Chapter 12
CALLUM
EWAN
Sorry, mate, can’t make it. Work issue. Enjoy the one-on-one time with your future wife
That wink. That damn winking emoji.
I’ve known Ewan since we lost our baby teeth, and I can say with absolute certainty that his distillery is running just fine. The only thing that runs better is his imagination when it comes to pushing me out of my comfort zone.
— Ready for our big Scottish adventure?
Jane’s voice makes me start. I turn to find her standing in the doorway, dressed like she’s about to summit Everest: brand-new hiking boots, cargo pants, a bright yellow waterproof jacket, and… is that a walking stick?
— What is that? I ask, pointing at it.
— A walking stick, she replies, as if it’s obvious. Keira said it was essential to avoid slipping in the mud and falling into a ravine.
I suppress a smile.
— We’re going into the hills, not climbing a mountain in the middle of a storm.
— Well, I prefer to be prepared. Between Hamish the demonic sheep and my embarrassing encounter with your kilt, I’ve learned that Scotland is hostile territory.
I shrug.
— If it makes you feel better.
I glance at my watch again. 7:30 sharp. I sling my backpack over my shoulder.
— Perfect. We’re right on time. The car’s ready.
— The car? Jane repeats, following my gaze to the Land Rover parked out front. I thought we were going hiking.
— To reach the starting point, we need to drive for about forty-five minutes first.
— Oh! she exclaims, relieved. I was afraid we’d have to walk all day.
— Don’t worry, the hike will only take about two hours. Three if we go at a relaxed pace.
Her expression shifts from relief to horror in a fraction of a second.
— Two hours? In the mud? With sheep?
— Without sheep. Well… normally.
— Normally?
— It’s the Scottish countryside, Jane. I can’t guarantee a complete absence of sheep, but I can promise none of them will be Hamish.
She doesn’t look reassured.
— Okay. But just so you know, I haven’t hiked since… well, ever, actually. In Los Angeles, walking from the parking lot to the restaurant counts as intense exercise.
— I’m sure you’ll do just fine.
I open the passenger door for her.
— What about Ewan? she asks as she gets in. I thought he was coming with us?
— He had a “distillery issue,” I reply.
— Oh, that’s too bad. I hope it’s nothing serious.
— It’s mostly suspicious and entirely in character.
— What do you mean?
I start the engine, carefully avoiding her gaze.
— Ewan has this idea that… well, that we might need time alone. To “strengthen our story.”
— Ah.
That single word carries more subtext than an entire season of reality TV.
— He means well, I add awkwardly as we pull away from the castle.
— I’m sure he does.
An awkward silence settles in the car. I focus on the winding road, desperately searching for a topic.
— Did you sleep well? I ask finally, immediately wincing at how banal it sounds.
She was already asleep when I came in to take the couch. And I left before she woke up.
— I think I should be asking you that.
I shrug.
— The couch isn’t as bad as it looks, I deflect.
In reality, it’s worse…
— I had a nightmare where your grandmother was chasing me with a giant bagpipe while shouting dance instructions in Gaelic, but other than that, yes, I slept well.
I can’t help but smile.
— After your Quaich ceremony lesson, that seems predictable.
— That tradition of drinking from the same cup is charming, but why does it have to be straight whisky? I mean, a cocktail would be so much nicer.
— Suggesting a cocktail at a traditional Scottish ceremony would be like putting ketchup on haggis.
— Speaking of haggis, is it served at breakfast? Because honestly, I’m not sure I can handle sheep organs before noon.
— You’re safe. Breakfast’s in the backpack. Scones, hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and fruit. Nothing that’s been inside a sheep’s stomach, I promise.
— You’re my hero, she sighs dramatically.
The silence that follows is more comfortable. Jane watches the landscape through the window, clearly fascinated by the hills rolling past in the morning mist.
— It’s really beautiful, she murmurs. So green.
— That’s the upside of all the rain you complain about.
— I’m starting to appreciate Scotland’s charm. It’s like the landscape is alive… like it’s breathing.
— That’s exactly it, I say, surprised by her insight. The Highlands are a living organism. They’re constantly changing with the seasons, the light, the clouds…
I stop myself, aware of my sudden enthusiasm.
— Sorry. I get a bit lyrical when it comes to this place.
— Don’t apologize. It’s refreshing to see you passionate about something that isn’t an Excel spreadsheet.
— I’m passionate about plenty of things! I protest.
— Really? Like what?
— Music, for one. I have a fairly large collection of classic jazz. And photography. I even have a darkroom in one of the castle wings.
— You? A photographer? she says, turning toward me. Let me guess—perfectly framed landscapes with technically flawless exposure?
— Not only. I also like capturing spontaneous moments.
— Callum McGregor, a fan of spontaneity. That goes against everything I thought I knew about you.
— There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jane Carter.
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I feel the tension settle between us. Jane looks at me with an unreadable expression, then turns back to the window.
— We’re almost there, I say, breaking the silence. Ten more minutes to the starting point.
True to my prediction, exactly eleven minutes later—thanks to a slight delay on the road—I pull the Land Rover onto a small grassy patch at the base of a hill. The mist has lifted, revealing an unexpectedly blue sky for this part of Scotland.
— Our lucky day, I comment as I step out. Perfect weather.
Jane gets out on her side, scanning the horizon with a hint of apprehension.
— That’s… impressive.
Before us, a trail winds gently upward through the heather, climbing toward a ridge that seems to brush the clouds.
