Daphne headed back down to Edinburgh first thing on Monday morning, leaving Fraser with her personal mobile number, should he have any questions. If it hadn’t been for his promise to keep Fraser company on his trip, Ray might have gone with her. What little sleep he’d managed had been punctuated with weird dreams about someone leaving a poisonous snake in his bed, or short-circuiting his electric blanket. He made a mental note to himself next morning to stop watching so many Scoobie Doo reruns.

Having survived the night, Ray felt a little silly refusing breakfast. But he still wasn’t convinced that porridge oats was a genuine foodstuff. He sipped hot black coffee until deMarco showed up with the suggestion that they check out the paddock.

They were leaning on the railing surrounding the stable watching the smaller ponies being put through their paces. Ray stifled a yawn and tried to look interested.

“I suppose you do not ride? deMarco asked tartly.

“Me?” Ray scoffed. ”Never been on a horse in my life. Don’t intend to start now, thank you very much. He on the other hand,” Ray tilted his head towards his partner, “was born in the saddle.”

DeMarco took that as his cue to ignore Ray and turned his back on him, focusing his attention on Fraser instead. “You have experience in riding?” he asked excitedly.

“Ah, well, yes. As a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police I’ve had extensive training, but it’s been some time since I took to the saddle.” Fraser replied.

Ray decided to leave them to it. There were a hundred ways he could be killed horse riding. He wasn’t going to take the risk but he hadn’t even made it to the gate when Fraser was beside him. “Ray, riding is a truly wonderful pastime. I’m sure you would enjoy it, given half the chance, and I would be honoured to teach you the fundamentals.”

Damn. He could feel himself weakening already. The thought of having Fraser teach him to ride was definitely doing something to his equilibrium. But still, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. What if someone deliberately spooked the horse?

“I’ll spend most of the day flat on my ass, Fraser,” he hedged, trying to get the stupid damned gate open so that he could escape into the four-by-four and get out of his own borrowed boots. Wellies, Keith had called them. Short for Wellington boots. There had even been a song written about them, allegedly, sung by someone called 'The Big Yin.'

“There are many bridle paths through the woods,” DeMarco chimed in. “or there is the beach. The horses enjoy galloping through the breakers.”

Ray could see it all in slow motion, Fraser, shirt open and billowing in the breeze as his horse threw up surf with its hooves. He could even hear the cheesy romantic musical underscore in his head. If they would let him just lie on the beach and watch Fraser exercise the horse, then maybe…

“Indeed they do,” Fraser nodded enthusiastically, reaching past Ray to unlatch the gate one-handedly. “It’s been too long since I’ve felt the thrill of all that barely controlled power between my thighs.”

Ah fuck.

That cinched it.

“Okay, but no galloping, no cantering, no trotting." Ray shoved his hands into his pockets and stomped off to the waiting car. "Nothing faster than a slope or I'm outta here. My ass still hurts from having a mountain land on it."

"Do horses slope?” Fraser grinned, following right behind.

DeMarco was already on his mobile phone, instructing Keith to have suitable horses prepared.

“Are you coming with?” Ray asked, when deMarco ended the call. Much though he disliked the man, Ray would rather have him where he could keep an eye on him.

DeMarco shook his head apologetically. “Regretfully no. I am kept busy today with much business. Keith goes with you. He is accomplished rider.”

“I bet he is,” Ray muttered under his breath as he slid into the back seat next to Fraser.

***

“Do I have to wear it?” Ray eyed the riding hat with distaste. “Do they have mounted police here who can pull you over and fine you for failing to wear the correct head gear?”

Keith’s smile grew impossibly wider as he placed the hat firmly on Ray’s head and fastened the chinstrap. His eyes sparkled warmly. “It’s nae so much about the law, Ray, but about yer safety. If ye fell from yer mount and got injured, I would never be able to forgive mysel’.” Ray felt the colour rise in his cheeks and he had to look away.

