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Alastair put a fishing rod in her hands and stood behind her. He wrapped his strong arms around her until his hands covered hers. Rainne sank back into him. Delicious.
“You take the line like this,” he was saying. “You swing back and flick as you go out, letting the line go as it reaches the arc closest to the water.”
He may as well have been talking in Dutch. But the sound of his voice vibrating through her body was better than any fishing lesson, so she nodded like it was all sage wisdom.
“Your turn,” he said, and stepped away.
“No,” she protested. “Once isn’t enough, show me again.”
With a laugh, he did exactly that and Rainne heard exactly the same amount of nonsense as the first time. Instead, all she could think of was that smell. He was driving her crazy. Arms around her, but not holding her. Whispers in her ear, but they weren’t romantic words. This was impossible.
“Okay, off you go.” He stepped away again.
“One more time, Alastair, please.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
He put his hands on his hips and smiled slowly at her.
“Rainbow, I get the distinct impression that you aren’t listening to me.”
“That’s because you keep distracting me.”
“With the instructions?”
“No, with the smell, and the arms, and the heat, and the hands, and that voice in my ear.” She glared at him. “Stop it.”
“Stop it?” He took a step towards her.
He leaned in really close, but didn’t touch her. Infuriating man.
“Stop what? This?” he whispered against her ear. “Or this?” He wrapped his arms around her. “Or this?” He moved his mouth to her lips and kissed her softly.
Rainne felt lightheaded as she discovered the nerves in her lips were connected to all sorts of other places on her body.
“Should I stop?” he said with a smile.
“If you do, I’ll get my brother to beat you up.”
“We can’t have that,” Alastair said against her mouth. “I don’t stand a chance.”
Neither do I, thought Rainne as the sun set over the loch and she found herself lost in the expert kisses of a Scottish boy.
“I’m so proud of you,” Kirsty’s mother told her again. “You really took a stand today. I wish your father had been here to see it.”
“You wish he’d been here to see his daughter half naked in the high street?”
Her mum laughed through the tears that had been streaming down her face all afternoon.
“You always were a fighter,” she carried on. “You never gave up. You make me so proud. I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what you do.”
Kirsty felt her eyes well up. Caroline came up beside them. She gave Kirsty a look that said she was there on a rescue mission.
“Really, Mrs Campbell?” Caroline said with an indulgent smile. “You’re proud no matter what she does? I for one wasn’t that proud when she French kissed the enemy in front of the town. Shame on you,” she told Kirsty with a gleam in her eye.
“I am contrite,” Kirsty said, and hung her head.
“Yep, you look all broken up about it.” Caroline leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Harlot.”
Kirsty barked out a laugh.
