What Lies Between Page 9

  Todd’s brow raised in surprise—he observed more than he let on—but no one was more surprised than me at my surge of protectiveness toward Shayne. My feelings rolled and softened here for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, and I felt as strange as this island appeared.

  Managing to get down to Bill in a half-controlled slide, I grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Bill, can you assist your wife, please? She needs help. I’m going to give Shayne a hand.” He rolled his eyes, and I leveled a hard glare, daring him to be a jerk; it seemed a comfortable position for him.

  He stared at my set expression, let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

  What was wrong with these people? If Bill didn’t want to help his wife on the side of this hill, what would it be like on all those adventures he bragged about having? Happy retirement, folks! And Todd didn’t want me to help Shayne or anyone. Maybe he truly was upset she hadn’t shown interest in him.

  In the time it took to me to half-slide, half-climb down to Shayne, she had progressed a few feet and slid back down several times, tearing up her hands and knees. She couldn’t catch her breath. Bloody scrapes covered her palms. Her knees looked worse. She avoided my eyes and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. No question she had to be hurting, but she didn’t utter a sound of complaint.

  “How are you doing?” I said. “It’s a tough hill.”

  “Yeah.” She still didn’t look up, her cheeks turning deep pink. “I’m all right. You go on. I’ll catch up.”

  Stifling an exasperated sigh, I sat down beside her. To my surprise, my frustration wasn’t with Shayne, it was with myself. I wanted a reason to dismiss her and she had given me plenty. But I never liked it when someone dismissed me; as a kid I’d given a fair share of people excuses enough to write me off. I knew better than anyone the way people behaved didn’t always reveal the truth they were trying to tell.

  “Ben didn’t exactly warn us we would have to deal with a hill like this,” I said, giving her a gentle, conciliatory smile. “Let’s sit here and catch our breath.”

  We both looked out into the distance, across the sea, our labored breathing slowing down, quieting.

  Several minutes passed.

  “I should have put on the wellies,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the distant water. “I’m sorry about dragging the group down. I can be a Texas-sized pain sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?” I teased.

  “I know, right?” She laughed and our eyes met in a silent truce.

  I glanced at her shoes. “Those are awesome, but they are pretty much the worst pair of shoes for this terrain ever.”

  “No kidding.” she laughed again, the sound soft and melodic, so different from her laughter in the van.

  A smile took over my face. “There is no way I’m leaving you here. Forget that. I’ll grip in with my boots and you use me for leverage. We’ll go slow and steady.”

  Tying my jacket around my waist, I handed one of the sleeves to her and she looped it around her wrist. Todd and the others watched our struggle for a few minutes then disappeared over the top. By the time we made it to the peak, we were both out of breath again.

  “We’ll take a rest here, and if we don’t see Ben in a few minutes we’ll continue on,” I announced to the others.

  There was Bill’s eye roll again. Todd looked perplexed as he eyed Shayne before turning his attention to me. Apparently not caring enough to comment, he shrugged and looked away. I pointed at a large rock a distance from the others and Shayne nodded. We both let out a sigh as we sank down on a reasonably flat spot.

  When I caught my breath I plunged in, eager to know more of her story. “What brought you to the Highlands?”

  She didn’t answer at first, searching my eyes for . . . ? After taking a long breath and letting it out, she said, “Back in Dallas I had a problem with someone from my squad. I don’t want to talk about it, but I needed to get out of that city. I couldn’t decide where to go, but it needed to be far away. I got this idea to put every country starting with an S, for my name, into a hat. I’d go to the place I pulled out. It was Scotland.”

  “What if you didn’t want to go to the place you pulled out?”

  “I didn’t care. My head was a mess. Picking a country out of the hat worked to get me on a plane to somewhere.”

  Shayne’s candidness surprised me. There was more to her than the image she projected, but still . . .

