Surprises on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #1)

Chapter 18

The following Saturday evening, Jinny breezed into the boathouse clutching a bottle of wine in each hand and grinning from ear to ear. ‘Freedom, freedom, freedom,’ she sang to the tune of George Michael’s hit single.

Tara chuckled at her friend’s obvious delight that school had finally broken up for the summer, and her children were spending a week with their grandparents, who were taking them on holiday.

‘You realise that you’re putting me off having kids, if this is your reaction to them not being around for a few days,’ Tara told her.

‘ A few days? It’s a whole week. A week , I tell you! No having to yell at them to brush their teeth and remember their PE kit. No having to cut a leisurely hot bath short because someone needs something they can quite easily wait for but don’t want to. No having to double-check that both kids are fast asleep before Carter and I have a bit of nookie. And if they are asleep – miracles of miracles – we have to be quieter than a nun on Sunday. Hell, with the sex-police away, Carter and I can shag on the living room rug like rabbits if we want to, and if I scream the place down, no one will bat an eyelid. Here, open this.’ She shoved a bottle of Co-op’s finest white wine at her.

‘So why are you having supper at mine and not doing the dirty deed on your rug?’ Tara asked with a giggle.

‘Shagging on the rug is OK in theory, but not too comfy in practice. And I’d better not make too much noise in case next door hears. Anyway, Carter is out tonight. Darts. So I may as well get blotto with you. And I’m looking forward to a girly chat.’

With Cal going for a drink this evening with Mack, Tara was also looking forward to it. She opened the wine and poured it into a couple of glasses, then gave one to Jinny, who had shrugged off her jacket and was now standing by the picture window.

‘Thanks. This view is fab.’

Tara stood next to her. ‘It sure is. I would happily live here permanently, for the view alone.’

‘Nothing to do with Cal living just up the way?’

Tara could feel her cheeks growing warm. ‘No…’

‘Liar. Come on, spill. I want all the deets. By the way, you’ve made a big impression on Bonnie – she can’t stop talking about you. Whenever I see her, it’s Tara this and Tara that. I think you’ve got a fan. That’s got to bode well for you and lover boy. Half the battle is getting the step-kids to like you, or so I’ve been told.’

‘Bonnie doesn’t know that Cal and I are an item. He wants her to get used to me being around first.’

‘I can’t blame him,’ Jinny said. ‘That’s what I would do if I were in his shoes. But I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about on that score. She thinks you’re wonderful.’

‘And I think she’s wonderful, too.’

‘Aw, get you, that’s so sweet. So, now we’ve established that you and Bonnie are firm friends, how goes it with the delectable Cal? Have you fully rekindled your relationship yet?’ Jinny waggled her eyebrows.

Tara blinked. The question was rather personal.

‘You can tell me to mind my own business,’ Jinny carried on cheerfully. ‘I won’t be offended.’

‘It’s not that. It’s just that it’s early days yet,’ Tara explained.

‘I think it’s lovely how you two have found each other again.’ Jinny’s expression was dreamy. ‘I love a good romance. Fill me up.’ She held out her empty glass.

Tara also loved a good romance, but there hadn’t been a happy ever after with Cal the first time. Would it happen the second time? Could she trust him to put the pieces of her heart back together? Whatever happened, it was too late to back away now. She hadn’t put just a toe in the water, she was immersed up to her neck and with every kiss, every look, every touch, she was in danger of being swept away.

The shrill sound of an incoming call woke Tara, and she groaned. Her

head was thumping, her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth and

she felt sick. She never should have drunk so much last night. It was

Jinny’s fault.

She groaned again when she saw the time.

It was her mother on the phone. ‘Tara? Are you OK? I haven’t heard from you in ages. I was beginning to worry. Sorry to ring so early, but I thought I might catch you in.’

‘Yes, Mum, I’m fine. No, honestly, I’m good. Really good.’ Damn it, she knew she shouldn’t have left it so long since her last phone call, but she’d been so busy.

She’d sent her mum loads of photos and they messaged each other often, but she hadn’t actually spoken to her for nearly three weeks. She didn’t want to speak to her now, but only because she had a raging hangover, and the thought of talking to anyone made her feel queasy. Tara hoped Jinny was suffering equally as badly, since it was all her fault for bringing the bottles of wine.

‘Toby and I will have to come and visit,’ her mum said. ‘But I honestly don’t know when that will be; after Christmas probably.’

Christmas was half a year away, but with Mum and Toby owning a caravan park and this being the height of summer, Tara knew they would be hard-pressed to get away any time soon. The site was open ten months of the year, only being closed for January and February, so if she wanted to see her mum before then, she’d have to be the one who did the travelling. But not just yet. She had too much going on.

