Page 2 of The Highland Fling

I’m warm from the dancing, carefree from the wine I’ve drunk. Aidan’s sexy features, his enticing smell, the warmth of his hands on me, his low, gravelly voice . . .

Oh God, my senses are almost overcome, except . . . taste. I’ve not yet tasted him. I lower my gaze to his mouth and imagine experiencing him with my lips and tongue.

Aidan grips my waist and draws me to him again. This time, I resist his blue eyes and instead look down, tantalised by the swishing and swaying of his kilt. I wonder . . . is he one of those Scotsmen who wears nothing underneath? It’d be brazen, but maybe I should ask him?

Before I can decide if this is a great idea or a terrible one, the song ends. Aidan loosens his hold on me, but I cling on to his fingers, refusing to let him go. I’m not done with him yet.

He raises an eyebrow. In response, I lead him through the throng of people applauding the end of the dance and out into the reception area of the small, family-run Bannock Hotel. It’s empty, save for us. The sounds of the party are muted here but still very much audible.

Aidan waits expectantly. Our hands remain intertwined. It’s time for me to speak, but what do I say?

What if I’m just being swept up by the mood of the night, this celebration of romance? But, no, it’s hard not to feel like I’m missing out when my best friend has found her one while my heart remains closed to love.

Aidan’s stare is too intense, so I glance around the reception area, trying to find the right words. My surroundings, though, only remind me of the happiness Emily has been lucky enough to find.

It was in this hotel she stayed when she came here earlier in the year, and it was at that very reception desk she met Ally, for he was then running this place along with his two younger brothers. He’s since stepped back, relinquishing control of the hotel to Emily and his brothers, so he can follow his true calling: running an outdoor-activities business with Aidan.

Continuing to avoid Aidan’s gaze, I focus on our joined hands. Aidan’s white skin is tanned from the long summer days spent working outdoors. His colour is still much lighter than my own, but I can’t help but admire how good our hands look together, linked like this.

“Are you going to say something?” Aidan prompts.

I summon the courage to meet his eye. He’s grinning at me, amused by my hesitation, his expression cheeky, almost boyish.

“Well . . .” I begin.

How do I say it? I know what it is I want: I want him to take me upstairs, to the bedroom I’ve booked for the weekend. This could be the thing I need to move past the mental barrier I’ve built for myself. After clinging to the single life for so long, refusing even to create a profile on a dating app, a night with Aidan might spur me to start seeing people again. Maybe then I’ll find my one, just as Emily has found Ally.

“Well?” Aidan cocks his head to the side. “As the best friends of Ally and Emily, we should probably be in there rather than out here, don’t you think?” He nods to the function room.

I tighten my grip on his hand. “Come upstairs with me.”

There, I’ve said it now.

Aidan licks his lips—those lips I’m so desperate to taste—then his gaze lazily drifts down me, taking in my silky caramel dress but paying closer attention to the parts of my body it doesn’t cover: my cleavage and legs. It’s not the first time tonight I’ve caught Aidan checking me out, but this inspection is so entirely devoid of subtlety it’s practically obscene—and that sends a thrill through me.

Normally, I’m annoyed, repulsed even, when I catch men appraising my body. Tonight, though, I’m okay with it. More than that, it’s what I want. I feel sure now that if anyone has the power to reawaken the part of myself I’ve let sleep for too long, it’s Aidan Stewart.

“Ally specifically warned me to stay away from you,” he says.

His words are reasonable, but they don’t match what his eyes are telling me: he wants me. He is, however, giving me a chance to back out. Should I take it? Am I really going to do this?

Yes, I am.

My heart pounds, but I don’t hesitate any longer. “I know all about your ‘one-and-done policy’, Aidan. We’re on the same page. You live up here; I live six hundred miles away down in London. This is just . . . a bit of fun. Now hurry up! We can’t be long. We’ve got a party to get back to.”

The cheeky, boyish expression from earlier is gone, replaced instead by a raw intensity that’s all man. His eyes bore into mine, and I hold his gaze. Several seconds pass, then—first double-checking we’re alone—Aidan steps forward and swoops down, pressing his lips to my neck and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he murmurs, planting gentle kisses on my skin. “You smell so good.”

He slips a hand around my waist and leads me to the stairs. I go up them with him, my heart pounding, my body aching with desire.

CHAPTER TWO

GRACE

“And now find your way into Shavasana,” I instruct.

All thirty of my students move into the final pose of the session, lying on their backs on their yoga mats, arms out by their sides, legs slightly apart, eyes closed.