Caroline
Last night, Angus had been as kind and thoughtful as ever, and even though the chemistry between them couldn’t have been stronger, he’d kept his distance, politely driving her home at the end of the evening, making jokes and smiling as he opened the car door for her and walked her safely back into the castle.
‘Let’s hope it stays that way,’ she murmured, worrying about her own resolve to keep her distance from him. She’d never been one to go against society’s rules, yet here, in the beauty of another world, it felt so natural to fall back into his arms.
All she had to do was remember what she would have to give up, her dear Annabel, and she knew she couldn’t put a foot wrong.
Right on time, Angus drove up, two black labradors sitting eagerly in the back as she stepped inside. ‘What lovely dogs! Are they yours?’
‘Meet Peggy and Skye. They’re part of the gun dog team but come home with me every night.’ He grinned, glancing at her trousers. ‘I’m glad you’re dressed for the occasion.’ He opened the door for her. ‘We have a lot of ground to cover, and’ – he glanced at the sky – ‘it might rain.’
‘I came prepared, just in case.’ Laughing, she felt almost giddy with excitement. How good it felt, if only for the day.
The night before, as she tried to get comfortable in the servant’s room, she made a promise to herself. There was to be no worrying about Frank and the debts, nor was she to think about Miss Driscoll, about how much trouble the woman could cause if she put it together.
No, today was a day for living, and even if she was living a dream that could never be, at least she would always have those precious hours.
‘I hope you had a good night’s rest?’ Angus asked as he drove down to the road.
‘It’s so quiet up here away from everything,’ she said, thinking how perfect it was. ‘And the breakfast was wonderful, fresh kippers and scrambled eggs. A feast compared to my usual slice of toast on the way out of the door.’
‘Ah, there’s no better fare than in Balmoral Castle!’ He chuckled. ‘I eat there most evenings, unless I have a fresh catch.’
‘Do you fish?’
‘When I get the time. There are some good rivers if you go off the path, wooded areas that are so tranquil you feel like you’re part of nature itself.’
From the road, he veered off onto a smaller laneway, the track becoming uneven as the car climbed higher, surrounded by gorse and the bright pink of heather. Stopping the car, he turned to her. ‘Are you ready for a walk?’
‘Absolutely!’
She jumped down from the Land Rover, her feet squidging into the damp mountain soil, the whip of fresh air on her cheeks. The view over the valley was incredible, and a new energy flooded through her, as if the wind could sweep away her cobwebs, the mountain itself giving her strength and power.
As soon as they were let out of the back, the two dogs came to greet her, young Skye ready to go, her tail wagging with excitement, Peggy sitting beside Caroline, looking up at her with interest.
‘Peggy likes you – that’s a good sign.’ Angus gave her head a rub before looking up across the bracken. ‘There’s a narrow path, and we can get a great view a little way up from here.’ He glanced at her, keen for approval. ‘How does that sound?’
Together they set off, the dogs running around them as the land rose steeply through the bushes, getting rockier. Soon, the view opened up, and she could see above the other peaks in the area, the land spread open for her.
‘It’s as if we’re on top of the world.’ She laughed, fuelled by the fresh air and freedom. ‘It’s so incredible to see so far, to feel above everyday matters, like I can see life in full perspective – from an extra dimension.’
‘That’s precisely it!’ He stood beside her, solid and sure, as if that was how they were always supposed to be, standing together, side by side on an ancient mountain overlooking the vast and beautiful land.
They stayed there for a while, and then he beckoned her onward. ‘Come with me. There’s more to this mountain than meets the eye.’
As they reached the summit, a pyramid came into sight, made of old granite blocks.
‘It’s the Albert Pyramid. Queen Victoria had it made after her husband died, a memorial to him overlooking the castle he loved.’ Angus looked up at the great structure. ‘It’s a kind of cairn, an ancient Scottish tradition to pile stones into a tall cone to mark a burial site.’
‘An ancient tradition,’ she repeated. ‘And here it is, renewed by a monarch for her husband.’
‘Even queens can love,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s more crucial for them, to have someone on their side.’
Together they looked at the monument, and although neither said a word, she knew that they were both remembering the love they’d had between them.
The grief each had felt at being abandoned was slipping aside, replaced by a burgeoning knowledge that the same firm attachment was pulling them back together.
Just like the pyramid, their love felt enduring, eternal.
