Sparks in Scotland (8 page)

Kylie and Jamison returned, and our group conversation went back to its normal light filler as we walked to our pickup spot. But there was a buoyancy in my chest now, and I knew I was grinning like an idiot. Luckily, no one commented on it.

“Okay, everyone,” I proclaimed a few minutes before Steaphan was supposed to get us. “The three of you gather together so I can get another couple of shots.”

With my phone, I took a full-body pic, then zoomed in on all their faces and snapped another shot. After that, I got the siblings' contact information and saved it so we could keep in touch.

Steaphan arrived and waved at us.

Kylie and I hugged. “Thanks for touring around with me,” I told her.

“It was a blast,” she said, and her smile was genuine. She opened the side door and hopped in.

Jamison leaned in to give me a hug. “He likes ya,” he whispered in my ear.

I stiffened in shock; my heart thudded painfully in my chest. It was one thing to feel it—quite another to hear someone else say it. Could this be what they were discussing earlier?

“Just thought ya should know. Don't tell him I told. He'd kill me.” He pulled away from our embrace and winked, then sauntered off into the back row.

Graham, unaware of what had just passed between me and Jamison, hopped inside, and I followed him. The whole ride back to Edinburgh, we bounced along the way, our knees and thighs brushing. And all I could hear was Jamison's voice, telling me ­Graham liked me.

He
liked
me.

Chapter
Eight

I
had to admit, I
was kind of sad to pack up my belongings and leave this hotel room. It had been my Edinburgh home for the last few days. But we were on to the next portion of our trip—our weeklong travel through the Highlands. I could hardly wait.

I folded my clothes and tucked them back into my two suitcases. When that was done, I put my camera bag and sketching materials in my backpack, so I could have them handy for our photo-op stops. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Mom and Dad finished gathering their stuff. Steaphan had told Dad he'd pick us up in half an hour. Naturally, my stomach had been one big knot of excitement since I'd gotten up this morning.

“I'm going to miss Edinburgh,” Mom said with a sigh as she
walked over and peered out the hotel window. “I can't believe how this place has grown on me, even in a short period of time.”

“I was just thinking that too,” I said.

“Still, I'm sure sightseeing in the Highlands will be unbelievable,” Mom said as she turned around and leaned back against the windowpane. Her brow quirked. “Not to mention the ‘local attractions.' ”

I squinted at her. Subtlety wasn't one of her stronger traits. “Very funny.” She was right, though. It had taken me forever to fall asleep last night, since I was eager to spend more time with Graham. This thing between us was a heady rush I didn't want to shake off. Plus, I couldn't stop thinking about Jamison's words to me.

A bus tour with him through one of the most romantic places ever would be a memory of a lifetime.

Dad went to unplug his computer, and I jumped up. “Wait!” I said as I plopped into the desk chair. “Can I please send Corinne a message?”

It was only a little after three a.m. back in Cleveland, since they were five hours behind us, so she wouldn't get it for a while, but I wanted to at least say hi. I hadn't written to her much after my first day or so around Scotland, and I wasn't sure what cell phone or Internet reception would be like where we were going. Somehow I didn't imagine the Highlands were covered with an extensive network of cell phone towers.

He nodded. “Okay, but make it quick, princess. We need to be in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

I gave him a grateful smile, then logged on to the chat ­messenger.

AvaBee: Hey! I know you're snoozing right now. Are U having sweet dreams about a certain hunky guy we both know? ;-)

Before I'd left for Scotland, Corinne had expressed more than a little frustration at her current situation. She'd been chosen by her art teacher to represent her classroom in a prestigious nationwide art competition. Only catch was she had to do a joint project with Matthew, a guy she thought was just a jock. But to paraphrase Shakespeare, Corinne was protesting a bit too much. I could tell that Matthew was really getting under her skin. She'd never been this rattled by someone before.

My fingers hovered over the computer keys, and a flash of guilt hit my chest. I hadn't talked to her about Graham yet. I mean, what could I really say? This was just a crazy vacation crush, after all, something she and I would giggle about at our next sleepover as we studied pictures of his face. Even as I thought that, something in my heart throbbed. My past crushes hadn't been this intense this fast. They didn't compare.

