She jumped down from the Land Rover, her feet squidging into the damp mountain soil, the whip of fresh air on her cheeks. The view over the valley was incredible, and a new energy flooded through her, as if the wind could sweep away her cobwebs, the mountain itself giving her strength and power.
As soon as they were let out of the back, the two dogs came to greet her, young Skye ready to go, her tail wagging with excitement, Peggy sitting beside Caroline, looking up at her with interest.
‘Peggy likes you – that’s a good sign.’ Angus gave her head a rub before looking up across the bracken. ‘There’s a narrow path, and we can get a great view a little way up from here.’ He glanced at her, keen for approval. ‘How does that sound?’
Together they set off, the dogs running around them as the land rose steeply through the bushes, getting rockier. Soon, the view opened up, and she could see above the other peaks in the area, the land spread open for her.
‘It’s as if we’re on top of the world.’ She laughed, fuelled by the fresh air and freedom. ‘It’s so incredible to see so far, to feel above everyday matters, like I can see life in full perspective – from an extra dimension.’
‘That’s precisely it!’ He stood beside her, solid and sure, as if that was how they were always supposed to be, standing together, side by side on an ancient mountain overlooking the vast and beautiful land.
They stayed there for a while, and then he beckoned her onward. ‘Come with me. There’s more to this mountain than meets the eye.’
As they reached the summit, a pyramid came into sight, made of old granite blocks.
‘It’s the Albert Pyramid. Queen Victoria had it made after her husband died, a memorial to him overlooking the castle he loved.’ Angus looked up at the great structure. ‘It’s a kind of cairn, an ancient Scottish tradition to pile stones into a tall cone to mark a burial site.’
‘An ancient tradition,’ she repeated. ‘And here it is, renewed by a monarch for her husband.’
‘Even queens can love,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s more crucial for them, to have someone on their side.’
Together they looked at the monument, and although neither said a word, she knew that they were both remembering the love they’d had between them. The grief each had felt at being abandoned was slipping aside, replaced by a burgeoning knowledge that the same firm attachment was pulling them back together.
Just like the pyramid, their love felt enduring, eternal.
First one plump drop, and then another fell onto her face and shoulders, and soon a deluge of rain came down, fast and heavy.
But as Angus gave her his coat and they began to descend, all they could do was laugh, as if the rain had somehow broken the tension. Half running, half stumbling over the rocks as they hurried back down, they joked about how the full Highlands experience had to involve torrential rain, and so soon in the day, too.
Inside the car, laughing and soaked, Angus turned on the engine, and off they set, back down to the lane.
‘Is there somewhere I can get dry?’ She pushed back her wet hair, drops of rain coating her face.
‘Why don’t we pop into my house? It’s close, just a minute’s drive. You can use a towel, maybe warm up by the fire.’ He paused, fearful of being too forward. ‘Then we can head back out.’
‘That sounds fine,’ she said, quick to put him at ease.
Truth be told, she was intrigued to see where he lived. A practical man like Angus was bound to have some isolated box of a house with a few pieces of simple furniture.
So when they swung into the narrow driveway, she was shocked to see a two-storey cottage in front of her, ivy and climbing roses growing around the arched wooden door.
‘This is where you live?’ she asked as he pulled up in front of an outhouse that ran along the side.
‘It was a bit ramshackle when I first moved in, but little by little, I’ve made it into a home.’
Inside was a wide hallway, and he led her up the stairs, showing her into a cosy bathroom with a sloping ceiling. Turquoise curtains hung across an alcove window, the rain pattering on the panes.
‘You’re shivering,’ he said, turning on the taps to run her a bath. ‘Let me get you some warm clothes, and we can dry yours by the fire. You’ll never get these things dry in the servants’ quarters of the castle – that place is arctic.’
Off he went, leaving her to dip her fingers into the bath, the heat of the water seeping into her. She couldn’t remember a time when someone had run a bath for her, and gingerly, she sat on a round wooden stool and began to take off her shoes. It wasn’t her plan to take a bath, but the water was so inviting, the atmosphere so welcoming.
‘Here we are!’ Angus arrived and put a green checked shirt on the windowsill. ‘It’ll be far too big for you, and there are some thick socks, too. You’ll find a dressing gown on the back of the door.’ He headed out. ‘Come downstairs when you’re finished.’
Once he’d gone, she locked the door and slowly peeled off herclothes, carefully sliding into the steamy water. These days, there was only time for a quick wash before dressing for work in the morning, a cold, rapid chore. But this was luxurious. She lay back, a moment to herself, letting the water absorb the stress.
Maybe if she lay there forever, she’d be able to wash away her sins, purify herself. If only she hadn’t let herself go with Angus, fallen pregnant, she’d have been pure and whole, worthy of a good life.
But when she dared to remember that night, their bodies entwined, she knew she could never forget how right it had felt, how passionate and yet how tender. How could an act so wonderful have forced her into such a horrific situation?
