Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (27 page)

"So...we know what we're all doing, then?" Caroline said as she walked them to the door.

Kirsty nodded, although she had no idea what she was doing. Lake smiled at her and she got the sneaky feeling that he could read her mind. She hugged Caroline, wrapped her mauve poncho tight around her, pulled on her black wool gloves and hat and braved the cold Scottish night.

"I'll walk you home," Lake said as Caroline shut the door behind them.

There was no point arguing. They lived across from each other. It would be pretty stupid to walk through Invertary with him following on her heels. He buttoned his denim jacket over the soft grey jumper he wore and flicked up his collar against the chilly wind.

"You need another coat," she told him, watching her breath billow with her words. "You're going to freeze up here in that. This is only the start of winter. It gets worse from here on in."

He gave her a little half-smile, and she got the distinct impression that he didn't plan to be there when the weather really fell.

"Thanks for returning my computer gear," he said.

Kirsty didn't know what to say to that. Really she should apologise, but manners or not, that was going to happen over her dead body.

"How about you get my cut-out back too?"

"They didn't return it?"

"Nope. And if it doesn't come back I'll need to get another one. It's become a big attraction in the shop."

Kirsty grunted. She hoped that Heather kept the blooming thing.

They turned into the street that ran along the back of the Presbyterian Church beside the graveyard. On one side of them was an assortment of headstones, on the other the dark paddocks of the MacDonald farm, which stretched up from the town limits into the hills.

There was silence. The black night seemed to weigh heavily on both of them. Kirsty couldn't stand it.

"Come on," she said. "I'll show you something."

She turned into the graveyard.

"Are you trying to scare me, or warn me off?" he said as he followed her.

She looked towards heaven, although she had her back to him and he couldn't appreciate her gesture.

"I'm certain that it would take more than an old graveyard to scare you, Lake Benson," she said, and heard him chuckle.

They wove through the well-tended graves, past the worn headstones to a plot in the corner. Lake wasn't sure why Kirsty was leading him into a dark graveyard in the middle of the night, but he was game to find out. In the corner of the plot, under the willow tree, was the biggest, ugliest headstone that he'd ever seen in his life. It showed an angel carrying a stubby woman in his arms. The angel had a broadsword strapped to his back and looked too much like Mel Gibson in
Braveheart
for it to have been a coincidence. Come to think of it, now he was closer, the woman in Mel Gibson's arms was eerily familiar too. He stepped towards the stone to read the inscription.

"'Here lies Betty MacLeod, she was a misunderstood woman. Talented beyond the pale. A beauty of her generation. And smarter than most of the folk in Invertary. She will be sorely missed'," he read out loud.

There was a birth date, but the death was blank. He looked over at Kirsty to see her grinning widely. He found himself grinning back at her.

"Betty's grave," she told him. "She said she couldn't trust anyone to get it right when she was gone. So she did it herself. She had a local artist sculpt that." She pointed at the monstrosity. "She gave him photos from
Braveheart
and posed for her part, much to his distress."

Lake started to laugh.

"Thought you'd like to see what she did with the money you paid for the shop," Kirsty said.

Lake shook his head with wonder.

"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," he said.

"I know." Kirsty started to giggle. "But don't tell Betty. It's her baby.

"Come on." She held out her hand. "There's something else I want to show you."

Lake took her hand, surprised that she offered it and held on tight as she picked her way round the side of the church. She pointed at a white box on the wall beside the main doors to the sanctuary.

"That's the town swear box," she said. "The vicar's idea. You're supposed to trek up here when you swear and put in some money." She giggled. "It was a fundraiser for the new roof."

"Did he make any money from it?"

"You'd be surprised how much. Invertary is a weird wee town."

"You don't have to tell me that."

She smacked him playfully on his stomach. Apparently it was okay for her to mock the town, but not for him. She wove her way round the bushes on the other side of the church, through a clearing, and headed for a small, round stone building. It wasn't very wide; it was tall and cylindrical with a domed roof. Lake frowned at the place.

"This is George MacGregor’s folly," she said.

As they got closer, Lake grinned wider.

"He was a rich developer during the Victorian era and had a thing for astronomy. He built this to get a better look at the stars."

"You know what it looks like, right?"

Kirsty gave him a wicked smile.

"Everyone knows what it looks like," she told him. "Everyone except Caroline. She doesn't think like that."

"There's no thinking involved, just observing. The man who built this was building a memorial to his..."

"...Penis." She pushed open the door. "I know. Don't tell Caroline. She worked hard to get this place restored. It would break her heart."

Lake shook his head. He really wasn't sure how Caroline couldn't already know.

"She must see it. She's pulling your leg."

Kirsty shook her head vehemently.

"No, she isn't."

Lake let it drop. Especially as he was now standing in the centre of the narrow, phallic building holding Kirsty Campbell's hand. He had better things to think about.

"See?" She pointed upwards.

And there, at the top of the dome, was a circular window with a perfect view of the clear sky. Lake started to laugh.

"This guy was nuts," he said.

"Oh, yeah," Kirsty agreed as she stepped towards him. "Invertary attracts a type."

