A Highland Home A Contemporary Highland Romance Book Two (2 page)

The fog clung to the heather in waves, as the sun broke through the clouds in streaks of brilliance. There was an ethereal quality to the light, the way it shone golden bright against the darkness surrounding it. With camera in hand, she adjusted her aperture and focus, and snapped one image after the other, the peace and energy of the place vibrating through her. As the light shifted, so did her focus, catching the ever-changing images before her.

Distracted by the photos she was taking, she heard the commotion heading her way before she saw it. Finishing her shot, she looked down to find a wiggling ball of wiry fur, the dog’s tail whipping around with excitement.

“Where did you come from?” Rowan slung her camera over her shoulder and then crouched down to pet the pup. It was a bizarre mix of some sort of collie, with… greyhound? And maybe a bit of Jack Russell thrown in for good measure? Not terribly tall but with long spindly legs. Hyper little thing for sure, and cute as a button with a raccoon mask surrounding her eyes. No collar, but in good enough shape to not be a stray. “Did you escape? Or are you lost?”

And then she heard a voice being carried on the wind.
“Piper!”

She had to laugh. “I take it that’s you, right? Sounds like you might be in a bit of trouble.”

A figure came up over the hill, the fog clinging to the ground by his feet. The dog paid him no attention, even if there was no doubt in Rowan’s mind that he was the owner-and looking none too happy about it. She held onto the pup to prevent her from escaping.

“Is she yours?”

“Aye. Thanks for grabbing her.” The man leaned forward and slipped the dog’s collar over her head, adjusting it so it wouldn’t slip free again.  He then stood, and turned to go.

“I think we might be neighbors.” This had to be the neighbor Angus had mentioned. Conall was it? A curious sort. Rough exterior with tumbled dark blonde hair, and scruffy stubble. Intelligent eyes in an unusual amber color.

With a sigh, he spun back to face her. “Are ye in the Campbell’s cottage then?”

“I am. Just got here yesterday.”

“Well, ye best be careful walking in the fog. Liable to fall into the sea.” He looked at her camera and then back to her face, impatience in his stance. “Ye best head back. Leave yer photos for another day.”

She should probably let him go, but if they were neighbors, then she’d like to know his name, at the very least. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Rowan. Rowan Campbell.”

He sighed, and shook her hand, the feel of it strong and just a bit rough. “Conall Stewart-and Piper.”

“I thought so.” When his eyes narrowed in question, she added, “Angus Macleod mentioned you’d be my closest neighbor. He’s a family friend.”

“Hmph. I’m sure he is. Keep away from the cliffs and ye’ll be fine.” And with that, he turned and made his escape.

Rowan watched her neighbor and his dog walk away, the fog wrapping around them like a lover’s embrace. Unable to resist, she snapped a picture, man and dog fading into the mists.

Angus warned her that her neighbor was a bit of a loner, but experiencing it firsthand brought it home for her. Cute dog, though-not that Conall wasn’t something to look at. With loose curls the color of dark honey, gold eyes and a scruffy five o’clock shadow, it was all she could do to not smile at the mere thought of him. Between Conall and Angus, she was starting to think there must be something in the water.

Good thing she didn’t have time for that sort of distraction. She’d come to Scotland with a set plan and goals, and she’d be damned if she was going to let a couple of men distract her, no matter how good-looking.

Getting back to work, she wandered for several more hours, taking photos of anything and everything, playing around with the settings on her camera for different effects. When she finally headed home, it was with her heart full and her spirit at peace. The fresh crisp air and the amazing views had energized and renewed her, reinforcing that this was a new start and a new life. And with luck, she’d soon have answers to the questions that had plagued her throughout her lifetime.

A smile sprung to her lips when she saw she had company. She wandered over to where Angus was leaning against his car. “You should’ve let yourself in. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Ye can make it up to me with a cup of tea.”  Angus tilted his head towards her camera and followed her into the house. “Were ye able to get any photos? The fog’s been coming in waves all morning. If ye timed it just right, I’d think there might be some interesting shots.”

