11
11
Callum
Isle of Skye Guidebook
Kinloch Forest and Leitir Fura
Distance: 6.
5km.
Time: Allow 2-3 hrs.
Terrain: Be prepared for steep hills.
This beautiful scenic trail through woodland offers ever-changing fauna, stunning views over the Sound of Sleat and the mountains of Knoydart.
I’d broken her.
Swaddled in my front seat like a newborn, Juniper hadn’t uttered a single snarky comment the entire hike back to the car, her teeth chattering through every miserable step, though I’d carried her through most of it.
Peeling my eyes from the road, I slowed onto a cattle grate and snuck a glance at her.
The set of her jaw was steely, but she stared through the flock of sheep grazing at the roadside like she didn’t even see them.
“Are you cold?”
Her head shook while a shiver wracked her body.
I cranked the heat higher.
Eyes watering from the smell, I focused back on the road.
I knew these winding roads like the back of my hand.
Even then, it wasn’t wise to rush.
At any point the road could curve or dip unexpectedly, or the vehicle in front could slam its brakes, the driver too in awe of the wild landscape.
Juniper shifted, teeth chattering through the small hole I’d allowed for her dirt-streaked face, clothes heavy and wet from the waterlogged mud.
I was tempted to press the pedal to the floor, safety be damned.
Damn it, but she’d been having a good time …
Until she wasn’t. She’d deny it later, of course, but I’d heard her laugh, seen the gleam in her eyes and my heart had punched right through my rib cage in answer.
Then, I remembered the overwhelming horror on her face when the cows crowded in.
How she’d screamed, “I’m a vegan!”, right before she hit the floor, as though they should have sensed her allyship and taken it easy on her.
And I wanted to laugh all over again.
I’d fully pulled into my driveway when Juniper finally spoke.
“We’re at your place.”
I switched off the engine.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to risk any guests seeing you like that.” And I selfishly wanted to take care of her.
“Right, of course.” She nodded distractedly, like she was coming out of a dream, reaching for the door handle.
“Stay there. I’ll help.”
She must have been out of it because she did as I asked, staying put while I rounded the hood, eyes pinning her the entire time.
I opened her door, and she turned to face me.
“Need a hand?”
Her head rustled in a listless nod.
Christ , even with a scent so potent it made my nose burn, she was the most gorgeous woman on the fucking planet.
Gripping her waist on either side of the blanket, I lifted and lowered, keeping her body a safe distance from mine, though instinct demanded I crush her to my chest, shit and mud be damned.
We could shower it off together.
Not exactly the way I’d dreamed of first showering with Juniper, but I’d take what I could fucking get.
With her feet safely on the ground, Juniper seemed to come back to herself, pulling the plaid from her shoulders and offering it out to me.
I balled it, tossing it into a heap by the front door to deal with later.
Peeling her jacket away from her body, she frowned at the flakes of mud falling about her like confetti.
She’d stomped most of the dirt from her boots before climbing into the truck, but they still clogged around her ankles, crusting the cuffs of her jeans.
“Do you have an outdoor hose, maybe?”
An outdoor hose?
You’ve got to be joking, sweetheart .
“You can use my shower.”
“And trail shit all over your floors?”
“I could give a fuck about my floors, Juniper. I can hear your teeth chattering from here. It’s not happening.” Her quick nod of agreement was frightening.
Come on, harpy, snarl at me.
With stiff fingers she reached up for the zip.
I flicked them away, undoing her jacket and tugging it over her shoulders.
She kicked off her boots and I bent, snagging them along with the coat.
“I’ll clean them while you shower,” I said, leading her to the front door.
I toed off my own boots in the mud room and set hers beside them – trying not to get caught up on the domesticity of the action – before showing her down the hall to my bedroom.
She halted on the threshold, curious eyes flicking to every corner.
I ran my gaze over the neat space, trying to see it as she might.
Juniper’s cottage was a study in black.
Deep and decadent, just like her.
It reminded me of the fairytale cottage from Hansel and Gretel and the witch within waiting to eat unsuspecting children.
I suspected Juniper’s victims were far more willing.
Mine felt … empty in comparison.
“The only shower is in my ensuite.” I cleared my throat, pointing to the door in the far corner.
“There’s a tub in the main bathroom if you’d prefer?”
She shook her head.
“The shower’s fine.” Then tagged on, “Thank you.”
I nodded.
“Great. Thank you.” Why are you thanking her?
My voice was pathetically husky, and I cleared my throat again.
“Clean towels are in the basket, leave … just leave your dirty clothes on the floor outside. I’ll throw them in the wash and find you something to wear.” She only stared at me.
Unsure what to say, I stared right back.
And then she pointed to the bathroom door at my back.
“ Shit , sorry.” Feeling my cheeks burn, I stepped out of her path.
