“I can’t believe it,” I say softly, looking across the crowded rink.
“You better. You had this in you. Sometimes we just need to have a little faith and try again.”
Boy is he right about that.
“Want to keep skating?” he asks me.
“Only if we can skate all night,” I tell him.
I lean back against his chest, his big arms around me, and we slow dance on ice, me and my beast.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lachlan
“Are you ready?” I call out for Kayla. I know Emily, Jo and Lionel are, Emily in her crate while the others sit at my feet, tails thumping with no idea where we are going.
“Just a minute,” I hear her say. It’s followed by a whole heap of rattling coming from the bedroom. I know she’s been fretting all morning over what to pack for Christmas, even though it’s not like she came here with a lot of options.
Finally she emerges, lugging her suitcase instead of her overnight duffel bag that she had before.
“It’s just for a few nights,” I gently remind her, sticking my hand out, offering to take it.
She holds it back from me. “I couldn’t decide. Everything I own just doesn’t seem good enough.”
I can see the glimmer of fear in her eyes. It softens me, inside out.
“Listen, love,” I tell her. “There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. You are good enough. Bloody hell, you’re far too good for me. You know Jessica and Donald love you and they won’t ever do anything but love you…that’s just how they are.”
“But I haven’t seen them since I moved back here. I don’t know, what if they think I’m totally crazy now, you know, for coming here?”
I can’t help but smile. “Well, I assure you they already think you’re a bit nuts. I mean, you are with me after all.”
“I’m serious,” she says, adjusting her grip on the suitcase until I take it from her.
“I know you are. It’s going to be fine.”
At least, I’m hoping it will be. I know they all love her and are especially excited for her to spend Christmas with us. It’s just George that I’m still a bit worried about. And I know she feels the same way.
“And your grandfather?” she asks, right on target.
I look away, wiggling my lower jaw as I search for the right words. “Take anything he says with a grain of salt. We all do.”
Except for me, of course. But I’m still learning.
Eventually we get all our luggage and the dogs into the car, stopping by my friend Amara’s flat first. Normally I bring at least Lionel with me everywhere, if not Emily and Jo, but George is decidedly against dogs. That should tip you off about his character right there. One time I brought Lionel and he would barely let me in the house. I spent an hour having tea and then left back for Edinburgh right away. I won’t be making that mistake again, not now.
Maybe this isn’t a very macho thing to admit, but whenever I say goodbye to the dogs it gets a bit emotional. They always know what’s up and even though they have a good time with Amara, it pulls at my heart to see their sad eyes, hear that whine.
Naturally, it puts me in a pensive mood for our drive to Aberdeen. I’m barely noticing the way the snow deepens, how charming the landscape becomes, until Kayla gasps and taps me on the arm.
“A castle!” she exclaims, turning to look at me with wide eyes. “Can we go?”
I look up, missing the sign she must have seen. Still, we’re about a half hour south of Aberdeen and close to the coast and Dunottar Castle.
“You mean Dunottar?” I ask.
“Yes, I think,” she says. “I mean, if it’s not much trouble.”
Nothing would be too much trouble when it comes to her and I’m certainly in no hurry to get to Aberdeen now that this dark mood has found me. Besides, it has been ages since I’d last been to a castle.
I take the next exit and soon we find ourselves standing on the wind blasted cliffs at Dunottar Castle. There is no snow here at the moment, just an endless green that swoops down to the roaring sea. It somehow feels colder here than anywhere else and I instinctively put my arm around Kayla, holding her tight as her scarf whips around her.
“This is like out of a movie,” she says in awe, taking it all in. “Or Game of Thrones.”
“Actually,” I tell her proudly, “the movie Hamlet with Mel Gibson was shot here.”
And it’s easy to see why. The castle is perched on a part of the cliffs that juts out to sea, providing only a narrow isthmus as a walkway to the castle. As we make our way down the path and across the narrow neck to the sprawling, crumbling castle walls, it’s easy to see how back in the day this place was naturally protected against enemies. With high cliffs that plunge to the sea nearly surrounding the whole thing, it’s as good as an island.
There are a lot of steps leading down from the carpark and across to the castle and a few times the wind comes at us as if it’s trying to knock us off the path, an age old protector of the ruins. In fact when we pay for our tickets, the woman warns us that they might have to close the castle early due to the high winds.
We try to make it quick, but this place beckons for you to stay and explore as long as possible. We start around the edges and work our way in, walking along the perfectly groomed lawns that lead toward the remains of the buildings. Surprisingly, visitors are allowed in the buildings, even though they look like they’re about to crumble on you.
Kayla has her phone out as we walk, taking pictures of everything. At one point the wind whips her scarf off and I manage to snatch it out of the air before it blows over to the sea.
“Let’s go inside,” I tell her, loud enough to be heard over the wind and roaring waves, just as her phone rings.
She nods, staring down at the screen. She grimaces and looks up at me with wide eyes. I can barely hear her. “It’s about the job!”
