Chapter Twenty-Five
Angus
A fist banging at the door jolts me from sleep.
I shoot upright, disoriented by the crisp white sheets, the heavy down duvet, the walls.
This isn’t my room at home, which is cluttered with books and half-finished projects.
And it sure as hell isn’t my tent. A woman stirs muzzily beside me, pulling the pillow over her head as the banging starts again.
It comes back to me. Last night. Rowan. The feel of her coming apart on my dick.
The bastard stirs with remembered excitement.
The knocking comes again.
“Fuck off! I’m coming!”
Rowan sure as shit doesn’t look like she’s about to move, so I rummage around the floor until I find my boxers and trousers and pull them on.
I stalk over, ready to slam the door open, not bothering to hide my disgruntlement at whoever thinks it’s acceptable to bang on a stranger’s hotel room at the ungodly hour of—
I check my watch.
Eight o’clock.
Not so ungodly then.
Dread sweeps through me. Ross is coming to pick me up this morning. I haven’t checked my phone yet, but…
“Receptionist told me what room you were in.”
Ross’s ugly mug greets me on the other side of the door.
“How did they know? It’s not my room.”
“Oh, I can see that. Nah, I asked them if they’d seen a tall bugger, looks like he lives in the woods, face like a sour grape.
They knew who I meant. Say you’d disappeared upstairs with the lady from 106 wearing the fluorescent clothes.
” He eyes up Rowan’s discarded Zesty hat. “That is quite… something.”
I grunt. “It takes a bit of getting used to.” I block the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick up my big brother and bring him home from his long walk.”
“At eight o’clock? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Lucy’s an early riser, okay? I’m learning to embrace the dawn.
” He shoots me his usual shit-eating grin.
“Nah. Stuart’s having a breakdown. Asked me to come fetch you.
Well, to be exact, he said ‘Do something useful for once and tell your brother he’s had more than enough alone time and I need him here’.
Although… looks like it hasn’t been such a lonely time after all. ”
“I will punch you. Don’t think I won’t.”
Ross continues blithely on, ignoring my threat. “Went to your usual campsite, but your tent was empty. Young lad saw me looking and pointed me this way. Said you might have company.” He wriggles his eyebrows and tries to peer around the doorframe again.
I block him.
Fuck. This is not how I wanted this to happen. Not before Rowan and I have had a chance to talk.
“Give me two minutes, and I’ll be out.”
“Excuse me?” Rowan interrupts, finally sitting up in bed, covers pulled to her chin. Her hair is wild with sex and sleep. Her cheeks are flushed. She looks delicious, and I have to work hard not to lean over and kiss her. Now is not the time. “Who are you and why are you barging into my room?”
Ross ducks under my arm and sticks his head inside. “Ross. Angus’s brother. Who are you?”
“Rowan.”
I watch his face work as if he’s doing complicated maths and the solution is out of reach. Then something clicks. “Angus. Did you fuck the bride’s sister?”
“None of your fucking business,” I retort instantly.
“Fuck me.” Ross rubs his hands together. “After that talking to you gave us about saving the farm? About how you’d do anything to make sure it survived? And now you’re fucking the bride’s sister? The one person we most need to keep happy right now? Wait until I tell Mason.”
“How did you know?” Rowan asks, a slight flush rising to her cheeks.
“There’s hardly legions of Rowan’s prancing about, are there? Sophie’s pissed at you. She keeps muttering about bloody Rowan and her bloody walk, as if the rest of us can’t hear it. Nice to meet you, by the way.”
“Er… nice to meet you too, I guess?”
“To be fair, hot.” Ross turns back to me. “Smoking hot. I can see why you did it, but man is Stuart going to be unhappy when he finds out.”
“Still right here!” Rowan waves from the bed.
I’ve reached the end of my tether. I haven’t had any coffee yet, and Ross is already getting on my last nerve. “Get out.”
“But I’m having so much fun.”
“Out.”
“Nice to meet you, Rowan!”
“I’ll see you at the car. Now fuck. Off.”
I slam the door closed and lean against it, pressing my forehead against the cold wood. So much for any chance of keeping what has happened between Rowan and I between Rowan and I. There’s no way Ross didn’t start texting Mason and Stuart as soon as the door closed.
