Page 74 of Highland Games
She had crashed into the waters of his life like a meteorite. Scorching through the sky and vaporising his sea of tranquillity. His feelings for her blinded him. She consumed every part of his body, mind and soul, drawing him into her endless light. But he knew with a dull certainty that if she had stayed, sooner or later the lure of city life would have come calling, like a tune you can’t get out of your head, an itch that can’t be scratched away.
What could Kinloch offer someone as mind-blowing as her? A crumbling castle serving dwindling numbers of tourists, an economy built mostly on jobs done far away, and a small-town mentality where everyone knew your business. She deserved more than he or Kinloch could ever offer, and he would rather live with his soul ripped out than have hers one day yearn to leave. Her happiness meant infinitely more to him than his own.
The band was warming up for the ceilidh, and people drifted to the sides of the room or paired up. As he turned away a flash of red snagged the edge of his vision and his head jerked instinctively towards it.
Standing at the far end of the hall – Zoe.
As their eyes locked, lightning arced through him and blood roared in his ears. He blinked rapidly, trying to convince himself the goddess gliding towards him was real.
It looked like she had floated down from heaven, then been poured into a dress designed to send men to hell. It was black as sin, hugging her perfect curves and ending just above her knees. As she walked, the skirt split up the side, revealing a glimpse of her long, creamy thighs, kissed with freckles. Lust punched him in the groin.
Her hair was braided and pinned up, but with enough escaping curls for people to know she was a firework. He tried to move but his feet were rooted to the spot, his breathing ragged, a fire of love and want and need raging through his body. She smiled at him, and ran her tongue out to lick her bottom lip nervously.
She reached him and he drowned in the liquid warmth of her eyes. ‘You scrub up well,’ she said with a smile. ‘I was looking for my scruffy boyfriend but he appears to have been replaced by James Bond.’
His throat constricted with emotion.
‘Aren’t you going to say something?’
‘You’re here. You came back,’ he said hoarsely.
She took one of his hands in hers. ‘And I’m staying. If you’ll have me?’
He nodded and swallowed. ‘I’ll take whatever you want to give,’ he whispered.
‘You can have my heart,’ she said softly.
The dam broke and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his head into the side of her neck, kissing up her jawline until he found her mouth, losing himself inside her with a groan. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ he murmured between kisses. ‘Oh god, Zoe, I love you.’
She stroked his hair, as if soothing a wild animal. ‘Rory, maybe this can wait?’
He looked up. They were standing in the middle of the hall on their own, everyone watching with smiles on their faces. The silence was broken by the sound of the band’s bass player playing ‘Bow Chicka Wow Wow’ for their benefit. The room erupted with laughter, cheers and wolf whistles.
Rory’s face flushed almost as much as Zoe’s and he whispered in her ear. ‘You make me forget which planet I’m on.’
He ran his fingers up and down her spine, revelling in the discovery that her dress was completely backless. ‘Or maybe they’ve just noticed half your dress is missing.’
Zoe giggled. ‘It’s Fiona’s. She bought it to wear for her husband.’
‘And then, nine months later, their baby arrived,’ he replied drolly. He kissed her earlobe, in no hurry to leave the dance floor, impervious to the uproar they were creating. ‘What you’re wearing isn’t a dress,’ he murmured, grazing his hand down to cup her bottom. ‘It’s just a scrap of material in my way. And in about five minutes, I’m going to remove it with my teeth.’
Zoe shivered. ‘Can we dance first please?’
‘One dance. Then we’re leaving.’
‘But isn’t this your party?’
‘They’ll be fine without me.’
‘Come on, at least two dances? This is my first ever ceilidh.’
‘One. And that’s my final offer,’ he replied, reluctantly releasing her.
The fiddler played a chord.
Rory bowed deeply. ‘Would you give me the honour of the first dance?’
Zoe nodded shyly, and he led her into position. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered.
