Page 14 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape (Scottish Escapes #9)

Chapter Ten

S econds froze as the older man realised I’d spotted him.

With a look of horror gripping his face, he took a few stumbling steps backwards in his hurry to get away.

Bronte careered towards the front door, her body tense and her barking frantic.

I hurried after her, my heart pumping. What on earth did he think he was doing, peering in like that? Who was he and what did he want?

Despite my insides twisting with shock and fear, I yanked the door open to peer up and down to see where he’d gone.

There was no sign of him.

Bronte appeared by my leg and shot out in a blur of ears, tail and curls. ‘Bronte! Stop! Here! Come back!’

But she was gone, leaping over the little picket fence and to the right, down towards the path that led to the bay and its modest strip of sand. She seemed to be on a mission to find whoever frightened me.

‘Shit!’ I gulped, whirling around and flapping about on the step, feeling helpless. What if she got lost or got into trouble in the water? I couldn’t lose her. I’d lost enough.

I dived back inside the cottage for my coat, boots and scarf.

I shoved them on and snatched up my front door key and mobile.

I raced out the door, slammed it behind me and locked it.

‘Bronte!’ I screamed into the biting wind.

I let out a few fierce whistles in the hope of attracting her attention, but there was no sign of her.

I raced down the garden path, not bothering to close the gate behind me. I called her name again, whipping my head in all directions as I searched for her.

‘Excuse me? You, okay?’

Flustered, I jerked my head round.

It was Mitch. Kane was by his side, sniffing the air.

My voice was all wobbly. ‘No, I’m not. I just had a prowler staring in through the sitting room window, and now Bronte’s chasing after him.’

Mitch pulled a sceptical face. ‘A prowler? Around here? Are you sure? Maybe it was a salesperson or a cold caller?’

I glowered up at him, in a mixture of panic and frustration. I could feel myself prickling under his turquoise stare. ‘Oh, is this a new thing? Cold calling by gawping in people’s windows rather than knocking on the front door? I must’ve missed that.’

Mitch gave me a measured look from under his dark brows. ‘Or perhaps it was someone who was lost?’

I started to pick up even more speed towards the path. My voice was cracking. ‘Sorry, but I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to find her.’

Mitch’s voice kept on behind me. ‘What I mean is, he could’ve been a tourist, looking for directions, maybe?’

I peered down at the bay and then nodded my head so hard.

I was in danger of snapping my neck. I couldn’t see Bronte anywhere.

‘Yep. You’re right. Of course. Someone would be looking for directions by staring into my sitting room.

He wouldn’t have knocked and asked the way, would he? That would be too normal.’

I could see my sarcastic comebacks were making Mitch’s teeth grind, but I didn’t care. I cared about very little at the moment. All I wanted was Bronte to come barrelling towards me, with her tongue flapping out of her mouth.

‘What I’m saying to you, Ms Winters, is are you certain it was a prowler?’

‘No, I just made it up. I’ve lost everyone and everything I’ve ever loved and I’m bored so I decided I needed to…’

One of his dark brows shot up to his hairline. He gave me a long look. ‘I’m sorry.’

My cheeks blanched. I was struggling to look at him.

‘About your husband.’

I drew up at the top of the path. Hurt rippled inside me. ‘Well, the broadcasting service around here has been busy.’

Mitch looked at me.

‘I take it Rhea Stafford in the corner shop told you.’

He nodded.

My voice trembled. ‘Well, it would help if some nosey buggers like Rhea Stafford minded their own business!’

I swung away from him, so he couldn’t see the embarrassed look on my face, and yelled Bronte’s name one more time.

It was none of his business either. Why choose this moment to repeat gossip he’d heard?

Fine. Maybe he was trying to be kind, but right now, the nicer people were to me, the more I seemed to want to lash out.

It was as if a voice was telling me that I couldn’t handle it, so it was safer to reject their offers of empathy and kindness instead.

I called for Bronte again, but the sound of my desperate voice caught in the wind. The stretch of sand was deserted. Where was she? I should’ve been more careful when I opened the door.

Bronte and her safety were consuming my mind.

Pictures of her getting into difficulty in deep water or breaking a leg in a rabbit hole shimmered in front of me.

‘I’ve got to find her. I don’t care how long it takes.

I can’t lose her. I just can’t.’ I swallowed.

Tears bunched in the corners of my eyes.

‘Hey, come on. Don’t think like that.’ Mitch gave me a measured look. ‘You won’t lose her. We’ll find her.’

