Highland Fling (12 page)

‘Good thing we didn’t go commando,’ Pete said, grinning broadly. ‘Jack. Put your arms round them mate!’

Jack’s arms had been stretched across the top of the sofa and he seemed reluctant to move them but Pete took control and put them around Jane and Lizzie so Jack’s hands were on the women’s hips.

Lizzie could feel Jack’s fingers and even though they were only resting lightly on her, it felt as if she were being branded by a hot iron. She kept her eyes forward and tried not to think about the fact that there was very little between her body and his, just a few pieces of fabric.

‘Jack, mate!’ Pete said, ‘You’ve got two gorgeous women on your lap, try to look 'appy. That’s better.’ He dashed to his position behind the sofa and the camera flashed seconds later.

Lizzie thought she felt Jack’s hand tighten on her hip as she went to stand up but she could have imagined it.

‘Punch anyone?’ Jane said.

‘What’s in it?’ Jeff asked.

‘Cider, brandy, apple juice and a few secret herbs and spices.’

Jeff wrinkled his nose but took a glass anyway, as did all the others.

‘That’s not bad actually,’ Phil said. ‘Bit of a kick to it.’

They chatted, drinking wine and punch for about fifteen minutes during which time, Lizzie couldn’t help but notice, Jack did his best to avoid her.

 ‘I think Fraser’s here,’ Jane said. ‘I’m sure I heard an engine.’ She pulled back the curtains which had been closed against the cold night air and nodded. ‘Yes. It’s Fraser. Shall we go?’

‘I’ll just check on Alastair,’ Lizzie said.

Jack watched her walk towards the door and swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Shit!’ he said, briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head as if trying to clear an image from his mind.

Iain Hamilton’s farm was much larger than Lizzie’s, being a working farm and from the outside, the farm house looked quite austere. His wife died shortly after Fraser, their only son, was born and Iain had brought him up whilst running the farm, with only part time child care from friendly and willing neighbours. Now twenty four, Fraser had returned, after university and some time travelling, to help his dad run it.

Lizzie met Iain when she was thinking of buying Laurellei Farm and he seemed both friendly and distant at the same time. He was clearly one of those rare people who were happy to do anything for anyone but he wanted to keep his private life, private. To her knowledge, there had been no women in his life during the two years she’d known him apart from Valentine’s night two weeks ago when she’d seen him and Jane having sex in the barn.

‘Don’t let me do anything too stupid tonight Lizzie,’ Jane said after Fraser had helped them down.

‘Same here! I’m feeling a little tipsy to be honest. I knocked back a couple of glasses of punch to settle my nerves but it hasn’t worked. I hope everyone else has dressed up or we are going to look like we’re really on the pull.’

They exchanged glances and sniggered nervously. ‘I thought we were!’ Jane said.

‘Pretending to be,’ Lizzie corrected. ‘That way we won’t get into any real trouble.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that.’

Lizzie shook her head, ‘Nor would I – and trouble is heading in our direction already.’

Jane turned and her large green eyes fell on Iain Hamilton, striding towards them, his raven black hair, with just a hint of grey at each side, blowing in the chill March night air. ‘Oh God!’ she said, watching his six feet two frame closing in on her and realising that the minute he opened his exquisitely curved mouth, she’d be a jabbering idiot. ‘Help!’

‘You okay love?’ Pete asked, just as Iain came into earshot and it were as if a juggernaut had slammed on its brakes.

Lizzie saw Iain’s welcoming expression disappear and his deep hazel eyes cloud over as they flitted from Jane to Pete, then to Lizzie as Jane slipped her arm into Pete’s.

‘I am now,’ Jane purred, avoiding Iain’s grim stare. ‘Let me show you that there are other things up here just as lovely as my rolls.’ She laughed coquettishly. ‘Oh! Hi Iain,’ she said as if she hadn’t seen him and flounced past him, her arm still in Pete’s and her head seductively leaning in towards him.

Iain watched them head towards the barn, on the cinder path he’d made earlier so that his guests would not slip on the icy snow, then turned back to Lizzie as he realised she was speaking to him.

‘Sorry Lizzie, what were you saying?’

 ‘I was just saying thanks and going to introduce you to the guys. That was Pete and these are Jeff, Phil, Steve, Ross and Jack.’

