Page 33 of Highland Games
He took a piece of chalk out of his pocket and drew lines along the floor to show where the units would be and the space for the bathroom. Zoe put her mug of tea on the table, and Basil on the floor, and followed him, keen for any excuse to be close to him, to smell that intoxicating scent of man and wood.
‘So, you’d come through the bathroom door here, then we’ve got a toilet, which will be compostable but built-in, so will appear like a normal plumbed in one, and a sink here. I don’t think there’s room enough for a bath, but instead I can build you a larger shower here.’ Rory sketched the outline on the floor and stood in it. Zoe joined him.
They were facing each other in the space he had drawn. Her heart raced. They may have been standing in a chalk rectangle, but in Zoe’s mind they were already in the shower: wet, naked, their bodies entwined.
‘It’ll be big enough for two,’ he said gruffly.
‘Two?’ she questioned faintly.
Rory swallowed. ‘Basil has to wash sometimes, doesn’t he?’ He smiled tightly and stepped away from her. ‘I was also thinking I could put a sleeping platform in the roof for you which would free up more room. But before that, I want to take up the floorboards and insulate underneath.’
Zoe wasn’t listening. He could have suggested installing a nuclear reactor and spinning the cabin upside down and she would have nodded in agreement. Having him so close had dissolved her cognitive function to mush.
‘And there’s the greywater system to install, but I want to see if you can afford a UV filter so you can drink it too. You can take the water from the roof and also from the stream. If you get a big enough tank, it will last all year with the amount of rain we get.’
Zoe was happy not to talk. She was utterly absorbed in staring at his back, his arms, his tousled hair, as he talked through his plans. Heat had gathered between her legs and made her restless. Her body was craving release. She hadn’t had an orgasm for months. Her libido had been extinguished by her London dating experiences but it hadn’t bothered her. She wasn’t interested in men any more. However, Rory wasn’t a man, he was a god. Her desire had woken with a vengeance, like a lioness waking from sleep, stretching her limbs and flexing her claws.
Rory finished talking, and saw her scribbled notes on the table. ‘You’ve started already?’
Zoe glanced up, then down at the table again. She couldn’t look at him and use her brain at the same time. His eyes were arctic, shining with glacial light, silver stars shooting out through the irises. When she stared into them she was lost in a blizzard, her body dissipating into a storm of snowflakes till she was no longer there.
‘Yes. I didn’t mean to, but I made the mistake of going through everything you gave me last night along with a bottle of wine and, erm a little whisky, and got a bit carried away. It was three before I ran out of light and paper and had to go to bed.’
‘You worked on this till three?’
Zoe couldn’t work out if he was impressed or derisive. ‘Yes,’ she said defensively. ‘It’s a bloody mess. I mean,’ she lifted one of the A2 leather books, ‘this belongs in a museum. No one has been using books like this for over a hundred years. I can’t believe you can even buy these any more.’
He shrugged. ‘They’re there, so they might as well be used.’
‘The best use for these is in the firebox. Give me a new one to photograph, then I’m eBaying the lot.’
Rory swallowed and Zoe looked at him. Her heart was stuttering wildly, pounding up into her throat. She had to find an outlet for her energy so channelled it into indignation. ‘You’ve got a problem with that? Finding it hard to stop using the swan-feather quill? Still got a stream of peasants wanting to donate their blood for ink?’
‘N-no,’ he stuttered. ‘It’s just going to be a lot of changes, that’s all.’
Zoe’s jaw dropped open. She lifted the chair and brought it to his side of the table, placing it beside him. ‘I think you’d better sit.’ She guided him to the chair, any excuse to touch him. He sat down heavily and it collapsed, sending him sprawling on the floor and Basil running for cover.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! That was my last one!’
Rory got to his feet, the remains of the chair in his enormous hands, his cheeks flushed. Zoe tipped her head back and slumped her shoulders. ‘Put what you can in the firebox and take the rest away. I’ll drive out to the storage unit where my furniture is this afternoon. If I leave now, I’ll be back by tonight.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He put the pieces of wood in the Rayburn.
‘It was going to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad you did it, not me. There’s a limit to how many chairs I can destroy without getting a complex. Now lean against the Rayburn for support and if you feel dizzy, breathe out slowly through your mouth, I’m out of paper bags right now.’
She saw a glint of amusement flash across his face, and his lips twitch. Her tummy sparkled. She moved away from him.
‘Okay, listen up, Stone Age Sam. I’ve checked out the castle’s “website” and it’s edged in front of that god-awful leaflet in the running for the ‘thing most likely to put people off visiting Kinloch castle’ award. All copies of the leaflet need to be chucked, and you only get another one designed when you’ve got more cash. Anyway, most information is online now. People have the attention span of a gnat so will never pick up, let alone read, a leaflet. Everything is on their phone. If you want people to come to the castle and spend money, you need to have a functioning website, and be on all the social channels. You need to create a brand, an identity, a hook, tell people why they have to schlep all the way out here for a few dark rooms and a leaking roof. Call to something in their soul, make them feel special they came. Then fleece them in the tea room and the gift shop. That’s where you’ll really make your money.’
Rory seemed lost, as if she’d told him he had a couple of months to learn Mandarin and become a world-class chess player. Zoe brought out her phone. ‘You know Instagram, right?’ Rory shrugged non-committedly. She walked over to him and showed him her screen, hyper aware of his body next to hers. ‘So, this is my Instagram account. I opened it a couple of weeks ago for my friends to see my life here.’
‘Is that the castle?’
‘Yes, I took some shots this morning.’
She scrolled down and he pointed at the selfie of her and Basil in the tree. ‘Was that when you were stuck?’
‘I was on a rat rescue mission that went awry. I was not stuck.’ With no connection, she couldn’t load more images. ‘Dammit! There’s no signal, I can’t show you any more.’