Sure enough, less than a minute later, my phone buzzes.
I unlock it reluctantly. The messages start last night.
STUART: Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, mate. I’ve got a shit ton to do, so Mason and Ross have volunteered to pick you up. Don’t know why it needs both of them but at least they’ll be out of my hair.
STUART: Okay. It’s just Ross coming. Mason has to take a work call. When did your brother get serious about WORK? Or anything, for that matter? Call me.
STUART: What time works for you?
STUART: Earth to Angus. Can you let me know, please?
STUART: Hello???
STUART: You’ve gone and bloody fallen off a mountain, haven’t you? Fucking hikers.
STUART: Mason has reassured me it’s pretty much impossible to die on the West Highland Way, so I guess you’re ignoring me. Thanks so very much.
STUART: Ross is picking you up at eight.
STUART: Answer your fucking phone!
And then this morning:
STUART: The bride’s sister! ARE YOU INSANE? Get your arse back here this instant, you ungrateful neanderthal.
I turn back to Rowan. “So. Fancy a lift?”
* * *
“Your brother found you then,” Ewan says as we pull up at the campsite.
Ross and I are sitting in the front. I can see Ross glancing at Rowan in the rearview mirror every few seconds, his mind obviously whirring with questions.
None of us has spoken a word since we got in the car.
Well, Ross tried, and I told him to fuck off.
For once, he obliged. Rowan is quiet, huddled into her down jacket, pressed as far into the corner as she can possibly manage.
I can’t blame her. If I were her, I’d be doing the same.
“No thanks to you,” I retort.
Ewan is sitting on top of his hiking bag, crutches resting on his legs. There are two other bags next to his: Lila and Priya’s presumably, although they're nowhere in sight.
“Ah, couldn’t help it, could I? I’m a good Samaritan, me. Just trying to help a lad find his lost brother.”
“You could have texted me.”
“Don’t have your number, do I.”
“Prick.”
“You wound me, old man.”
I slam the car door closed. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have a train to catch?”
Ewan sighs. “Cancelled, mate. Every single bloody one. Guess we’re all stranded here.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“Nope. Lila and Priya have gone to get a coffee. I said I’d mind the bags.” He shrugs. “Guess it’s another night camping.”
Rowan emerges from the Jeep’s other side. “Did you say coffee?”
“Yeah, there’s a van around the corner.”
“Thank the holy lord,” she exclaims, turning to me. “You still need to pack up your tent, right? Great. Coffee? Coffee, coffee, coffee?”
Ross and I nod. Yes, coffee is what I need. Anything to get me through the rest of this day.
I’m not looking forward to arriving at the farm. Between the stress of organising the wedding, and the bollocking Stuart is about to give me, reality is crashing down on me. Hard. And I’m not ready for it.
I think longingly of the morning I could have had: another round with Rowan, wet and soft and moaning in my arms. The lazy, slow sex of the day after, when the initial rush of need is sated, hours exploring each other’s bodies, learning every inch of her.
“Right.” I shake my head to dispel the thought. “I’m going to pack up. Don’t cause any trouble. Do you understand?”
Ross puts up his hands, his eyes round as a kicked puppy. “Who? Me?”
I glare at him. This coming from the man who has ruined every single family gathering we’ve ever had, whether it’s the time he ate an entire birthday cake and vomited it over grandma’s lap, or play-wrestled Mason into the Christmas tree, ruining the decorations Ma spent hours making, or the time both of them ended up in hospital after they decided to sneak into the bull’s pen in the middle of the night and it almost trampled them to death.
My brothers are liabilities. Sure, they’re adults now, with adult lives: Ross’s wife, Lucy, a no-nonsense accountant from Sheffield with a tongue almost as sharp as her mind, has beaten most of the stupidity out of him, and Mason has landed his dream job as Head Chef at a swanky restaurant in Edinburgh.
But they’re still my idiotic younger brothers, who I’ve saved from more scrapes than I can count on two hands, no matter how much they might pretend otherwise.
“Yes, you. No covering anything, or anyone, in paint. You hear me?”
“That was one time!”
“You painted Bertha green. She was a fucking Highland cow, not a canvas. Do you know how long it took Da and I to clean her up?”
