Chapter 27
Sweetbriar was almost unrecognisable when Struan arrived on the eve of Harper’s wedding. Martha had assigned him to tent duty with Vik while she and Rae ran around like headless chickens, carrying everything from mason jars to chiffon curtains to, currently, a box of fairy wings.
‘Whimsy!’ Rae barked at Doug, who was decorating all of the wooden fences with strings of faux leaves and sunflower heads. ‘We need more whimsy!’
Struan paused midway through hammering a nail to grin, watching Rae march towards the small storage shed with hips that swayed ferociously.
She made mayhem look beautiful, albeit scary, her scowl stormy and instructions husky.
Earlier, she’d shouted at Struan for forgetting his toolbox.
He didn’t dare tell her that he didn’t actually own one, especially not while she’d wielded Doug’s screwdriver like a weapon.
Fuck, he missed her the way he would a lost tooth: he knew it was gone, like it should be, but his tongue kept teasing the gap, remembering the before.
Her absence left his smile a little more hollow, though he’d been trying to distract himself.
He’d even agreed to fill in for his instructor on a Mountain Rescue course at the end of the month so that he wouldn’t have to deal with Martha’s matchmaking.
‘I can see why she and Martha get along so well,’ said Vik on the ladder above him. The comment doused his heated thoughts in cold water.
‘They’re dangerous when they’re in the same place together,’ he agreed, leaning against the ladders.
Rae had emerged from the shed again, stopping to pet a curious Roderick.
The cat’s spine curved happily as he brushed against Rae’s ankles, tail twirling.
That gentle smile she wore when she thought she was unobserved made his stomach swoop.
The ladders almost tipped. Vik squealed, clutching onto the marquee’s unsteady frame.
‘Shite, sorry!’ He anchored his foot on the lowest rung so it wouldn’t happen again, hands curling extra tight around the rusted metal. ‘You all right?’
‘Other than the fact that my soon-to-be-brother-in-law wants to kill me?’
He grimaced up at her apologetically. ‘It won’t happen again. Promise.’
A knowing look gleamed in her brown eyes, which took on a red tinge in the sun. ‘What exactly is going on with you two?’
‘You two who?’ Struan’s voice cracked the way it always did when he tried to lie.
Vik outstretched her hand. ‘Nail.’
He offered it up, hoping that would be the end of it. Only, she continued talking as she hammered it into the frame. ‘Martha told me you asked for permission to date Rae. She also told me you were denied.’
Struan’s attention fell to his scuffed boots as he tucked his hair behind his ear. ‘If she doesn’t want us seeing each other, there’s nothing I can do.’
‘So, it’s reciprocated.’
A mangled grunt fell from him. He’d been caught out. ‘Rae can do far better than me.’
‘That’s not true.’ Vik climbed down the rungs.
He shifted, allowing her space to jump off, with a frown pulling his features.
‘I daren’t get involved in all this, because I know it would upset Martha if I disagreed with her about your family stuff.
But the yearning is almost torturous, mate.
If you want her that much, maybe you should do something about it. ’
‘I tried. Martha said no, and Rae made it clear nothing can happen.’
She ruffled her hair so the curls flopped in every direction atop her head. ‘The same Rae who has been checking her phone constantly this week, despite all of us knowing she usually doesn’t open it at all?’
That didn’t mean anything. She probably had calls to make ahead of the wedding, and he knew from experience that Harper was a quadruple texter.
‘Has she said something to you?’ he couldn’t help but question.
‘No. As far as Martha knows, it’s completely one-sided. But I’m thinking maybe that’s not the case, is it?’
His pulse quickened, but before he could formulate a lie, a fat water droplet splashed on his nose.
He glanced up to find thick clouds looming like black bruises overhead. ‘Crap.’
‘NOOOOOOOOO!’ A shrill cry echoed somewhere around them.
‘Double crap.’ He knew the despairing voice could only belong to Harper, who had been finalising plans with Myra and Doug by the farm shop.
And then the rain started to pour.
‘Triple crap?’ Vik offered.
He couldn’t have said it better himself, especially when Rae scuttled past shouting, ‘Everybody stop what you’re doing!’ through cupped hands. She paused by the half-erected marquee, breathless and already drenched. ‘We might have to put the canopy up first thing tomorrow instead. Is that okay?’
‘Of course.’ Struan had no idea what he was agreeing to, most of his attention stolen by the transparency of Rae’s linen blouse, which clung to her breasts and outlined the low peaks of her dark nipples.
To think he’d sunk his teeth into those delicious curves just over a week ago made his stomach both heavy and hollow.
Rain drops meandered into her plunging neckline and over her goosebump-peppered arms, and that was all he could think about as she turned on her heel and rushed to Harper.
When he traipsed over the gravel to follow, he told himself it was for Harper’s sake; he knew how panicked she would be after fretting about the weather all week.
After dashing to catch up with Rae, he peeled off his rust-coloured flannel shirt to drape over her shoulders, keep her warm. She faltered.
‘What are you doing?’
‘You look cold. And, er…’ He nodded in the general direction of her chest, where the damp fabric now revealed the lace pattern of that flimsy bra he’d once been allowed to take off. His cock would have been hard if not for the misery that came with knowing he’d never get another chance.
‘Oh.’ She tugged the flannel on, covering her chest. ‘I really should get new clothes for the Scottish weather.’
‘I’m not complaining.’
She ignored him, as she was so good at doing now, wrestling with the dampening sleeves before taking the final steps to Harper.
‘Why did I have to marry a Scot?’ she was whining to Myra and Eiley from under a striped golf umbrella. ‘Why couldn’t I have met someone from Bali or the Amalfi Coast?’
