Page 5 of The Highland Fling

“Thanks, you two!” David relaxes then embraces us both again. “Let me pop this bottle open and grab three flutes. I’ll be right back.”

A moment of quiet passes between Mum and me, then she says, “Well, with David leaving, you won’t be able to keep up the rent for this place by yourself. You’re very welcome to move back in with me.”

“No, thanks.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You didn’t even have to think about that, Grace.”

“Sorry, it’s just . . .”

I don’t know what to say. How can I tell her that, growing up, I found her suffocating and hated the way she always judged me more harshly than David? How can I explain that, when I moved out, I felt the most extraordinary freedom?

Apparently, I don’t have to say anything.

“Am I really so bad?” she asks.

“No! No, of course not. I just . . . like having my own space.”

David returns with three filled champagne flutes on a tray. He places the tray on the coffee table then passes a glass to me and another to Mum.

“Here’s to the next chapter!” He raises his flute.

I lift mine too, but when I go to taste it, the smell assaults my nose, repulsing me. “Oh no, is this corked?”

Mum frowns. “It smells fine to me.” She has a sip. “Tastes fine too.”

David agrees. “I like it. It wasn’t a cheap bottle, by the way—it’s good stuff.”

“Hmm, maybe I’m coming down with something. My sense of smell has been all over the place today.” I put down the glass. “I’ll pass.”

“Oh, Grace, that’s a shame. Be sure to take plenty of vitamin C—I swear by it for fighting off colds.” My mother gives me a pitying look then adds, “Anyway, so long as you’re not pregnant. Ha!”

I smile weakly, but a memory pops into my head. Him grunting, me gasping, our bodies connected.

I dismiss the scene as soon as it comes to me—I’m not going to think about that in front of my family. But I remember we used a condom. Yes, we’d both been drinking, and yes, our emotions and desires were high, but we didn’t forget about protection.

So . . . I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t. This must be something else.

CHAPTER THREE

AIDAN

“Careful, Gemma! You don’t look very steady, there. Why don’t you try—”

Before I can finish, the bridesmaid-to-be tumbles from her paddleboard and belly-flops into the chilly waters of Loch Bannock. The rest of the hen party burst into hysterics, the normal peace of the setting—a secluded body of water a mile south of the town—broken by the screeches of eleven rather rowdy women from Newcastle. When Gemma emerges from below the surface, she laughs too.

Thankfully, we’re all in wetsuits, but they don’t protect your face from the shock of the cold when you tumble in. At least Gemma’s good-natured about it.

As I talk her through pulling herself back onto her board, Ally suggests to the rest of the group that, since there’s a bit of a breeze now, they may want to go down onto their knees.

“Hear that, ladies? Ally wants us on our knees!” Deborah quips. She’s also a bridesmaid-to-be—the maid of honour, in fact.

I smirk at her comment, but Ally isn’t impressed. We’ve been best mates since we were babies, and our maws were best friends before us. For the longest time, Ally was stuck in a rut, dissatisfied with his life and bitter about having to run his family’s hotel after the death of his parents. When Emily Thomas booked in as a guest earlier this year, everything changed. He’s now set up Bannock Adventures with me, and he’s a new man. The grump is gone—he’s happy, more relaxed.

Or rather . . . he was. It turns out a group of loud, flirty hens from northern England is enough to get him worked up again.

Catching his eye, I wink at him, trying to remind him they’re just having fun. Ally glowers back at me.

Bad move. He should know I enjoy a bit of teasing, and when I see someone getting uncomfortable, I can’t resist testing their boundaries. Time to ramp up the double entendre.