I watched as Mitch stalked past me at a brisk pace towards the path. He was a confident blur in his heavy boots and black winter Puffa jacket. Kane followed. ‘And you’re sure Bronte took off in this direction?’ he called over his broad shoulders.

I blinked at him, my voice dry with worry. ‘Yes. Well, I’m almost certain. But what are you doing?’

Now it was his turn to be sarcastic. ‘I thought I’d go for a pint and a game of dominoes in The Sea Shanty. What does it look like I’m doing? Kane and I will help you look for Bronte.’

I reddened. I supposed I asked for that one. I’d been Ms Sarcastic to him for the last ten minutes. ‘Okay. Thank you.’ I frowned up at him, my panic for Bronte’s well-being shooting higher and higher. ‘But don’t you have lots of lighthouse-y things to be getting on with?’

‘For your information, I’ve already cleaned the windows and lenses, taken and logged the weather readings and swept the lighthouse stairs.’ He strode off ahead, with Kane loping at his heels.

My thoughts were whirring as I hurried to catch up with Mitch and Kane and fell into step just behind them. The path down to the bay snaked between two grassy hills.

‘Did you get much of a look at this guy?’ Mitch asked. ‘Your prowler?’

I fired a suspicious glance up at him. ‘I thought you didn’t believe I had a prowler.’

There was the faintest trace of black, peppery stubble on his jaw. ‘I didn’t say that. Well, not in so many words.’ He shook his head, exasperated. ‘Anyway, like I was saying, what did he look like?’

I didn’t feel like being communicative with anyone, let alone Mitch, but we had to work together to locate Bronte.

Greater tides of worry swamped my chest at the thought of Bronte getting hit by a car.

Oh no. What if the intruder had taken her?

Would he hurt her? I might never see her again.

Panic flooded through me. I called out her name and whistled.

Oh, just appear Bronte. Please! I squinted against the steely morning light glancing off the top of the water, willing a brown, curly blob to appear in the distance.

I was struggling to quell the rising doom.

I dragged my attention back to Mitch’s question.

‘He looked like he was in his late seventies with greying hair.’

‘Well, that narrows it down around here.’

I hurried along behind him, my worry for Bronte consuming me. I whistled again for her. ‘You did ask.’

I eyed the sliver of vanilla sand down below. Where was she? I called her name repeatedly. ‘Bronte! Where are you?’

We reached the start of the bay and I lifted one hand to my eyes and scanned the horizon, praying that a bundle of Labradoodle would come bouncing towards me.

Kane took off ahead of us, his head down and sniffing the ground.

‘She won’t have gone far,’ reassured Mitch. ‘Please try not to worry.’

‘But she doesn’t know the area.’ I buried my wobbling chin into my scarf. ‘She hasn’t been up here that often. If anything’s happened to her, it’s my fault.’

Mitch gestured to Kane, his tan and black limbs moving faster ahead of us. ‘He’s great at finding things. I’m sure he’ll locate her.’

‘We’re not in an episode of Lassie!’

He gave me a look, but didn’t say anything.

‘I’ve just lost my dog, and it’s all my fault. You don’t understand. I opened the door and she shot out.’ My voice was raspy with emotion.

‘I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. If they spot something they want to chase, it’s often very difficult to get them to obey.’

There was still no sign of Bronte. The beach was quiet. A couple of gulls shrieked, making me jump. ‘Thank you for that dog analysis, Captain Birdseye!’

Mitch took a moment to digest what I’d just called him. His handsome face was impassive. Then he started to laugh. His eyes crinkled. I noticed he had white teeth and prominent canines. ‘Captain Birdseye?!’

It wasn’t like me to be so rude, but I didn’t feel in control of anything anymore.

‘You’ve put me in the mood for a fishfinger sandwich now.’

‘Oh, I’m delighted you’re finding this situation so amusing.’ I threw him a look. ‘There’s really no need to help. I’ll find her myself, thank you.’

The sand was melting with the splashes of the water, and the rocks glistened.

The wind was unforgiving. What if Bronte had ventured into the water and got into difficulties?

I remembered my grandparents speaking about the depth of the water being deceptive.

They always used to warn me not to venture too far out and would never let me come down to the bay to swim on my own.

Fearful tears were on the brink of slipping down my cheeks. All I wanted was my Bronte back, safe and sound.

I should never have burst out of the front door like that. To lose Bronte, my little constant companion, was a horrific thought at any time, but right now it was especially inconceivable.