Settling in the kitchen, she flicked her camera on and handed it to him so he could page through the shots she took. “Every now and then the light was amazing. I’m really looking forward to exploring the area further. Maybe drive up the coast.”

“North of here is really beautiful. I’d be happy to take ye one of these days.”

“I’d love to, but I feel guilty hogging all your time, especially when you’ve been such an amazing help. You’ll be sick of me by the time summer rolls around.” She filled the kettle at the sink, but when she turned to the stove, she quickly realized she wasn’t sure how to use it. “I swear, I’m not normally useless in the kitchen, but right about now even boiling water is looking a bit tricky.”

Angus laughed and got to his feet. He lifted the hinged cover on one of the top burners, set the kettle down, and turned the dial. “It’s an Aga. I got it warmed up and going for ye the other day, so ye should be set since it’ll keep itself running. It’ll do a decent job of heating the house too, though ye’ve got the fire in the living room if need be.”

He pulled open a cupboard and grabbed a couple of mugs, no doubt sparing her from going on a wild goose-chase through the kitchen. There was a powerful grace to his movements, and tall as he was, he seemed to fill the small kitchen. He brushed past her and sat back down at the table, picking up her camera once more and flicking through the images.

“The photos-they’re
really
good.” He ran a hand over his chin. “I don’t know how ye do it, for I swear each time I drag out my camera, the photos ne’er look like this.”

She knew exactly what he meant. It was one of the reasons she got into photography-too many mediocre pictures when she knew they could be amazing. “A bit has to do with the camera you’re using, but it’s often just a matter of taking it off the automatic setting and experimenting.”

“And ye’ll sell these?”

“Yep.” She smiled, thinking of the mish-mash of ways she managed to keep an income coming in. There were several regular clients who used her for their graphics work, and made up for the bulk of her cash flow, though her collages, photos and paintings brought in a pretty penny when they sold, even if that income was less regular.

She continued. “I’ll likely incorporate them into another piece, either digitally or within a painted composition. I’d be happy to give you a few pointers for taking pictures. It’s the least I can do after all your help.”

“Aye, I’d like that.” Angus picked up the camera again and paged through the pictures, while Rowan poured the boiling water into a metal teapot with several bags of tea. When she returned to the table, he turned the camera to her, a man and a dog walking away in the fog. “Is that Conall?”

“Yeah, his dog got loose.” She shook her head, a smile springing to her lips. “You were so right about him keeping to himself. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“Don’t let him bother ye. He’s ne’er been a great one for conversation.” Angus pursed his lips, a shadow clouding his eyes. “Tea should be ready if you’d like to pour it. I’ll grab the biscuits.”

Rowan grabbed the mugs he’d put out and poured the tea, the fragrant steam hitting her in the face and warming her. She was still chilled from her walk, the weather brisk this early in the spring. “Milk and sugar?”

“Aye, love. How else would ye have it?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him as he reached around her to the cabinet above and pulled down a package of cookies-or biscuits, if she wanted to be correct for the part of the world she was in. Their bodies brushed as they maneuvered in the small kitchen, and he plated the chocolate covered oat treats.

Settling in at the table, Rowan wrapped her hands around the hot mug to warm them and took a sip, the hot brew heating her from the inside out and making her feel whole again. Raised by a Scottish mother, she was a regular tea drinker, and since her last cup had been State-side, she was going through withdrawal. She liked coffee and it was usually what she had first thing in the morning, but from there, she usually lived on a steady stream of tea, especially when she was working.

Angus grabbed two biscuits, and with the chocolate sides sandwiched together, dunked them in his tea and ate them. “How’d ye spend the night? I hope ye managed to keep warm. Be sure to make use of the fire.”

“It was quite comfortable. The blankets were enough, luckily.” It was sweet of him to ask. “So, tell me more about Conall Stewart. I want to be prepared for the next time I see him.”

