Chapter 41
Meg looked across at Gabe as he slid the truck back into gear and they started a slow descent towards the loch. At this time of year the light went on forever in the evenings. It could have been mid-afternoon, not seven thirty at night. At least the midges might have stopped biting – she crossed her fingers, hopefully. It was the one downside she’d discovered so far about life on the west coast of the Highlands. The lighthouse cottage garden was blissfully free of them, thanks to the near-constant sea breeze. But she’d encountered them on many an evening stroll up towards Applemore, coming home to discover her skin was covered in tiny bites.
‘What do you do about midges when you’re up on the moors planting trees?’
Gabe made a face and laughed. ‘I swear a lot.’
‘Does it help?’
‘Not at all. But it makes me feel better. The funny thing is I arrived in late autumn, by which time they’d all buzzed off to wherever they go in winter. I’d read about them but I had no experience and then one day as if by magic, there they were. Everywhere.’
‘Everywhere?’ She looked at him sideways and burst out laughing at his expression.
‘Not quite everywhere, thankfully.’
They drove through a stone gate and turned a corner and once again Meg gasped.
‘Is this where we’re supposed to be?’
She had visions of a furious Highland Laird armed with huge dogs and a rifle appearing to defend his territory.
A moment later, as Gabe raised a hand in greeting, she had to suppress a giggle.
A very tall, thin man in his late seventies with a patrician face appeared from the side of a filthy and battered Land Rover, followed by a grizzled and equally greying terrier. He had white hair swept back over a receding hairline, and a surprisingly sweet and welcoming smile.
Gabe pulled the truck to a halt and climbed out, striding across and shaking the man’s hand with an equally warm smile. He said something, and then beckoned to Meg.
Feeling slightly shy, she got out of the car and looked down at her feet, realising she was still wearing a pair of pink polka dot wellington boots. There was nothing for it – she’d just have to style it out.
‘So I thought we’d take that walk up to the bothy,’ Gabe was saying. ‘Ah, here we are. This is Meg,’ he said, taking her hand for a moment – she felt her eyes widen in surprise – and drawing her towards them in a welcoming gesture.
‘This is the duke of Lochbrannich,’ said Gabe, as if being introduced to a duke every day was a common occurrence.
‘Hello,’ she said, wondering if she was supposed to curtsey but shaking his extended hand instead.
The duke beamed at her. ‘Felix,’ he said. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony here. Well, I don’t, in any case.’
A moment later a woman – also tall, but pale and slender, and moving quite slowly, appeared from behind the enormous door of the house. ‘Jennifer, darling, look. It’s Gabe, the nice chap I told you about from the forestry. Well this is splendid,’ he said, looking at them both and rubbing his hands together in a thoughtful manner.
His wife came and said hello and there was another flurry of handshaking and some chat about the weather and the terrible rain they’d had.
Meg patted the little dog, who was sniffing delightedly at her feet.
‘Right, darling,’ said the duke’s wife, ‘We really must get off if we’re to get to the shop in Applemore before it closes.’
‘It doesn’t close for ages,’ protested the duke, checking his watch.
His wife caught Meg’s eye and shook her head. ‘Honestly, this man,’ she said, laughing. ‘He takes a while to catch on.’
‘Catch on?’ The duke said, frowning.
Meg looked sideways at Gabe to see him suppressing a smile.
‘If you want these young people to enjoy their walk to the bothy, then you and I really ought to let them get on with it,’ she said firmly.
‘Oh.’ He gave a slow nod, as if something had just dawned on him. ‘Yes, right. Very good. I shall see you during the week, Gabe, and we’ll have a chat about the rewilding programme. I have some new ideas.’
‘Looking forward to it.’
‘Darling,’ the duke’s wife warned, hooking her hand through his arm in a practised manner.
The duke raised his hands in surrender. ‘I am putty in her hands,’ he said, allowing himself to be steered towards the Land Rover, the little terrier trotting along behind him.
‘Shall we?’ Gabe gestured toward the truck, standing back to allow her to go ahead. They’d closed the doors and were just about to set off when the duke pulled up so his window was parallel to Gabe’s. He opened it and Meg looked across to see the duke leaning forward to smile at them approvingly.
‘Strike while the iron is hot, old boy, as I said to you the other day.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Felix,’ the duchess said, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘You are an absolute horror.’
Gabe dropped his head into his hands and let out a groan, then looked across, grimacing.
Meg’s heart, which had settled down slightly, was now skipping about all over the place as she looked at him with an uncontrollably large smile on her face.
‘Should I ask?’
‘Probably best not,’ said Gabe, shaking his head and laughing.
They bumped along a track which led through the woods and up to the opening to a woodland path. The white starry flowers of wild garlic danced above a thick carpet of green foliage, and a track wove up into the dappled shade of the trees.
Meg looked down again at her pink and white spotted boots.
‘They’re not very glamorous, but I think they’re probably a better bet than the suede ones.’
‘I think you’re right.’ Gabe looked at her, his gaze sweeping upwards over her body from her ridiculous but practical boots to her face, which she was certain was flushing pink. Meg steepled her fingers because she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands.
They set off up the path, climbing up and up through dripping trees and then out onto a stretch of path where the land was jagged with rocks covered in lichen and dotted once again with the coconut scented gorse and scrubby patches of heather.
‘There it is,’ said Gabe, as they climbed over the final ridge of a hill.