They stood shoulder to shoulder staring at the sky. One thing was for sure, without the lights from the town around them, the stars did appear brighter. It was pretty impressive. Then he felt Kirsty's hand slide up his stomach and he really didn't care about the sky.

"We got interrupted yesterday," she said softly.

"If you think I'm stripping here, in an homage to another man's dick, then you're sadly deluded."

Kirsty laughed.

"How about we practise the kissing therapy instead?"

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"How about we go back to your place and I'll get naked and we'll see how things go from there?"

"I like it here."

"In other words, it's safer here."

"Don't you want to kiss me?"

"All the time."

"Well, shut up and get on with it."

Lake wrapped his arms around Kirsty and did as he was told.

Kirsty loved the way Lake kissed. She loved the way he moved against her. Loved the feel of his strength beneath her touch. And the wonder of it all was that the more she kissed him, the more she wanted to kiss him. Not only kiss him. Touch him. Taste him. Feel him. Oh, but she wanted to feel all of him. She broke the kiss.

"Lake, you know when you said that you wanted to see all of me?"

He groaned deep in his chest. She felt him tense, waiting for what she had to say next.

"I can't. I'm not ready for that, but maybe we could touch. You know. In the dark."

She felt the muscles in his arms clench.

"Who's naked in this scenario?" he said tightly.

Kirsty felt the heat of her embarrassment creep up her neck.

"Both of us," she said softly.

"In that case, I like that idea a lot."

"But no light."

"I don't need to see you. I can feel my way."

She let herself relax against him. That was what she wanted. She wanted him to feel his way.

"Okay, then," she said.

She brushed his lips with hers and felt the beginnings of the stubble on his face nip her chin.

"You don't mean here, right?" he said against her mouth.

She loved that he sounded uncertain. She smiled against him before biting his bottom lip ever so gently. He crushed her against him, which made her run her tongue over his lips. He made a raw animal sound.

"No," she told him. "I don't mean here."

She stepped away from him, but held on to his hand.

"Come on, Lake—walk me home. I'll invite you in."

She looked over her shoulder at him as she led him from the folly.

"And before you ask, I know exactly why I'm inviting you over this time."

The dark look in his eyes made her swoon. There was no going back from her invitation now.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rainne kept one eye on the road outside her parents' bus as she answered their questions about the fashion show and the shop.

"Hemp," her mother said. "That's the material of the future. Sustainable, recyclable and versatile. You should start a line of hemp underwear."

"It's a great material," Rainne said. Although she wasn't sure it was cut out for lingerie. Women tended to want a more luxurious fabric.

"Will you do the design?" Joyce was making dinner on the tiny stove at the front of the bus.

The smell of bean stew filled the interior of her childhood home and made her mouth water.

"Uh, no," Rainne said. "I'd need to get someone to do that."

"Someone local?" Joyce said.

"Of course."

The bus was parked in the tourist car park beside the loch. No one was using the space this time of year—not until the Christmas Market was on, anyway, and that didn't start for another two weeks. Which made her wonder why her parents had arrived so early. She cast a glance towards her father. He was working on an old laptop at the back of the bus. He had a desk in the bedroom area, which was cluttered with textbooks and notes.

"What's Eric working on?" she said.

"He's researching sustainable food sources and the government's attitude towards them. He's giving a talk at the Enviro Conference in Holland in February."

Rainne had heard a few of her father's lectures over the years. They were heavy with science and intellectual reasoning. It was easy to forget that her taciturn father had two doctorates and could be articulate when the need took him.

"What about you?" she asked her mum. "What are you working on right now?"

"The national debt," her mother said while she stirred the pot. "We need to stop the capitalist attitude that's ruining this country. Greed is killing people, not just the economy. Which reminds me, your brother has a big event planned for London at the same time as the next budget is being read. He could use some help with that."

It took Rainne a moment to follow her mother's point.

"But I'll be here, busy with the shop," she said.

She saw her mother frown before Rainne spotted a figure walking towards the bus. Her heart fluttered.

"I hope you don't mind," she said. "I invited someone for dinner."

Joyce was less than pleased.

"Lake?" she said tightly.

"No. Remember, he said he was busy. This is Alastair. A...friend of mine."

"That's lovely," her mother said a little tightly. "It's always nice to meet your friends."

Rainne went to open the door of the bus before Alastair could knock.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said as he looked up at her.

Before she could stop him, he put his hands on her waist, pulled her to him and kissed her hello.

"You must be Alastair," her mother said behind them.

Rainne flushed as she untangled herself from Alastair.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Benson." He held out his hand.

"Call me Joyce," she said.

Rainne took his coat as her mother led him into the bus. Most people were disorientated by the lack of space when they came to visit for the first time, but Alastair seemed to take the experience in his stride. He sat at the little bar table against the wall of the bus.

"That smells great," he told Joyce.

"I hope you like bean stew," she said.

"I like anything," he said with a grin.

Rainne poured him a glass of apple cider. She hadn't felt this nervous since she'd brought her first boyfriend home as a teenager.

"You live in town, then?" Joyce said.

"All my life," Alastair said. He looked at Rainne pointedly. "Can't imagine being anywhere else."