*Cait*
The wine cellar is damp and cool, with the scent of oak casks. I press my hand to the stone wall, letting the chill bite into my palm as Rory crouches beside the lowest shelf, brushing cobwebs aside to reach a bottle of my father’s best whiskey.
"Found it," he declares, holding the glass bottle up triumphantly.
"Careful," I say, swatting a strand of hair out of my eyes. "If you break that, Father will skin us both."
Rory grins, all charm and mischief, that crooked smile of his sparking something warm in my chest despite the cold. "A proper Highland execution. At least we'd go out in style."
I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. Ever since our first kiss in the stable, a kiss that left me stunned and breathless, we’ve found every excuse to be alone.
A walk through the orchard