A rugged stone building stood nestled in a dip by a rushing stream. With a window on either side of the door and a low slate roof, it looked like something from a fairy-tale.
‘It’s so pretty.’ Meg rushed over to the stream. The water was peaty and clear. It cut a path through the moorland, bubbling over rocks which had been worn smooth over centuries.
‘I think there’s probably a waterfall, look.’ Gabe led her over to the edge and they peered at the water which tumbled down a few metres, landing in a natural pool which had formed below.
‘I think it’s a bit cold for wild swimming, don’t you?’
Gabe pressed his lips together in a mischievous smile. ‘I’m game if you are.’
‘I am very definitely not.’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘I think wild swimming in ice cold water might be up there with living in a van as things I’m not designed for.’
She patted her hips as an afterthought. ‘Even if looks might be deceiving.’
She stepped backwards, losing her footing on a clump of heather, and crashed into the solid wall of his chest, turning round and trying to step back but slipping sideways. Gabe caught her in his arms.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped, taking in the prickly sensation of the sweater he was wearing and the feeling of his body against hers and looking up into his amused dark blue eyes. He looked back at her and his mouth twitched in amusement.
‘I’m not exactly complaining.’
Meg bit her lip and let out an unsteady breath. Using him as a sort of handsome but practical balancing post, she stepped backwards carefully and looked at him with a slightly embarrassed expression.
‘So this bothy,’ she said, in a slightly too-high tone of voice, walking towards it in her wellington boots, hoping he was following her. ‘Tell me about it?’
She heard his footsteps behind and kept on walking until she reached the stone building, running a hand along the low granite sill as if she was suddenly fascinated by Scottish vernacular architecture.
‘This is nice, isn’t it?’
Gabe smiled slowly at her, looking at her fondly as if she was slightly insane. He was standing just in front of her, hand shading his eyes from the sun as he spoke.
‘So – the rewilding project,’ he said.
Meg nodded. ‘Go on.’ She settled back against the wall of the bothy, which had remained dry under the shelter of the roof, and crossed her arms. The air was loud with the evening song of birds, and dramatic plum-coloured clouds lurked at the edges of the sky, as if waiting for another chance to empty their contents.
‘The plan is to plant broadleaf trees – in swathes – some in little forest groves, some individually.’ He motioned for her to follow him around the bothy, so they were looking out across a vast stretch of moorland. ‘Careful,’ he said, laughing, as he pointed out a dark patch of water. ‘I can’t tell you how often we get stuck in those little hidden peat bogs when we’re working… I’ve been soaked up to my knees so many times I’ve lost count.’
‘Is that when you wish you were still jet setting to and from New York flying business class?’
Gabe shook his head slowly and vehemently. ‘Not for a single moment.’
She was standing close by his side, aware of the warmth of his body, as he carried on explaining.
‘As time goes on, hopefully more species will arrive as the habitat diversifies, and the whole ecosystem will flourish.’
‘That sounds like magic.’ Meg looked up at the sky, where a single bird soared overhead.
‘Eventually the skies should be full of birds of prey and buzzing with dragonflies, and then as we plant the riverwoods we should see an increase in salmon coming back to the rivers, and –’ he stopped mid-sentence.
‘Go on,’ said Meg, touching his arm without thinking.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about it,’ said Gabe with a rueful shake of his head.
‘Don’t apologise. I like it,’ Meg said softly.
His eyes met hers for a moment and then he looked away, his tone almost casual as he watched the bird swooping through the air.
‘I came here to get away… to find a new life by myself. I never expected to find something I really cared about.’
Meg followed his gaze, looking out at the huge sky and the sweep of moorland that stretched out for miles before them.
‘I can see why you love it. It’s beautiful.’
Gabe turned, catching her by the shoulders gently, turning her body to face his.
She looked up at him for a moment and gazed into his eyes, realising almost as he spoke the words that she knew what he was going to say.
‘I’m talking,’ said Gabe, dropping the gentlest of kisses onto her forehead, ‘about you.’
And Meg reached up almost without thinking, her arms sliding up across his broad, muscled back. She felt his hands cupping her face softly in his hands, a thumb tracing across her mouth for a moment, and then he bent to kiss her, and everything surrounding her was forgotten.
Eventually Gabe broke away, looking down at her with such a gentle expression on his face that Meg felt her knees might be in danger of giving way again, so she held onto his arm for fear of landing in a puddle of peaty water.
‘So,’ he said, with a teasing smile, ‘as I was saying. Rewilding.’
Meg gave a solemn nod. ‘Go on.’
‘He’s a lovely old boy, the duke. He’s determined to make a difference before he – as he would put it – pops off. I don’t think his daughter is exactly on board, but he’s hoping she’ll come round.’
It was difficult to concentrate fully with his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. Meg watched his mouth twitch with amusement.
‘He seems sweet,’ Meg said. ‘If a bit eccentric.’
‘He is both of the above. But he made an excellent point when I was talking to him the other day.’
‘Go on.’
‘He told me he’d met his wife forty years ago, and how happy they were together. And I think we’ve both figured out we’ve waited long enough.’
Meg shifted and took hold of his other hand as he stood before her, his voice low as he continued.
‘If you’re offered a chance at happiness, you’d be mad not to take it.’
Meg looked at Gabe, biting her lip as her heart thumped against her ribs.
‘So I’m going to kiss you again now, if that’s alright.’
Meg nodded. ‘I think it’s probably a good idea.’