Chapter 2

After her long soak in the tub, Rose opened her wardrobe to put on a dress. It was a gloriously sunny day, and she felt like a town book sale demanded she made a little effort with her appearance, after all, her community were getting the first glimpses of the ‘outsider’. She’d been here a couple weeks, cooped up in this cottage, surrounded by the mess, and eating microwave food and oven meals. A trip to suss out the local shops wasn’t a bad idea, she could pick up something fresh, maybe even some cakes and take Muffin for a stroll beyond the gravel road that led out onto the main road from her own tree-covered nook.

Pulling out a fitted baby pink sundress which flared out from the waist and brushed her knees, she slid her feet into matching flat pumps and brushed out her long dark hair, pinning it up the back of her head loosely, so tendrils fell around her face. Her skin had tanned to a lovely shade from all the garden work the last couple of days and she applied minimal makeup. A spritz of her favourite perfume, a quick glance in the mirror to approve how she looked with a satisfied nod.

She grabbed a cream coloured canvas shoulder bag to throw her purse in and girly essentials, like strawberry lip balm and sunscreen spray. She picked up her baby pink framed sunglasses, Audrey Hepburn style, and picked up Muffin and his leash.

Ready to rumble!

Rose was singing to herself tunelessly when she swept out to her car, with the dog in tow.

Her little pink Mini shone in the sunlight in front of the cottage, relieved to be free of both boxes and roof rack and crying out to be driven. Lovely and clean from her morning washing and polishing it days before. Rose had always had an obsession, with all things pink, girly, and sparkly. Her car had been her one indulgence in London, going for a baby pink, tiny car that suited her all things cute obsession. She’d hated that every man she’d dated criticised it and it was partially why none of them made it beyond two weeks with her.

Blaring the summer hits CD, she pulled out with Muffin in the passenger seat and headed along the road; pulling out into the main road and reaching speed quickly, she was singing and smiling at how free she felt, energised by this impromptu outing and the glorious sunshine which wasn’t typical for Scotland this early in the summer. It was truly shaping up to be a wonderful day.

Out of nowhere, the nose of a black car poked out in front of her from the tree edged hedge way, causing her to swerve and scream as she tried to hit the brakes in alarm. Her car skidded halfway across the road with an almighty screech before slamming to a halt and Rose fell forward on her steering wheel, trying to catch her breath; sure, she’d just suffered a major heart attack.

Grabbing at Muffin to feel he was still in one piece, her hands began shaking violently, and her heart pounded through her chest; trying to keep her head on the wheel to steady her breathing and calm her nerves, she could feel her rage rising.

Who in the actual hell? What the actual f …?

Her car door was ripped open beside her, causing her to snap up and glare angrily into the steel coloured eyes facing her, which had appeared a little too closely.

‘Are you o …’ A smooth and deep voice that sounded genuinely concerned tried to infiltrate her red haze, but she’d already hit maximum rage.

‘What in the hell are you doing?’ She screeched at the face before her, not really taking in the jet-black hair, tanned skin, or intense grey eyes belonging to the tall stranger. Ordinarily, this kind of sexy would’ve put Rose in a slump of panting hormones but today she just saw red.

‘You could have killed me! Are you aware that road is a sixty? You pulled out into traffic on a god-damn sixty!’ She pulled herself out of her seat, releasing her belt to square her five feet four to the huge six-foot frame before her. Anger searing her every nerve at the sheer stupidity of the man. He quickly stood back, looking almost shocked as she continued to yell at him about his idiotic driving manoeuvre with hands firmly on her hips and letting fiery Rose loose.

‘Whoa there, Penelope!’ Splaying his hands in defence as he tried to calm her rant. ‘Look, I’m sorry! I’m sure I got as much of a shock as you. Most folks know how bad the view is for me coming out and cross to the other side to pass the manor opening.’ He was moving away from Rose as she continued to wave her hands about, cursing at him about recklessness and moronic men with stupidly fast and flashy cars, Rose was on a roll. She stopped suddenly, realising something he’d said.

‘Who the hell is Penelope?’ She blinked in confused fury, but he only laughed at her sudden change in persona, then tried to smother it with a cough.

Smooth move, mister! Asshole. God, You’re Hot!

Rose had only just seemed to notice this little fact, now that she was inches from him.

His whole shocked manner seemed to do a sudden flip into smiling, good humoured, if not a little embarrassed, but Rose was beyond oblivious in her mental state.

