Page 17 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

He’d send Cal a message telling him that dinner was a non-starter for this evening and let him pass on the news to Mhairi.

Hesitating, his fingers curled around the truck’s door handle, Mack gazed at Freya’s step and wondered what she’d thought of his little gift last night. He had no idea what daft impulse had made him pop into the shop after he’d dropped her off. He should have gone straight home but…

‘Have you lost something?’ Freya’s voice made him jump, and he glanced around.

She was nowhere in sight.

‘Up here,’ she called, and he looked up to see her leaning out of the sash window, peering down at him.

‘Hi,’ he mumbled, at sixes and sevens.

‘I was in the bath,’ she said.

Mack swallowed. Nope, he wasn’t going to go there.

‘I had to dash upstairs to put some clothes on before I answered the door.’

Dear God…

She continued, ‘I thought you were from social services. They’re coming today to assess the house.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ he said, craning his neck.

‘Wait there, I’m coming down.’ Her head disappeared, and the window slammed shut.

A couple of seconds later, the front door opened and she was standing before him in a pair of cut-off jeans and a vest top. Her hair was tied back, copper tendrils escaping to frame her face, and her cheeks were pink and her feet bare.

Mack fought the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

Och, he was the one who was senseless, having these ridiculous thoughts.

Freya was not casual-fling material, a tourist who would be here today and gone tomorrow.

And neither was she a local – not that he’d risk having a relationship with anyone who lived nearby, because he wouldn’t want to give them the impression he wanted a steady girlfriend.

Freya was somewhere in between. Unclassified. Out of bounds for both reasons. She might be gone sooner or later, but she’d be here for long enough to derail his orderly existence. Plus, he had a suspicion that if he let her, she might come to mean more to him than any woman ever had.

Then there was the irrefutable fact that she had a boyfriend, and he wasn’t in the habit of poaching on anyone else’s patch.

Her expression unreadable, Freya said, ‘Thanks for the pop and the tablet.’

‘I was in the shop for some bits and bobs, saw it and thought of you.’

‘That’s kind of you.’

‘It was nothing.’ He shuffled self-consciously from foot to foot, hoping what he was about to say next wouldn’t come out wrong or be taken the wrong way. ‘I’ve just come from the castle. Mhairi wants you to have dinner with her this evening. She wants to pick your brains about yesterday’s trip.’

‘Dinner at the castle? As Mhairi Gray’s guest?’

‘Aye, that’s the gist of it.’

‘I’ve always wanted to see inside.’

‘Now’s your chance.’

‘Can you tell her, yes, please, and thank you? Or should I phone the castle to confirm?’

‘No need. I’ll let Cal know.’

‘Maybe you should pass on my mobile number, in case there’s an issue?’

She gave him her number, and he called her back on it to ensure he’d typed it in correctly. Or that’s what he told himself. It had nothing to do with her now having his number. Though why she’d need it, he hadn’t figured out.

‘See you tonight,’ he said, opening the truck’s door.

‘Will you be there?’

‘Aye. It concerns me too. Apparently, I’ll be running these trips, whether I want to or no. A word of warning – what Mhairi wants, Mhairi gets. Be on your guard, that’s all I’m saying.’ And with that, he hopped into the truck.

Let her make of that what she will. At least she couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned.

Freya closed the front door and leant against it. Dinner at the castle, eh? She was rather surprised to be asked, and even more surprised that it was Mack who had done the asking. Wait till she told her dad – he’d be well impressed.

She wasn’t sure Hadrian would be, though; a castle in the wilds of Scotland wasn’t his kind of thing. She would tell him anyway, and she’d be sure to make a point that it was work-related, in case he still thought she was up here enjoying herself.

Another knock on the door startled her.

‘Come in,’ she said when the ladies from the local authority identified themselves, and the next twenty minutes consisted of them taking notes and advising her what they could and couldn’t do to help her dad.