First one plump drop, and then another fell onto her face and shoulders, and soon a deluge of rain came down, fast and heavy.
But as Angus gave her his coat and they began to descend, all they could do was laugh, as if the rain had somehow broken the tension.
Half running, half stumbling over the rocks as they hurried back down, they joked about how the full Highlands experience had to involve torrential rain, and so soon in the day, too.
Inside the car, laughing and soaked, Angus turned on the engine, and off they set, back down to the lane.
‘Is there somewhere I can get dry?’ She pushed back her wet hair, drops of rain coating her face.
‘Why don’t we pop into my house? It’s close, just a minute’s drive. You can use a towel, maybe warm up by the fire.’ He paused, fearful of being too forward. ‘Then we can head back out.’
‘That sounds fine,’ she said, quick to put him at ease.
Truth be told, she was intrigued to see where he lived. A practical man like Angus was bound to have some isolated box of a house with a few pieces of simple furniture.
So when they swung into the narrow driveway, she was shocked to see a two-storey cottage in front of her, ivy and climbing roses growing around the arched wooden door.
‘This is where you live?’ she asked as he pulled up in front of an outhouse that ran along the side.
‘It was a bit ramshackle when I first moved in, but little by little, I’ve made it into a home.’
Inside was a wide hallway, and he led her up the stairs, showing her into a cosy bathroom with a sloping ceiling. Turquoise curtains hung across an alcove window, the rain pattering on the panes.
‘You’re shivering,’ he said, turning on the taps to run her a bath. ‘Let me get you some warm clothes, and we can dry yours by the fire. You’ll never get these things dry in the servants’ quarters of the castle – that place is arctic.’
Off he went, leaving her to dip her fingers into the bath, the heat of the water seeping into her.
She couldn’t remember a time when someone had run a bath for her, and gingerly, she sat on a round wooden stool and began to take off her shoes.
It wasn’t her plan to take a bath, but the water was so inviting, the atmosphere so welcoming.
‘Here we are!’ Angus arrived and put a green checked shirt on the windowsill. ‘It’ll be far too big for you, and there are some thick socks, too. You’ll find a dressing gown on the back of the door.’ He headed out. ‘Come downstairs when you’re finished.’
Once he’d gone, she locked the door and slowly peeled off her clothes, carefully sliding into the steamy water.
These days, there was only time for a quick wash before dressing for work in the morning, a cold, rapid chore.
But this was luxurious. She lay back, a moment to herself, letting the water absorb the stress.
Maybe if she lay there forever, she’d be able to wash away her sins, purify herself. If only she hadn’t let herself go with Angus, fallen pregnant, she’d have been pure and whole, worthy of a good life.
But when she dared to remember that night, their bodies entwined, she knew she could never forget how right it had felt, how passionate and yet how tender. How could an act so wonderful have forced her into such a horrific situation?
Downstairs, she padded into the living room wearing the oversized tartan dressing gown.
The dogs were lying on a rug in front of the fire, the flickering flames sending a golden hue across the room.
A soft beige sofa and various side tables made the place feel cosy and warm.
A bookcase beside the fire was filled with titles such as An A–Z of Horse Health, Highland Birds and The Habitats of Deer.
An armchair had been pulled up to the fire, and she sat down, Peggy settling beside her as she absorbed the peaceful charm of the place.
Humming came from the kitchen, as well as an aroma of something cooking, and presently Angus came in bearing a tray.
‘I heated up some Scotch broth.’ He set two steaming bowls onto a side table and pulled it up beside her.
‘It’s lamb with plenty of potatoes and vegetables.
You look as though you could do with some good hearty food. ’
A small, self-conscious laugh escaped her. ‘I don’t have much time to think about eating – too busy with work and preparing meals for other people.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I cook more food than I eat, with all my rushing around.’
‘Do you have to work such long hours?’ He hung her wet clothes over the mesh fire guard, then sat down on the sofa opposite her. ‘It sounds as though you never have time to relax.’
She looked into the flames, blue and amber from a white-hot log. ‘Frank needs the money because of his new business, and I have to wash and mend secondhand clothes, too.’
A frown came over Angus’s face. ‘So you have to work even harder, to help his business?’
‘It’s not like that,’ she said quickly, guilty for her disloyalty to Frank. ‘After all he’s done for me, I owe it to him.’