‘You! … Sorry, it’s just … Pink car … Pink dress … Fiery little lady who comes out like a bat out of hell, like she’s about to rip my head off.’ The handsome stranger stood with his hands up, smiling at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world to everyone except her. Rose stood motionless. Cluelessness and confusion all over her face, which only added to her irritation at his far too good-looking smugness.

‘Penelope Pitstop from Wacky Races?’ He tried again to get her brain to connect to whatever the hell he was talking about. ‘Look, never mind. It’s just, that’s what I thought when I opened your door.’ He was laughing now, in a deep and husky way which only enraged her more and brought out another bought of fury.

‘Screw you and your stupid wacky whatever’s. Watch where you’re going in future, asshole, or next time I won’t swerve!’ She turned and threw herself back into her car in the most unladylike manner, attempting to grab her door, so she could dramatically slam it. All previous ounces of rage reconnected with her inner diva, but he grabbed it first.

‘Allow me.’ He slammed it shut with the force of a guy who had reconnected with anger. The humour absent from his face and replaced with I’m pissed off, lady. Their eyes glinted at one another angrily, fire meeting fire. Sparks igniting in the air around them and almost crackling with the collision.

Rose didn’t wait for any further conversation, putting metal to the floor she sped off without any hesitation, almost taking him out with her wing mirror in the process and giving zero cares about it.

Rose wasn’t sure why this guy had invoked such a furious response, but all she wanted was to put a huge sea of distance between her and that smug laugh and get rid of the ball of anger writhing inside of her. She could see the arrogant sod in her mirror, shaking his head after her, watching her drive off before walking back to his flashy black car and sliding back in with the grace of a cougar.

‘Asshole!’ She screeched loudly, angered at the sheer effortless grace the idiot was displaying.

Muffin was looking at her with his wide, wise eyes, almost telling her she’d simply lost the plot.

‘Well, he is! Mr, I’m So Good-looking with my big muscles and sports car and expensive clothes. So smooth I think I can give you a cute pet name and you forget I almost killed you!’ She slapped her wheel, eyes darting from the road to rear-view mirror manically as she tried not to cause another accident with stupid driving.

‘Fuck you! … Ow, that actually hurt.’ She lifted her fingers to her mouth and blew them gently in a bid to soothe the burning self-inflicted pain, releasing some of her tension as she did so. That ‘almost’ crash had given her a massive fright and her reactions since had been some sort of delayed mental breakdown, brought on by a near-death experience. Being confronted by a guy who was far too handsome for an afternoon drive had just added to her extreme reaction.

I mean who the hell was he? Wearing designer clothes and a flashy car and looking a little too suave for the Highlands. Men like him were normally arrogant Londoners, and she had met enough of them to last a lifetime.

Pushing that irritatingly flawless face out of her mind’s eye, she suddenly felt remorseful for swearing angrily in front of Muffin and sat back in her chair, trying to release the tightness of her muscles. Flexing her shoulders and tilting her head from side to side to flex her neck. Slow, steady, and calming breaths and internal chanting to cool her jets.

The black sports car appeared in her rear-view mirror, coming up behind her fast and she instantly tensed back up, teeth gritting, and eyes narrowing angrily. Putting her foot down, she sped away from him before reaching the sign for the town and slowing back down again as she passed it. Completely pointless, but satisfying to say the least, riled by the way this man made her feel. Throwing daggers from her eyes in the mirror, she slowed to thirty and meandered through town looking for a car park as the car behind her turned off at the huge museum; she sighed with relief at his departure.

Hot or not, I don’t need you behind me today!

‘Asshole,’ she muttered to herself and hit the indicator to turn into a big half-empty car park. Within minutes Rose found a space and expertly deposited her car, latched Muffin’s lead on, and exiting the car gracefully with a much sunnier disposition.

Although the town was bustling with pedestrians, it seemed most came via a little free bus from surrounding areas and not many drove. The streets were quiet from traffic and felt peaceful, despite the people milling around. Wandering about, she soon managed to navigate her surroundings; quaint little shops ranging from grocery stores to cute, little boutiques, home decor, crafts, and tourist shops. Several cafes and a huge bakery shop that sat very close to the car park she’d used.

It was a pretty and picturesque little town, lots of barrels filled with flowers and park benches to pretty it up and lots of potted trees and quaint, old-fashioned street lamps. It was more beautiful than her memories told her and she could see the appeal for tourists. This was proper Highland charm right here.