  “I wanted to see the Highlands because it’s different from everything in Dallas. There was no chance I’d rent a car here. Driving on the left . . . not gonna happen. This tour sounded like a good choice, and I figured if it was more expensive it would be nicer.” She looked up and caught my raised eyebrows. “Yeah, I know, expensive doesn’t mean better, but I figured there would be people I’m more used to. I didn’t put too much thought into any of this, but I did think I would be taking photos from the side of the van, not thrown out on trails like this. At least the hunky guide kind of makes up for these awful hikes, but”—she leaned in to share a secret—“I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

  “What? Why do you say that?”

  “Because, you know, why not see what a Scottish guy is like in bed. You won’t believe this . . . he turned me down. And honey”—she grabbed my arm—“men don’t turn me down . . . unless they’re gay.” She stuck out her lips in an impressive pout.

  I reviewed my first couple days at Glenbroch and Ben’s apparent obliviousness that the words and phrases he used sounded like come-ons—maybe because they weren’t. And to be fair, I’m not sure I’d turn her down if I were a guy.

  “Well, you’re probably right. I mean, look at you. He’d have to be crazy. But all is not lost. I’m pretty sure Todd’s straight if you’re interested.”

  “Surfer boy? Not my type.” She eyed Todd up and down and shivered in a gust of wind. “But I’m not interested in spending my nights alone up here. It’s too cold. Nobody said Scotland had freezing temperatures in August. I suppose he’ll have to do.” She drew in a deep breath, pushed herself up, readjusted her clothes, and sauntered off in his direction.

  “Right,” I murmured, “it’s not that cold.”

  I stared out at the horizon. Maybe Ben said no for some other reason. I had this silly wish that it had to do with me, but if he didn’t have a boyfriend, he probably had a girlfriend. Regardless, it wasn’t my business.

  The expansive panorama demanded my attention. The sun-washed sea, held snug between Skye and its neighboring island, broke free beyond their borders and stretched out into the distance until it met the pale blue of the sky. I wished I had taken more photography classes in college. The bright reflection of the water kept blowing out my photos.

  As if responding to an unheard command, much like the sheep that first day, we all put down our gadgets and became silent, rapt in one of those rare experiences when each person in a group of relative strangers is swept away by the same thing.

  A movement in the distance broke my contemplative moment. Ben appeared, trudging around the edge of the hill. I gave him a double thumbs-up to indicate all was well and stood up to greet him as he drew near.

  “You never made it to the meeting spot,” he said.

  “What can I say? I suck as trail leader.” I met Shayne’s eyes and a knowing look passed between us.

  Ben’s brows furrowed, his face filled with questions.

  I laughed and moved farther away from the group.

  He followed, pulling a bottle labeled Irn Bru from his pack. “Have you tried it?”

  “No, but it looks awful.”

  I sat down on a rare dung-free spot on the edge of the hill. Ben took a spot beside me.

  “You’re missing out. This is great stuff. Scotland’s other national drink, second only to whisky.” He held out the bright orange soda. “Didn’t you say you’d try everything at least once?” he asked with a taunting smile. “Little known fact: Coca-Cola is the number one soft drink pretty much everywhere except Scotland. In ou
r country, it’s Irn Bru. We Scots do things our way.”

  I remembered the offhanded statement about trying everything at least once; Ben would be sure to hold me to it in all kinds of ways. “Hand it over.” I took the bottle and let a minuscule sip trickle into my mouth. Pure syrup. My blood sugar spiked just from the drops that fell on my tongue.

  Handing it back, I clutched my throat, gagged, and rolled on the ground. “Poison,” I squeaked out.

  Ben took a huge drink, peering at my writhing movements, his brow rumpling. “Is that necessary?”

  The sudden, sobering realization I had been rolling around in sheep dung made me bolt upright. “You’re going to kill yourself with stuff like that, and—”

  What he does is none of my business.

  “And my smoking?” he finished my thought. “Aye, I knew right off it wouldn’t—” He turned away, leaving his sentence unfinished.

  “Wouldn’t what?”

  He acted as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ellie, I want to ask you, and you’re probably not going to care for the question, but I have to know.”