‘I’ll try to visit you before then,’ Tara promised. The number of tourists to Skye dwindled as the days shortened and the weather turned stormier, so autumn would be an ideal time to fly south, like the swallows.

‘It looks beautiful,’ her mum was saying. ‘But then, Skye is. Did I tell you that your father and I spent a weekend there before you were born?’

‘Yes, Mum, you did.’

‘We didn’t climb The Old Man of Storr though, or go out in a boat to see whales. Maybe we could do something like that when we visit?’

‘Maybe.’ By then she would have told Mum about Cal, so perhaps they could all go together, including Bonnie. Tara knew that her mum would simply adore Bonnie. The one thing Mum lamented was the lack of grandchildren, and with the end of Tara and Dougie’s marriage, the idea of grandchildren had been put on ice.

Would Cal want any more children, Tara wondered. He’d had Bonnie so young, that nearly all of his twenties had been taken up with a child. Maybe he felt he was done at one, because in another few years his nest would be empty and he could begin to do all those things he’d probably missed out on when he had a small child to consider.

How did Tara feel about the possibility of not being a mother? If she had to decide between being with Cal and having a child of her own, which would she choose? She would be Bonnie’s stepmum, obviously, but would that be enough?

Tara thought it might…

With a sigh, she realised she was getting ahead of herself. She and Cal hadn’t even slept together yet (or they had , but not for many years), and any future they might have hadn’t been hinted at. Tara knew one thing, though – her mother wouldn’t be happy when she found out that Cal was back in her life. Mum had witnessed first-hand the devastation he’d wrought.

Oh, well, that was a conversation for another day. Even if Tara didn’t have a hangover from hell, there was no way she could face telling her mother about Cal right now. Their relationship would have to be on a much firmer footing before she put that particular cat amongst the pigeons.

A loud, persistent knocking woke Tara with a start. It took her a

second to remember where she was and what day it was. She was in the

boathouse and it was Sunday.

The knock came again, and she heaved her stiff body off the sofa and staggered to the door.

‘Oh, dear,’ were Cal’s first words when he saw her.

‘If that’s all you can say, go away.’ She pretended to shut the door on him.

‘Heavy night?’

‘You could say that.’ She poured a glass of water from the tap and drank it down. ‘What’s the time?’

‘Eleven thirty. Have you just got up?’

‘I’ve been up since nine.’ After her mum’s phone call, she’d taken two paracetamols, made a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa, her head resting on the cushions as she stared vacantly at the loch. At some point, she must have fallen asleep.

‘Are you working today?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think I can.’ Thankfully her headache had gone, but she wasn’t in the mood for making anything more than a piece of toast. The thought of making fiddly little doors and windows for Bonnie’s doll’s house made her feel ill. Besides, a day off would do her good.

He said, ‘What if I cook you a fried breakfast? Have you got any bacon?’

She did, though she wasn’t sure a full English was the way forward. But her tummy had settled since earlier, and it was telling her it was hungry. When it rumbled loudly, she gave in. ‘I like my bacon crispy,’ she told him.

‘I haven’t forgotten.’ His gaze caught hers and held it.

She wondered what else he remembered. She hadn’t forgotten a single thing. The smallest detail was imprinted on her memory.

‘Do you mind if I have a quick shower while you make breakfast?’ she asked.

When he said he didn’t, she hurried into the bathroom, grimacing when she saw herself in the mirror. Pale face, scarecrow hair, no bra.

The shower took care of the hair, make-up helped with the pale face and getting dressed helped with the droopy boobs.

Feeling more presentable, she emerged from the bedroom to the enticing smell of grilled bacon and hot coffee. The radio was on, and Cal was shaking his backside to an old Motown number as he fried a couple of eggs.

‘Nearly ready,’ he yelled over his shoulder, then yelped when he saw her watching him. Putting the spatula-free hand to his chest, he said, ‘You scared me to death. I thought you were in the bedroom.’

‘So I noticed.’

‘You caught the dancing, did you?’ He wiggled his hips. ‘I’ve still got the moves.’

‘You never had any moves to start with. You dance like a monkey who has eaten too many E numbers.’

‘That’s harsh. I’m insulted.’

‘You know it’s true.’

‘OK, maybe it is, but at least I can fry an egg.’

‘So can I.’

‘You never used to be able to. You always managed to break them.’

‘I’ve been practising.’

He slid an egg onto a plate where bacon, mushrooms, a grilled tomato and some baked beans were already sitting and passed it to her.

Her mouth watering, Tara sat at the table, noticing that Cal had already laid it. He’d even poured her a glass of orange juice and had remembered the salt and pepper. She began to eat, hesitantly at first, as she wondered whether her delicate stomach was ready to receive it.