She decided to browse the shops before going in pursuit of the church she’d yet to see, buying the odd necessity and really getting a feel for the place. Rose was happy to find that although it wasn’t exactly the small town of her childhood memories, it was unchanged enough that she got a familiar tug of emotion deep in the pit of her stomach; just the same. This had been Olivia’s favourite place; she’d have loved to see that it was thriving but still held all the same charm as before, as though caught in a time warp.

Not finding the church in the small town and seeing a lack of locals, Rose decided to head to the coffee shop situated in the bakery to rest her weary feet. The church wasn’t signposted and she couldn’t see a telltale roof peeking above the rest to guide her. She’d put Muffin back in the car with a bowl of water, a new bone, the windows opened, and the radio on, before coming to get something to eat and ask for directions.

She was sure that in this little place, her car, and the dog, would be safe from a break in. Besides, her alarm was loud and immobilised her car easily; and although Muffin wasn’t much of a guard dog, he did have this incredibly scary toothy face he pulled when he was frightened and tried his version of a broken growl. If nothing more, it would scare away any lingerers; it did make him look a little rabid and possibly mentally unhinged.

As soon as she opened the door, the smell of freshly baked bread and cakes hit her like a warm hug. She wanted to fall into that smell, it was so heavenly and had memories flooding back and filling her up with so much warmth, chasing away the last ounces of anger. She could almost feel herself transported back to her childhood and eagerly swept in to see if they still stocked her favourite cakes.

The tables were almost all empty with the odd couple or group sitting far apart, quietly chatting, and oblivious to her entrance. There was a relaxed, friendly atmosphere, despite being a complete stranger here, and she felt better that no one was openly staring and pointing as she’d feared.

The girl behind the counter, dressed in a green uniform reminiscent of school dinner ladies, smiled at Rose as she approached, with no expression other than friendly.

‘Hi there, what can ah get for yeh today?’ The girl asked in a polite but heavily accented brogue that suggested she’d grown up in the farms surrounding the town.

‘Hi, can I have a jam tart and a hot chocolate, please? Thank you.’ Rose smiled back and pulled her purse from her shoulder bag, breathing in the fresh ground coffee bean smell wafting her way.

‘Sure thing, will just be two ticks for yeh.’ The girl turned on her heel and moved off to arrange Rose’s order on a tray, allowing her a moment to look around the café properly.

Glancing around she took in the bright, simple decor, the mint coloured walls and dark wood floor which all seemed new. The cases of fancy patisseries and treats and the huge display cabinet, showcasing elaborately decorated cakes for seasons and celebrations. It didn’t have small town oozing from it and it saddened Rose a little. This bakery had been one of her favourite places to come on a weekend with her aunt, back when it had been a small corner shop and not the huge one she now stood within.

The bakery her aunt had loved had been small and quaint and had obviously grown into the neighbouring shops over time to accommodate more seating and bigger kitchens. The woman who used to run it had been an Italian woman called Bella. A large, round, warm lady who had enveloped little Rose in cuddles and always satisfied her sweet tooth with a cream cake when they’d come. Rose guessed this is what success looked like when a small-town bakery managed to keep going for decades. As she looked around at the modern art, and clean, simple window dressings, Rose was suddenly aware of the young woman at the window table, smiling at her.

Rose glanced away awkwardly, assuming she was smiling to someone behind her, but a quick look showed no one had come in behind her and she was the only one standing there. Rose looked back again, catching the girl’s eye and gained another bright smile. This time Rose smiled back and returned her gaze to the counter as her hot chocolate and strawberry tart was placed on the tray in front of her. Rose took the little round wooden tray with its paper lace doily and moved off, looking to choose a seat. The girl beckoned to her with a waving hand, catching her eye, and tapped the table, showing she was offering her a seat. Rose hesitated, then followed the gesture, and approached shyly.

‘Hi.’ She got close and slid her tray on the table opposite the dark-haired stranger.

‘Hi, there.’ The girl smiled the most dazzling smile Rose had ever seen, all perfect, straight white teeth and pretty, pouted lips, although there was something vaguely familiar about it. She had long black hair, the colour of raven feathers, pale flawless skin with peachy blushed cheeks, and dazzling green eyes that sparkled mischievously. She was dressed casually, and it made her appear young. She was young, maybe in her early twenties or late teens and stunningly beautiful in a casual, naïve sort of way.

She extended her hand announcing her name was Abby, Abigail but everyone called her Abby. That she was killing time and could do with the company.

‘I’m Rose Turner, I just moved into the little cottage at the main road as you enter the village.’ She smiled back at the pretty face and saw her nod, hinting she knew exactly which cottage.