— Don’t worry, I reassure her, slipping on my backpack. The path is well-marked and the incline is gradual. Even an escalator-trained American can handle it.
— Very funny, McGregor. You’d be surprised how determined I can be when my pride is at stake.
— I don’t doubt it, I reply with a smile. I saw that determination when you got back up after the kilt incident.
She flushes instantly.
— We agreed never to mention that again!
— No, you decided that unilaterally. I never agreed.
— For a man whose kilt was nearly ripped off in public, you seem oddly comfortable bringing it up.
— Scottish men learn early to live with the risks of wearing a kilt. It’s practically a rite of passage.
— Oh, so I did you a favor? Will you thank me in your wedding speech?
— Absolutely. “I’d like to thank my wife for nearly undressing me in front of my grandmother, thereby proving her eagerness to consummate our union.”
Jane bursts into laughter—bright, spontaneous, and infectious—and I can’t help but join her. It’s an unexpectedly pleasant sound, our laughter blending in the crisp morning air.
— Come on, I say, handing her the walking stick. Adventure awaits.
Against all expectations, Jane turns out to be a more capable hiker than she let on. Yes, she stops often to catch her breath, but she moves forward with a determination that commands respect.
— You’re doing well, I tell her after half an hour.
— Don’t sound so surprised, she replies, slightly breathless. I spent three months running on a beach for a lifeguard role. Granted, it was mostly about looking sexy in a swimsuit, but it still counts as cardio.
— Absolutely. And I’m sure you were very convincing.
— Is that a polite way of saying I was half-naked and useless? Because that’s exactly what the Los Angeles Times critic wrote.
I grimace.
— That’s awful.
— That’s Hollywood, she corrects with a shrug. Honestly, that was probably one of the nicer reviews I got for that film.
— Is that why you caused that scandal with that director?
Jane stops abruptly, her face closing off.
— No, Callum. I “caused that scandal” because a fifty-year-old man made it clear my career depended on my willingness to sleep with him. And when I refused, he started spreading rumors that I was “difficult to direct.”
I shake my head, aware of my misstep.
— I’m sorry. That was poorly phrased.
— It was, she admits, though her expression softens. But you couldn’t have known. It’s not like we had time to really get to know each other before we got “engaged.”
The reminder of our arrangement unsettles me. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten that our relationship is nothing more than a business contract.
— Let’s keep going, I say, gesturing to the path. We’re almost there.
Twenty minutes later, we reach my favorite place in all the Highlands. A small natural clearing on the hillside, nestled between rocks that form a shelter from the wind. From here, the landscape stretches endlessly—valleys, distant shimmering lochs, and blue-tinted mountains on the horizon.
Jane stops, speechless.
— Oh my God, she breathes. This is…
— I know, I say simply.
— No, really, she insists, her eyes sweeping the horizon. It’s like someone took every beautiful postcard landscape and combined them into one place. How is that even possible?
I smile, satisfied with her reaction. I expected polite admiration, but her awe is genuine—almost childlike in its purity.
— This has been my secret spot since I was a teenager, I explain, setting down my bag. I used to come here when I needed to think. To escape family pressure.
— I can see why, she says softly. It feels like you’re suspended between earth and sky.
She steps closer to the edge, and my heart lurches when she stands so near the drop. Instinctively, I move closer and grab her elbow.
— Not too close.
— Don’t worry, I’m not going to fall, she reassures me with a smile. I have my magical walking stick, remember?
Despite her protest, she doesn’t pull away, and we stay like that for a moment—side by side, taking in the vastness before us. I’m acutely aware of the warmth of her arm beneath my fingers, of her light scent blending with the heather and damp earth.
— Thank you for bringing me here, she says finally. I understand better why you love this place so much.
— I’ve never brought anyone here before, I admit without thinking. Well… except Ewan, but that’s different.
She turns to me, surprised.
— Really? Not even Heather?
I grimace at the mention of my ex.
— Especially not Heather. She hated hiking. According to her, nature was beautiful—as long as it was viewed from a five-star hotel window.
Jane laughs.
— I’m starting to understand why Hamish didn’t like her.
— Hamish is an excellent judge of character, I agree. Which makes me wonder why he seems to have adopted you after your chaotic introduction.
— Because I bribed him with an apple when no one was looking, she admits with a wink. I’m not above corruption when it comes to winning over local wildlife.
— Smart and pragmatic. You could be a real McGregor, I joke.
The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize their implication. Jane does too, because an awkward silence settles between us.
— Breakfast! I say a little too loudly to break the tension. You must be hungry after that hike.
— Starving, she agrees, clearly relieved by the change of subject.
I spread a blanket on the grass, sheltered by the rocks, and start unpacking our morning feast. Along with the scones, cheese, and fruit I mentioned, Jamison added a thermos of coffee, sandwiches, and even a small bottle of champagne with two flutes.
— Champagne for breakfast? Jane says, surprised. Is that a Scottish tradition or proof your butler endorses morning drinking?
— Personal tradition, I reply, popping the cork. When I come here, I like to celebrate the moment.
That’s a lie. I rarely drink—certainly not on hikes.
— And you usually celebrate alone?
— Not really, I admit. It’s better shared.
I fill both glasses and hand her one.
— What are we toasting to? she asks, raising it.
I think for a moment.
— To the unexpected.
— To the unexpected, she echoes, clinking her glass against mine. Coming from you, that’s practically revolutionary.
— I’m not always as predictable as you think.
She studies me as if trying to read my thoughts, then tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into a playful smile.
— Oh yeah? Then surprise me, Callum McGregor.