‘That’s the spirit,’ muttered Eiley.
‘Look, it’s going to be fine,’ Rae assured. ‘We prepared for this. Sort of.’
Anybody else might not have seen the flash of dread in her eyes when the sky brightened with far off lightning, but Struan did, and ushered the group into the shop, nearly losing an eye when Harper tried to put the umbrella down halfway over the threshold.
Inside, the damp clung to the stone walls, and he resisted the urge to sidle closer to Rae when her teeth began to chatter. ‘It’ll pass in no time.’
‘Or it will rain for the next day and our wedding arch will be submerged under ten feet of water,’ said Harper.
Myra patted her shoulder supportively. ‘Worst comes to worst, you’ll just have to wear wellies under your dress.’
‘I don’t want to wear wellies. I want to wear Louboutins!’ wailed Harper.
‘This is why we don’t host weddings,’ muttered Doug.
Rae moved to the window. ‘If we have to, we can rearrange the set-up. Move the wedding arch under the marquee tent, then bring out the tables for the reception afterwards.’
The exhaustion in her voice proved just how much hassle it would be, but she was right. If the orchard flooded, they’d make something else work.
Since Struan seemed to be the only one not spiralling into a pit of despair, he reminded gently, ‘The wedding isn’t for another twenty-four hours. It’s forecast to be dry enough tomorrow. There’s no reason to worry yet.’
‘Yes, but my beautiful, beautiful outdoor wedding aesthetic, Struan.’ Harper’s shoulders slumped.
With an equal amount of defeat, Rae turned, tugging Struan’s shirt tighter around her body.
Fuck, she looked good in it, sleeves hanging over her hands and the frayed hem brushing the top of her thighs.
‘We’ll figure something out. We’ve hosted plenty of summer fairs here in all weathers. Right, Dad?’
‘If you say so.’
Struan didn’t like the way Doug’s bitterly uttered words seemed to leave a mark on Rae. How couldn’t the man see that she was trying – harder than anyone else here, and anyone else Struan had ever known?
‘Or… we could just get wet.’ The suggestion came from the door, where Fraser had appeared, red hair dripping over his forehead. ‘It’s only rain, sunshine. It’s not going to ruin the best day of our lives.’
Harper softened immediately, going to loop her arms around his neck. Struan gulped, turning away. If Vik thought his yearning was torturous, this was far worse.
He moved to the window, both to be closer to Rae and to stay well away from the couple’s kissing zone, nudging her in an effort to lift her spirits. ‘It’s going to be fine,’ he promised. ‘It’s already easing off.’
Right as he said it, thunder rumbled through the farm shop, making them both flinch. On the windowsill, their hands slid closer, the proximity he’d been so deprived of prickling like nettle stings on his skin.
He would have reached out then if not for those words she’d said the night Martha had come home. Stop. Please, just stop.
‘Dad was right. I thought I could fix everything, but I can’t,’ she said.
‘There’s nothing to fix.’ He nodded towards Harper and Fraser, whose love spilled like moonlight out of them: bright eyes, hushed voices, touches they didn’t have to ask permission for or earn. ‘Look at them. They’d be happy to get married in my wee bothy, as long as they’re together.’
‘You could serenade them with “Wonderwall”.’
He snorted. He hadn’t told her that he’d gone back to that old guitar recently. Started learning one of the folksy songs she’d hummed along to in his car that day they’d taken samples around Belbarrow. He’d hoped he might get a chance to impress her the next time she visited. Only, she never would.
He was so busy watching amusement curl over her lips that he didn’t notice the rain quieten to a tentative patter until Myra said, ‘See? It’s already passing!’
‘See?’ Struan repeated, nudging Rae. She rolled her eyes; nudged him back. For a moment, they were like they’d been before, playful and at ease, not having to fight that near-constant tether forever tugging them together.
And then Struan’s phone rang. He pulled it out, uttering a quiet curse at the caller ID. The rescue team leader, Kirsten.
‘Tell me you’re just calling for a chat,’ he said by way of greeting, pressing his phone to his ear.
‘’Fraid not. We’ve got a family trapped in a collapsed cave near Loch Ness.’
Jesus, that didn’t sound good. He’d never once considered saying no to his duties before, but one look at Rae made him want to.
‘We need as many hands as we can get, Macgibbon,’ Kirsten pushed.
Rae must have noticed his hesitation, because she straightened up, forehead crinkling. ‘If you’re needed, go. Everything will be fine here.’
But would she? Really? She’d pretend to be, but he saw that callus opening up on her finger again. Saw the hunch of her spine, like it was growing too tired to hold her up.
It was his job to always say yes, so he did, not without regret. ‘I’ll be back by morning,’ he vowed when he’d hung up.
‘It’s okay. They need you more than we do. What happened?’
‘A cave collapse.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Will you be safe?’
‘Why?’ With the others celebrating the rain lightening to a drizzle outside, he allowed himself a smirk. ‘Worried about me, sweetheart?’
It made him weightless to think it might be true. To think that one person might notice his absence and wonder where he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that.
‘Maybe.’ Sincerity was a raw scrape in her throat.
He wished he could kiss her. He settled for squeezing her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. ‘I’ll be fine. So will you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Usually, the adrenaline coursing through him would have him dashing out the door without a second thought, but her weak nod made his legs heavier.
And because he was selfish, he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Her tension buckled, giving way to a surprise he didn’t have time to bask in.
Instead, he chased his responsibility. His purpose – or it had been before she’d hijacked his heart, his mind, his body.