘Ready when you are.’

  She was tentative at first, holding on to the clutch too long and not revving enough. The engine whined in protest, sounding like a strangulated wasp. When she realised her mistake, she twisted the accelerator and let go of the clutch. Consequently, the bike shot forwards. She squealed as she tried to control the bike.

  ‘Less accelerator,’ he shouted as they swerved, nearly hitting the wall.

  She was laughing and shrieking, trying to control the bike.

  ‘You’re doing really well,’ he lied.

  ‘Look at me!’ she yelled excitedly. ‘Valentino Rossi!’

  He didn’t like to point out they were driving so slowly he could get off and overtake her on foot.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ he shouted as the portcullis came into view. ‘Now gently squeeze the brake.’

  ‘Which one’s the brake?’

  Oh, hell. ‘The lever on your right.’

  She squeezed the accelerator. The wall loomed ahead.

  ‘The right! Use the floor pedal!’

  She yanked on both brakes, sending the bike into a skid.

  He closed one eye and braced himself. Gravel sprayed up as they lurched forwards, the wheels spinning. With any luck, they’d end up in the loch rather than crashing into the wall. Either way, it was going to hurt. But she swerved at the last minute and the bike skidded to a stop. The Vespa’s front wheel was an inch away from the portcullis.

  There was a moment’s silence before she said, ‘Close enough?’

  He burst out laughing. ‘Christ, you’ve taken ten years off me,’ he said, dism
ounting and helping her off.

  She was smiling. She was also shaking. ‘That was so much fun.’ She lifted the visor. ‘At least, I think it was.’ The combination of nerves and adrenaline were clearly confusing her.

  ‘Glad you enjoyed it.’ He eased the bike onto its stand and removed her rucksack from under the seat.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to undo the helmet strap with shaking hands. ‘That can’t have been an easy ride for you.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He released the strap and carefully removed the helmet. ‘Strangely, it was fun.’

  He looked down at her glowing face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was partially open. Something inside him dropped like a dead weight. She seemed to register the moment, too, and stilled. Silence hung in the air. The next thing he knew he was kissing her, fumbling her backwards into the south-west wing.

  He dropped the rucksack at the bottom of the stairs, trying not to lose his mind as she clung to him. ‘You liked riding the bike, then?’ Engaging his brain in conversation might distract him from thinking about what he was doing. What they were doing – she was definitely joining in.

  ‘I did,’ she said, coming up for air. ‘It was exhilarating.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He lifted her higher, manoeuvring her up the steps. ‘Want to do it again?’

  ‘God, yes.’ Her teeth dragged across his earlobe. ‘Frequently.’

  He stumbled and fell against the steps.

  ‘Who knew there was a biker chick waiting to be unleashed … Oh, God, that’s nice … Maybe I’ll join the Hell’s Angels.’

  He pulled back to look at her. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘No.’ She slid her hands into his hair. ‘Don’t stop.’

  He couldn’t if he’d wanted to. Except the steps were rock hard and he didn’t want to put his back out. ‘We need a bed,’ he said, pulling her upright. ‘My room’s closest.’

  Somehow he managed to locate the door and bundle her through it.

  ‘Part of me enjoys bending the rules,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘Is that bad?’ She was driving him crazy with her tongue. ‘Tell me I’m bad.’

  ‘You’re bad.’ He kissed her, occupying her mouth in an effort to distract her.

  ‘But what can I do?’ She raked her nails down his back.

  Christ! A few things sprung to mind.

  ‘I should fight it.’ She unhooked his belt, ripping it from his jeans in one lightning-quick motion. ‘But not tonight.’

  ‘No, not tonight.’

  Definitely not tonight.

  The sensation of her hands running over his chest drained the blood from his brain. ‘I’ve wanted to do this ever since I stabbed you.’

  He sucked in his breath. ‘That could be the first time anyone’s ever used that line to another human being.’

  ‘You smell nice.’ She kissed him again. ‘I want you.’

  He kicked off his trainers. ‘I want you, too.’

  He bounced her onto the bed. They rolled one way, then the other, their feet tangling in the bedding.

  She twisted him onto his back, her eyes drugged with lust, her strength surprising as she pinned his hands above his head.

  His kind of woman.

  ‘But can I trust you?’ She covered his mouth with hers before he could offer a suitable response.

  To give his brain credit, it did its best to compute that last question, but it was hard to focus when a hot woman was kissing her way down his stomach, her hands deftly unbuttoning the fly on his jeans.

  He tipped her off him, rolling over until she was under him. ‘I told you, I’m a trustworthy guy.’

  He was at the point of lowering her vest top, when something hard hit him across the shoulder blades. He jerked forwards, bumping heads with her. ‘Shit! What was that?’

  ‘That’s for molesting my sister.’ Another hit, across his bum this time. ‘Get off her!’

  He rolled over to see a woman wearing a sleeveless black PVC catsuit climbing onto the bed. Her expression turned from rage to full-blown fury. ‘You …?’ And then she grabbed the antique wooden shoehorn hanging above his bed and hit him across his stab wound with it.

  Pain shot down his arm.

  ‘Tasha, stop it!’ Lexi wriggled out from under where he’d landed on top of her.

  He grabbed the shoehorn, his brain registering that the woman beating the crap out of him was his landlady from the tattoo parlour. What the hell was she doing here?