Having her so close, inches from my bed, was making my imagination run riot.
“Have a nice shower.”
And with that parting line, I fled.
Have a nice shower ?
Real fucking smooth.
Tugging a hand through my hair, I put as much distance between us as possible, checking on Simon in his large enclosure just for something to do with my hands.
Refusing to think of Juniper undressing two walls away.
Stepping into my shower.
Would she use my shampoo?
My body wash? Fuck , did I even have any shampoo?
I forgot to run to the store yesterday.
Turning to rifle through a basket of clean washing, I pulled out the first black T-shirt my hands found.
Sniffing to m ake sure it smelled fresh, I carried it back to the bedroom and almost swallowed my tongue.
Door wide open, Juniper stood under the soft bathroom lighting, hair curling around her cheeks.
I fucking loved it when her hair curled .
She’d already turned on the shower and steam clouded, turning the air hazy as her stiff fingers fumbled over the buttons of her cardigan.
I might have been having a heart attack, I realised, heart threatening to crack my ribs.
It would have to wait.
“Need a hand?” My mouth moved before my brain caught up, but there was no taking it back now because I was walking, closing the distance until the wet heat folded around me.
Her expression was unreadable.
Dark eyes swallowing me whole as my trembling hands lowered ever so slowly to the top button, fully expecting her to shut me down.
Slap my hands away. She did neither.
Touching only the fabric, I slipped the first button through the loop.
Then paused. Waiting.
Barely breathing. Be fucking cool.
Her throat bobbed but didn’t protest and so I moved on to the next, repeating the motion.
The fabric gaped, revealing the silken skin of her collarbone and thin straps of her undershirt.
My eyes flicked between hers and every fresh inch of skin as I unbuttoned the next and the next until the cardigan fell away completely, hitting the floor with the sensual hiss created only by discarded garments.
She could absolutely take it from here.
I knew it. She definitely fucking knew it.
But it felt like we were in our own little world, nothing else existed but the sound of water hitting tile, rising steam and Juniper.
Juniper . She filled every corner of my vision, pale skin and the faintest brush of freckles beneath the dirt staining her cheeks and nose.
You get prettier every time I see you , I wanted to tell her, unaware of stepping closer, or my knuckle tracing down the line of her stomach pausing on the button of her jeans.
“These next?” It was my voice, but it wasn’t.
Gruffer. Hungrier. Desperate.
Juniper nodded, head bobbing almost frantically.
That wouldn’t do. “Answer me … please.” I needed a yes.
Needed to know she was right here with me.
“Yes.” Her throat constricted.
The word almost lost in the sound of my shaken exhale.
But I’d heard it. It was enough.
The button snapped, opening on only the smallest pressure.
My hands trembled, head spinning as I tugged the zip, falling to my knees as the fabric gave way.
“ Fuck .” Her curse bordered on a groan.
Her head fell back as I slipped off one sock, then the other.
“Eyes on me,” I said.
They opened into thin slits, reminding me of her hissing cat as they focused on me.
Pulling at her waistband, I peeled her stiff jeans down her thighs, kneeling far enough back to catch every bared scrap of skin.
Holding my breath and only releasing it when the light pink lace came into view.
“God, Juniper.” The first time in my car wasn’t an anomaly.
Her little secret was out.
Juniper Ross liked frilly, pretty, little underthings.
I barely paused to glance at her gorgeous legs, because this would be over far too soon.
I stood, fingering the hem of her undershirt.
“And this?”
“Please.”
Please.
That single word on her lips fucking did things to me.
“Arms up.” I helped push them above her head and tugged it off in a single sweep, groaning at the dizzying sight of her matching bra and the perfect breasts contained within.
This was more than I’d ever seen of her and every inch was perfection.
From the lines of ink to the raised scratches, some healing and some fresh.
Gifts from the cat that reminded me of her.
“My favourite colour.” My shaking finger grazed the dainty strap of her bra without touching her skin.
If I touched her, I’d be done for.
“You’re so gorgeous, Juniper, but of course you know that. How could you not?”
“You didn’t say that last time.”
Last time.
The words emptied every thought from my head but that memory.
The car park, Juniper’s skin beneath my tongue, her back as she walked away.
The open ring box on her sideboard, evidence of where her heart still lay.
Too soon. This was too soon.
I dropped my hands, but it didn’t help, Juniper was panting, her peaked breasts grazing my chest through my T-shirt.
Fuck . I squeezed my eyes shut, hands balling into fists at my sides.
“All right over there?” Her tone was sardonic, like she could read every humiliating thought in my head.
I managed a nod. Swallowed.
“I should leave … I am leaving.”
“You sure about that?”
“ Yes .” It was a snarl.
“You look like you’re about to kiss me, Macabe.” My eyes snapped open, taking in the smug quirk of her lips.
Like she’d fought a duel and came out victorious.