Iain nodded. ‘Welcome.’

‘Thanks,’ Jack said. ‘It was really good of you to include us.’

‘More the merrier. Come on now and have a wee dram. It’s a cold one out here that’s to be sure.’

Iain held out his arm for Lizzie and she took it gratefully. Even with the cinder path, she didn’t feel that steady in her boots but that was more to do with the punch she’d consumed than anything else. The other five guys followed them towards the barn. Iain opened a door to one side of the building and ushered them in.

Inside, Jack was surprised to see there were bales of hay, covered in tartan blankets, an impromptu dance floor covered with a dusting of sand, several small tables and upturned barrels, two stoves providing heat, a long table bowing under the weight of bottles of wine, spirits, and food, and party lights strung from the rafters and support beams, the whole length of the building.

‘And this is a working farm?’ Jack said to Lizzie.

Lizzie grinned, pleased that he had at last spoken to her. He hadn’t said a word all the way here and had made a point of sitting as far away from her as he possibly could. He clearly had had second thoughts about breaking off his engagement – and about kissing her.

‘It is,’ she said, ‘but because this barn is attached to the house, Iain uses it more for community things than for the farm. The village has all sorts of things here, especially in the tourist season. They put on displays of the old ways, you know, weaving, spinning, knitting, that kind of thing and it’s where nearly all the ceilidhs are held. Iain’s family have lived here for generations and he’s seen as a sort of head man, although he’s not the Laird.’

‘I’ll put these on the table shall I Lizzie?’ Fraser asked holding the various plates and boxes he’d brought from the trailer.

‘Oh yes. Thanks Fraser. I’ll come and set it all out. We brought a few bottles with us as well and some of my punch. Oh, there they are.’

Ross was holding a bag containing the bottles and Phil was holding a large thermos jug of warm punch.

‘We’ll put them on the table. It’s help yourselves to food and drinks, guys and join in the dancing. I’ll introduce you to a few people and –’

‘No problem Lizzie,’ Phil said, ‘we can do that ourselves. It’s pretty obvious who we are I think, despite the kilts. You just enjoy yourself. You’ve done enough for us today already.’

‘Oh! Well, if you’re sure. I would like to have a chat to a couple of friends from the village thanks.’ She didn’t want to point out that it was probably because of the kilts that it was obvious who they were. Apart from the six of them, only a couple of the old local die-hards were wearing theirs and there was no way they would be mistaken for guys from London on a stag do.

Jack watched Lizzie walk towards a couple of people on the other side of the barn, then followed Fraser, Phil and Ross to the end table to help put out the food and drink.

‘This looks like it might be fun mate,’ Phil said. ‘I’m surprised how many people are here. I thought it was a small village. Must have come from miles around.’

‘Yeah.’

Jack wasn’t really listening. He was watching Lizzie, a frown forming as he saw her hand brush the arm of a tall, dark haired man who bent forward and kissed her on the cheek. The man said something and Jack could see that Lizzie blushed. Then she smiled up at the man and he put one hand on her shoulder, took her hand in his other and led her on to the dance floor, sliding his hand down her back and around her waist as he did so. Jack felt a surge of jealousy well up inside him and clenched his fists without even realising he was doing it.

‘She’s a good-looking woman and no mistake.’

Jack turned, startled. He hadn’t seen Iain standing beside him. ‘Who?’ he asked foolishly.

‘Auch! Like that is it? Well don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Best take care though. That husband of hers wants her back and he’s not the type to give up easily. Might be a long, hard struggle. Need to be sure you want that. Why don’t I introduce you to some available women?’

What was Iain saying? Did he too, think Jack had fallen for Lizzie?

‘I’m engaged! It’s my stag weekend!’ It didn’t sound convincing, even to him.

Iain raised his eyebrows. ‘My mistake,’ he said.

They stood side by side, Jack watching Lizzie, Iain watching Jane, both pretending they were just watching the dancing in general but anyone watching them would have seen the occasional flash of their eyes, and gritting of their teeth when some man or other got too close or a little too familiar with either Lizzie or Jane.

Jeff, Steve, Phil and Pete joined in the dancing. Steve in particular looked to be enjoying himself. He was with a very pretty blonde who was smiling up at him as if he were a Greek God. When they whirled near Jack at one point in the dance, he mouthed the word ‘single’ to Jack and winked. Jack almost felt sorry for the girl.