  “Okay . . .” His tone and words were making me nervous.

  “I’ve seen the way Todd looks at you, and you had such a great time with him the other night. It’s none of my business, but did anything happen between you and him?”

  My mouth fell open, and I scooted around to face him. “What? No! A thousand times no! Wait a minute. You’re right, it isn’t any of your business.” I screwed up my courage, wanting his side of the story. He had brought it up. “Are you interested in him?”

  “Him! Todd? Och, are you daft, woman?” he bellowed. “What would make you think that?”

  “Shayne thinks you’re gay.”

  “Because I didn’t go for what she was offering? That’s where you got this idea?” Ben lay back on the ground, laughing until tears rolled from the corners of his eyes. He eventually pushed himself back up, gasping for air. “You are daft if you can’t see . . .” His words faded into the ether.

  That habit of not finishing sentences annoyed me. “See what?”

  He shrugged. “Whoever, or whatever, has done this to you so you can’t or won’t see . . . it was a terrible thing. Do you not understand I have no interest in a casual hookup with anyone—man or woman?” His eyes were riveted on me.

  I swallowed, but the lump in my throat didn’t loosen. “Why wouldn’t you be?” My words came out grainy, salted with what might be a silly hope.

  “Among many reasons I have, I can think of one very good one.”

  His steady gaze didn’t waver, and I recognized, there in his eyes, the substance of what must be in mine.

  Having a relationship hadn’t warranted much consideration these past few years. In truth, I simply hadn’t met anyone who inspired me to want one. And I wouldn’t be with someone simply to not be alone.

  I did have a tiny hope that someone in the world existed who I could get giddy and crazy about, who could make me feel a little out of control—but could also be the person I could talk to, hang out with, and trust with all of me, over time.

  Whatever this was with Ben, it was just easy enough and maddening enough—magical if I dared admit it—to inspire me to believe that maybe a relationship had a place in my life.

  Ben must have read my thoughts; his eyes darkened to that deep blue that made me want to forget what I was doing and run off with him. Sometimes I was just a girl who wanted to experience love—a desire so unreachable it felt alien. But I knew it came from deep within, from a small part of me that had managed to survive unbroken. Still, I couldn’t ignore the bushelful of challenges waiting at the end of this tour, and I was at risk of losing my head. . . . and the estate.

  Someone told me once I had an optimistic view of life. I laughed and said I was the most cynical person I knew and didn’t trust anyone or anything. This person said that the most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves, and that I was a liar. Maybe I was.

  Maybe I am.

  What difference did it make? Distrust was the devil I knew . . .

  Pushing myself to my feet, I wedged irritation into my voice. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

  He frowned at me, then amusement eased his face. “You’re thrawn, determined to keep me where you want me—no closer, no farther. You want to believe you can control this. I get it. But life doesn’t work that way. You don’t have as much control as you think. None of us do. We don’t get to call all the shots.”

  “What this are you talking about?”

  “And that’s my point.” He crushed the empty plastic bottle, screwed its lid back on, stood up, and called to the group, “Time to move on. We still have a lot to see in half a day.”

  Shayne looped her arm through Todd’s. Li chatted with Ben. Karen and Bill trudged in silence. Content to be left to my thoughts, I trailed behind. My mind whirred, warning me that getting involved would ruin the budding friendship with Ben and indulging in more would never work out because it never did. I couldn’t afford a mess, and I wouldn’t risk losing Glenbroch due to distraction.

  At the same time, was I a fool for not taking a chance?

  7

  Ben returned us to Portree and announced the group had a couple of free hours to rest and shop. Taking advantage of the down time, I headed to my room to catch up on still-missing sleep before meeting up with the group for dinner and a community ceilidh, an evening of traditional Scottish music and group dancing. Ben had explained the ceilidh was more for tourists than for locals, but a fair number of folks in the area came out for it. I looked forward to the evening as it was likely Glenbroch would host a ceilidh from time to time, and it sounded fun. It was about time for some fun.