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know who you are, matey.’ She wrestled control of the shoehorn. ‘I know all about you.’ A hard tug on the shoehorn sent her bouncing onto the mattress next to Lexi. ‘You’re the blue-eyed hooligan.’ She kicked him in the leg with her stiletto-heeled boot.

  Ouch! … He was who?

  ‘Tasha, please, it’s not what you think.’ Lexi grabbed the shoehorn. All three of them were now wrestling over it. ‘He wasn’t taking advantage of me. It was consensual.’

  This was ridiculous. He’d fantasised many times over the idea of a three-way, but romping about the bed trying not to get impaled by a dominatrix brandishing an eighteenth-century antique hadn’t ever featured in his desired role-play. Funny that.

  When a knee narrowly missed connecting with his manhood, he’d had enough of playing it nice. Using the advantage of his weight, he pinned the woman to the bed, yanking the shoehorn from her hand. ‘I don’t know what the hell this has got to do with you, but …’

  He stilled.

  He stared at her face before switching to look at Lexi. No way. He stared harder. Different hair colour. Different fashion sense. But … He sat back on his haunches.

  ‘Are you two …?’ He pointed from one to the other.

  Lexi sighed and then nodded.

  Crap! He jumped off the bed and landed on something soft.

  A woman yelped and pushed him off her foot.

  He spun around. Jesus. Was someone selling tickets?

  Sophie stood in the doorway, looking daggers. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ She was wearing an overcoat and outdoor boots. She’d clearly just arrived. She pointed at the two women currently embroiled in a wrestling match on his bed. ‘Who the hell are they?’

  Great. He was most likely going to get thumped by his sister now.

  But Lexi was too focused on her own sister to worry about his. ‘Just for once, it would be nice if I could enjoy a bit of privacy without my sibling interfering.’ She scrabbled off the bed, looking flustered, dishevelled and cute as hell. ‘What are you even doing here?’

  ‘Saving you from the likes of him.’ Lexi’s sister glared at him. ‘My taxi pulled up just as you and the hooligan here were getting it on. I followed you inside. And just as well I did.’

  Next to each other, the similarities were obvious. How the hell hadn’t he spotted it before? But twin …? ‘I can’t get my head around the fact that she’s your sister?’

  Tasha climbed off the bed, towering above her barefoot twin in killer heels. ‘Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?’

  Sophie stepped forwards. ‘Oi! No one slags off my brother except me.’

  Lexi was about to respond, when she suddenly swung around to face him.

  ‘Hang on a sec. How the hell do you two know each other?’

  Tasha picked up the shoehorn from the floor. ‘He was my lodger. He stayed with me for a couple nights last month.’

  ‘Lodger?’ Lexi turned to him, her anger switching target. ‘So you were following me?’

  Before he could defend himself, Tasha interrupted. ‘Of course, if I’d known he was the blue-eyed hooligan who broke into the gallery and attacked you, I’d have chopped his balls off in his sleep.’

  Olly covered his crotch.

  Sophie rounded on him. ‘You attacked her?’

  He ignored Sophie and spoke to Lexi. ‘Okay, for the record.’ He pointed at Tasha. ‘First, I had no idea you and Morticia Addams here were related—’

  Tash
a scoffed. ‘Figures. Blind as well as stupid.’

  Sophie stormed over. ‘I’m warning you! Quit with the comments.’

  Olly caught Sophie’s arm, dragging her away before Round Two kicked off. ‘And secondly, I didn’t attack anyone.’ He switched his glare to Lexi. ‘I’m the one who got stabbed.’ The words were out before he could stop them.

  Sophie spun around to glare at Lexi. ‘You stabbed my brother? You’re a dead woman.’

  Tasha blocked Sophie’s path. ‘Touch my sister and you’ll die a—’

  ‘… slow and painful death,’ Olly cut in. ‘Yeah, we get it. You’re scary.’ He rolled his eyes, but everyone was far too mad to take notice.

  Sophie and Tasha were almost nose to nose. They were staring at each other like a pair of primed boxers about to step into the ring. Lexi tugged on her twin’s arm. He did the same with Sophie. He’d experienced some strange things in his life. The last ten minutes were right up there.

  And then Harry rushed into the room and said, ‘Louisa’s having the baby!’

  Everyone stopped yelling.

  All eyes turned to look at Harry, who was standing in the doorway holding a wet towel. ‘Her waters have broken.’

  Oh, hell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday 11th June

  Lexi woke with a jolt from another bad dream. Or rather, a horrific nightmare. She’d dreamt that her sister had shown up at Rubha Castle and attacked Olly with a shoehorn. Except it wasn’t a dream, was it? Her sister really had done that.

  Groaning, she rolled out of the four-poster bed and dragged herself into the shower. Maybe drowning herself would help to eradicate the humiliation of being sprung while ‘getting it on’ with his lordship. Talk about embarrassing.

  The events of last night were still a blur. One minute everyone was arguing, the next Olly and Sophie were running from the room, reacting to the news that Louisa was having her baby. Mrs Jennings had arrived shortly after and offered to make up a room for Tasha, but her sister had declined and stormed out, leaving Lexi utterly confused and wondering how on earth things had deteriorated so quickly.