“He’s quite right, Ray,” Fraser chimed in, fastening his own hat with a flourish. “Even a fall from this height can result in…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it. I’ll wear the damned hat.”

The sound of hooves on cobbles made Ray turn in time to watch the stable boy lead out three of the most beautiful horses he’d ever seen. Not that he’d seen many, but these were just stunning. The most beautiful of all seemed also to be the hardest to control. A jet-black animal, with a narrowed nose and arching neck, it whinnied and stomped impatiently.

“Good heavens,” Fraser’s eyes were huge. “Is he Arabian?”

Keith nodded and approached the skittish beast slowly, crooning softly under his breath until the animal had calmed a little. It allowed him to stroke its neck, and even went so far as to nuzzle him, looking for a treat, no doubt. And Keith did not disappoint. He just so happened to have a piece of carrot in his pocket.

“He’s worth a fair bit of money. Apparently the old laird won him in a card game.”

Fraser looked embarrassed, even though he had never met his uncle, and should not be taking any responsibility for his actions. “He seems… somewhat jumpy?”

Keith scratched the animal behind his ears. “Ack, he’s nae bad once ye get to know him, eh Lucien?” The horses’ ears flicked forward at the mention of his name. “But it would take an experienced horseman to handle him.” He looked enquiringly at Fraser.

“Oh, um, well it’s been several years since I rode. Perhaps I should take one of the more docile mounts this time around?”

“As ye wish,” Keith said with obvious relief. He probably wouldn’t have argued if the laird had insisted on taking the Arabian, but Ray could see he was happier riding it himself. “The chestnut with the blond mane is called Megan and the thickset Icelandic lad is called Eric. He’s a good steady horse. Nothing much spooks him.”

Ray patted Eric on the shoulder. “Sold.”

“Good choice, Ray” Fraser beamed, swinging himself up into the saddle as though he’d been doing it all his life. He patted Megan affectionately on the neck. “And I believe this lady will serve me quite well.”

Ray watched Keith mount, his kilt fanning out behind him on the horses’ haunches. His eyes strayed over to where Fraser was leaning down to whisper something to his horse. They both looked so fucking good that Ray could have stared at them all day.

He let out a small snort of laughter and shook his head. He’d worked for months beside Fraser, never once giving himself away. All it took was for someone to show an interest in him, and suddenly he was making moony-eyes at everything with a pulse? Ray gave himself a mental shake. Get a grip Kowalski.

“Dae ye need a wee hand?” Keith enquired, noticing that Ray still had made no attempt to get onto his horse.

“Nah, I got it,” he assured the kid, eyeing the saddle warily. They had made it look easy. Just slip your foot in the stirrup, hold onto the pointy bits and haul yourself up.

He took a little too long to convince his leg to swing that high, and Eric decided to begin without him. He found himself bent over the saddle, clinging on for grim death as the horse trotted off to check out the nice green grass in the next field. Fortunately, he didn’t have to endure the pummelling for long. A blur of reddish-brown swam into view and suddenly he wasn’t moving anymore.

He looked up at Fraser, who was holding Eric’s bridle. “Forgot to ask where the brakes were,” he offered weakly, trying to turn himself around enough to get his leg over the horses back.

“Ray, I’m sure Megan can handle the weight of us both. Would you care to ride shotgun?”

Ray blinked.

Sit behind Fraser?

On a horse?

With his arms around Fraser’s waist?

Rubbing up against him… able to smell him… close enough to lick….

Fuck! Bad idea, bad, bad idea.

“Hey, I got it covered. Just need to point me in the right direction and I’m set.” Ray finally managed to get settled in the saddle, and took the reins back from Fraser. “See? No problemo."

Jeez, it was difficult to ride with a hard-on.

***

“So… Eric… you like your job?” Ray asked.

For the past half hour, the sturdy horse had been his only conversational option. Fraser and Keith were so deeply entrenched in a conversation about the day to day running of a large estate that he doubted they would even notice if he stripped naked and galloped past them doing a handstand.

