Chapter 23 #2
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. We’ve been avoiding talking about the nature of our relationship, and now I’ve just dragged it into the open.
Alistair glances at me.
— You think the universe is getting back at us for our fake engagement through lovestruck sheep?
I can’t help laughing.
— When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.
— When you put it like that, it sounds exactly like the kind of theory a rational historian like you would never come up with, he shoots back with a grin.
I nudge him, and he clutches his side in exaggerated pain.
— Help! A McGregor is assaulting me in her own barn. I should’ve expected it.
— Oh, shut up. If I wanted to attack you, I’d pick something far more effective than an elbow.
— Like what?
— Like letting you chase Hamish and Rosita alone while I have tea with Maggie.
He presses a hand to his heart, feigning injury.
— You’d abandon me to my fate?
— In a heartbeat.
— You’re lying, and we both know it.
Our eyes meet—and suddenly, something shifts. Alistair’s smile softens into something quieter, deeper, more real than our usual banter.
— You wouldn’t leave me, he says, lower now. Not any more than I’d leave you.
My heart starts pounding, and I look away, suddenly unable to hold his gaze.
— That’s what partners do, I mutter. They support each other.
— Partners, he repeats, like he’s testing the word. Is that what we are, Keira? Partners?
I don’t know how to answer. What are we, exactly? Colleagues playing a role? Friends out of necessity? Or something else—something unnamed that keeps growing between us with every glance, every touch, every shared moment?
Fate, apparently determined to complicate my life even further, chooses that moment to send chaos crashing back in—on four hooves.
Hamish and Rosita burst into the barn, Lachlan right behind them, shouting obscenities I’ve never heard him use before.
— Grab them! he yells when he sees us.
Without thinking, Alistair and I jump up, positioning ourselves on either side of the door to block their escape. The sheep, trapped, skid on the straw, slam into each other—and then charge straight into a stack of hay bales.
What happens next unfolds in slow motion. The stack wobbles dangerously—then collapses directly onto us.
In an instant, we’re buried under an avalanche of hay as Lachlan’s triumphant voice rings out:
“I’ve got them!”
I struggle to surface, spitting out straw and trying to get my bearings. A hand finds mine, and suddenly Alistair’s face appears inches from mine.
— Are you okay? he asks, his breath warm against my cheek.
— Aside from my wounded ego and hay in places I didn’t know existed? I’m perfectly fine.
A victorious bleat rings out, followed by Lachlan’s exasperated voice.
— You stubborn mule! he shouts—and it takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me, not the sheep. You could’ve caught them!
— Sorry! I shout back. I was a little busy getting buried under a mountain of hay!
I hear Lachlan storm off—presumably with the animals—and then there’s a moment of silence before Alistair and I both burst out laughing.
It’s uncontrollable, freeing laughter that shakes my entire body.
Alistair laughs so hard he has to lean against me, his forehead nearly touching mine.
I can feel the vibrations of his laughter through my chest, creating a kind of physical intimacy that should make me uncomfortable—but somehow feels completely natural.
— Look at us, I manage between laughs. Supposed to be respectable professionals, and we’re defeated by sheep.
— Lovestruck sheep, he adds, trying to catch his breath. The most dangerous kind.
— Who would’ve thought love could cause this much chaos?
The words slip out before I can stop them—and just like that, our laughter fades.
Alistair looks at me with a breath-stealing intensity. A strand of hay-laced hair falls across his forehead, giving him a vulnerable edge.
Without thinking, I reach up and brush the straw from his hair. My fingers linger, grazing his temple. He doesn’t move. Barely breathes.
— Keira, he murmurs, my name sounding like a question.
I don’t know which of us leans in first. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s just the inevitable pull that’s been drawing us together from the very beginning, despite everything we’ve done to resist it.
His lips meet mine—and the world stops.
This isn’t like our almost-kiss at the lodge, cut short before it could begin. This is real. Tangible. Electric. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer, while mine slide around his neck like they’ve always known that’s where they belong.
The kiss deepens—more urgent, more real than anything I’ve ever known. There are no McGregors or McKenzies anymore. No contract. No facade. No game. Just Alistair and me, and this blazing connection that feels powerful enough to burn through every barrier we’ve built between us.
When we finally pull apart, breathless, I see the same stunned wonder in his eyes that I feel in my own. Like we’ve just discovered something both precious and terrifying.
— I— he starts, then stops.
— Don’t say anything. Not now.
Because I know the moment we try to analyze what just happened, the magic will vanish—replaced by the cold reality of our arrangement, our families, our separate lives that were only ever meant to intersect temporarily.
He nods, understanding without words.
— Keira! Alistair! Are you in there?
Maggie’s voice makes us jump apart. We scramble to make ourselves presentable, brushing hay from our clothes.
— Yes, Grandma! I call out, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.
The barn door swings open, and Maggie walks in, followed by Callum—who looks thoroughly displeased.
— There you are! she exclaims when she sees us. We finally caught the fugitives. Callum had to chase them all the way to the orchard after Lachlan thought he had them here… Good heavens, what happened to you two?
We’re still covered in hay, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled. We must look like—well, exactly what we were just doing.
— A hay bale collapsed on us, I say quickly. When the sheep ran in.
— Mm-hmm, Maggie hums, her smile far too knowing. The hay. Of course.
— Grandma…
— Don’t worry, darling. I completely understand that young couples need their private moments, she says with a wink before turning to Callum. Make sure those two troublemakers stay in their pen this time.
Callum nods, though not before shooting me a sharp look that makes my ears burn.
— Alistair, Maggie continues, you’re of course welcome to stay for dinner. After such an adventure, you must be starving.
— That’s very kind, but I should take Rosita back to the distillery, he replies politely. And let my team know we’ve found her.
— As you wish. Keira can walk you out.
An awkward silence settles between us. I don’t dare look at him, afraid of what I might see—or not see—in his eyes.
— I should go, he says at last.
— Yes, of course, I answer, my voice slightly unsteady. I’ll walk you to the entrance.
We leave the barn and walk side by side toward where Callum has tied Rosita. Neither of us mentions what just happened. It’s as if we’ve silently agreed to pretend that kiss never happened.
But just as Alistair unties Rosita and prepares to leave, he stops and turns to me.
— Keira…
— Yes?
— About what happened…
My chest tightens. This is it. The moment he tells me it was a mistake. That we should forget it. That it changes nothing.
— I don’t regret it, he says simply.
Then he leans in, presses a soft kiss to my cheek, and walks away—Rosita trotting obediently behind him.
I stand there, frozen, watching him go, my fingers lifting to the spot where his lips brushed my skin. And for the first time since this whole masquerade began, I wonder if I’m the one playing a role—or if the role is playing me.
From his pen, Hamish lets out a soft bleat, as if he understands my confusion perfectly.
— Oh, be quiet, I mutter without turning around. This is all your fault.
His next bleat sounds suspiciously like laughter.