It seemed it was, and she and Cal scoffed their food in contented silence, the only sounds being the muted music from the radio and the scrape of cutlery on plates.

Eventually replete, Tara mopped up the last of the bean sauce with the rest of her toast and popped it in her mouth.

‘That was delicious,’ she said. ‘Exactly what I needed.’

‘I know what else you need: fresh air.’

‘I don’t think I can face a walk,’ she admitted with a shudder.

‘How about if you don’t have to walk anywhere, and can just sit and watch the world go by?’

‘That sounds better.’ She didn’t mind going for a drive. She’d thoroughly enjoyed the scenery to and from their hike the other day.

Tara stacked the dishwasher whilst Cal went to get ready, but when she’d finished she was surprised to see him waiting for her and the car nowhere in sight.

‘We’re going out on the boat, aren’t we?’ she guessed, horrified. A boat bobbing on the waves and a hangover didn’t make good bedfellows.

‘Yep. I promised I’d take you out on the loch, and today is perfect.’

She had to admit that the conditions were at their optimum. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and the surface of the loch was as smooth as the mirror in her bathroom.

‘Do you promise it won’t be too wavy?’ she asked.

He crossed his heart. ‘I promise.’

‘Do I have to wear anything in particular? Like a wetsuit?’

She could see him trying not to laugh. ‘Not unless you want to go for a swim, and even then, I wouldn’t bother with a wetsuit. The water isn’t that cold.’

Tara didn’t intend to find out. She wouldn’t even go as far as dipping her toe in. However, she was happy enough to sit in a boat where it was nice and dry, and she was even happier when Cal informed her there was a cushion for her to sit on and a throw if she got cold. He’d clearly thought about her comfort, because when she’d watched him row out to the opposite shore the other week, she was pretty certain he hadn’t bothered with a cushion.

After making sure she had her phone – this would be a photo opportunity, if ever she saw one – Tara was ready, and they set off. Cal had already hauled the boat to the water’s edge, and it only took a couple of shoves to push it all the way in.

He held her hand as she clambered into it whilst trying not to get her feet wet, and she was rather alarmed when it wobbled and bobbed in the water, although as soon as she sat down and Cal got in and took up the oars, it stopped rocking.

Soon he was rowing strongly, and the boat was gliding through the water. He sat directly opposite her, and she tried to focus on where they were going, rather than on the muscles of the man getting them there. But it was no good. His shoulders, chest, arms and thighs rippled and bunched as he powered the oars through the water in a steady, fluid rhythm.

It was mesmerising, and each time she managed to tear her gaze away from his body to his face, she found him watching her. It both excited and unsettled her.

Self-consciously she looked at the scenery over his shoulder, and noticed the far shore was getting steadily closer.

She wondered when he would stop rowing, put down those oars and take her in his arms, because the promise in his eyes told her that’s what he was going to do. Sooner or later, he would gather her to him and kiss her. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t kissed her before. He had, and recently. But out here, on the flat mirrored water, its meaning would be deeper, more significant, because this was his special place.

‘You don’t go out in the boat just to fish, do you?’ she asked with sudden insight.

‘I come out here to think. If I catch a fish, it’s a bonus.’ His gaze roamed over the surrounding mountains. ‘Look at it, it’s magnificent and humbling, and it feeds my soul. I always feel more grounded when I’ve been out on the water.’ His eyes were glistening. ‘I love this place, the wildness, the freedom…’

The passion in his voice made her shiver and her heart race. He was so at home in this landscape, and his love for it was as clear as the water beneath them.

Bringing the boat in close to the rocks, he glanced behind him, turning his head from side to side as he checked they weren’t about to be shipwrecked on those rough teeth of seaweed-draped stone.

She watched the skill with which he manoeuvred the fragile boat through the channels, and glanced over the side to see the hull glide over their submerged shapes as she held her breath.

With small sculling motions, Cal eased the boat closer to the shore and Tara heard the bottom scrape on the pebbly beach. Then he got to his feet in one fluid motion and leapt over the side, splashing into the shallows. Drawing the craft closer to the shore, he dragged it until the front was clear of the water whilst Tara gripped the sides, fearful of toppling in.

She took his hand when he offered it, and she expected him to help her jump to dry land. Instead, he scooped her effortlessly into his arms, holding her tight against his chest, and carried her beyond the high tide mark before depositing her gently on the grass.

‘Kiss me,’ she commanded, melting into him as he did as he was told.

With his mouth on hers, he lowered her onto the springy grass. She lay back, relishing the taste of him, the well-remembered feel of his body covering hers, the strangeness of new contours as her hands roamed over the less familiar landscape of his back and shoulders, and marvelled at the subtle changes that those lost years had wrought.

