Under a Storm-Swept Sky

by Beth Anne Miller

  “Well, we’d better remedy that before the water runs cold.” He pulled back, holding onto me as my legs fell away from his hips and waiting until I was steady on my feet. While he cleaned up, I reached for the shampoo.

  “Let me,” he murmured, taking the bottle from me. He squeezed some onto his hand, and I turned so he could reach. He massaged the shampoo into my scalp, making my sated body come alive once more. He turned me around so that I was under the spray, and I reached for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head. “None of that, or we’ll never get out of here.”

  “I can think of far worse things.”

  “The café closes at five. It was after three thirty when I came in here,” he said. “I mean, if you want another freeze-dried dinner…?”

  “Okay, fair point,” I said as he gently worked conditioner through my long hair. I was starving, and definitely didn’t want to miss our chance at real food.

  He rinsed my hair, and then I reached for the shampoo. “Your turn.”

  He was considerably taller than me, so I had him face me and lower his head so I could reach him. This unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on your point of view—put his face right at my chest. He pressed his lips to my wet skin. “None of that, or we’ll never get out of here,” I teased. He was clearly going to ignore me, but the moment my lathered hands sank into his thick hair, he just closed his eyes and practically purred with bliss.

  While he rinsed his hair, I quickly soaped up with the body wash and then traded places with him so I could wash off and he could soap up. I put on a sleeveless top and jeans and did a quick blow-dry of my hair while he got dressed.

  I checked my phone. No messages. “I’ll call Carrie’s mom after we eat.”

  “Are you sure? We have some time.”

  “Yeah. I want to actually sit and enjoy my food.”

  We headed to the small, blue-shingled café, where we both ordered big bowls of thick vegetable soup with homemade crusty bread. The simple meal was delicious, but Rory was quiet, pensive, his eyes gray-green and turbulent.

  Which, given the way he’d stalked into the shower and taken me against the wall less than an hour earlier, seemed strange.

  “Are you all right?” I finally asked.

  He looked up from his soup and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a…long day.”

  I wished I could read his mind at that moment. Was he thinking about Connor? Did he regret what he and I had done—that we’d gotten together? Was it something else entirely? Or was he really just tired?

  I couldn’t stand the silence. “Did you speak to Tommy before? Did they finish?”

  I wondered how the rest of the group fared. I’d just gotten to know Molly and Megan and Pat and Linda when we’d parted ways, and it sucked that we couldn’t have finished as a group.

  This time, his grin was real, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making my heart leap. “Oh, aye. They finished the trek, and he’s bumming around with Gav in Sligachan. He said to tell you hi.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet,” I said, dunking a piece of bread in my soup.

  “Sweet? Ha. Gav tried to bet Tommy that you and I would hook up.”

  “Those two need a hobby. And what do you mean, ‘tried to’?”

  “Tommy refused to bet against it.”

  Which, given what he’d said to both of us a few days—a lifetime—ago, wasn’t surprising. “I feel like Tommy’s been pretty invested in the two of us getting together.”

  He took a sip of his beer. “He likes you. Has from the very beginning—even before I did.”

  I licked my lips. “And now?”

  “Now what?” he asked, dipping his spoon into his soup.

  “Do you like me?” It sounded very junior high school, and a stupid question given what we’d been doing a short while ago, but suddenly I had to know.

  His spoon froze midway to his mouth. He set it back in the bowl and took my hand. “Aye, I like you,” he said, his gaze steady on mine. “So much, I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to you in two days,” he added, his voice so low I could barely hear him.

  “Me, either,” I whispered back.

  He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers, then turned it so that my palm lay against his cheek. I ran my thumb over his bristly jaw and stared into his eyes.

  “You never did tell me what had you staring at me like you wanted to devour me when I was going through your pack earlier,” he said suddenly.

  I felt my face grow hot. “Oh, that.”

  “Aye, that. I think you’d better tell me.”

  “You were saying you’d read Outlander. And I got this image in my head of you lying in your tent, your head propped on your pack, the sleeping bag bunched around your bare waist. You were holding the book in one hand while your other rested on your belly.”

  His brow crinkled. “I don’t understand why imagining me reading got you all hot and bothered.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You reading Outlander got me all hot and bothered. I’d been ready to crawl into your sleeping bag with you when I saw that you’d fallen asleep reading Fellowship. Outlander is like a million times sexier than Fellowship.”

  A shadow fell over the table. “Sorry to interrupt, but did you need anything else before we close in a few minutes?” asked the owner, a plump, pretty woman in her fifties.

  “Should we get some sandwiches for later?” asked Rory. “We can take them to the beach and watch the sunset.”

  “Oh, that’s a lovely idea!” said the woman. “It should be a nice one this evening, now that the sky over Bla Bheinn has cleared.”

  “That sounds great,” I said, and we gave her our order.

  A few minutes later, she returned, a big paper bag in her hands. “One tuna mayo on multigrain, one turkey and avocado on ciabatta. I threw in a few apples and two bags of crisps as well. You can have a proper picnic on the beach overlooking Loch Slapin.”

