Page 39 of Highland Games
‘Can I see the kitchens and below stairs rooms? There could be hidden treasures we could use to help the castle make money.’
‘Not likely.’
He led her to the basement where one of the wine cellars had been converted into a tea room, but it was dark and damp and there was no gift shop. They climbed the main stairs to the upper floors and the multitude of bedrooms. Zoe didn’t want to stay long. Being in a room alone with Rory and a four-poster bed was a torture too far. After an hour of traipsing up and down stairs, he led the way to the great hall, drew the blind, and returned her to the back door. Rain was hammering down. They stood in the entrance.
‘Have you seen enough?’
‘I think so. I’ll need to come back with my bigger camera and take proper photos for the website as soon as possible. Where’s Bandit?’
Rory gestured to the single-storey building running along the side of the courtyard, the one he had come out of as she arrived.
‘Is that your workshop?’
He nodded.
‘Can I see it? See how the front door’s coming along?’
He hesitated and Zoe saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. His internal argument seemed to reach a conclusion and he held out his arm, gesturing her towards the building. She dashed across the cobbles through the rain, pushed open the door and ran in.
The smell of freshly cut wood travelled up her nostrils and fired her pleasure centres. She knew she would forever find this smell erotic, as it was one of the notes that made up the incredible man who had entered the building behind her.
Before her stretched a winter wonderland of wood, with drifts of sawdust covering the floor like a blanket of snow. The building was the old stable block, with a cobbled floor and pitched timber-framed roof. She could see indentations in the walls along the far side where the stalls used to be, round metal baskets for holding hay still attached to the walls. The horses were long gone. Now planks and blocks occupied every available space, propped up or piled in heaps, and workbenches, bandsaws and circular saws were dotted around. A large dog bed lay off to one side containing Bandit, who pricked up his ears as they entered, and trotted over to say hello. Zoe scratched behind his ears as he pushed against her leg.
On the largest workbench in the centre of the room was a heavy oak door, the door she presumed he was making for the cabin. She walked over with Bandit by her side. The wood was already thick, but she could see he was making it double skinned to maximise the insulation. It was a door that mirrored its creator. Built to withstand everything from the weather to invading Viking hordes.
She marvelled at how quickly he had made it. She ran her fingers across the surface. It was as smooth as glass, like silky skin.
‘It’ll be ready soon.’
Zoe jumped at the sound of his voice behind her, her breath quickening.
‘I’m going to put in a triple glazed panel to give you more light.’
She scooted away from the bench with the pretence of looking around the rest of the workshop at the half-finished projects. Rory followed her, keeping his body between Zoe and his work, preventing her getting too close. She got to the far end of the building and noticed something. Unconsciously she pushed past him and knelt down.
‘This is incredible!’
There were big carved pieces of dark wood resting against the wall. She pulled them out, propping them next to each other so she could see them better. ‘Did you make this?’
Rory nodded, his features hard.
‘It’s unbelievable,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a bedframe?’
She felt over the wood, as if reading braille. It was carved like a tree in the landscape, with the four legs as thick trunks, the branches weaving up along the sides of the bed. There was a footboard, which depicted grassland, heather and animals, with the loch in the distance. The animals seemed suspended in the moment, ready to go back to their day when she looked away. She traced the outline of a powerful stag, its head raised and alert, and the tiny bodies of field mice nibbling at wheat kernels. The headboard was fit for a woodland king, the branches of the tree bursting with leaves and life. Each leaf, each twig, a work of art. There were birds hidden amongst the leaves, a nest with baby chicks, a delicately carved worm held between the beak of a parent, butterflies and insects. It was a carving of constant discovery and wonder. In the centre, in the tree canopy was a round plain space, about the size of a dinner plate, still uncarved, with pencil markings on it, unfinished and waiting.
It was the most beautiful thing Zoe had ever seen, created by the most beautiful man she had ever met. She saw the mastery of his craft, the care he had put in, his humour, his mind, his soul. Her feelings ran so deep for a man she would never have. She stood up, facing away from him, her eyes compressed tightly shut. She wouldn’t cry, she just couldn’t.
‘Zoe?’ His voice was right behind her, deep and soft. He sounded concerned. She held her breath, trying to stem the tide of her emotions until she couldn’t hold it any more and the dam burst. She shuddered out a sob. His hands came to her shoulders, turning her towards him. She stared at the floor, violently shaking her head, shedding more tears.
He drew her into him, stroking her back and nuzzling her hair. ‘Shhh. Shhh now, it’s okay.’
Through the fog of her emotions, she felt him kissing the top of her head. She was cocooned within his arms, warm and safe, her insides a jumbled mess of adrenaline and emotion.
‘It’s only a bit of wood,’ he said. ‘No need to cry.’
‘I’m so sorry, it’s just so beautiful,’ Zoe hiccupped into his chest.
He breathed out into her hair. ‘Take it.’