“It was camouflage! She was an MI5 spy! She needed to blend in!”
“Green, Ross.”
“I was nine!”
I shake my head and stalk away, leaving Ross and Ewan alone. A recipe for disaster, but I need to pack down. There is no way I’m leaving my tent in this field. And I’ll need it when Stuart throws me out of my own farm for being such a stupid arse.
“Did you really call a cow Bertha?” I hear Ewan say behind me. “Bit cliché, isn’t it?”
I sigh and keep walking.
Stuart and Ross are right. This is our first big event.
Nothing can be allowed to fuck it up. I already feel guilty about taking the week off for the hike, even though Stuart practically packed my kit for me and forced me out of the door.
He knows how much it means to me, getting to remember Da like this.
And it isn’t like I ever take a holiday otherwise.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a day off – Christmas, probably.
But this? Sleeping with Rowan?
Stupid. Impulsive. Irresponsible.
All things I normally pride myself on not being.
I don’t know what it is about her that inspires this… need in me. A longing so strong, I can feel it even now. Urging me back to her. I worry the guilt is weighing heavy on her too. I wish I could take it away, bring a smile to her face.
I want her to look at me again the way she did last night.
Instead, I pull my tent pegs out of the hard ground, all the while picturing the swell of Rowan’s breast, tasting her on my tongue.
Fuck, it’s distracting.
Tent down and bag re-packed, I return to the entrance of the campsite to see that Priya, Lila and Rowan are back, coffees in hand. Rowan hands me a cup, catching my eyes with hers. They soften, sparking with warmth as our fingers touch.
“I told you,” I hear Priya hiss to Lila.
Lila shushes her, but I catch her looking at us with a knowing smile.
“Shall we?” I ask Ross and Rowan. “Time to face the music, I guess.”
“I think we’ve got room for everyone, if you all squidge up. Might be tight with the bags, but I reckon we can do it in one trip,” Ross says.
“Do what?”
“Take them to the farm.”
“Take who to the farm?”
Ross sweeps his arm at the group. “Your new friends, of course. What? You were planning to strand them here? They need a bed for the night. We’ve got space. It’s called hospitality, Gus. Look it up.”
“Do your family really call you Gus?” Priya asks.
“No.”
Ross claps me on the back. “Course we do. It’s what Ma used to call him. Our precious Gus.”
I glower.
Ewan guffaws. “And I thought being an only child was bad. I take it back. Siblings are the worst.”
I’m tired. I’ve been walked in on before I got a repeat of some of the hottest sex of my life, and I’m not even two sips into my first coffee of the day. “No one fucking calls me Gus. Fuck off, both of you,” I snap.
“So he is always this grumpy? I thought it was the hiking,” Ewan asks.
“No. Hiking’s pretty much the only time he’s happy.”
“That was him happy?”
“If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to knock your heads together and leave you for the sheep,” I growl.
“That’s more like it. Loves an empty threat, does our Gus.”
“Stop. Calling. Me. That.” I can practically hear my teeth grinding together.
“That’s it.” I stomp over to the car, throw my bag in the boot, and slam my way into the front seat, rolling down the window.
“I’m going to the farm now. Anyone who isn’t in this car in the next five seconds is getting left behind. ”
I’ll give it to them: they know how to scramble. Less than a minute later, the bags are packed, and the car is full. Lila has Priya on her lap, and Ewan and Ross are squeezed in next to her, with Rowan in the front beside me.
“Did you all carry your bags?” Ross asks as he buckles his seatbelt. “I thought only madmen like Angus did that, now they’ve got all those fancy baggage services running.”
“Fancy baggage what?” Rowan asks.
“Vans and that. You can hire them to carry the bag for you, and they leave it at your campsite. Don’t think it’s very expensive either. So you can enjoy the walk.”
Rowan’s eyes are wide. “You mean I didn’t have to carry this fucking thing for the last five days? I could have just… walked?”
I catch her eye and trail my hand down her thigh. I can’t help it. I need to touch her. “Calm down, London. It’s character building.”
“It’s torture, that’s what it is! I can’t believe it! This whole bloody time!”
I laugh. “Alright, kids. Buckle up. Next stop: Hollyroot Farm.”