  She walked away to ring us up. “Or we can just go back to the room, and I can take off all my clothes and read Outlander while you stare at me if you’d prefer,” he said in a low voice.

  “If you read it aloud and let me video it, you have a deal. It would go viral.”

  “Done.”

  I grinned. Rory had a great sense of humor, once he let it show.

  We grabbed coffees to go and headed back to the B&B. Rory went up to the room, while I wandered to a nearby bench and called Helen.

  “Hey, how is she today?” I asked when Helen picked up.

  “No change, honey,” she replied, sounding utterly exhausted. “Her injuries continue to heal, but she’s still in the coma. How are you? Please, tell me something good. How’s the trek going? You have to be almost done by now, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re almost to the end. We should finish in two days.” Though I didn’t consider that to be a good thing. I wanted to tell her about Rory, but that story couldn’t have a happy ending. In a few short days, we’d go our separate ways. “It’s been an amazing experience, Helen.” At least that part was true. “The scenery here is just breathtaking. The weather’s been up and down—we’ve had some pretty serious rain and wind, which has made for a few interesting moments—but I wouldn’t trade any of it.”

  As I said the words, I realized how true they were. I wouldn’t trade one minute of this experience—even the knee injury. Especially the knee injury, because if I hadn’t gotten hurt, I never would have had this time with Rory, would never have hooked up with him.

  “That’s wonderful, sweetie. I know you don’t have long—let me put the phone to Carrie’s ear for a second.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  A moment later I heard her muffled voice say, “Okay, you’re on.”

  “Hey Ree,” I said, speaking quietly so Helen wouldn’t hear. “I was just telling your mom that we’re almost done with the trek. I can fill you in on all that when I get home, but I wanted to tell you tha
t I, um, met a guy. His name is Rory, and he’s actually one of the guides for the trek, and we kinda hooked up.”

  Carrie loved romance—other people’s almost more so than hers—and she’d been disappointed over the years by my lackluster boyfriends, even more so than I was. Maybe telling her about Rory would get her to wake up.

  “He’s so serious, and I didn’t like him much at the beginning, but he’s had a shitty life, with so much heartbreak. Other guys would have let that turn them into angry, bitter people, or let it destroy them completely, but he hasn’t. He’s kind, and strong, and brave, and so beautiful, with these amazing eyes that change color depending on his mood.”

  Usually calm gray-green like the sea; more intensely so when he’s concerned or troubled. Silver when he’s angry. Bright green when he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, when he touches me like he’ll die without the feel of my skin under his fingertips, when he kisses me like only I can provide the air he needs to breathe.

  “And I…I think I love him. No—I know I love him. I know what you’re thinking—how can I love him when I’ve only known him for a few days? But it’s been a pretty intense few days, and we’ve spent every minute together, and I just know. I wish I knew how he felt. I mean, I’m pretty sure he cares about me—you can’t fake that look he had in his eyes when we were—”

  Making love in the shower and he stared at me like he could see my soul.

  I paced back and forth, too agitated to sit still. “Anyway, I suggested that we hook up for the duration of the trek. No promises, no plans for after. We’d both go back to our lives. He tried to tell me it wasn’t a good idea, but I wanted him so much, and I knew he wanted me, and life can change in a second, and I didn’t want to come home and regret that I missed out on the chance to be with him, even if it was just for a few days.

  “But a short fling isn’t me. I knew that. And I didn’t care. I thought it would be enough. But now…” My eyes filled with tears. “What am I going to do, Carrie? We have just two days left, and then the trek is over. And it isn’t enough. I wish you could tell me what to do. When I say goodbye to him…” I broke off, unable to finish my sentence.

  My heart will shatter into a thousand pieces.

  “Please wake up, and tell me what to do,” I whispered. I closed my eyes, listening for something—anything—that would indicate she’d heard me, that she was waking up.

  But the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitors.

  Chapter Forty

  Rory

  While Amelia made her phone call, I returned to the room and flopped down on the bed, staring blindly at the ceiling.

  Two more days. That’s all I had left before my time with Amelia would come to an end. Even if I could convince her to stay longer, that was only delaying the inevitable. She had to get back to Carrie, to her new job in a new city, where it was always summer.

  To a life that didn’t include me.

  It was supposed to be a casual fling—just two consenting adults having some fun for a few days, and that was it.

  And now? I almost wished we hadn’t gone down that road. She’d made me feel again, made me think that I was worthy of some happiness. But in a few days she’d be gone, and I’d be alone again. I’d have a few amazing memories to hold onto after she was gone, but that was all they’d be—memories.

  I had to start pulling back now, so it would be easier to say goodbye when we reached Broadford. When Amelia got back to the room, I’d tell her we needed to just be friends. That it had been great, and I’d miss being with her, but it had to be done before we became any more emotionally invested. Before I forgot myself and told her I loved her.

  I’d ask the landlady for my own room, or if nothing was available, I’d sleep on the floor. And there’d be no more scenes like the one a few hours earlier in the shower. No more passionate kisses, no more touching her cheek, her hand, her hair. No more watching her bottomless brown eyes dilate with passion; no more feeling her body come apart around me.