  The band’s kilted accordion player instructed the gaggle of milling travelers to form circles of six for our lesson in traditional Scottish dance. Shayne and Todd paired up. Don, from another tour group, offered to partner with me and I accepted. Ben extended his hand to Li.

  Don grabbed my forearm instead of interlocking elbows and whirled me around with enough velocity to lift my feet from the ground. Pointing at the other dancers, I yelled over the crowd and boisterous music, “Elbows!”

  He shot me a goofy smile and grabbed my arm again on the next whirl. In the slow motion rhythm of a disaster well underway, my arm slid free of his sweaty grasp. Careening in a dizzy spiral, I slammed a body to the ground, then ricocheted off the wall and landed on the person lying on the floor. The room continued to spin with no sign of slowing down. A masculine grunt sounded beneath me as my vision began to clear.

  “If you wanted to lay your body across mine, you could have just asked.” A familiar Scottish brogue accented the voice.

  Of course it’s Ben I pinned to the floor.

  With my body lying across him, his earlier comment out on the Quiraing that I didn’t control as much as I thought replayed in my mind.

  Ben’s muscles tensed against me, but he didn’t try to move, the rise and fall of his breath so near it warmed and cooled my neck. If I lifted my head, his mouth would scarcely be separated from mine.

  Why couldn’t I let myself do what I wanted?

  “I need to get up,” I whispered, as if he were holding me to the floor.

  “Help her up!” Shayne demanded.

  “All right, all right,” Todd responded.

  Hands slid under my shoulders and jerked me up in an ill-conceived extraction attempt. Todd’s awkward grab and yank placed my knee directly in Ben’s groin, bull’s-eye confirmed by the loud protest from beneath me. Ben took hold of my arms and lifted me off his body, climbing to his feet with a long groan.

  “Smooth, Todd.” Shayne shook her head in disapproval and peered into my face as I held onto the edge of the bar top. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Not sure about Ben.”

  “The guy will live. That terrible man who was flinging you around, what was his problem?”

  “I’m sorry. I must be more careful,” Don said, appearing b
ehind Shayne’s shoulder. “I guess I got carried away.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” I hadn’t minded crashing into Ben, to be fair.

  Before Shayne could give Don her thoughts on his lack of grace, Todd grabbed her arm and spun her back onto the dance floor. Don found another victim and hit the floor sporting the same moves.

  “I didn’t think a ceilidh could be this dangerous.” Ben’s eyes sparkled as he added, “What did I say about control, or lack of it? No matter what we do, some things cannot be avoided.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It was a completely random accident,” I replied. Warmth crept up my face as I realized I was further proving his point, even though it could hardly be my fault I had landed on him.

  “Think what you like.” His eyes studied me. “But in my mind it wasn’t random that you ended up draped over me like a feileadh-mor.”

  Seeing my scrunched brow, he added, “You see there, the traditional, long plaids that some of the local men have wrapped round and it forms their kilt. You’re local too now. And as a local it would be good for you to learn to appreciate whisky. Tell you what, I bet I can find a whisky you love in three tastes. If I do, you owe me a dance.”

  “I won’t like it.” I wasn’t at all convinced my evening should be spent tasting whisky. “I’ve tried it, and I hated it. Just saying.”

  “If it wasn’t a Scotch whisky—and a single malt at that—then you’ve not had whisky at all. It’s the water of life here for a reason. We take it seriously and we know how it’s supposed to be made. You’ll see it’s only a matter of finding the right one.”

  “What if I don’t like any of them and your mission fails?”

  He raised his brows, his eyes emboldened with a cocky edge, obviously expecting victory. “Then you escape having to dance with me.”

  “I think I’ll sit right where I am and won’t drink or dance at all.” A sparring mood suited me at the moment.

  He ran his hands over his face, fatigue rimming his eyes. “What fun is that for someone as competitive as you? You know you want to prove me wrong. I’m away to get the whiskies. Drink them or not.”