He glanced at her over his tea with a tilt of his head. “There isn’t much to know. Like I said, he’s a bit of a loner. Does well enough for himself if his home and car are anything to go by. Why? Are ye interested? He’s single, as far as I know.”

“Nope. Not interested in the very least. Like I said, I don’t do relationships. Not worth the headache, I’m afraid.” She grabbed a biscuit and gave it a dunk, the chocolate quickly melting onto her fingertips. She licked them off out of habit, and saw his eyebrows inadvertently twitch up in response. Doing her best to not blush, she finished her train of thought. “I just like knowing who’s around me. Sometimes neighbors can be… difficult.”

“Aye, they can be.” His brow furrowed in question. “But I still can’t believe ye’re so steadfast about relationships. Why’s that, love? Ye’re young, smart and pretty-I’d think ye’d have plenty of offers to choose from.”

She didn’t want to have to rehash the last few years of her life, and certainly didn’t need his pity or to be reminded of how stupid she’d been. It still stunned her that she hadn’t known Stephen was cheating, hadn’t seen past his fun and charming façade. Nor had she figured out that it was with her good friend. She considered herself a pretty smart girl-or at the very least, not completely clueless. So then, how could she have been so blind? It left her angry with herself for not seeing what was right in front of her face. “Guess I just haven’t found the right guy.”

“I can understand that. Sometimes it’s hard to find another ye might want to share yer life with.”

Desperately trying to avoid any more relationship talk, she turned the conversation back to Angus. “So what’s up between you and Conall? You don’t seem to be the best of friends, if you don’t mind me saying.”

He shrugged and looked down at his tea, clearly avoiding her gaze. “I grew up with him, but there was a bit of history between our families-yours too, sorry to say.”

“Oh. I hadn’t realized.” Must have been why she got a cold reception from Conall. “So what’s that about then?”

Angus shrugged again, his gaze landing squarely on his cup of tea and refusing to stray. “Wouldn’t really know any of the details, I’m afraid. Happened when I was just a bairn.”

He was acting all sorts of funky, and it now had her wondering. “How old are you, Angus?”

“About yer age.”

Rowan’s mind raced. It’d be right around the time her mom left Dunmuir. Did the bit of bad blood between the families somehow relate to the clues she was looking for? She suspected Angus knew a hell of a lot more than he was letting on, and though he might help her if she opened up to him, she wasn’t sure she was ready to go down that road.

The problem was she didn’t have any idea who her father was. Her mother refused to talk about him-not a name, no hint as to what he was like, no reference to their time together. She had hoped her mom would finally tell her when she knew she had little time left, yet she’d still refused Rowan’s requests. Even after she’d passed, there were no letters, no secret journal, no name. She did have a few clues, but they just weren’t enough.

“Are ye all right?” Angus pulled her from her thoughts, his brow furrowed, his gaze locked on hers.

A smile sprung to her lips to keep Angus from asking any questions. “Sorry. Just got distracted.”

He must have thought she was still dwelling on Conall. “Don’t let Conall get to ye. He’s always been a dour sort, and not worth the trouble. Smart-and I’ll even give him handsome enough-but he’s got a puss on him like he’s drank sour milk.”

Rowan burst out laughing, and the tension she’d felt only moments earlier, melted away. “Well, I’m glad to hear I’m not the only who has that effect on him.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his blue eyes locked on hers. “Being a stranger to these parts, it’ll take people awhile to warm up to ye. But don’t take it personally, aye? They’re just set in their ways, and not used to a whole lot of change.”

It felt like he was preparing her for something, even if she didn’t know what. “What aren’t you telling me, Angus?”

With a shrug, he sat back and played with his mug. “There’s ne’er much to tell in places like this, lass. Nothing out of the ordinary, aye? But the town’s an old one, and is settled in its ways. I just want ye to give it a bit of time, is all.”