Eric was remarkably intelligent, tossing his head and shaking out his mane in what Ray chose to interpret as an indication to the negative.

“Me either,” he sympathised. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good job, feels fucking great when you put a scum-bag behind bars, but the pay is lousy and the hours stink.”

Eric appeared to be nodding his head in understanding, so Ray continued.

“So you? You gotta plod across the hills with some freeloader on your back, but at least you don’t get shot at. Or knifed. Or kicked shitless by a gang of…”

“Ray, are you all right?”

Glancing up, Ray realised that Fraser had been waiting for him to catch up. Keith was nowhere in sight. “Oh yeah, me and Eric were just doing some bonding, you know?”

“Ah, right you are.” Fraser replied uncertainly.

Ray decided it was time to change the subject. “Where’s kiltboy?”

“Keith? He thought he’d spotted a stag so he rode ahead to check it out.” Fraser looked worried about something. Well not so much worried, as concerned.

“You think he might try to shoot it?”

“What? Oh, no.” Fraser eased Megan around to walk beside Eric at his slower pace. “Keith would far rather photograph wildlife than massacre it.”

Into photography, was he? Ray couldn’t even take a snap-shot without cutting everyone's heads off. At least if Keith had been into shooting, they would have had guns in common. You know, if they wanted to… talk about stuff. Not that it mattered 'cos Ray was not interested in getting to know Keith any more intimately than necessary. If anything happened, it would be a holiday fling. All about the sex. No need to exchange numbers or anything.

“So, what’s up?” he asked.

Fraser’s thumb shot up to rub absently at his eyebrow. “You’re not enjoying this are you?” he sighed, glancing sideways at Ray.

“Mosquitoes the size of bats, people who say they’re speaking English but clearly are not, sleazy Italian Gigolos with questionable motives and winds strong enough to blow a grown man off his feet. What’s not to like?” he threw his hands into the air.

Fraser was staring at him wide-eyed. “Actually Ray, I was just referring to the riding.”

Ah!

Oh fuck.

Fraser was enjoying all this. The mosquitoes; the weird people; the wind; the rain; the whole fucking shebang. Fraser was loving it. Great, Ray. Way to go. Open mouth, insert foot.

The bullet missed Ray by less than an inch, judging by the sound of it whistling past his ear. He was off his horse and crouching on the ground before it hit and splintered the bark of an ancient fir tree. He would have liked to have put it down to his lightening reflexes, as it turned out, gunfire was the one thing that could spook old Eric, and he'd reared up in terror, throwing Ray to the ground.

"Frase!" He hissed. "You okay?" Both horses had taken off at a dead run, both riderless.

"I'm fine, Ray. You?"

Ray took a quick inventory. His already injured arm was killing him. Must have landed on it. Not broken though. In fact nothing was broken. He took a moment to thank his lucky stars. "Who the fuck is shooting at us?"

Fraser's head popped out from behind a large boulder on the other side of the track. "I'm afraid I didn’t get a bead on the direction, Ray. The shot may not have been intended for us, however."

Ray got down on his belly on the muddy ground and commando crawled towards his partner. "You see anyone else around here that looks like they need shooting?"

"I merely meant that perhaps the bullet from a poacher's rifle went astray."

Ray snorted, making himself as comfortable as possible on the wet ground. "Fraser, you see the size of the hole it left in the tree? That was no bolt action hunting rifle. That was a sniper's rifle. M21 probably. Good job the guy is a lousy shot."

"For heaven's sake, Ray. This is the middle of the Scottish Highlands. Who on earth would be taking pot shots at us with a sniper's rifle?"

Ray shrugged out of his soaked jacket and looked around for a fallen branch. "I dunno, buddy, but someone damned well is. An inch to the left and my hair would have been experimental for a whole set of different reasons."

