Chapter 5
Heather-Present Day
T he road wound narrow and slick, mist draping itself over the hills like a heavy shawl. Heather leaned her forehead to the glass, watching the Highlands unfurl into fields and stone walls, expecting Flynn would drive them straight to the battlefield.
Instead, he flicked on the blinker and turned onto a smaller lane.
Heather arched a brow. “Shortcut? Or do you just like keeping me guessing?”
Flynn’s mouth curved into a grin. “Something like that.”
The truck jolted over the uneven road, past a wide field where Highland cows grazed, their hulking shapes dark against the gray sky. Heather couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “Oh my God—I know this place.”
Flynn’s brow quirked. “Do ye now?”
“Don’t even pretend you don’t remember. This is where I first showed up—soaked through, reeking of cow shit, looking like I’d lost a fist-fight with a swamp.”
His laugh rolled warm and easy, filling the cab. “Aye. I opened my door to find a drowned American wanderin’ out of a cow pasture. White linen clingin’ to her like it had a grudge. Could see every curve of ye clear as day.”
Heather groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Oh my God. How mortifying.”
“Best first impression I’ve ever had,” Flynn shot back with a wicked grin, pulling the truck into the drive.
The lane ended at a stone cottage tucked against the slope of the hill, smoke curling lazily from its chimney. It was simple, weathered, yet welcoming. Its garden was a little wild, with ivy edging up the stones, the kind of place that belonged to the land rather than sitting on top of it.
Inside, the cottage was exactly as Heather remembered: the scent of smoke and old wood, the sturdy beams overhead, the small hearth ready for a fire. Her eyes caught on the mirror by the door, and she smirked.
“So what did you ever do with those clothes?” she asked, tilting her head.
Flynn glanced over, a mischevious gleam in his blue eyes. “Thought you told me to burn them?”
“I did,” she said with a grin. “Did you?”
He crossed the space in two strides, catching her waist and pulling her flush against him. His voice dropped low, teasing against her ear. “Aye, I gave them a proper Highland send-off. Shame, though… never seen a garment fit anyone like that.”
Heat shot through her, her thoughts scattering for a second. Before she could retort, his mouth brushed hers in a quick, deliberate kiss—enough to steal her words, not enough to satisfy. Then he leaned back and with one playful smack to her backside, he stepped away.
“Come on, Campbell,” he said, already moving toward the kitchen. “We’ve a journey ahead, and I need to grab a few things first.”
Heather had to remind her knees they were still supposed to function as she followed. “You can’t just do that,” she muttered, cheeks burning.
“Do what?” Flynn asked, feigning innocence as he pulled a canvas satchel from a hook and began tossing supplies into it—rope, a battered field guide, a flask
“That.” She gestured vaguely, still flustered. “The kiss. The… the—”
“The wee smack?” he supplied, eyes glinting as he looked up from the bag.
Her mouth opened, then shut. “Yes! That!”
Flynn crossed to her again, slow and deliberate, crowding her back against the table until there was nowhere to go. His hand came down flat on the wood beside her, leaning in close.
“Och, lass, you’ll have to be more specific. Was it the kiss you didn’t like?” His lips brushed her jaw in a whisper of a touch. “Or the way my hand fit here?” His palm slid to her rear, warm and steady.
Heather’s breath hitched. “You’re infuriating.”
His grin went wicked. “Aye. But ye like it.”
And damn him—she did.
Before she could stop herself, her hand fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer. Flynn only chuckled, stealing another brief, teasing kiss before stepping away again to grab another coil of rope from a shelf.
“Best get used to it, Campbell,” he said lightly, tossing the rope into the bag. “I plan on infuriating you the whole way to Culloden.”
Heather sagged back against the table, trying to convince her voice to behave. “God help me.”
He shot her a roguish look over his shoulder. “Aye, he’ll need to.”
Heather laughed, warmth curling in her chest, but when her gaze drifted around the room again, she sobered. “You never told me why you live here, Flynn. It suits you, but… I always wondered.”
His usual grin slipped. He moved toward the hearth, lighting the kindling with practiced ease. Shadows flickered across his face as the flames caught.
“This cottage isn’t mine,” he said after a moment.
“It belongs to an old client. Restored his main house down the way a few years back—big job, nearly fell in on itself. He was so pleased he let me stay here cheap, on the condition I mind the land and keep an eye on the hairy beasts you’ve become so acquainted with. ”
Heather’s lips twitched. “So my grand, mortifying entrance was basically your rent.”
Flynn smirked faintly. “Aye. You could say that. The cows never did forgive ye, though.”
She tilted her head, waiting. “But that explains how, not why. You’re kind of in the middle of nowhere.”
