Secret Things and Highland Flings

by Tracy Corbett

  She squealed when two deer began nuzzling from her hand.

  He grinned at her. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  She shook her head.

  For the next half-hour or so, Lexi fed the deer. It was highly entertaining. She was part excited, part terrified and part mesmerised by them. Her confidence grew and she allowed them closer. Her earlier sadness had lifted, replaced by laughter and smiles. He was glad. It was oddly bewitching.

  Her good humour only faded when it was time to head off and the tractor wouldn’t start.

  ‘Slight problem,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘We’ve run out of fuel.’

  She didn’t look overly perturbed. ‘We can walk back. It’s not far, is it?’

  ‘Not too far, no.’ He helped her down from the cab. ‘It might be a bit muddy underfoot.’ Her pink plimsolls weren’t exactly fit for hiking. ‘We’ll take the short route through the woods.’

  They ambled towards the trees. She seemed in no hurry. Nor was he. The grass was damp from last night’s downpour, but it was relatively dry otherwise.

  The pathway through the trees was overgrown. They had to climb over various bushes and foliage. He spotted a grass snake disappearing into the undergrowth but decided not to mention it.

  ‘Don’t you ever get lost out here?’ She trailed her hands through the long grass, looking like something from a Flake advert. ‘I can’t even see the path anymore.’

  He snapped a twig from an overhanging tree. ‘I used to camp out here as a kid. I know my way around.’

  She smiled. ‘How very Bear Grylls of you.’

  ‘It’s romantic camping under the stars.’ He stopped walking. ‘You should try it sometime.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ She almost bumped into him. ‘Why have we stopped?’

  ‘Listen.’

  She strained to hear. ‘What am I listening for?’

  ‘Rain.’

  She looked up. The sky was rapidly darkening, barely visible through the thicket of trees. A spot of rain bounced off her face and trickled down her cheek. He watched, utterly transfixed as she closed her eyes, letting the rain drizzle onto her face. The rainfall became heavier and incessant, almost musical, like a thousand drums beating out a hypnotic rhythm. When she opened her eyes, blinking through wet eyelashes, she caught him staring at her.

  He grabbed her hand. ‘Come on. We’ll make a run for it.’

  She giggled as they ran. Her laughter increasing as she attempted to hurdle various branches, and squealing when a bush sprang back and slapped her in the face.

  ‘Come under here,’ he said, leading her under an overhang.

  The tree shielded them like a giant umbrella. The air smelt of damp grass. Steam evaporated from their bodies as they silently waited for the rain to stop.

  He let go of her hand and shook out his hair. She did the same and squeezed out her top. He watched as she reached out to touch the gnarled branches of the tree they were sheltering under. ‘This is old,’ she said, running her fingers over the bark.

  ‘Very old.’

  He showed her where the trunk was split in two. Each side was as wide as the other, jutting out from the ground at a weird slant. Through the gap, three gravestones were visible, each one covered in moss and leaning at an angle. A large stone angel guarded over the sunken crypt.

  ‘This is the site of the original castle. It dates back to King Alexander the Second. He built it as a defence against the Norwegian invasions. It survived until the 1600s. This is all that remains.’

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she said, crouching to read the inscriptions on the gravestones. ‘There’s so much history in this place. And you grew up here, surrounded by all this?’

  ‘Mostly, yeah.’ He offered her his hand and pulled her up. ‘You’re soaking.’

  She nodded to his T-shirt. ‘So are you.’

  A few raindrops fought their way through the mass of leafage and trickled down his face. He ran his hand through his wet hair. The movement lifted his T-shirt and he saw her eyes dip to his stomach. The atmosphere suddenly seemed to grow thick and humid.

  She stepped away. ‘You said you mostly grew up here. Where else did you live?’

  ‘Boarding school.’

  She looked at him quizzically. ‘You didn’t like it?’

  His expression must have given him away. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘How old were you when you went there?’

  ‘Five.’

