Page 54 of Kilts and Kisses at Highland Hall (Kilts and Kisses #1)

Bex blinked once, only to scrunch her eyes tightly back together.

The light was blinding, sending sharp pain from her temples all the way to the back of her throat.

How many drinks had she had last night? She couldn’t remember.

After the news about the flooded ford, Lorna had swapped Bex’s lemonade for something a lot stronger and brought out shots for them all to do in celebration of Bex staying an extra night.

She remembered that. Just like she remembered Niall having a go at mixing cocktails behind the bar and insisting everyone try them.

If Bex’s memory served her right, that included old Moira, the ancient matriarch who sat like a gargoyle in the corner.

Either way, everything hurt, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed a porcupine.

With a loud groan that made the headache even worse, Bex rolled over, expecting the large expanse of her double bed to stretch out onto, only to hit the hard floor with a thud.

‘Argh!’ She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, which, after the impact, was no longer contained to every inch of her skull. As she lay there, unsure which part of her body she could try to clutch, thundering footsteps rattled through the floorboards, rushing towards her.

‘Bex, are you all right? What happened?’ She opened her eyes to see Lorna’s face peering down at her. ‘Did you fall off the sofa?’

‘Did I sleep here?’ Bex asked, her voice croaking into life. With a light chuckle, Lorna offered her hand and helped pull her up.

‘You didn’t want to go back to the castle, so you crashed on the sofa. But clearly forgot. Didn’t I tell you it was a sofa bed? You could have pulled it out to make it bigger.’

Given that Bex had no recollection of getting here last night, imagining that she would have been able to work out the mechanics of an unknown sofa bed in her previously inebriated state felt very optimistic, even for Lorna.

‘How much did we drink?’ she asked as she sat herself up.

‘Quite a lot.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Awful,’ Lorna said, though Bex found that hard to believe. She was upright to start with. And she seemed to be speaking without sending spasms of pain shooting through her skull. That was better than Bex on both levels.

‘Oh God,’ Bex said when she saw the way light was rolling in beneath the curtains. ‘I wanted to get going early.’

‘There’s no way you’re going anywhere now. Come on, let’s go to the café. We’ll get lunch. You’re probably still three times over the limit to drive.’

‘Lunch? What time is it?’

‘Nearly noon.’

Bex let out a groan. She was now almost a day behind her plan to get out.

But Lorna was right. There was no chance she could drive in this state.

At the very least she needed a cold shower and several strong shots of caffeine.

Although just the thought of the word ‘shot’ caused nausea to billow through her.

‘I’m not sure I’m going to be able to eat anything,’ she said.

‘Sure you will. Come on. We’ll start with some dry toast and work up from there.’

Realising there was no world in which Lorna took no for an answer, and thinking that perhaps agreeing to go with her was the one way to stop her from talking so loudly, Bex dragged herself up onto her feet.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But after breakfast, I’m leaving.’

She should have realised a café wouldn’t be a great place for someone whose head felt like there was a herd of rhinos tap-dancing behind their temples, and so, as they walked in, Bex headed to the table in the corner and dropped her head down between her elbows, trying to ignore the smell of coffee that pervaded her senses.

Normally she wouldn’t have any issues with coffee when she was hungover.

Often, it was the one thing that genuinely helped.

Only now the scent reminded her of the coffee gift Duncan had given her.

Thoughts of Duncan inevitably brought an uncomfortable squirm in her stomach that made her nausea even worse. But Lorna insisted she eat something.

‘Well, that was an unexpectedly heavy night,’ Lorna said when she came back from ordering their food. ‘It’s a good job I’m not working. There’d be no chance of anyone getting the right orders today.’

‘Is it worrying that my memories are so fuzzy from last night?’ Bex asked, clutching her head. ‘I can remember singing though. Lots of singing. Were we singing?’

‘We?’ Lorna put full emphasis on the word. ‘No, there was no we about it. You were singing, Bex. Apparently, you like karaoke.’

‘Oh God. Was it bad?’

‘Well, you can see the video for yourself if you want…’ Lorna moved to pick up her phone, but Bex’s hand shot out in front of her.

‘No, no, don’t!’ Bex said, pushing Lorna’s phone away. ‘I don’t want to see. I don’t want to know.’

‘Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything stupid,’ Lorna assured her. ‘Well, not that stupid anyway. The singing was probably the worst of it.’

Probably. That was the word in the sentence that Bex didn’t like.

‘I didn’t, you know, ring Duncan or anything, did I?’

‘No.’ Lorna shook her head, laughing. ‘You had no intention of ringing him at all. In fact, you yelled at anyone if they even mentioned his name. It was, in your words’ – she lifted her hands to do air quotes – ‘“a Duncan-Free Zone”.’

Bex let out a long sigh. She knew all too well that drunk phone calls were never a sensible idea, but part of her still craved to hear from him. To demand more of an apology than the scant note he had written her.

Rather than just the plain toast Bex had asked for, Lorna had ordered them both full Scottish breakfasts and just the sight of it was enough to turn Bex’s stomach.

Still, she took her time, cutting off tiny mouthfuls and chewing excessively slowly.

Though after forty minutes, when the beans were stone cold, the eggs congealed and the tattie scones soggy, she could manage no more.

‘I guess I should get going,’ she said. ‘I need to start the drive, get as far as I can.’

‘And I’m guessing nothing I can say will persuade you otherwise?’ Lorna said, her eyes pleading.

Bex shook her head. ‘No, sorry.’

‘Fine, then let me walk you to your car.’

As they stepped out onto the road, the loud sound of bleating rattled through her.

Bex had grown used to the sound of sheep since moving here, on her walks around the loch and castle grounds that woke her each morning.

But this sounded particularly loud. She assumed it was another side effect of her extreme hangover – that was, until Lorna spoke.

‘I think you might have to delay your plans to leave for a little while longer,’ she said, nodding towards the road ahead.

Bex looked up, eyes widening. A huge flock of sheep had gathered across the road, blocking the exit entirely.