His smile dimmed as he leaned both hands on the mantel. “My da’s a solicitor, as ye know. Duncan and Reid. Firm’s been handling Glenoran’s assets since the Mackenzies first signed their name in ink. Almost every Duncan man’s gone into law since… well, forever. And I was supposed to be next.”
Heather went still. “So you were meant to—”
“Aye. Edinburgh University. Law school. I lasted two terms before I bolted. Couldn’t do it, lass.
Couldnae see my life spent behind a desk, shufflin’ contracts while the world turned outside the window.
Felt like being buried alive.” His jaw tightened.
“So I left. Started Duncan Restorations with next to nothing. To my Da, I didn’t just quit—I betrayed generations. ”
Something tightened in Heather’s chest. She crossed the room and slipped her hand into his, giving it a firm squeeze. “Flynn…” she trailed off, unable to find the words.
He didn’t look at her at first, gaze still fixed on the hearth. “To him, I’ll always be the Duncan that broke the chain.”
Heather tugged gently until he turned toward her, her eyes steady on his. “You didn’t break it. You started something new. That’s braver than anything they planned for you.”
His blue eyes searched hers, raw and unguarded. Slowly, his shoulders eased, a quiet laugh slipping out. “Careful, mo chridhe. Say things like that and I might start believin’ ye.”
Heather smiled, her free hand lifting to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath her palm. “Good. Because I mean it.”
The grandfather clock ticked in the corner, steady and unobtrusive. The past was still there between them, but it felt less like a wall and more like something they were both looking at from the same side.
Flynn dipped his head, brushing a kiss to her temple. His voice was low, almost shy. “You’ve a way of makin’ a man feel like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.”
Her heart did a funny, uneasy little flip at that—warm and a bit terrifying all at once. The last time things had gotten this close, she’d panicked and run. The instinct to bolt still flickered somewhere in her, but it was softer now, edged out by something steadier.
She managed a wry smile. “Then maybe you are.”
Flynn studied her face for a moment, as though he could see more than she was saying. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him. He kissed her temple once more, lingering just long enough to anchor her, then stepped back with a small, knowing smile.
This time, Heather didn’t feel the urge to look away.
Outside, the air was damp, sharp with peat and earth. The cows grazed lazily in the distance, heads lifting as if in casual recognition. Heather shook her head with a rueful laugh.
“Still my least dignified audience,” she muttered.
Flynn grinned, swinging his satchel over his shoulder. “Och dinnae fash, they probably dinnae even recognize ye fully clothed.”
Heather gasped, swatting at him, her cheeks heating. “Flynn!”
He only laughed, ducking just out of reach as he headed to load the truck with his supplies. “What? Just tellin’ the truth, lass.”
Despite herself, Heather laughed too, shaking her head as she followed.
Flynn paused at the open tailgate, fingers closing around a small black puck stuck beneath the frame.
“That’s not where you’re supposed to be,” he muttered under his breath.
Heather glanced over. “Whats that?”
He flicked it free. “GPS. I use them on the lad’s trucks when they’re up in the Highlands. Keeps everyone from vanishing off a hill if something goes wrong.”
He opened the glove box to stow it, then hesitated.
Another one sat inside already.
Flynn frowned, then shut the compartment. “Huh.”
For a moment, something tugged at him—but the thought slipped away as quickly as it came.
Heather tilted her head. “That a problem?”
“Probably not,” he said. “Service depot must’ve thought we lost it and stuck on another.”
Flynn fired up the truck, the engine rumbling as he steered them back onto the narrow lane. The cottage slipped out of sight, and a spark of anticipation flared low in Heather’s chest.
“Next stop, Culloden?” she asked, her grin tugging wider than she meant it to.
Flynn shot her a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth curving. “Och, someone’s eager. Thought you’d be draggin’ your heels about walkin’ onto a battlefield.”
“I’m not dragging my heels,” Heather said quickly, then huffed a small laugh. “Okay, maybe a little. But mostly, I just want to see it. To stand where it all happened. It feels… important.”
Flynn squeezed the wheel, his grin turning roguish. He dropped his voice into a thick, exaggerated brogue, the kind made for fireside tales.
“Important, aye. But maybe excitin’ too, eh? A chance to chase whispers no one else has dared to catch. Gold and ghosts, Campbell!”
Heather burst out laughing. “You sound like an extra from Braveheart.”
He winked, still in character. “Och, and what if I am? Ye’d still follow me intae the mist.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she leaned closer, grinning. “Unfortunately for me… you’re right.”
Flynn chuckled, letting his voice soften. “Aye, I usually am.”
That was the thing. The history, the mystery, the way the threads kept tightening around her—it didn’t feel like dread humming under her skin.
It felt like a spark catching.
She turned toward him, eyes bright. “Then let’s chase them.”
Flynn laughed low, pressing the accelerator until the truck picked up speed, mist peeling back from the road ahead. “Aye, Campbell. Let’s.”