As she wandered off, Lena shot me a wry grin. “This should be interesting.”
I wrapped my hand around her waist and pulled her close, leaning down next to her ear. “Don’t get too excited,” I whispered. “You’ve just signed us both up.”
She stiffened in my arms.
“If I have to be involved, so do you,wife.”
6
WESTON
“Good morning,” I called, lifting my hand to greet Callum, the groundskeeper—a gruff, no-nonsense, no-chit-chat kind of man. He was shorter than me by about a head, with a broad, stocky build, and wore a tweed flat cap over his curling red hair.
Milo bounded ahead to greet Callum, tongue lolling, clearly having the most perfect day of his entire life, same as every day.
“Mornin’,” Callum responded, hardly raising his eyes from the water trough he was refilling for the Highland cattle.
“Bit chilly, eh?”
“Not once that sun comes up over the ridge,” he said, raising his hand to the hills. “Then you’ll be sweating like a sheep on shearing day.” He turned to take me in, one bushy red eyebrow arching in question.
I’d dressed for a day of surveying the estate in the moody morning mist: rugged field trousers, a dark brown waxed jacket and sturdy hiking boots. Honestly, it felt like I was about to gobagging a Munro. But it had been a long time since I’d been outdoors like this. Too long, in fact. My still-clean boots said as much, and I knew Callum had noticed.
“How’re the cattle keeping?” I asked.
“They’re out grazing.”
“Oh, already?”
“Don’t wait around for board meetings to end, now do they?” He inclined his head toward the barn and set off without a word, Milo trotting at his heels, tail wagging. As Callum surged ahead, I got the distinct impression the laconic Scot didn’t think much of me.
Inside the barn, I was overwhelmed by the smell of damp straw and the pungent earthiness of the cattle. But beyond that, the air was fragrant with something that stirred my memory. It was the softly sweet, almost herbal scent of the heather that filled the hills. It always reminded me of the specialty teas Gran used to steep for herself at the end of the night, when all of the staff had finished for the evening.
“Cattle are here in the big shed,” Callum said. “Hasn’t changed much since you were last here. The little shed is where the sheep are.”
“Grandad said it took some damage in the last big storm you guys had?”
Callum nodded. “He refitted the entire thing. It’d take an act of God to take the roof now.”
He carried on through the building, and I followed closely, coming out the other side. My breath caught as I got my first real view of the property after years. I’d missed those mistyglens and the knee-high thistles that grew in bunches along the fenceline. Missed being outside without a coffee shop or even a hint of traffic in sight. I could be at the top of the tallest building in Houston, and the view would pale in comparison to this. The Highlands were truly magical.
“Here’s the lay of it,” Callum said, pointing across the property. “Sheep are over that ridge. The cattle prefer that pasture there in the summer. That field over there floods if you look at it wrong.”
I laughed a bit, catching Callum’s eye. “When Grandad still ran his Highland Adventure Camp,” I started to explain, “if we ended up with a particularly rainy week, all the boys were down there in our wellies, throwing mud pies at each other.”
Callum regarded me with an unreadable expression. “You planning to stay long?”
“Was only going to stay long enough for the funeral and to settle the will. Now it looks like I’ve gotten roped into helping with the summer festival.”
Callum grunted, entirely unimpressed. He set off again. “Well, keep up. This isn’t one of your golf courses.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his jabs. As we walked, Callum pointed out the west pasture, where the cattle and sheep were rotated in the autumn, the feed sheds, the upper fields, and the greenhouse which mostly grew veg for the kitchen.
“Is the old trail still through there leading down to the coast?” I asked, hoping to take a look to make sure it was accessible before I got the surveyors out here for the wind farm.
“Aye, that’s it,” Callum said, pointing out the signpost. “It’s not used very often, so it’ll be overgrown. I’ll get the scythe out of theshed and take care of it. Otherwise, you’ll have no hope of getting past the bloody brambles. Thistles’ll be a pain in the arse too.”
“Got a second scythe?” I asked.
