The Man She Should Have Married

‘I’m just playing with you,’ he said. Softening his expression, he reached over and picked up a faded copy of Tatler. ‘I guess I was expecting something a little more rudimentary. The last bothy I stayed in had no electricity or running water.’

She nodded. ‘They are mostly like that—the ones that anyone can use. But this part of the estate is private and—and it was just a bit of fun, really.’

He didn’t like seeing that wariness in her eyes. Knowing he was the cause of it made him like it even less.

‘She did a good job. It’s beautiful,’ he said.

Looking across into her pale, upturned face, he felt his heartbeat ricochet against his ribcage.

‘But not as beautiful as you,’ he added quietly.

They stared at one another in silence, and again he felt the shock of what they had just done.

What he wanted to do again.

It had felt so right, being inside her, holding her. He had known that holding her was unnecessary, and self-indulgent, that he’d needed to break the mood, only he’d been powerless to move.

Nia had done that.

He thought back to what she’d said in the car.

‘I’m not expecting anything from you. I know this kind of thing can happen…’

Was that true?

For him? No. That would require some kind of pre-existing relationship, and there had been no one since Nia. Hooking up with someone you had slept with once hardly qualified.

But for her? Had there been others since him?

He felt a sting of anger. Was that why she was on the pill? Was there some ex in the mix? Someone more recent?

His hands clenched.

Even before he’d started making movies he’d always had an ability to play things out in his head scene by scene. He’d always seen it as a gift, but now, picturing Nia, her lips kissing some nameless man, their bodies entwined in a tangle of sheets, he felt jealousy burn through him.

Suddenly he wanted to ask her why she was on the pill—except that would sound completely mad.

But this whole week had been crazy…

Coming back to Scotland, to Lamington, seeing Nia. Then today, being out there in a blizzard and having sex with her in the car like a teenager. And now being in here, with the two of them half-naked…

No wonder he wasn’t himself.

Watching her kneel in front of the stove, he felt his pulse stumble. The log looked huge and brutal in her hand and, remembering the moment when the snow had blotted out the light, he felt a flare of fear, worse than before.

Putting his hand on her arm, he pulled her against him, curling his arm around her body, needing to feel the slow, steady beat of her heart. She rested her head on his shoulder and together they watched the fire in silence.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry too,’ she said quietly.

‘No.’ Shifting her weight, he looked down into her face. ‘I told you—you have no reason to be sorry.’

‘I wasn’t talking about now.’

He stilled.

‘I’m talking about what happened before. With us. How it happened. What I did and what I didn’t do.’