His tongue sought hers as she slid her hands under his T-shirt, and she gave in to the desire thrumming through her veins. And as she made love to Cal on the far shore of the placid loch, with the sounds of the gently lapping waves and the wild cries of sea birds overhead, Tara felt as though she was home. This is where she should have been all along, in the arms of the man she had never stopped loving.

The grass underneath her tickled and scratched, but Tara barely felt

it. She was far too content to move, with one leg over Cal’s, her body

curled into his, her head resting in the dip between his chest and his

shoulder while she stroked the fine chestnut hairs on his stomach.

Cal had fetched the throw from the boat and it was draped over them, covering their nakedness, although the only witnesses were the seabirds and the occasional curious seal. One had hauled itself out onto a rock not far from the boat and Tara’s languid gaze rested on it as it sunned itself, a flipper raised to the sky.

Neither she nor Cal had spoken much since leaving the boat, except when she’d whispered his name and he’d moaned hers. The sound had made her shiver with ecstasy.

He lay there with one arm around her, the other under his head. His eyes were open as he stared at the sky, and she wondered what he was thinking but she was too scared to ask.

A quick, furtive, sleek movement near the water’s edge caught her attention, but Cal’s grip tightened and he held her still.

Tara subsided as he murmured, ‘Shh, otter,’ out of the side of his mouth.

She risked a glance at him. His eyes were on the otter and there was wonderment on his face.

She tracked the creature’s slinky progress along the shoreline as it dipped in and out of the water and winnowed over the rocks until it eventually disappeared. Then she slowly sat up.

Cal’s attention was on her, yet the wonder remained on his face, and she realised it wasn’t for the otter, but for her and what they’d just done.

Lying down again, she pushed the throw to one side, her invitation clear, and with a groan on his lips and hunger in his eyes, Cal made love to her once more.

There was no going back from this, Cal realised, as the boat chugged across the loch, back to the jetty and the little beach, and reality.

Did he regret it?

Not one glorious second of it. Making love with Tara had been the most natural thing in the world, and he’d relished every kiss, every touch, every sigh of pleasure. It was as good as he remembered. Better, because now he knew how awful life was without her. How incomplete he’d felt, and once again he kicked himself for letting her go.

Letting her go wasn’t accurate – he had pushed her away.

But what else could he have done?

They’d been out on the loch for hours and the day was edging towards evening, the shadows lengthening imperceptibly until soon they would be indistinguishable from the encroaching night. Sunset was still some way off, and he was glad because it meant there was more of this day to spend with Tara, and he didn’t want it to end.

‘Hungry?’ he asked, after she’d helped him drag Misty Lady out of the water. ‘I’ve got a couple of steaks at the cottage and some beers.’

‘I can supply salad and focaccia. And me.’ Her voice was light and teasing, but her eyes told a different story. He couldn’t blame her for being a little fearful. After all, he had hurt her badly, and he suspected she was scared he might do so again.

‘Food first. Then I want to take you to bed.’ In his clumsy way, he was trying to tell her that what had happened on the loch wasn’t a one-off.

They walked to the cottage together, her carrying the cushion, him carrying the throw, then they made their way to the boathouse, she with the steaks in her hand, he with four bottles of Speckled Hen clinking in their cardboard container.

Tara cooked this time, the meal quickly prepared, although eating it was a slower affair. As they lingered at the table, hands stretched across its surface to touch fingers, Cal marvelled at the difference between the meal earlier today and this one. Both had been eaten at the same table, but the emotional distance between the two was vast. Tara occupied his mind and his heart, filling up the empty spaces he hadn’t realised were there until now.

With his stomach full, his heart even fuller, Cal suggested they take the two remaining beers and sit on the jetty. He needed to be outside, to breathe freely, because when he was indoors, Tara stole the very air from the room and the breath from his lungs.

Sitting on the edge of the jetty, the evening was serene and silent, in that magical time poised between day and night before the last rays of the dying sun tipped the world over the edge and into darkness.

When night finally descended and the beers had been drunk, Tara scrambled to her feet, slipped her sandals back on, held out her hand and led him back to the boathouse. And after they had made love once again and were snuggled under the duvet, limbs entwined, only one thing would make this wonderful, enchanted day even more perfect. Cal knew he was taking a risk that she mightn’t want to hear it, or mightn’t feel the same way, but it had to be said.

‘I love you, Tara. I always have.’

She stiffened in his arms, and his heart lurched as he thought he’d lost her, that he’d ruined this perfect day, but when she drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly and said, ‘I love you, too,’ Cal didn’t believe he could be any happier than he was right now.