Lucy. Don't climb up me. I can't . . . see. Stop holding my head. Your shoulder is in my face."
Lucy's giggles turned to all out laughter. Her entire body shook as she moved to the left.
"Bloody hell," he bit out, infected by her giggles with laughter of his own. "Stop laughing."
He stumbled again. She screamed. But he made it to shore and set her down, his arms still around her. Lucy gazed up at him, her hood falling off, and her laughter subsiding. Their gazes locked. Their breaths came heavy and loud in the sudden quiet.
She swallowed, clearing her throat. "We made it."
Ian released her. "We Scots are made tough. Braveheart and all that. Come on, the rain's let up. I'll show you the ruins." He removed the rubber boots, grabbed the basket, and then took her hand.
Ian spent the next hour showing her the ruins of the old Castle MacLaren. It was amazing. The fact that he had such a long and known family history was incredible. And it meant so much to him. He never said as much, but she could hear it in his voice as he told her about those who built and occupied the castle.
When they returned to the shore, he set out a picnic lunch on a wide flat rock and they ate in the shadow of the ruins. "Thank you," she said, popping a piece of shortbread into her mouth. "For the tour."
"You're welcome."
"Will the ruins be on the activities list too?" He nodded. "You're not worried about vandalism?"
He smiled. "People around here and visitors tend to respect the old sites. The only vandals here are the ones in my family. My parents scratched their initials into the rocks when they married. Grandparents, too, and beyond. A family tradition, I guess."
"And one day, you'll do the same."
"Suppose so."
Ian went quiet as he ate, staring out at the water, his profile thoughtful. The sun peaked through random patches of clouds, making bright shafts straight down to the water. Lucy fished in her bag for her camera and snapped some pictures. She couldn't resist turning it on Ian, able to get a few shots before he caught her.
"You'd have to build a dock, I guess. To get people off the boat," she said
He regarded her for a long moment. "There's a dock around the other side of those rocks."
She stared blankly as his words sank in. Then, she bit out a curse and swatted him hard on the shoulder. "All that trauma for nothing!"
Ian ducked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed. "Honey, that wasn't trauma you were feeling."
She laughed so hard her stomach hurt.
Once she recovered, she snapped a picture of him, knowing immediately it was a picture she'd treasure. Him grinning like the devil, the castle and loch in the background.
Ian held out his hand expectantly. Lucy handed over her camera slowly, curious to see what he'd do. Look at the picture? Delete it? But he turned the lens on her and clicked. Oh, great. She rolled her eyes and gave him a frank face, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, fun's over."
Ian leaned back and looked at the viewing screen. She expected him to finish and give it back, but then he continued clicking through her pictures. He seemed engrossed. And suddenly she felt very bare, and very much like his opinion mattered. She had to bite her tongue and not ask him what he thought.
He finished. "Why aren't you doing this for a living? You could sell these. They're incredible."
She held out her hand and he returned the camera. Her heart was pounding. She didn't want to hear his opinion after all.
"Yet you work for your cousin grooming dogs."
"So?" she said defensively.
"Just trying to figure you out."
"Nothing to figure out. Everyone has to work. Everyone has bills." Lucy began gathering the food and putting the leftovers back into their containers.
"Your photographs are world class, Lucy. World class."
She knew what he was really saying. Why wasn't she working as a photographer? Why was she clipping doggie toenails and brushing canine teeth instead? Kate had a deep, deep love for