  ‘Jesus, that’s young. Did your parents know you didn’t like it?’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, they knew.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘There was no point fighting it. Wentworths are sent away, educated, toughened up and brought back to start the whole hideous cycle again with another generation.’ He shrugged. ‘I was too much of a mummy’s boy.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it was soon knocked out of me.’ Wasn’t that the truth? He walked over to the edge of the tree. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘The rain’s eased.’

  They splashed their way onto the pathway, although it had long since resembled anything other than a parting in the bushes. As they negotiated a steep crevice, they were greeted by the sound of running water.

  ‘Damn.’

  She caught up with him. ‘Problem?’

  ‘I forgot it’s high tide.’ He nodded towards the stream. ‘We’ll have to head further downstream to where the level’s lower.’

  ‘Can’t we jump it? It’s not that wide.’

  He turned to look at her.

  ‘What? We’re already wet, what’s the worst that can happen?’ Her hands went to her hips. ‘Don’t tell me you’re chicken?’

  He grinned. ‘It’s not me I’m worried about.’

  She looked indignant. ‘Stand back, I need a run-up.’

  He caught her by the shoulder. ‘No, you don’t. You’ll end up in the mud. Get on my back, I’ll carry you across.’

  ‘You must be kidding. You can’t carry me, you’ll sink.’

  He indicated for her to climb on. ‘I’m trying to be chivalrous. Shut up and get on.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck.

  ‘You’re the one who wants to cross it,’ he said, hoisting her up.

  Ignoring the feel of her thighs wrapped around his middle, he focused on not dropping her as he edged down to the stream. He could feel the heat of her body seeping through his wet T-shirt. God, she smelt good.

  But the moment he stepped into the water, all chivalry disappeared. The ground sank beneath him and it wasn’t long before he was knee-high in mud, unable to move.

  ‘I can’t lift my leg,’ he said, sinking further.

  She was laughing. ‘Is that it, then? Are we stuck here forever?’

  ‘Looks that way.’ He clutched at her legs, trying to keep his balance. ‘I could throw you across to the other side?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll go back to my original plan and jump.’ She slid off his back and squelched over to the side. ‘Can you move now I’m off you?’

  ‘I think so.’ He sucked his foot from the mud. ‘Shit, my trainer.’ He shoved his hand into the water and felt around. ‘I’ve lost my trainer.’

  She stood on the bank, watching him squelch through the mud, her nose wrinkled. ‘That looks disgusting.’

  He grinned. ‘Actually, it’s quite nice.’ He waded further across the stream. ‘Take your shoes off and try it.’

  ‘No way. My shoes are staying on.’

  He reached the other side and dragged himself from the water. He was soaking, his legs covered in mud and minus a trainer. He held out his arms. ‘See, hardly a mark. Jump, then.’

  ‘You don’t think I can do this, do you?’

  ‘I have no idea, but I’m really looking forward to seeing you try.’

  ‘Smart-arse.’ She ignored his laughter. ‘Don’t put me off, I have to concentrate.’

  He watched her take a run-up. She slippe
d before she even took off. Her feet wedged into the mud and she slapped straight into the stream. The only reason he didn’t immediately dive in and rescue her was because he was laughing so hard.

  She emerged from the water, gasping for air. Her blonde hair was flat over her face and she was covered in mud.

  He waded into the stream, splashing water everywhere. ‘You should see your face.’

  She plucked a hand from the soggy, stench-ridden sod and wiped the hair from her eyes. ‘It’s not funny.’

  ‘You’re right, it’s not,’ he said, reaching her.

  ‘Then why are you laughing?’

  ‘Because you look so indignant.’ He bent down so he was eyelevel and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Lexi …?’

  ‘What?’ she said, spitting mud from her mouth.

  ‘While you’re down there, you couldn’t look for my trainer, could you?’

  She picked up a handful of mud and threw it at him.

  There was no doubt about it. Lexi Ryan was very entertaining company.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday 10th June

  Lexi was out of breath. She’d always considered herself to be fairly fit, but her weekly exercise classes hadn’t prepared her for hiking in the Highlands. She’d woken early, disturbed from another bad dream in which Marcus had smashed into her gallery dressed as the Terminator and stolen all of her paintings.

