Chapter 10
TEN
MOUNTAIN RESCUE
Gordain
A fierce gust of wind battled against me, channelled by the ravine, and I swung out wildly on the winch cable, still meters from the ground but nearing the rocky shelf that was my target. The heli pilot was an arrogant moron, and I was in trouble being on the wrong end of his inexperience.
But beggars couldn’t be choosers in the mountain rescue team—we were all volunteers, and I had no right to complain. It only cemented my own failures—had I started my rotary training, I’d have been qualified to fly the RAF’s team in no time. Instead, I was just one among the civilian personnel.
Below, the woman we’d come to rescue huddled at the back of the cliff, barely visible in her black coat and dark jeans.
In the failing light, I was lucky to have spotted her, waving her phone’s torch around on the mountainside.
We’d already picked up her boyfriend and taken him to a waiting ambulance.
His twisted ankle had stopped their hike, and I’d had to bite back my advice.
They had no map, no water, flat shoes, and dark clothes. And they’d separated. All no-nos for hiking in the Cairngorms.
Even Ella had known not to jog an unfamiliar track in the fog. She had more sense at eighteen than this pair of thirtysomething hill walkers put together.
Another gust drove me towards the rocks, and I gestured an impatient instruction to the heli, the rotor noise making radio contact impossible. The pilot had me too close to the cliff.
I swung again, dropping several feet, this time crashing into a granite overhang. My upper arm took the brunt of the impact, and my head rang from the ding to the helmet.
Fucking ouch.
I groaned out my frustration, adjusting my cable now I was on the shelf, and carried out the rescue as efficiently as possible. It wasn’t badly hurt, but my arm ached, particularly when the woman shrieked and clutched me as we winched skyward.
In the helicopter, I checked her over again, but her worst complaint was dehydration from her hours stuck in the dark crevice. She’d be fine with water and rest, so we strapped in and headed off the mountain.
The manoeuvre, on my part, was textbook, even if my mind was half occupied with the kiss that had rocked my world just a few hours before.
One part of it ran over and over in my thoughts. Ella thought her lack of experience a problem—it wasn’t. She was gorgeous and smart, and I didn’t want anything more than she was willing to give.
But she’d set the scene, specifically making sure I wasn’t after anything permanent.
I could’ve kicked myself for my answer.
What if I’d told Ella the real thoughts I’d had? That although there were good reasons why we shouldn’t be together, I wanted to ignore them.
None of it made sense, but it wasn’t like I was getting on my knees and proposing, so why shouldn’t we see if there was more to that kiss?
One thing was for sure, I’d misled her when I’d said I’d never wanted more with anyone. Maybe, for the first time, I did.