Ray retrieved a longish stick, hooked his jacket over it and hoisted it aloft. He waved the sodden garment back and forth for a few moments before Fraser decided to pop his head up for a look-see. "I think the coast is clear, Ray. Although… "

Ray had been in the process of struggling up for a look-see of his own when Fraser landed on top of him, one hand clamped firmly over Ray's mouth to keep him quiet. Fraser was pinning him to the ground and suddenly Ray forgot how wet and cold and completely pissed off he was feeling on account of how his brain had stopped functioning. It took a few seconds before he finally heard what Fraser had already heard. The sound of multiple hoofbeats approaching.

"Mmmpff!" Ray muttered, trying to get Fraser to move his hand. He wasn’t about to yell out and give their position away, but he would appreciate being able to breathe.

Fraser's mouth was mere inches form his own. Wouldn’t take much to just reach up and… yeah, okay. Get them both killed! He really needed his brain to come back on line, like - now?

Fraser seemed to get the idea, and shifted his hand a little, letting Ray drag in a welcome lungful of air. They both lay stock still listening to the mystery riders approach. Ray could make out at least two horses, maybe three. Damn, they were sitting ducks here. The rock was really no cover and the only weapon they had was Ray's stick.

The horses came to rest right next to their position and both men stopped breathing.

"Really lads, there is a time and a place for such shenanigans." Keith's amused voice forced a snort of relieved laughter from Ray as he shoved Fraser off him and got to his feet.

Keith had hold of both the escaped horses. "Could ye no wait until we got back to the hoose?"

Ray reached down and helped pull his bedraggled partner to his feet. "Har de har, kiltboy. For your information, we were taking cover from the sniper who was trying to part my hair for me - and don’t tell me you didn’t hear the shot?"

"Are you, okay?" Keith asked, concern lacing his voice as he slipped from his horse to give Ray the once over. "Must have been the poacher. He was after the stag, but I scared him off. Not before he let off a random shot mind. I had no idea it came so close to you."

Fraser was trying to brush some of the muck off his jeans. "We're both absolutely fine, Keith, but I think it would be wise to head back now. No sense in taking any chances."

"Aye, agreed." Keith nodded handing Fraser the reigns to his mount. "Here, let me help you up, Ray."

Ray gave Keith a tight little smile and shook his head. "I can manage."

For some reason, he didn’t feel like flirting anymore.

***

Fraser spoke barely a word on the ride back to the castle. It didn’t bode well. When Fraser did the silent treatment, it meant he was thinking deep thoughts and usually that meant Ray needed to do some serious apologising.

They left Keith to deal with the horses, and Ray trailed Fraser up to the suite.

After the door had closed, they stood in silence, not looking at each other until Ray couldn’t stand it any longer. "What I said earlier…"

"Ray, it's fine."

"No, no it's not. I haven’t given it a chance…"

"I never stopped to wonder if you were enjoying any of it…."

"The mosquitoes ain’t even that bad…"

"Midges."

"Huh?"

"They're called highland midges. The female is the one that bites, as she can’t actually lay her eggs until she's consumes a full meal of blood…"

"Fraser!"

"Sorry, sorry."

Ray came over to stand beside Fraser with his back to the fire. "What I'm trying to say, is that I didn’t mean to upset you, buddy. I mean, it’s kinda obvious you’re having a ball here."

Fraser sighed deeply. "I feel a strong affinity with this place, Ray. It feels more like home than anywhere I can remember. I think I may be falling in love."

Ray’s eyes widened. He’d been expecting to hear those words from Fraser eventually, but had always assumed the recipient would be a woman, not a whole god-damend, fucking country! How could he compete with that?

“My mum always says that home is where the heart is,” Ray turned to face the fire and laid a hand on Fraser’s shoulder. “I never did understand what she meant by that.”

“She was telling you that home is not so much about bricks and mortar, or even about putting down roots. Home is where your loved ones are.”

Ray tried on a lop-sided smile, which failed to reach his eyes. “I hear ya.” Even though it broke his heart to hear those words. Because in essence what Fraser was really saying, was that there was no one in Chicago that he loved enough to want to make him stay there.