Highland Fling (5 page)

‘Great!’ Pete said. ‘What’s a cei ... .whatever?’

‘A sort of party with drink and music and dancing.’

‘The 'ighland fling, you mean?’

‘Well, maybe, if you’re lucky. They do have traditional Scottish dancing and they’re always great fun. They’re pretty regular events up here and oddly enough, the worse the weather, the more the Scots like to party. Most, if not all of the village will go. We’d better make some savouries and cakes to take with us Jane.’

‘Sure. You guys will need to save some energy for that tomorrow. Ceilidhs get pretty lively let me tell you and it’ll be a late night – with plenty to drink.’

‘I was hoping to do some climbing over the weekend,’ Jack said ‘but with this weather that doesn’t look like it’ll happen so I guess it’ll just be walking and photography anyway. Nothing too exhausting.’

Lizzie was surprised. Clearly Jack was a man of varied interests. The only thing Max was really interested in was money – and women, she reminded herself. But why did she keep comparing Jack to Max? This must stop.

‘So you’re an outdoors man then Jack?’ Jane said, glancing at Lizzie and raising her eyebrows in a meaningful gesture.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly. I can be just as happy indoors as out.’

‘I bet.’ Jane cast another glance in Lizzie’s direction. ‘Climbing and photography though. What got you into those?’ 

Jack didn’t notice the pointed remark. ‘I used to climb with my dad but mum spent the whole time worrying so now we just do walking weekends every so often. It was dad who got me into photography too. Although since he’s moved house, every time I go to visit we end up doing repairs to the place. It’s a bit of a wreck.’

‘Well, well, Jack,’ Jane said, ‘you are full of surprises.’ And the look she gave Lizzie said it all.

‘What about the rest of you?’ Lizzie asked, trying to get Jane off the subject of Jack, ‘what do you like to do?’

‘Make money,’ Steve said.

‘And spend it,’ Jeff added.

Pete just shrugged. ‘Be with my mates.’

‘Drink,’ said Ross, ‘talking of which, we’d better get a move on.’

‘Are you sure you trust us with your dog?’ Phil asked.

Lizzie smiled. ‘Don’t worry. If Alastair’s not happy, he’ll leave you and come home. Don’t give him more than a small bowl of bitter though. I’d like one sober male in the house tonight.’

Phil grinned. ‘Scout’s honour.’

‘Would you like dinner here or will you be eating at the pub?’ Jane asked.

The guys glanced at one another. ‘Here, if that’s okay with you?’ Jack said.

‘Yeah. What time? We’ll fit in with you.’

Again the guys exchanged looks. ‘Seven-ish?’ Phil said. They all nodded.

‘Seven-ish, it is,’ said Lizzie, thinking that meant more like eight. ‘We can come and pick you up as you’ll never find your way in the dark, even with Alastair. When it gets dark in the country, it gets really dark. There aren’t any street lights in the fields, although if it’s a full moon you might just about manage with torches.’

‘Didn’t think about that,’ Ross said, looking concerned. ‘Tell you what guys, why don’t we head back earlier then, about five-ish?  I could do with a lie down later anyway. Not sure I’m fully recovered from last night and the journey up here.’

Jack’s eyes met Lizzie’s for a second before she turned away. ‘I know exactly what you mean, mate,’ he said.

‘Right then, pub, kip, dinner at seven?’ Phil said. ‘Ready?’

They all got up together and headed to the door.

‘There are some spare wellies and boots in the hall cupboard,’ Lizzie said, ‘if any of you didn’t bring them. I think we’ve got most sizes.’ She had noticed that Pete still had his designer label footwear on, as did most of the others.

‘I’ve got boots upstairs,’ Phil said.

‘Me too,’ said Jack.

Pete grinned. ‘I’m definitely an indoors man, if you know what I mean?’ He winked at Lizzie.

She grinned back. ‘I know exactly what you mean. There are some jackets in the cupboard too. Help yourselves. I’ll get Alastair.’

‘We’ll be home by five,’ Jack said as they left fifteen minutes later, then realised he’d used the word home, ‘er ... back ... I mean.’ His brow furrowed and he looked flustered. ‘Um see you later.’ And with that he strode off with Alastair at his heels.

‘Well,’ Jane said as she and Lizzie watched them head towards the village, ‘Jack just gets better and better, doesn’t he? I told you if he mends roofs you should keep him.’