  The bad dreams had started when she’d discovered Marcus had taken the Woman at the Window. Unsurprising, really. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Not sleeping at all, or being jolted awake several times a night in a state of panic.

  Unable to settle again, she’d decided to get up early and see what Shieldaig had to offer. Louisa had lent her a rucksack, walking boots and a waterproof jacket, so she felt quite the explorer as she headed across the bridge to the mainland. She followed the nature trail signs and soon found herself off-road and enjoying her Sunday morning amble, which turned into more of a slog as the incline increased.

  Puffing hard, she climbed onto a grassy mound and collapsed onto a bench seat overlooking Loch Torridon. The view was gorgeous, a contrast of dimensions, from tiny flowers underfoot to the expanse of the sky above. It was windy but warm. More significantly, it wasn’t raining.

  Thoughts of rain dragged her mind back to the events of yesterday. She’d had to shower twice to remove all the mud and slime stuck to her hair and clothes. It was disgusting. And cold. And annoyingly amusing.

  Nonetheless, she’d crossed a line. There were rules when it came to fulfilling a work contract. She was expected to regulate her conduct, show respect and keep a professional tone to the working relationship. Not partake in mud wrestling in a stream.

  Of course, it wasn’t only her. His lordship had behaved equally badly, ducking her under the water, challenging her to a mud fight, and then picking her up in a fireman’s lift and dumping her on the bank, where they both lay laughing, legs entwined, until the cold forced them to concede defeat.

  It wasn’t until she’d seen the look on Louisa’s face when they’d returned to the castle that she’d registered a problem. Olly’s sister hadn’t look disapproving. Far from it – she was smiling in that ‘knowing’ kind of way where a person thinks they’ve cottoned on to something you’ve been trying to keep secret. And that’s when the panic had set in. It wasn’t like that, she’d wanted to assure her, they’d just been having a laugh, messing around. But she knew there was no point protesting, Louisa would never believe her. She wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

  So much for avoiding shady men.

  Thoughts of shady men evoked an image of Marcus. He’d phoned last night, no doubt worn down by the numerous messages she’d left on his phone. He’d been his usual charming self, faking confusion at her claims that he’d ‘stolen her painting’ and expressing concern that it had gone missing. Lying rat. His denials had been both pathetic and unconvincing. He’d called her ‘babe’ a lot, which she now realised was a definite sign he was lying. It was just a shame she hadn’t spotted his ‘tell’ years earlier. She could have saved herself a lot of heartache.

  Despite Marcus’s assurances that he wasn’t ‘in hiding’, Tasha hadn’t been able to track him down. She’d visited his old haunts, contacted family members and friends, but no one was talking. Not exactly the behaviour of an innocent man, was it?

  But there was nothing she could do about it today. Stressing wouldn’t help. She needed to stay calm, enjoy her beautiful surroundings and hope a solution presented itself soon. What else could she do?

  She looked around. The view in front led down to the loch. Behind her, the pathway was covered in dense gorse. Pink and yellow wild flowers provided a pop of colour against the muted greens, greys and browns. Purple heather peppered the rolling hills. Not for the first time, she wished she were a good enough artist to capture the moment.

  She resumed walking, one minute fighting against the wind, the next fascinated by how still it was. It was quite invigorating. Not to mention warm. She removed her jacket and tied it around her middle.

  Her legs ached as she climbed the incline. It felt good to be out of breath. A purge for her guilt.

  When she reached the top, she shielded her eyes from the sun. The main pathway continued around the mountain, but there was an offshoot that led down to the loch.

  She headed for the smaller path, slipping on the loose stones, using her hands to steady herself. It took a while to descend, but it was worth the effort. She was greeted by still blue-green water, no wind, and absolute peace and quiet.