They recommended that a stairlift be put in, along with a shower stall, or one of those baths that you get into while the water fills it; they also advised about installing handrails by the front and back doors, and suggested replacing the sagging armchairs with ones which had firmer seats at the very least (they did mention one of those electric chairs that raised or lowered at the touch of a button).

Then they departed, leaving Freya with her thoughts whirling and a to-do list longer than her arm.

Was there really any need to have a new bath or a shower put in? And a stairlift?

Her dad would undoubtedly have difficulty walking for a while, but he’d soon be able to get up and down the stairs and in and out of his own bath, so was all this strictly necessary?

Anyway, knowing the speed at which local authorities moved, he’d have been back on his feet for months by the time anyone came to measure up.

Plus, he would probably be discharged tomorrow, so all these adaptations would be installed far too late to be of any use to him. And would he want any of them anyway?

One of those electric riser chairs might be a good idea, though, and while she was eating a hastily prepared lunch, Freya looked online to see what was available and how quickly she could get hold of one.

Not quickly enough, it seemed. None of the websites she visited had anything available immediately. The shortest lead time was three weeks, the longest twelve. Her dad needed it now, if it was to be of any use to him.

Trawling an online auction site gave her more joy, although she didn’t particularly want to bid on one then have to wait until she knew whether she’d won the item.

Shelving that for a moment, she went on to see what else might help him during the first few weeks at home, and before she knew it, she had purchased a bath seat that swivelled, a raised loo seat, a couple of handrails (and a special curved one for the stairs), and several other bits and pieces which she thought may come in handy.

No doubt her dad would shout at her when he saw them, but he’d soon get over it when he realised that they were there to make his life easier. And with next-day delivery, everything should arrive tomorrow. Now all she had to do was visit him to tell him her news.

‘I couldn’t get you a chair, though,’ Freya said, after telling him

about the recommendations that social services had made.

Her dad’s expression hardly changed; he was trying not to let his displeasure show but she could see the irritation in his eyes.

‘Why did you buy all that? It’s a waste of money. They told me I can’t have a bath for six weeks. I have to have a strip wash.’

Freya made a mental note to order him a plastic chair, so he could sit on it in the bathroom to have a wash.

‘I told you I’ll be fine,’ he added, grumpily.

‘If it helps you, it’s worth it.’ Freya chuckled, adding, ‘It could be worse, Dad – I could have arranged for you to have a stairlift installed.’

‘Don’t you bloody well dare!’

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t. Although the two women who did the assessment seemed quite insistent.’

‘I don’t need a bloody stairlift. Or a raised toilet seat.’

‘Tough. You’re having one. It’s being delivered tomorrow. Which reminds me, do you think they’ll discharge you tomorrow?’

‘I expect so. They’ll want the bed. What did those women say? The ones from the council? Did they mention me?’

‘Of course they did! You’re the reason for the assessment. Dad, are you OK?’

‘Do I look it? I’ve been stuck in here for days on end.’

‘I hope you aren’t giving those poor nurses a hard time.’ Freya tried to keep the admonishment light because she knew how frustrated he felt at being in hospital, but he needn’t be quite so curmudgeonly.

Her dad looked away and refused to meet her eye, and she guessed he knew he was being unreasonable. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that he was in hospital, and everyone was trying their best.

Now that she’d got the practical side of things out of the way, it was time to share her other news. ‘I’ve been invited to the castle to have dinner with Mhairi Gray tonight,’ she announced, and was gratified to see him perk up as she explained why.

‘You can’t stop working, can you?’ he said, patting her arm then giving it a squeeze.

‘Gotta keep my hand in,’ she joked. ‘This isn’t anything to do with work, though, but I’m not turning down the chance of a meal at Coorie Castle!’

She’d read on the castle’s website that only the castle’s guests ate there. You couldn’t just book lunch or dinner – you had to be a resident – which made the invitation even more appealing, considering she wouldn’t get to sample the food any other way.

‘You must tell me all about it,’ her dad said.

‘I will,’ she promised.

Freya intended to make the most of the experience, because once her dad was home from hospital, she knew that all she would be doing for the next few weeks was caring for him and making sure nothing impeded his recovery.