‘Have I done something to make you feel uncomfortable?’ he asked.

‘No, not at all,’ she said, relieved that this time she sounded almost normal. ‘I guess it’s just a little strange. I don’t have a great deal of experience with the whole morning-after thing,’ she admitted, and that much at least was true. It was a little strange. What was the protocol for this situation, anyway?

He looked relieved at that and smiled, moving across the room to take her hand. ‘Just be you,’ he said, lowering his head for a kiss that, as usual, took very little to turn it into something more. Before she realised what was happening he was walking her backwards to the edge of the bed and she was too distracted to worry about her wayward gran’s whereabouts.

After breakfast, and dressed in clean clothes once more, Elle went out with Stuart to check on the livestock.

‘Are these the same kind of sheep and cattle your grandfather used to run?’ she asked as they passed a hilly paddock dotted with white sheep.

‘He used mainly black-faced,’ he said, looking out over his herd, ‘but I decided to run North Country Cheviot.’

As they got closer, she could see the sheep more clearly. Their heads and legs were covered with short glossy-white hair and they had black hoofs and long-ish noses and were big compared to other sheep she had seen throughout the Scottish countryside. As far as sheep went, they were quite pretty, she thought. ‘Are they used mainly for their wool?’

‘They’re a meat sheep, generally, but their wool is used a lot by hand spinners. Though it isn’t worth much at the current wool price. We usually shear as soon as the weather warms up—sometimes it’s a bit of a gamble, spring is renowned for throwing you a curve ball now and again and delivering a cold snap when it’s supposed to be hot. So, we try to judge the best time to bring them in for shearing. Usually it’s a few weeks after lambing finishes.’

The countryside was stunning. So different to the farmland back home. Elle let her eyes wander across the hills and valleys before her, and in the distance she saw that it went right down to the rugged coastline beyond.

‘What type of cattle are they?’ she asked as she spotted the black shaggy-looking animals happily grazing among the clumps of heather and native grasses beside a craggy stone fence.

‘They’re Highland cattle.’

‘I thought Highland cattle were red?’

‘Those ones are the Kyloe breed. Highlands were traditionally black. It was only later that the red was selectively bred into them.’