Rocco stroked a strand aside and tucked it behind one of her ears. His touch electrified her.
‘Yes, I do.’
She bit her lip, and he let his hand fall. Was he flirting with her? Because she was fairly sure thatshehad been flirting withhim. There was only one problem with flirting: what if he wanted to take it further? The thought of making love to him filled her with such an intense longing, born of remembered emotion and desire, that she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist if he did.
‘Are there any stories of fairies or magic here?’ he asked, his attention on the landscape once more, forcing Giselle to gather her thoughts.
‘Not one. But it feels magical, doesn’t it? And that basalt tower might look like a castle, but it isn’t,’ she said, pointing to a rocky pinnacle of bare stone. ‘There’s a route to the top, if you want to give it a go, but I warn you, it’s a scramble.’
‘I think I’ll soak up the atmosphere from here, instead,’ he said. ‘I did enough clambering about on Saturday. My poor legs haven’t recovered yet.’
‘Soft living,’ she teased. ‘Too many hours sat behind a desk.’
‘You’re not wrong. Running on a treadmill isn’t the same as climbing mountains. I know which I prefer, though,’ he added, taking a deep breath of the fresh clean air.
‘A man after my own heart,’ she said without thinking, then wrinkled her nose.Stop flirting, she told herself.Nothing good will come of it.
‘I haven’t seen a single bit of Skye that I don’t love,’ he murmured. ‘Can we sit here for a moment? There’s no rush to get to the next place, is there?’
‘No rush,’ she agreed. ‘You’re never going to see Skye in a few days, so you may as well savour the bits youdoget to see.’
Rocco lowered himself onto the grass, then lay back, his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.
Giselle sat next to him. Picking a long stem of feathery grass, she plucked the seeds one by one and cast them on the breeze. Then she picked another and delicately tickled him on the nose with it, sniggering as he batted it away, his eyes still closed.
She did it again, and this time she couldn’t help a snort of laughter.
Hastily, she dropped the stem of grass as he opened his eyes and sat up.
‘That wasn’t a bee, was it? That was you.’
Her expression innocent, she said, ‘What was me?’ She was playing with fire, she knew, but the lure of him was greater than the danger of being burnt. He’d be gone soon. It was unlikely they would ever meet again, so why not enjoy her time with him? And she wanted him so very badly.
Their faces were inches apart and he was looking at her with an intensity that stole her breath and made her heart race. The world slowed and stopped.
He brushed the same strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin, and Giselle closed her eyes.
Their lips met, delicate, silk soft, weightless, a mere whisper of the tempest surging through her. It didn’t last. It couldn’t. Not here, not now. But it held a promise…
Giselle ended it, withdrawing slowly, breaking the connection. She was trembling (desire? need? fear?) and the blood was rushing through her veins, her breathing coming shallow and fast.
Rocco’s smoke-grey eyes were clouded and deep, and his murmured ‘Giselle’ sent a shiver through her very bones.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, the taste of him on her lips, the shape of him imprinted on her soul, and thought,Where do we go from here?She couldn’t decide whether to flee or take him to bed.
In the end, she did neither. There was nowhere to run, and she didn’t have the courage to suggest they went back to her place.
‘Are you OK?’ His voice was gentle.
Taking a breath, she let it out in a whoosh. ‘Aye. It was unexpected, that’s all.’
Lightly, he said, ‘It must be the Fairy Glen, working its magic.’
‘That must be it,’ she agreed, getting to her feet. ‘There should be warning signs.’ But the warning signs were already there, and the danger was that she might lose her heart.
Flora MacDonald’s grave was a short walk away from the Skye Museum ofIsland Life, so it seemed rude not to pop in, especially since Rocco hadenjoyed the fossil museum so much. Or was he all museumed out, Gisellewondered.
Apparently not. He seemed quite keen, especially when she informed him there was a takeaway snack shop onsite. He didn’t even argue when she insisted on paying for the brioche and coffee they consumed while sitting on a bench in front of a converted shepherd’s hut, with views of green fields and turquoise sea.