  I could do it. I’d endured far worse and survived. And so had she.

  I heard her footsteps in the hallway. I got up from the bed, steeling myself for what I had to do.

  And then she walked into the room, her eyes shining with tears, her shoulders slumped, and walked straight into my suddenly outstretched arms.

  As I held her close and breathed in the scent of her hair, I knew that I would make the most of every minute we had left.

  After Amelia assured me Carrie hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, that she was just being emotional, I led her to the bed and just held her in my arms.

  She fell asleep, and then I did, too, waking some time later as the sun was beginning to drop. I wanted that sunset picnic—another memory I’d be able to look back on after she was gone. I shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes and squinted up at me, clearly confused. “Is it morning already?”

  I smiled. “No, but it’s almost sunset. Did you still want to have that picnic by the loch?”

  She sat up, suddenly wide awake. “Yes, I’d love that.” She climbed out of the bed and pulled on her boots.

  There was a perfect spot at the side of the loch with a direct view to Bla Bheinn, and we ate our dinner there, sitting on a plaid blanket the B&B’s landlady had loaned us. The sun dropped behind the mountain, casting it in a fiery glow. As I gazed up at it, I imagined that Connor was up there smiling down at us. A hand closed over mine, and I glanced at Amelia. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew exactly what I was thinking.

  I held her close as the evening sky turned yellowish in the wake of the sunset, then lavender and gray as the gloaming set in, then dark blue and finally black. We watched as the stars winked to life in a moonless sky. As night deepened, it grew colder, and we finally returned to the B&B around eleven and made love late into the night.

  We set out late the next morning after a bracing swim in the loch and brunch at the café. The trail between Torrin and Broadford was generally easy, and we probably could have done all twelve miles or so in one day, but there was a spot about halfway that I wanted to camp at overnight, so we took our time and just enjoyed the slower pace. We wandered off the path here and there, exploring the coastline and doubling back.

  The trail turned slightly inland, away from the coast. It wound gently uphill and then curved to the left, revealing a smattering of stone ruins.

  “What is this place?” breathed Amelia.

  “It was once the settlement of Suisnish.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “The Highland Clearances. In the decades following the Jacobite defeat at Culloden in 1746, the English burned the villages in reprisal for the rebellion and then stripped the clans of their culture and their power. It became more profitable to the landowners to have the land free for sheep than to have people living here, so whole settlements were burned, their residents evicted. Suisnish is one of those, as is Boreraig, which is a few miles down. They were burned in the fall of 1853, the people forced out into the cold.”

  Amelia walked to the first pile of rubble and closed her eyes, running her hands reverently over the lichen-encrusted stones.

  “I can picture them,” she murmured suddenly, “the people who once lived here. Their children playing on the shore, the women gossiping and laughing as they hung the wash to dry, the men working the fields. It wouldn’t have been an easy life, but it was the only one they knew, going back generations. And then to be suddenly forced out, to have your home burned to the ground as you ran into the freezing night with the few possessions you could grab, carrying your baby in your arms, helping your old grandmother walk with her arthritic knees…”

  She moved to another crumbled wall. “Back home in the States, we have this romantic image of Scotland. We picture handsome, kilted warriors galloping their horses across heather-covered hills, rebelling against the evil English. We come here and drink whisky and listen to the bagpipes, explore castle ruins
and walk the trails, and we forget that there were people who had to fight for their survival in this beautiful place. And many of them weren’t successful. They died starving in the cold, with their homes smoldering behind them. It’s so peaceful here now, but I can almost hear the screams and smell the smoke.”

  She turned to me, wiping her eyes. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  Because she could have pulled those words right from my brain.

  “This part of the trail has always been difficult for me,” I said. “Not physically, but emotionally. Scotland has a brutal and bloody history, and you’re never far from a place that’s believed to be haunted. There are plenty of sites more dramatic than this one, like the vaults in Edinburgh, or Culloden battlefield, or Glencoe.

  “But here, in this quiet, remote section of coastline, the past has always seemed so much closer, the ghosts that much more real to me. I always get chills walking this part of the trail. Every now and then, one of the walkers in my group will sense it, too, but what you just said? It’s exactly how I feel when I’m here.”

  Hand in hand, we walked slowly from one decimated croft to the next, paying our respects at each one. A light mist had rolled in off the water to wind its way through the stone ruins, making the dead settlement seem even more eerie, as if the spirits were closer than ever before.

  We left Suisnish and continued on the path, which led through the heather and then down to the shoreline for a few miles, passing by a few waterfalls rushing from the high cliffs above, before reaching Boreraig, a settlement that had suffered the same fate as Suisnish. The buildings here were a little more intact, though no less atmospheric. And even though it was eerie, I’d always wanted to camp in this place, to feel close to the past.

  “Will it bother you to stay here tonight?” I asked.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Like, in one of the ruins?” she asked in a slightly panicked voice.

  “No, we’ll set up camp separately from the ruins. They obviously don’t provide any real shelter, anyway.”

  “Okay, that’s fine, then,” she said, looking relieved. “I just, um, didn’t want to trespass, you know?” She smiled sheepishly.