Flynn crossed to her again, slow and deliberate, crowding her back against the table until there was nowhere to go. His hand came down flat on the wood beside her, leaning in close.
“Och, lass, you’ll have to be more specific. Was it the kiss you didn’t like?” His lips brushed her jaw in a whisper of a touch. “Or the way my hand fit here?” His palm slid to her rear, warm and steady.
Heather’s breath hitched. “You’re infuriating.”
His grin went wicked. “Aye. But ye like it.”
And damn him—she did.
Before she could stop herself, her hand fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer. Flynn only chuckled, stealing another brief,teasing kiss before stepping away again to grab another coil of rope from a shelf.
“Best get used to it, Campbell,” he said lightly, tossing the rope into the bag. “I plan on infuriating you the whole way to Culloden.”
Heather sagged back against the table, trying to convince her voice to behave. “God help me.”
He shot her a roguish look over his shoulder. “Aye, he’ll need to.”
Heather laughed, warmth curling in her chest, but when her gaze drifted around the room again, she sobered. “You never told me why you live here, Flynn. It suits you, but… I always wondered.”
His usual grin slipped. He moved toward the hearth, lighting the kindling with practiced ease. Shadows flickered across his face as the flames caught.
“This cottage isn’t mine,” he said after a moment. “It belongs to an old client. Restored his main house down the way a few years back—big job, nearly fell in on itself. He was so pleased he let me stay here cheap, on the condition I mind the land and keep an eye on the hairy beasts you’ve become so acquainted with.”
Heather’s lips twitched. “So my grand, mortifying entrance was basically your rent.”
Flynn smirked faintly. “Aye. You could say that. The cows never did forgive ye, though.”
She tilted her head, waiting. “But that explains how, not why. You’re kind of in the middle of nowhere.”
His smile dimmed as he leaned both hands on the mantel. “My da’s a solicitor, as ye know. Duncan and Reid. Firm’s been handling Glenoran’s assets since the Mackenzies first signed their name in ink. Almost every Duncan man’s gone into law since… well, forever. And I was supposed to be next.”
Heather went still. “So you were meant to—”
“Aye. Edinburgh University. Law school. I lasted two terms before I bolted. Couldn’t do it, lass. Couldnae see my life spent behind a desk, shufflin’ contracts while the world turned outside the window. Felt like being buried alive.” His jaw tightened. “So I left. Started Duncan Restorations with next to nothing. To my Da, I didn’t just quit—I betrayed generations.”
Something tightened in Heather’s chest. She crossed the room and slipped her hand into his, giving it a firm squeeze. “Flynn…” she trailed off, unable to find the words.
He didn’t look at her at first, gaze still fixed on the hearth. “To him, I’ll always be the Duncan that broke the chain.”
Heather tugged gently until he turned toward her, her eyes steady on his. “You didn’t break it. You started something new. That’s braver than anything they planned for you.”
His blue eyes searched hers, raw and unguarded. Slowly, his shoulders eased, a quiet laugh slipping out. “Careful, mo chridhe. Say things like that and I might start believin’ ye.”
Heather smiled, her free hand lifting to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath her palm. “Good. Because I mean it.”
The grandfather clock ticked in the corner, steady and unobtrusive. The past was still there between them, but it felt less like a wall and more like something they were both looking at from the same side.
Flynn dipped his head, brushing a kiss to her temple. His voice was low, almost shy. “You’ve a way of makin’ a man feel like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.”
Her heart did a funny, uneasy little flip at that—warm and a bit terrifying all at once. The last time things had gotten this close, she’d panicked and run. The instinct to bolt still flickered somewhere in her, but it was softer now, edged out by something steadier.
She managed a wry smile. “Then maybe you are.”
Flynn studied her face for a moment, as though he could see more than she was saying. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him. He kissed her temple once more, lingering just long enough to anchor her, then stepped back with a small, knowing smile.
This time, Heather didn’t feel the urge to look away.
Outside, the air was damp, sharp with peat and earth. The cows grazed lazily in the distance, heads lifting as if in casual recognition. Heather shook her head with a rueful laugh.