  She climbed over a large stack of grey boulders and found a tiny section of pebbled beach hidden the other side. Shrugging off her rucksack, she walked to the water’s edge. Beneath the clear surface she could see fish, coral and more grey boulders. The only sound she could hear was lapping water. It was pure bliss.

  Unearthing her water bottle, she found a smooth section of rock on which to sit. She crossed her legs and sipped her water, absorbing the moment. No traffic. No electronic devices. No signs of modern life. Just nature at its finest.

  Her eyelids became heavy. Using the rucksack as a pillow, she lay down and closed her eyes. She could feel the sun on her face, the breeze tickling her nose and lifting her hair. The lapping water soothed her, along with a bird chirping nearby. All was tranquil … until she heard the faint sound of a boat engine.

  Opening her eyes, she rolled her head to one side, but the loch was empty. The noise gradually increased, but it was a minute or so before the boat came into view.

  As the vessel turned into the cove, she could see a man on board reeling in a basket from the sea. A tall, good-looking man with honey-coloured hair.

  She sat up. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’

  It was too late to run and hide – he’d spotted her. He waved and then stilled as if he was as surprised as she was. Yeah, right. Did he think she was born yesterday?

  He steered the boat towards her, cutting the engine so it floated across the water. ‘What are you doing out here?’ he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  ‘Trying to have some privacy,’ she shouted back, annoyed that her equilibrium had been disturbed. ‘I should report you for stalking.’

  He looked confused. ‘You think I’m following you?’

  ‘It’s one hell of a coincidence if you’re not.’

  ‘You really need to get that paranoia under control.’ He moved to the side of the boat. He was wearing faded ripped jeans and a white T-shirt with a beer logo on the front. His hair was blowing in the breeze and he looked tanned and relaxed. ‘I’ve been out since seven this morning. How would I know where you’d be?’

  He had a point. ‘I still think it’s odd.’

  ‘Maybe you’re following me,’ he grinned. ‘Can’t say I blame you.’ He opened his arms in an ‘aren’t I irresistible’ pose but then lost his balance and nearly fell in the water.

  She laughed. Served him right.

  ‘I�
��m still finding flakes of mud from yesterday,’ he shouted, regaining his balance. ‘I don’t want to end up wet again.’

  She got to her feet, brushing loose stones from her backside. ‘Have you been fishing?’

  He rested his arms on the side. ‘Your powers of observation are exceptional.’

  Sarcastic sod.

  ‘Want to join me?’

  Her brain’s response was an immediate ‘no way’. But her heart betrayed her by leaping up and down in excitement. What was that all about?

  Okay, so he was a hot guy, her attraction was understandable, but that didn’t mean she needed to risk spending time with him. She was employed by the family. Maintaining a professional relationship was in both their best interests. Except she’d blown any chance of appearing professional when she’d stabbed him and indulged in a bout of mud wrestling. It was hard to come back from that.

  She picked up her rucksack. There was no harm in joining him for an innocent jaunt around the loch, was there? As long as she kept her wits about her. ‘How am I going to get on board?’

  He pointed to a ledge jutting out from the rock face. ‘Climb up there. I’ll bring the boat to you.’

  She hopped onto the rock and waited for him to pull alongside.

  As the boat neared, he held out his hand. ‘Jump across.’

  ‘Last time I tried that I ended up in the water.’

  He grinned. ‘A sight I’ll never forget. You’ll be okay, just don’t look down.’

  Great advice.

  She shuffled closer and reached for his hand. Before she could doubt herself, she launched herself from the rock and landed safely in the boat, knocking him backwards with her momentum.

  ‘You have the grace of a gazelle,’ he said, rubbing his bruised shin.

  ‘You’re the one who told me to jump.’ She spotted the fishing basket on the floor. ‘What have you caught?’

  He lifted the lid, tilting the basket so she could see. ‘A couple of crabs and an eel. I’ve never caught a red eel before.’

  She peered closer. ‘It’s glowing. Is it electric?’

  He laughed. ‘I hope not.’ He tipped the contents over the side.

  ‘You don’t keep them?’