Well, I just needed time to figure things out before I talked
about it. He and I were still so shy around each other in some ways, and he hadn't come right out and told me he liked me. That hesitation, and the fear of repeating my past mistakes, kept me from telling Corinne about him.

Instead I wrote a little bit describing what I'd seen so far in Scotland, and I promised to send her more pictures once I found an Internet connection.

AvaBee: OK, now I have to go. Dad's breathing down my neck, lol. XOXO

I signed off, logged out, and thanked him.

We gathered our things and left the room. I snapped one last picture of it before Dad closed the door, and we headed to the lobby to wait for Steaphan to pick us up. Mom had said Mollie would be too busy working to come with us on the Highlands tour, so it would be just Steaphan and Graham.

Apparently, there were two other families joining us, one from Germany and one from Sweden. A small group, so the bus wouldn't be filled. Hopefully they were nice people.

Dad walked over to the counter to check us out, then rejoined us a couple of minutes later. “We're good to go, and I confirmed our room reservation for our last day in Scotland,” he told Mom. He patted his pocket, which had paper sticking out of it.

Right after that, a short, dark-green bus pulled up in front of the lobby, and Mom clapped in glee. “Yay, he's here!”

We grabbed our luggage and stepped outside. My heart thrummed so wildly I was afraid it would beat its way out of my rib cage. The door on the side of the bus opened, and Steaphan shot us a beaming smile.

“Good mornin'!” he declared as he stepped out and shook Dad's hand, then Mom's. “So excited to have ya onboard. Ready for the trip?”

I nodded, and my gaze drifted toward the bus door when I saw Graham standing there. He hopped out and grabbed our suitcases, while his dad opened the sides of the bus to pop them in.

When he was done, he turned to me, and the breath caught in my throat. His eyes were rich, sparkling this morning, and his slim-fit black T-shirt flattered his lean figure. “Mornin', Ava,” he said in a low tone that rumbled across my skin.

Oh man, the look in his gaze held a promise of fun to come. I swallowed my nervousness down and shot him a wobbly grin. That hesitation I'd seen in his eyes before was totally gone right now.

“Morning, Graham,” I said, not surprised that my voice conveyed my breathlessness. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and followed him onto the bus.

The interior was cozy, with gray fabric covering the plush seats. In the second row were a family of thin, dark blonds—a man, a woman, and a teenage girl with stunning bright green eyes. She nodded as I entered.

Right behind them was another row of people, two adults with two younger boys who looked around six or so. From
­listening to the way the mom talked to the boys, it sounded like they were the Germans.

Graham took a seat in the front row, and I made my way to the back, my parents right behind me.

“We all on?” Steaphan asked as he stepped in and eyed us. “Looks it?”

Everyone nodded.

“Aye, great!” He beamed. “It's time to get started on our seven-day trip through the bonny Scottish Highlands. Today we're headin' to Oban, where we'll stay for a coupla days as we take side trips to Glencoe and Iona. As we drive, we'll stop for a wee break to stretch yer legs and take some photographs. Any questions?”

No one said anything. The two boys whispered furiously to each other, and both bounced in their seats. I chuckled.

“Excellent,” Steaphan said. “And off we go!” He plunked himself down in the driver's seat, closed the doors, and rolled the bus away from the curb.

For the first half hour of our trip, I watched scenic Edinburgh fade away to the more rugged, rustic grounds of middle Scotland. I couldn't seem to get enough of the ancient beauty, the craggy green hills that seemed to pierce the low-lying clouds.

“Isn't it beautiful?” Mom said in a hushed tone as she leaned across the aisle toward me.

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away. It almost looked unreal, it was so perfect. The sky was a rich, velvety blue, the grass bril
liant green. Small clusters of sheep grazed and nibbled in far-off farmlands.

Mom and Dad talked in whispers to each other, and I found myself peering around the edge of the seat in front of me. I'd been trying to avoid looking at Graham, but I couldn't resist seeing what he was doing.

He was spun around in his seat, legs stretched in the aisle, talking with the lithe blond teen girl. His hands waved in front of him, and his face had that passionate look I'd come to recognize. Probably describing the wonders of Scotland to her. I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

I dug into my backpack and grabbed my sketchbook. The road we were traveling on was smooth, so I wanted to get a few rough sketches in during our downtime. I captured the lines of the jutting peaks of the distant mountains, a placid lake that reflected the blue sky, the tree-covered hills that rolled and danced along the way. More trees clustered along the bottoms of flattop crags.

