When she pushed her empty plate away, Euan leaned back in his chair. "I've a couple of rooms I rent out in my place in town," he said casually, like he was mentioning the weather.
Her eyes widened. "You? No thanks. I'll look around."
He only shrugged, clearly unbothered, and went back to his coffee.
It took her the rest of the day to admit defeat. She wandered the streets of Pitlochry, asking at inns and B&Bs. Every door had the same answer—either too expensive or fully booked. The fewshe found online turned out no better, and her phone flashed with apology after apology. A long holiday weekend. Perfect timing.
She trudged back to the Red Mill by late afternoon, exhausted and damp from a misting rain. Everything hurt and she needed more painkillers. In the front lounge, Euan sat with a laptop open, his big frame hunched over the screen. He didn't even glance up when she came in.
Sage hesitated, then dropped onto the sofa beside him. "Can I have that room, please?"
"Fine, since you said please" he said, not looking away from his work.
And that was that.
The drive to Euan's house wound through a world that seemed dipped in greens and browns. Sage sat quietly in the passenger seat of his Range rover, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze turned outward to where the trees arched over the road, their sparse leaves whispering in the breeze. She didn't speak, and Euan didn't press her; there was an unspoken awareness between them, a quiet that needed no filling.
They passed beneath the shadow of the town clock tower, old stone buildings dark with age and rain, and then crossed the ancient bridge that spanned the river, its weathered arches reflected in the current below. Beyond, the road curved through a stretch of woodlands, the trunks rising tall and close, dappling the light across the bonnet of the car. Everything was green—lush, alive with a touch of autumn, as though the Highlands had wrapped themselves around her. When the car finally turned up the long,winding drive, Sage caught her first clear view of Euan's house. The lodge-style house stood against the backdrop of the hills, timbered and modern, yet softened by the sweep of the land around it. Behind, the woodland climbed in dark green tiers, while the River Tummel glimmered close enough for itssong to be carried on the breeze. Two caravans sat tucked near the trees, pale against the shadow of the pines, as if waiting for summer visitors or storms that might force them into use.
The garden stretched wide and open, the shrubs bending in the wind, their reflections wavering in the still mirror of the pond. The whole place had an untamed beauty to it, the house not so much dominating the land as belonging to it. Sage felt the peace seep into her chest as Euan pulled the car to a stop.
Inside, he showed her to a self-contained space—a small bedroom with an attached bath, and a neat little sitting room. It had its own entry, separate from the rest of the house. It was more comfortable than anywhere she'd seen all day.
"Wi-Fi password's there," he said, tapping a slip of paper tacked under a shelf. "Kitchen's yours to use. Och, just so ye’re no’ losin’ sleep, the lad by the low wall’s a polisman. Yer honour’s safe…"
She nodded, wondering what possessed her to go off into the unknown with a man she just met yesterday. "You didn't say how much this was going to cost me."
He told her, and her eyes widened again. Fifty pounds less than the last place, and there weren’t too many curious neighbours about. Of course, she didn't know if Euan was a serial killer hiding behind a pretty face. And all she felt about that was,Oh well, time will tell.
"Do you want to have lunch with me?" he asked abruptly.
Suspicion flickered again. "That included in the rent?"
He gave a grunt that might have been amusement. "If ye make dinner, I'll make lunch."
"Fine."
Chapter 15
Two days slid by. She read, slept, walked through the winding paths and along the hillsides, slowly learning her way around. Her period was easing off, and she didn't want to waste a single second. Euan had asked if she wanted a guide, but she had refused. She didn't know why she trusted him, but somehow, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. They'd sit together during lunch and dinner, conversation prickling back and forth—never easy, but never dull, either. She could feel it when his interested gaze lingered, when their hands brushed as one passed the bread to the other. A spark, a sizzle under the surface, one she should ignore as her life was a hot mess. But he kept his distance, a deliberate space between them, as if he was waiting for a sign from her.
Bread, though, was a constant bone of contention. He had looked at her like she was off her rocker when she said she was avoiding bread to lose weight.
“What for? Are you trying to resemble a stick insect? Is this one of those fancy diets?”, he asked, looking utterly confused.
So, she had taken a slice, then two. By the third one Euan raised his bushy eyebrows a sneakily moved it closer to him.
On the third night, Euan reached for the breadbasket at the same time as Sage had. Their fingers brushed, just a fleeting touch, but she felt the spark shoot up her arm.
"You're hoarding it," he said, one thick eyebrow arched.
"I'mholdingit," she shot back. "There's a difference. Besides, you take half the loaf every time."
He leaned back in his chair, mock-offended. "I've got a working man's appetite."
She snorted. "Working?You spent the whole morning staring at a hedge and pretending to garden."
Euan only smirked and, with deliberate ease, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Ink slid into view, tattoos snaking down his forearms and right to his knuckles, the designs bold against skin stretched over muscle. His wrists alone looked so broad, she doubted she could circle them with her fingers. The display wasn't for her, but she still felt the air stir with something...