‘It’s nice to see a new young face, especially a girl. We don’t get many newcomers.’ Abby beamed her way, lifting her mug and sipping down some coffee; Rose felt an instant ease with this girl, a genuine friendliness.

Conversation soon began to flow, and Abby told Rose she was studying art history, held up textbooks from the seat beside her as if to prove her story was legit. There was a book face down on the table in front of her, and a plate with a half-eaten chocolate doughnut and now empty coffee mug. She was waiting for her brother, collecting her after four and loved to spend her free time in Bella’s bakery. Rose absolutely loved this girl’s down to earth, straight-shooting attitude, and genuine openness, she’d always found the people in this village to be like this.

Rose was thrilled to hear Bella was still around and still owned this place. She learnt that Abby was nineteen and incredibly easy to talk to, sweet, and genuine. Despite looking young, she was mature and well-spoken, her accent, although typical for around here, had a slight upper-class clearness to it; much like the male stranger’s this morning.

The girls found conversation flowed effortlessly and had an immediate connection, both were artists and loved to paint. Both obsessed with the Sunflower painting by Van Gogh and neither liked abstract art in the slightest. Abby ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over Rose’s dress and almost died of envy when she told her that her car was pink too.

‘Rob told me he’d never let me have a pink car.’ She laughed ‘He said it would embarrass his manly self to take it for maintenance. Of course, because I would be completely incapable of doing such things; being a woman!’ She joked with a slow shake of her head and a sigh. An obvious look of sibling love in her eyes when she said his name.

‘So, Rob is your brother?’ Rose enquired, trying to imagine her own older brothers being that way so many years before. It had been a long time since her two brothers and she shared the same time zone, let alone home.

Why did that name ring a bell? Rob?

‘Yes. Older, pain in the ass brother, who sometimes thinks he’s my dad.’ She smiled, moving her book aside, and leaning her elbows on the table. ‘I mean my dad’s still around, but Rob takes care of all of us. My mum passed away when I was fourteen and he just sort of took over. Dad was a mess and well, he’s in his seventies now, so it made sense.’ She looked far away for a moment, then returned to reality, returned from a moment of sadness that Rose knew only too well; missing a loved one was something you never got over. ‘Dad married a younger woman you see.’ She winked cheekily. ‘Rob was born when Dad was already in his late forties, and well, I came in his late fifties.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess they wanted more kids in between but it never happened. So just the two of us, in that big house, and then Dad of course. The rest of the family lives further away.’

‘It’s nice though, that he’s so protective and you’re obviously close, both my brothers live abroad. One in the RAF, he’s currently in America and the other emigrated to Australia to become a marine biologist. My parents live in Edinburgh, so I’m here all on my lonesome.’ Rose couldn’t help but notice the effortless way the two women had just slipped into sharing life stories. It felt as if she’d always known Abby.

‘I couldn’t imagine not having family around me all the time. Don’t you get lonely or scared?’ Abby scrutinised Rose’s face seriously. Trying to figure out the girl.

‘I’m used to it; I lived in London for six years to further my career and I didn’t really make many friends. The life was fast paced, and everyone just wanted to succeed or party. I missed normal slow living and genuine people.’ Rose took a mouthful of her drink and watched Abby toy with her empty mug.

‘You sound like Rob. He lived in Glasgow for a couple of years when he went to uni to study business, he said he couldn’t wait to come home and just get back to home life, the town, and the manor.’

It hit Rose then, that one tiny word at the end of a sentence. Manor. This was Abigail Munro. She was the Laird’s sister!

Running through the scene earlier in her head and piecing the fragments together in a split second, she felt her stomach lurching as it clicked into place. That familiar smile. That black hair, and although the eyes were not grey, she had his eyes. That same cheeky look when he smiled. The hint of dimples when she smiled. Just like his. That flawless skin and attractive bone structure. The easy confidence and the upper-class dialect which wasn’t common around here.

Surely, he couldn’t be? Could he?

He’d been leaving the Munro estate, and he did say, ‘Most people know I have a bad view of the road.’ Or something along those lines. Rose felt the colour drain from her face as it sunk in that her first encounter of the day with the asshole, had not been just any asshole, but this lovely girl’s brother and the Laird of her new home town. The Laird, who had invited her to his ball!

‘Are you okay?’ The look of concern on Abby’s face only struck it home, so alarmingly like his.

Damn!