Lizzie watched until Jack was out of sight. She found herself hoping he would turn back and wave but he didn’t and she rebuked herself for being such a fool. When he’d said “home” something inside her reacted and a warm, cosy feeling had swept over her. God she was stupid where men were concerned she told herself. Max could twist her around his little finger and Jack just said the word “home” and she instantly saw a version of Little House on the Prairie.

‘He’s not mine to keep,’ she said, unable to subdue the rising disappointment she felt.

Jack had wanted a chance to have a word with Phil and at last he’d got it. Phil was throwing sticks for Alastair to fetch and the others were racing Alastair to see who could get to them first. Alastair was winning, paws down.

‘About the window Phil,’ Jack began, not really sure what he was going to say.

Phil picked up a stick and tapped Jack on the arm with it. ‘Forget it mate. Didn’t see a thing.’ He tossed the stick high in the air and Alastair raced after it showering them with snow.

Jack was relieved. ‘Don’t know what’s the matter with me; must be the drink. Still half pissed or something.’

‘Pre-wedding nerves, mate, that’s what it is. She’s pretty tasty too, if you like that fresh faced, unmade up, natural beauty type. Never fancied brunettes myself. I’m more a blonde bombshell kind of guy but even I had to look twice at Lizzie. Mind you, Jane’s pretty stunning too. Must be something in the water up here.’

Jack studied his friend’s face. He’d known Phil since he was a kid, along with Ross, but since Jack had been dating Kim, none of them seemed so close anymore. ‘Yeah well, it’s just madness anyway I’m engaged and, as you said, she’s married.’

Phil smirked. ‘That was just to put Steve off. You know what he’s like. She’s separated, and in my book, that’s as good as single. What harm is there in a final fling anyway? That’s what stag do’s are for. It’s not as if we’re talking anything serious here are we Jack? I mean, she’s about as opposite to Kim as opposites can get.’

Jack caught the look in Phil’s eyes but wasn’t sure what it meant and now wasn’t the time to ask. Conflicting emotions were whirling around in his head and he didn’t want to start a conversation that might lead him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go.

A snowball hit him square on the chest taking him by surprise, quickly followed by several more. Phil was hit too.

‘You want war?’ Phil yelled, grabbing a handful of snow and laughing; he threw it directly at Pete’s head.

The battle raged until they reached the village and six men – looking more like yetis than city bankers, stood outside The Drovers Rest, the village pub, with Alastair, who now resembled a polar bear cub.

The Drovers Rest was an old wayside inn dating from the sixteenth century. Inside it had a small dining room to the left, containing six tables with four chairs at each, and a large open fire. To the right was the bar, filled with battered leather armchairs, wooden chairs and stools and several ancient rickety tables of varying shapes and sizes.

There was another larger open fire and when the guys entered the bar, Dougall Fairbright was tossing three massive logs in to the flames.

‘Ah, so you’ll be Lizzie’s men then and wanting a wee dram no doubt.’ Dougall said smiling broadly. ‘Come in, come in and seat yourselves by the fire. And Alastair, my lad. You’ll be wanting your usual.’

Alastair barked in confirmation, his tail wagging like a windscreen wiper, before settling himself in front of the roaring fire, eagerly awaiting his drink.

Three hours later, the same men were staggering back towards Laurellei Farm having bought drinks for several of the locals and learnt a few Scottish ballads – and Rugby songs – which they were now singing as Alastair, the only sober one, led them home.

Lizzie and Jane spent the afternoon in the kitchen, baking various cakes and savoury delights to take to the ceilidh and it was almost five when Lizzie heard the guy’s raucous laughter and looked at the clock.

‘Look at the time. I can’t believe the guys are back already.’ She glanced through the window and saw they were building snowmen – or trying to. A couple of them looked as if they were having trouble just standing up.

‘They’ll be freezing,’ she said as Alastair raced into the kitchen shaking off layers of snow in the doorway. After greeting both Lizzie and Jane enthusiastically, he headed for his basket beside the Aga.

‘You could offer to warm one of them up,’ Jane said, grinning.

‘Don’t start Jane. But thinking about it, I’d better put extra towels in their rooms ‘cos they’ll be soaked and they’ll all want baths or showers.’ She finished her cup of tea and headed for the utility room.