‘Are you not gonnae dance?’ Iain said, after a long silence.

Jack shook his head, ‘Not really in the mood.’

‘Come and have a wee dram instead then?’Jack followed Iain through the barn and into what looked like a snug, between the barn and the main farmhouse. There was a roaring log fire in a huge stone hearth and four aged leather wing chairs formed a semi circle in front of it.

Jack smiled. It was a rural gentleman’s club, or at least, that’s what it looked like. He felt he could be happy spending winter evenings in such a place.

Iain grabbed a bottle and two glasses from the top of a small cupboard just inside the door and sat in one of the chairs beside the fire. He poured an amber liquid into the two glasses and held one out to Jack.

‘May I?’ Jack pointed towards a chair opposite Iain’s.

Iain nodded and Jack took the glass from him.

Jack sat, and stretched his long legs out in front of the fire. He gulped at the drink then shook his head. ‘Wow! This is bloody good stuff! What it is?’

Iain grinned. ‘Home brew.’

‘You have got to be kidding. I’ve had twenty year old malts that aren’t a patch on this.’

‘Great, great granddaddy’s recipe. What do they say? I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.’

Jack grinned. He liked this man. Iain may be ten years or so older but Jack instinctively felt he could be friends with him. They sat in silence sipping their drinks and watching the fire crackle.

After several minutes Jack said, ‘Have you known her long?’

Iain raised his eyes from the fire. He didn’t need to ask who Jack was referring to. ‘Since just before she bought Laurellei. I’d met her a few times with Jane but when she decided to make an offer on Laurellei she came and asked me about the place. That was over two years ago. Been friends ever since. She’s a bonnie lass and that doesn’t mean just looks.’

Jack nodded. ‘Do ... do you know her husband well?’

‘Auch no! Met him a few times but didn’t take. Comes up every so often and tries to persuade her to go back but she won’t budge. She’s a tough one when she needs to be. Laurellei was a wreck when she bought it but she’s done wonders with the place. Her and Jane. Jane moved up here about a year before. Took over her aunt’s old place.’

Jack noticed there was something about the way he said Jane’s name but let it slide. It was none of his business.

‘Had one of the worst winters in years the first year Lizzie was here and we all thought she and Jane might head back south but they toughed it out. We knew, if they stayed through that they’d stay through anything. A word of advice Jack. If you’re interested in her and willing to take on the husband you’d best be deciding whether you want to live north of the border. There’ll be no budging the lassie now.’

Jack gulped and coughed. ‘I’m not! I told you, I’m engaged!’

Iain eyed Jack thoughtfully. ‘Your mouth says one thing but your eyes say another.’ He refilled his glass and handed the bottle to Jack.

Jack leant forward and took it, refilling his glass and handing it back.

‘I hardly know her. I only met her yesterday.’

Iain stood up and threw a log on the fire where it spat and crackled before flaring up, the flames dancing in intricate patterns.

‘That’s all it takes Jack. One look at a woman and if she’s the right one, a man can run through hell and high water to get away from her and lie to himself until he’s blue in the face and tell himself all the reasons why it’ll never work but, like it or not, he’ll find himself running back to her before too long.’ Iain let out a heavy sigh and dropped back into his chair.

Jack screwed up his eyes and scanned Iain’s weathered features. ‘You sound like you’ve tried running.’

‘Still am Jack. Still am.’

They drank in silence, each deep in their own thoughts. Jack wasn’t really sure how he felt. He knew he didn’t want to marry Kim – although he wasn’t ready to make that public knowledge just yet – and he knew he was seriously attracted to Lizzie, but as to having a relationship with her, well, how would that work? She lived in Scotland and clearly wanted to stay here, he lived in London. Would he consider moving?

‘Do ... d’you know why they’re separated?’ Jack asked tentatively. For someone who was denying an interest he knew he was asking a lot of questions.

‘Found him with another woman. Don’t know the details. Only know Lizzie walked out and came up here to stay with Jane. Laurellei had just gone on the market. She’d bought the place, left her job and moved up within a matter of weeks. He’s been here several times trying to get her back but so far ...’

Jack screwed up his eyes and shook his head as if he were having trouble focusing. ‘What is this stuff? I think it’s blown my head off.’