Page 44 of Highland Games
‘Jesus!’ said Rory. ‘You have!’
Zoe snapped her head back. ‘Shush! We’re in a library. And I didn’t think about the freedom part.’
‘No. This is not happening,’ he hissed through clenched teeth.
Zoe stood. ‘Listen to me. Please,’ she whispered urgently. ‘The whole point of the website is to sell the castle to tourists. Most of the people who visit are not from Scotland. They’re here to experience something different from what they get at home, and that means kilts, shortbread, haggis, castles and bagpipes. It means Ben Nevis and Glen Coe, the Loch Ness Monster and whisky. It can’t be sold through photos of a stately home that could be any old National Trust pile. We have to sell a story, a dream, and that involves people. I can’t photograph Lord Kinloch, and I bet he’s too stuffy anyway. You look right.’
‘What do you mean? Doesn’t Morag have a son? Why can’t you use him?’
Zoe smiled. ‘Jamie is a handsome man but he’s too shy to be a Scottish warrior. You look timeless, strong, wild. The kind of man that built the castle. The kind of man that other men want to be and, er.’ She looked away. ‘Some women want to have.’
‘So not a man-bear, yeti, hobbit, thingymajig then?’
‘Only a little bit, and only to me,’ she muttered.
Rory felt like he was on shifting sand, everything was unstable. ‘I’m not a performing monkey. I’ll be a laughing stock,’ he said quietly.
‘You won’t. I promise. Who cares what anyone thinks? People are only jealous they don’t look like you. These photos are going to make all the difference. I promise.’
Rory sighed. ‘What other plans did you have for me?’
Zoe passed her notepad to him and took a step back. He scanned the page, then his head shot up. ‘Marriage shots? Who the hell am I meant to be marrying? You?’ Heat scorched across his face. Hers was on fire.
‘God no,’ she replied. ‘Fiona, Morag’s daughter.’
He dropped the notepad onto the desk. ‘Morag’s daughter? Jesus!’
His skull was about to shatter. Keeping a low profile didn’t involve getting his kit off on the battlements. Soon the whole village would be speculating about who he was.
‘She’s going to bring clothes and hold lights for me. And I want her help with your hair, as she’s a hairdresser. She won’t tell anyone, I promise.’
Rory fixed her with a stare. He saw her swallow. ‘She’s the postmistress’s bloody daughter! I bet she could walk on water sooner than keep a frigging secret. I give it ten minutes before the whole of Kinloch knows what you’ve planned.’
‘I don’t know why you won’t trust me. I’m not the devil incarnate.’
He gave her a look that suggested he thought otherwise.
‘How about this,’ Zoe ploughed on. ‘Let me take the photos I know will work. And if you don’t like them, we won’t use them. You’ll have a veto. Deal?’
He glared at her. She chewed on her bottom lip and he looked away. Fuck! He would do anything for her. ‘Deal,’ he said in a flat tone.
Zoe gave a little jump. ‘This is going to be incredible!’ She picked up her notebook, ripped out a page and passed it to him. ‘This is a list of things I need that I think you should have. What time can we start?’
He stuffed it in his pocket. ‘Eleven. I’ll meet you out the back.’
He walked out.
16
The next morning, Zoe went to Morag’s to collect a massive Scottish flag she had earlier bought online. Fiona had brought a bag of clothes, plastic flowers, her hairdressing supplies, and Liam.
‘I’m so sorry, Zoe, Duncan had to go for a meeting and couldn’t take him, and Mum’s working so he’s stuck with us.’
‘It’s okay, photos are silent so it doesn’t matter what noise he makes,’ Zoe reassured her, whilst worrying about Rory’s reaction.
They walked around to the back of the castle just before eleven, bags hanging off their shoulders and carrying the flag. Rory stalked out of his workshop to stand in front of them. His face was grim. Half executioner, half condemned man. He stared at them.
‘Hi, er, I’m Fiona. And this is Liam.’
