“Well,” I breathe, astonished. “And here I thought you lived only to terrorize the castle gardeners.”
Both sheep turn toward me, and I could swear Hamish looks embarrassed at being caught in such a tender moment.
“Don’t worry,” I add with a smile. “I won’t tell Callum. Your secret is safe with me.”
I approach slowly and sit down on a nearby rock, fascinated by this unexpected display of romance. Who would have thought that Hamish, with his impossible temperament, could be so attentive?
“So this is where you’ve been disappearing to for weeks?” I say. “You’ve created an entire sanctuary for your lady.”
Rosita approaches timidly and sniffs my hand. I stroke her gently.
“Hello, princess. I see our unruly sheep is treating you like a queen. You’re teaching him some manners—that’s good.”
The contrast is striking. Hamish, the rebellious McGregor sheep—undisciplined and chaotic—and Rosita, the elegantMcKenzie ewe—graceful and refined. And yet, they’ve found a way to create this small haven of peace, far from family feuds.
A little like Alistair and me pretend to do… only theirs is real.
The thought hits me with surprising clarity. These two animals have a more honest relationship than we do. At least they aren’t pretending.
I sigh deeply and lean back against the rock, contemplating the unlikely scene.
“You know, Hamish,” I begin, feeling a little ridiculous confiding in a sheep but unable to stop myself, “I almost envy your simplicity. You see Rosita, you love her, you build a nest. No contracts, no fake engagement, no complicated families to deal with.”
Hamish lifts his head and looks at me with what I could swear is compassion—if sheep were capable of such a thing.
“Alistair isn’t… what I expected,” I admit softly. “He’s intelligent, stubborn, and funny. Despite our constant disagreements, I’m starting to enjoy his company. It’s… unsettling.”
Rosita walks over and rests her head on my knees, as if offering silent support. I can’t help but smile.
“Thank you for the therapy session, Doctor Rosita. I assume I’ll receive your invoice by post?”
The sound of footsteps on gravel makes me jump. I turn to find Alistair—infuriatingly handsome in simple jeans and a gray sweater—watching us with a mixture of amusement and surprise.
“So this is where the secret club of forbidden lovers meets?” he asks, a crooked smile on his lips.
My heart gives an inexplicable leap. Since when does his smile do that to me?
“How did you find me?” I ask, a little defensively.
He steps closer and affectionately strokes Rosita, who seems delighted to see him.
“I was actually looking for this young lady,” he says, gesturing toward her. “She’s been sneaking off regularly for the past few weeks. I followed her to see where she was going. I didn’t expect to find… this.”
He surveys the carefully arranged clearing with clear admiration.
“Did Hamish do all of this?”
“Apparently,” I confirm. “Who would have thought that walking disaster was a romantic at heart?”
Alistair laughs softly, and for some reason, the sound warms me.
“Proof that appearances can be deceiving.”
He sits down beside me on the rock, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him, but not touching. A respectful distance—and yet, somehow, an intimate one.
“You were escaping the engagement preparations?” he asks.
“Is it that obvious?”