I swallow, my heart thudding a few beats as she answers the call, plugging up her other ear with her finger. I can only hope that this is good news – Kayla really has had her heart set on the writing position. I know that even without it, she’ll find something else and with Ruff Love, there are always work opportunities. She’ll be more than okay. But obviously I want her happy above anything.
I watch as she walks away from me and under the crumbling stone doorway into the nearest building. She keeps her back to me, walking past a family who are peering at a map in the dimness. She keeps walking until she reaches a wall and then nods a few times.
Even though the wind is kept out of the castle walls, I still can’t hear her very well. I stay back though, not wanting to intrude when she’s talking about a private matter, even though I want her to know I’m there for her.
Finally she hangs up the phone, slowly sliding it into her coat pocket, and from the way her shoulders fall, I know it’s not good news. She didn’t get it.
“Kayla,” I say gently, even though I’m not sure she can hear me. I go over to her, hovering at her back briefly before placing my hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She nods and I hear her sniff. It bloody breaks my heart already. She then turns around and though she isn’t crying, her eyes are soft and wavering.
“That, uh,” she says quietly. She clears her throat. “That was 24 Hours. I didn’t get the job.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, trying to pull her into a hug, though her body is stiff. “I know how much you wanted it.”
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh, nodding against me.
“But you know you’ll be okay, right? You know that. I’ll take care of you.”
Obviously I’ve said the wrong thing because she stiffens up even more and pulls back.
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” she snaps. “I needed that job.”
I can only nod. I hate feeling hopeless around her. More than that, I hate that she’s worrying and fretting about something she doesn’t need to. Her pride is just as strong as mine is, which is both
a blessing and a curse. Times like this though, I wish she’d give in. Just a little. There’s nothing shameful about taking help when it’s offered to you, especially when it comes from someone who loves you, who only wants what’s best. Fuck, it took me a long time to grapple with that fact myself and it wasn’t until I saw that Kayla and Brigs had the best intentions for my own sake that I knew what I had to do to help myself.
“I know,” I tell her. “They’re complete wankers for not hiring you.”
She manages to give me a faint smile. She always smiles when I use that word. But the smile quickly fades and she shakes her head, walking past me and through the cold, damp ruins of the castle.
I follow, grabbing her hand, letting her know I’m there for her. She keeps walking, as if leading me and we wind our way through the structure in silence. The wind outside is picking up and I’m about to mention that maybe we should make our way back to the car when she suddenly grabs me as we turn a corner, pulling me into a darkened room with a slit for a window and an uneven, rocky floor.
She brings me to her, her back against the wall. Her hands go to my face, fingers so soft and cold, and stares at me, her eyes searching mine through a million different feelings and I’m torn in a million different ways, grasping for something to say that will make her feel better.
“There will be other jobs,” I say feebly but I can tell from the fire in her eyes that she doesn’t want to hear it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. She pulls my face down to hers and kisses me, hard, deep, as if she’s suddenly afraid that she won’t survive without my lips on hers, my tongue lost in her warmth. We kiss as if we aren’t standing among the ruins of an old castle, the wind battering the stone walls, the cold slicing through the cracks, the deafening roar of the waves as they crash against the coast. We certainly aren’t behaving like there are tourists milling about in the other rooms, especially not as Kayla’s hands slip over my dick, pressing hard against my firm length and coaxing a deep moan from me.
This is about her distraction now, not mine.
I will gladly do what I can.
I move away from her hands and undo the button on her jeans before unzipping them. I pull them down to the ground and her thong along with it.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
I kiss her hard and then drop to my knees. Without saying a word, I start licking up her cold, bare, naked thighs until she shivers and moans, until goosebumps erupt all over her delicate flesh. I slide my fingers into her pussy, wet and wanting despite the circumstances. She’s practically melting into my touch and I melt into her.
Once she begins breathing hard, swaying her hips for more, I keep her pressed back against the castle wall and bring up one of her legs, hooking it over my shoulder. She grabs the top of my head for stability, her fingers sinking into my hair as I leave soft, wet kisses from the side of her knee all the way up her inner thigh. My lips and tongue tease her mercilessly, one of my favorite things to do.
Her body tenses and relaxes from my touch, and I grab hold of the sides of her hips, hard, as I bring my face between her legs. My lips meet her swollen ones and I tease her clit with the tip of my finger before sliding my tongue along her cleft and plunging it inside her.
Jesus.
So hot, so tight, so wet.
She’s nothing short of a tonic.
Her exquisite, heady taste dances on my tongue, reaching deep inside of me and igniting this primal layer, the caveman at my center. I want to devour her until there’s nothing left. I want to make her scream and squirm and moan into oblivion.
I want to be all there is for her.
She cries out, her fist in my hair hard as she sinks further into me, hips rocking for pressure, for purchase. I give it all, my fingers going in deeper, sliding along the right places, my tongue working her clit overtime until she’s nothing short of a ripe pear, juices running down my chin.
I’m not sure I can ever get enough of her. Of this.
I’m doomed in the most maddening way.
She’s close to coming now and I swear, somewhere in the distance, beyond the crashing waves and the wind, I can hear a woman yelling that the castle is closing early.