That wouldn’t do.
I leant in a fraction, satisfaction roaring as she tensed.
Chin tilting, lips parting.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Eyes that had been on my lips found mine, flicking side to side as she tried to focus.
Her tongue worked around a reply that never came.
I could practically see the cogs in her brain turning.
“Until that answer is a resounding yes, I’m not going to kiss you, harpy.”
Something flashed through her expression, a vulnerability she masked far too quickly.
“You’ll be waiting a long time.”
“I don’t doubt it.” And it would be worth it.
For all my talk, I was so pathetic for her, I’d be crawling to her on my hands and knees before the week was through.
Stepping back, I stared at her for the longest time.
Her fingers clutched the sink, but she didn’t move as I mapped every inch of her, mentally scrawling my name over every slight curve.
Even as I shook my head and scrubbed a hand over my beard.
Your move , her silence said.
It took more strength than I knew I possessed to collect her clothes and turn for the door.
Ten minutes later, I was tossing her clothes into the machine when, “I hope you aren’t sniffing my underwear, Macabe,” came from over my shoulder.
Macabe.
The message was clear.
From the snark to the surname, she was putting us straight back onto familiar ground.
I could work with that.
“I’m not sure what gets you hot under the collar, harpy, but for me it’s definitely not your shit-soaked cardigan.”
She shrugged, like my taunt was of little consequence.
Her damp hair left wet patches on the borrowed shirt, jogging bottoms rolled over several times at the waist. Was she wearing the boxers I’d left, too?
Curious minds demanded to know.
I crossed to the counter, only the hum of the washing machine cutting through the tension as I filled the kettle.
“Tea? Coffee?” I offered both, knowing she’d take the coffee with a splash of coconut milk, like she always did.
Her teeth scraped her lower lip.
“I should get back.”
I nodded, flicking the kettle to boil anyway.
“I’ll bring your clothes over once they’re dry.”
“And I’ll wash these.” She gestured down the length of her.
A move I couldn’t resist following.
If I’d thought she looked appealing cocooned in a blanket in my truck, the memory was nothing compared to now.
There was something – something – about seeing your woman in your clothes.
The way her bare toes curled into the area rug while she tugged the sleeves around her fingers.
She looked so cosy I wanted to drag her into my bed and bury my face in her throat.
She wasn’t even mine.
But my heart roared otherwise.
We were tiptoeing dangerously close to territorial caveman territory.
“Keep them as long as you want.” Hell, keep them forever.
I wanted to empty my wardrobe, ask her to wear every item of clothing I owned.
From the corner of my eye, I watched her swipe her boots from the mud room, balancing one arm on the back of my sofa while she laced them, right as I placed a mug on the end of the counter.
She eyed it like one would a viper.
“I said I couldn’t stay.”
“I know. You can return the mug when you return the clothes.” One more reason for her to come back.
She lifted it in a thanks gesture, taking a sip before she spun for the door.
Then paused. “How’d you know how I take my coffee?”
“Because I know you , Juniper.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips parted, ready to say – I could only guess what.
Then she changed her mind at the last second, snapping her mouth shut.
Oh, no, sweetheart, not happening.
Compliment or insult, I wanted her words.
“You look like you’ve got something to say.”
“Okay, fine. You say a lot of cryptic shit about knowing me when in fact … it’s the complete opposite.” She spat the words with such personal malice, it sent a thrill through me.
That tone belonged to me and me alone.
I sipped my drink. “Why do I feel like we’re not talking about coffee anymore?”
“What else would I be talking about?”
That night in Glasgow.
How our bodies felt so in tune – like we’d touched each other a thousand times before – it scared you.
But I couldn’t say any of that without her scrambling for the nearest pointy thing to stab me with.
So I simply said, “Okay, then let me get to know you. How about this … I’ll trade you one secret for another.”
She froze, surprise, alarm, panic, morphing in her face one after the other, like a fun house mirror.
Her foot backed up, ready to run.
“We’ve already agreed to four dates as payment. That’s more than enough, don’t you think?”
I shrugged, but it didn’t feel as indifferent as I’d hoped.
“Then don’t consider it payment. Tell me just to tell me.”
Just when I thought she’d leave without answering, her spine straightened.
“I had fun today,” she whispered it like a dirty secret.
I had fun today. Such an innocuous statement, so why did it make the back of my throat burn?
Because she’d spoken it with such insecurity, as though she expected me to laugh at her.
Her gaze searched the floor as she asked, “And yours?”
“I always have fun with you, harpy.”
Her eyes flew to mine, the tops of her cheeks turning a pretty pink.
“You mean that?”
Could she truly not see herself the way I did?
The way Heather, April and Fiona did?
This woman would be the death of me .
“ Aye .” I said the word slowly.
Making certain she heard it.
Never fucking doubt it .