‘Oh, you’re no fun,’ Jane teased.

Neither of them heard Jack come in and make his way upstairs.

Jack stepped into the shower and luxuriated under the heat of the water. He had tried to watch his alcohol intake at the pub. He was already confused enough without adding, “being out of his head with drink”, to it.

On his way back to the house, whilst the others were singing, he thought about what Phil had said earlier. He was right. Lizzie was the total opposite of Kim. Lizzie had brunette hair that fell in soft waves to just below her shoulders and bounced when she walked, although it’d been in a ponytail when he’d first seen her that morning on the platform. Kim’s was long, straight and dyed blonde.

They were both stunning but in different ways. Lizzie was petite and had a natural fresh faced beauty as Phil said, whereas Kim was five feet nine, looked like a model and wouldn’t dream of going out without full make-up on.

Lizzie was slim, although not as slim as Kim and she was in proportion, almost perfect proportion, whereas Kim’s ample breasts always made her seem a little top-heavy. Nothing stood out about Lizzie and yet, Jack had a feeling that if he walked into a room and saw them both for the first time, it would be Lizzie he’d notice.

So he was attracted to her. So what? It didn’t mean anything. He’d been with Kim for two years and it worked. Hell, they would be married in two weeks and spend the rest of their lives together. Phil was right. It was pre-wedding nerves – and too much alcohol.

Fidelity was important to Jack and he’d never cheated on anyone he’d dated. But he remembered how he’d felt during that moment on the platform when Lizzie lie beneath him. The urge to kiss her had been almost overwhelming. Where was his fidelity then? He’d never felt like that before.

His mind raced. He could just kiss her; that wouldn’t be a problem would it? The trouble was, he’d like to do more than just kiss her – and that would be. He felt a sensation of arousal trickling through his body. It had been a long time since he’d felt like this.

A final fling, Phil had said. What harm would it really do? Perhaps it was exactly what he needed. It might even do him good. Prove to him that Kim really was the one. Get rid of his doubts and get this craziness he’d been feeling since he’d set eyes on Lizzie, out of his system. They were both adults and they’d never have to see one another again. If she were willing ... 

He closed his eyes and let the warm water wash over him. He wondered what she’d feel like and began picturing her with him – in the shower. Visions of their naked bodies, clinging to one another under the cascade of water crept into his mind. As he washed himself he imagined touching her, his hands exploring and caressing and his mouth covering hers in long, slow, wet kisses.

Oh God, what was he thinking? He was engaged.

But a final fling wasn’t really that serious was it? And he did need to be sure. Marriage was for life – or at least – it was as far as he was concerned. Yes, he had to be sure.

He could make it clear that it was just a fling and if Lizzie was okay with that, what harm could it possibly do? Kim would never know and in a way, it was for her benefit too. She wouldn’t want to marry someone who had doubts about whether she was really “the one”. Not Kim. She wasn’t the type to play second fiddle to anyone.

And Lizzie? Was she the type who’d be happy to sleep with another woman’s fiancé? Jack shook his head. Somehow, he doubted it. What was the matter with him? He must get a grip before he did something stupid. He turned the temperature of the water down a notch but it didn’t wash away his thoughts – and his thoughts were all about Lizzie.

‘Would you tell the guys what time it is in case they want to lie down for a while before dinner,’ Lizzie said her arms full of fluffy white towels.

‘Sure. Then can I rummage through your wardrobe for something to wear tonight? Something sexy and alluring.’

‘Yeah, help yourself. But if it’s sexy and alluring you want you’re out of luck. That doesn’t describe anything in my wardrobe.’

Lizzie headed through the hall in the main house, to the bedrooms the guys were occupying.

She knocked on the first door, even though she knew they were still outside as she could hear them singing something that sounded like a rather bawdy version of a Scottish ballad. She grinned, as a mother would with a mischievous child, and entered the room. She placed the towels on the bed then went to the next room and did the same.

Opening the door to the final room, a cloud of heat hit her and she could see the windows were steamed up. She strode towards the radiator and cursed quietly. It was red hot. The boiler must be playing up again. She’d have to ask Iain Hamilton to have a look at it sometime over the weekend. He was good at that sort of thing.

She heard Jane shrieking with laughter and peered through the window. Jane was having a snowball fight with the guys and although it was five to one, she appeared to be winning.