It doesn’t matter. Kayla’s already done.
She comes hard into my mouth, her clit pulsing beneath my lips, and I drink her all in, keeping her coming until she moans for me to stop.
I pull my head away and look up at her serene, pleasured face, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
“You scratch my back, I scratch yours,” I say thickly.
She smiles at me, then her eyes flit over my shoulder and widen.
“Hey, what’s going on in here!” a woman yells and I turn around to see the woman who took our tickets looking at us through the window, face red and sweaty and somehow angered by what she’s just seen.
“Bloody hell,” I cry out as I scamper to my knees and help Kayla yank up her pants. I grab her hand and we start running through the castle, looking for a way out in which we won’t run into her.
We nearly trip over a ledge but then we turn a corner and a doorway opens up to the expanse of green lawn. The two of us run like hell across it, all the way to the walkway and to the car.
We don’t even have time to catch our breath. We get into the car and burn off, leaving the castle in our dust. It isn’t until we get onto the highway that we both start laughing our arses off.
That’s probably the last time we’ll ever be allowed at Dunottar Castle, but dear god, it was worth it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kayla
I can totally understand why people become sex addicts. Or any addicts really. But mainly the sex part. The wonderful endorphins that float through your veins and that warm, smooth feeling of “everything’s going to be all right” that only an orgasm high can bring had lasted from the walk (well, we were running from the woman, let’s be honest) to the car, for the next thirty minutes and all the way through Lachlan’s mini-tour of the city of Aberdeen.
It lasted while I ooohed and ahhhed over the stone buildings, the uniform look of the city houses and streets, how utterly charming and festive it all looked dressed up in Christmas gear. That feeling of peace was centered inside me. Like all the sharp claws you sometimes feel dragging you down from the inside out had been polished down to shiny nubs.
But the high – that beautiful distraction – only lasts so long. And as Lachlan drives us out of the city and we pull down a long country lane to his grandfather’s house, I’m back to being a neurotic mess and then some. It’s not just that I’ve been extremely nervous about spending Christmas with his family, wondering how they really view me, if they’ll really accept me, particularly the grandpa, it’s having to deal with the crushing blow from earlier.
I think in the back of my head I kind of knew I wouldn’t get the job. I don’t know why but it was always there, this niggling feeling that things wouldn’t work out so easily. After all, I’m here on a visitor’s visa and technically can’t work anyway. But even so, it didn’t stop me from being utterly disappointed and let-down. I just thought that if I got it, it would solidify that I made the right choice to come here. It would mean that I was better off, not only being with the man I love but with a career I’ve always wanted.
Now though, I’m back to feeling those doubts about everything. I know I’ll be okay and in the end I know Lachlan will take care of me, but I just really wanted that as the last resort. But the doubt over my career is still there. I don’t want to just work somewhere to work somewhere. I’ve spent most of my adult life doing that. I want a career. I want to finally be a part of something that I believe in, that I’m good at.
And of course, no one likes to feel rejected. I don’t take it very well. And apparently all the hot castle sex in the world isn’t enough to erase the fact that I, Kayla Moore, just wasn’t good for that newspaper. What happens if this is only the first of many rejections? What if I’m not good enough for any
company in this country, regardless if I’m allowed to work here? What if I’m not good enough for this country at all?
“Easy, love,” Lachlan says to me gently as he squeezes my hand, the car coming to a stop in front of a picturesque stone house with a wreath on the door. “You’re going to do fine.”
Whether he means with his family or my career, I don’t know, but I’ll take either one at this point.
I exhale slowly and try and calm down, forcing my brain into a different space. I concentrate on the fact that at least his grandfather lives in a very magical place.
All around the house are sloping fields, covered with a deep layer of snow. In the sunlight it sparkles like insane glitter, nearly burning your eyes as the world around you lights up like the heavens. The house itself looks quite old though it’s very well taken care of, from the glossy finish of the wood door, to the way the window panes shine. Lachlan tells me it’s been in the McGregor family for centuries and it’s the right thing to say because suddenly I’m marveling at how old everything is over here, how much history there is between simple walls, especially when compared to America. Suddenly I feel a flash of gratitude and excitement that I took the chance to come over here.
With the snow crunching beneath our boots, we gather our gifts from the backseat and I cringe at the way I did mine late last night. The best I could, but still a bit crooked and lumpy, with mismatched tape.
Before we can make it to the front door, it swings open and Jessica comes rushing out, throwing on a coat as she comes.
“Let me help you,” she says in her adorable brogue, hands out to take some gifts from Lachlan’s hands but he playfully shoos her away. She comes to me smiling. “Kayla, I’m so glad you’re here,” she says before pulling me into a quick embrace, my nose filling with scents of jasmine and amber.
Jessica is stunning, the type of woman I want to be when I’m her age. Her skin is flawless, her makeup subtle, her sleek grey bob done just so while her all-black pantsuit under the camel coat looks effortless and chic. Even the velvet slippers she seems to have shoved on to come outside look elegant on her.