Even the same question as he’d yanked open her car door. They were so alike it was traumatising; Rose feigned a smile and then let her head drop into her palms, groaning aloud. She felt like a moron, prize ‘A’ idiot, and this sudden dawning of events had her reeling with regret. She felt Abby’s hand touch her arm, concerned her new friend was having some sort of mental breakdown.

‘I met him,’ she mumbled, covering her face, and trying to rub away the realisation. The urge to pour her own hot chocolate over her head swiftly coming over her.

‘Rob?’ She could almost hear the surprise in Abby’s tone.

‘Yes. He almost killed me with his car this morning and then …’

‘Penelope?!’ The sound of his deep familiar voice moved her to jump up, right off the table. Snapping her head up to meet his tall figure coming towards her from the open door. Shocked into momentary silence by the sight of him towering at the side of the table right next to her, larger than life, so close she caught her breath. His sudden presence making her feel hot and bothered, flustered with no real reason, except that maybe he was a little bit hot in a sculpted white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and some super snug on the ass jeans. Both Abby and his eyes glued to her face with a look of concern, strikingly similar. Yet not. One was extremely feminine and one extremely masculine, in the disturbingly male way that made women like Rose lose all compos mentis.

‘Are you okay?’ Both of them, almost in unison.

Oh, God! It was undeniable they were related.

She slid her chair out quickly, mumbling some incoherent reason for getting going and avoiding looking him in the face as she tried to slide by. Caught between embarrassment, awkwardness, and sheer cringe factor. Now she could fully see him without the red veil of rage she had to admit, he was romance hero worthy.

He caught her by the waist as she made for a lame exit attempt, stopping her, and towering over her fragile frame like some kind of Neanderthal. No hesitation in laying his hands on her tiny figure, which only enraged her. His hot hands encircling her body, burning through the thin fabric of her dress with an almost searing heat, causing immediate anger and uneasiness at his touch. Unsure at why she was reacting this way, and it was only bringing the fury back to the forefront. She shoved him off defiantly, hands meeting with a hard chest beneath his thin shirt.

‘I’m absolutely fine! … No thanks to you and your dangerous driving. Where did you get your licence? … A lucky bag?’ She surprised herself with her venomous reaction, as she saw the storm move into his eyes again. Clearing away the concern to be replaced with a matched annoyance, fury to challenge her own. Burning between them like a beast about to erupt; self-combusting fire.

‘So I see. Not lying there dying or passing out from a concussion as I feared, but alive and spitting just like earlier. And I could ask you the same thing, Penelope. I’m sure driving eighty on the road to town was highly responsible.’ His angry glare sent prickles up her spine, that smug face only inches from hers. Her breathing hitched.

‘Just trying to get away from you. In case your idiotic driving caused me to crash.’ She thrust her hands on her hips in a show of bravado and pulled herself up to meet him head-on.

‘Getting away from me is becoming a habit today.’ Rob crossed his arms across that massive expanse of muscle and leaned back on his heel, somehow it only angered her more.

‘Yup. Absolutely,’ she spat.

‘Great! Don’t let me stop you.’ He stepped back, giving her some much-needed breathing space. Sparks sizzling in the air between them with no real sense at all to the anger fuelling the scene. No real argument in the petty comments, just rage, heat, and sparks.

She had no idea why this guy made her so angry. Every nerve in her body reacting like hot piercing needles and the urge to smash a mug on his head. His overly good-looking face absolutely screamed for her to throw her drink in it; it seemed they both evoked that reaction in each other. He moved out of the way, gesturing her exit dramatically, almost bowing as he nodded and murmured some incoherent insult. To which she spat one back before marching off with a bag in hand, twisting the handle like it was his neck.

Oh, my God! He was a complete jerk. Arrogant sod with his sultry cold eyes piercing like daggers.

Poor Abby sat watching this whole scene in absolute disbelief; Rob, her normally laid-back, gentle and well-mannered brother. This seemingly nice girl, who had just spent a half hour acting like old friends. They had turned to fire and brimstone in each other’s presence. She had no clue what to say to defuse the situation, but just sat there agog. The tension between them sending off an electric atmosphere like she’d never experienced; Abby raised a knowing eyebrow at Rob and a tiny smirk. Rob frowned a 'What?’ at her in aggravation.

Rose stalked out dramatically in a flurry of her ruffled skirt, leaving half of her drink and cake sitting and almost taking out seats with her swinging handbag. Abby sat staring at Rob in bewilderment. He told her he’d wait for her in the car, then stormed off in an equally bad mood, taking the opposite direction to Rose. Walking out the door only seconds behind the pink-clad woman and glaring at her walking away as he stalked to his own car.