Oh, a castle up ahead!

I fumbled and grabbed my phone to snap a couple of shots before it passed by. Then I kept the screen open as I started to sketch it. The stone bricks were moss-tinted and the top looked crumbled, with small, high windows. A stone wall ran along one side and wrapped around to the back. Thick clusters of trees spotted the grounds.

Beautiful. My brain went into the zone as my pencil swept across the paper. I wasn't even sure how much time had passed
before the bus rolled to a stop. Oh, right—we were taking a rest break. I tucked my notebook and pencils into my bag.

“We'll stop here for the next half hour,” Steaphan said as he stood and turned to our group. “Take yer time and walk around the grounds. Stretch yer legs. When ya return, we'll head right to Oban in time for a late lunch.” He opened the doors, and the two families in front of us started to file off the bus.

I grabbed my backpack, looped it over my shoulder, and hopped off the bus. A stiff breeze whipped around the side of the bus, and I zipped my fleece up to my neck. Still, the sun was warm and shining, and the clouds were scattered and puffy. A fine day.

“Mom, I'm going over there to draw,” I said as I pointed to a particularly lovely area where there was an abandoned castle in the near distance.

“Be careful,” she said as she brushed a kiss across my brow.

I took a stiff step toward Graham, tempted to ask him to come along with me, but he was talking to the German family now, who peppered him with questions in stilted English. I didn't want to bother him when he was working, so I stepped into the grass and made my way over.

The air in this area was so fresh, unlike anything I'd ever smelled. It was pure, untainted, clean. I dragged several deep lungfuls in and smiled. Stretched my arms in glee.

Scotland was amazing.

I plopped down and grabbed my camera from my backpack. Corinne would die of jealousy when she saw my travel pictures. If
these shots of the castle and hills didn't evoke the feel of Scotland and its rich history, nothing would. I focused in on the castle and snapped more shots. Vines and trees wove through holes and windows in the moss-covered stone.

How long had this place been abandoned? What was its history—who had lived here and then left? Maybe I should ask ­Graham later if he knew.

The sketch bug was itching at me again. I took out my notebook, flipped to a clean page, and began to draw. The only sounds were the light conversations of the fellow members of my group in the distance and the breezes floating by, rustling my hair and the leaves in the trees. Perfect serenity.

“That's a great rendering of the castle,” a voice said from behind me.

My mouth curled into a smile before I even spun around and saw Graham standing there. “Thanks. I couldn't resist getting a few sketches of it while we took our break.”

He sat down in the grass beside me and craned his neck to eye my sketches. Normally I wasn't that self-conscious about my art—I didn't need to be perfect, and I enjoyed the messiness of drafting—but I found myself eager for his approval and good opinion.

“Keep drawin',” he said. “Don't let me interrupt ya. We still have some time.”

I kept my hand steady as I went back to roughing out the ­castle. “So do you know anything about its history?” I asked to
help distract me from his magnetic presence. “Does it have a name? How old is it?”

“Not sure,” he said, and the light burr of his voice, so close to my ear, sent little shivers down my spine. “Let's make it up.”

I drew a thick black shadow within one of the windows. “Okay, I'll start. Um . . .” I dropped my pencil and studied the actual castle form, the age of the brick. “I think it's from the 1600s, so it's really old. The land all around here belonged to the owner of the castle, who was a great lord.”

“Laird.” He gave me a crooked grin. “That's what we'd call him.”

“Laird, got it.” I nodded and returned his smile. The sun glinted in his hair, and I had to fight the urge to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked. “Um.” I cleared my throat and felt my stupid cheeks start to burn. “The laird was a great warrior, and he built this castle for his bride.”

His eyes flickered as he studied me. “Musta loved her a lot,” he said quietly. “To give her such a place to live. She was probably a foreigner, from . . . France. He'd gone there on official clan business and came back with a bride.”

“Love at first sight,” I managed to say. My heart was thudding hard now. I could smell the warm, compelling scent of his soap, and it was super hard not to lean forward and breathe him in.