It’s noon on Sunday. We’ve just had our daily “swim,” and now we’re lying out on the bank of the glassy loch, breathing in the green from the moss and trees. I’m in Fraser’s T-shirt, my hair frizzing as it dries. He’s shirtless and in a pair of underwear. As a fashion expert, I can confidently say it’s his best look.
Fraser nudges me. “Hey.”
I peek my eyes open. A line of ducklings are waddling after their mother towards the loch. Two weeks ago, I would have scrambled for my phone, but now I just watch, heart full, as the tiny yellow puffs bumble across the moss.
“Do you think she ever gets sick of them?” I wonder as the babies trip after their mum. “I bet she wants a few minutes of peace sometimes.”
When I was a kid, Mum got so annoyed whenever I bounced around after her chattering.Can you stop following me around like a duckling? Go do your homework.
Fraser snorts. “You trying to tell me something? You want us to stop following you around like wee chickies, you gotta stop looking so bonnie. We can’t help it.”
I sit up to admire his body spread out under me. “I don’t meanyou.”
“Aye, I’m glad to hear it.”
I run my hand down his bare thigh, feeling the muscle. “Hey, do you guys ever wear kilts?”
“Aye, we all have one or two folded away somewhere. They’re a bit formal, but some of the oldies insist we wear ’em for their grandkids’ christenings and weddings and the like.”
Mmm. I draw a circle on his knee. “What’s yours like?”
“I’ve got my family’s tartan. Red, brown, green. And then I’ve got the Lochview one—blue and silver. It’s given to the workers on the farm.”
I nod studiously. “About how long are they, would you say?” I wonder, still touching his massive legs.
He chuckles. “Why, you want me to model them for you?”
“Noooo. I’m just taking an interest in fashion history.”
He pushes himself up on his elbows, his nose nudging mine. “I cannae blame you,” he murmurs. “Of course you want a good look at my legs. It’s only fair when you show off so much of yours.” He trails his fingers teasingly up my knee. “I’ll dig ’em out for you before you go,” he promises.
“You will?”
“Aye.” He tips his lips closer, until they’re just a millimetre from mine. “There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you.”
I close the gap between us and kiss him, relishing his groan. I’ve just shoved him down onto the moss when a shadow falls over my back. Cameron is standing over me, silhouetted against the bright sun. He’s leaning on a wooden cane I’ve never seen before.
“Cameron!” I sit up, ignoring Fraser’s attempts to tug me back onto him. “Are you feeling better?” After I visited him in his room yesterday, I woke up in his bed alone.
He offers me his spare hand. “Up. We’re off. Truck’s packed.”
I let him lever me to my feet. “Off? Are we going somewhere?”
“Inverness,” he says without preamble. “Need to make deliveries.” He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a paper bag, handing it to me. “You’re coming. You’d only make trouble here. Probably set the place on fire. Eat that.”
I obediently open the bag. There’s a raspberry Danish inside, and I take a bite of the warm pastry. This has been happening all week; Cameron materialising with a snack for me. Fraser really wasn’t kidding when he said Cameron would try to feed me. I’m getting ridiculously spoiled.
“Really?” I manage through a mouthful of crumbs. “We’re going to the city?” It’ll be my first taste of civilisation in weeks. I wonder if I’ll be able to convince the men to try a frappuccino.
“Calm down,” Cameron says and leaves.
Fraser stands, yanking his jeans on. “Aye, we go about once a month. It’ll be fun. Change of scenery for you. Even Alec says he’ll join, and he usually never comes.” He takes my hand. “Let’s get you dressed, eh? And see if you can’t remember your undies this time, so he doesn’t try to punish you again.”
Ninety minutes later, Alec pulls the truck in a busy grey car park. I stare in confusion at the glittering glass building in front of us. The words “Inverness Designer Outlet”are splashed over the rotating doors, surrounded by the logos of different shops.
“You’re making a wool delivery…to a mall?” I ask, hopping out.
“No.” Alec locks the car.
