Page 34 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

How are your tootsies? Freya read the message and laughed.

Tootsies fine , she replied.

Her feet were still sore, even though she’d been wearing sliders for the past three days. It would be a while before she wore heels again. Her phone pinged with another message.

What are you doing?

Making stuff

At the byre?

Yes

She was pleased with her progress. Seven pieces so far.

She was itching to fire them, but they’d have to wait until she got back to her studio.

Anyway, they weren’t bone dry yet, the clay still holding too much water.

Potters learnt early on in their careers that patience was most definitely a virtue.

Firing too soon could, and often did, cause pottery to crack or even explode in the kiln.

She examined her most recent piece, studying it critically. The bowl appeared organic: a delicate weaving of sprigs of heather, the stems emerging from the base, and covered in tiny delicate petals. It was intricate and fragile, and it had taken her a long time to make.

With extreme care, she placed it on the shelf to dry, then rinsed her hands. She was done for today. Dad would want his tea soon and he could probably do with some company; she’d been here longer than she’d intended, having become so engrossed that she’d lost track of time.

She’d almost finished clearing everything away, when she noticed another message on her screen.

Is next Thursday OK for a meal at the castle?

Freya brushed a stray strand of hair off her face.

Thursday was a whole week away and she was surprised at how disappointed she felt that she wouldn’t be seeing Mack sooner.

‘Thursday,’ she grumbled aloud.

‘Is that OK?’

Freya screamed, the sound echoing in the byre, and she whirled around to find Mack smirking at her from the doorway.

‘I hate you!’ she cried. ‘You scared me half to death.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’ He didn’t sound in the least bit sorry.

‘Liar.’

‘You didn’t reply to my message, so I thought I’d ask you in person. And you still haven’t answered me.’

‘Yes, Thursday is OK.’

He cocked his head to the side. ‘I didn’t expect you to still be here.’

‘I was just about to leave, actually. I lost track of time. Dad will be wondering where I am.’ She picked up her keys and as she walked towards the door, she noticed he had dark circles under his eyes. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Tired, that’s all. I’ve had a busy couple of days.’

Impulsively, she said, ‘Dad and I are having chicken and peanut stew. There’s plenty, if you don’t feel up to cooking this evening.’

Mack ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

She thought he’d refuse, but instead he said, ‘That would be great, thanks. I’ll need a shower first, though.’

‘I’ll go on ahead. Be at mine for six thirty?’

He nodded and she hurried off, thinking she could do with a shower herself.

‘Mack is joining us,’ she told her father when she arrived home. His

eyes lit up and she knew she was in for an evening of boats, tides and

fishing talk.

As she prepared the stew, he told her about his afternoon.

‘Norman came to see me while you were out. He brought me a couple of bars of chocolate. That was nice of him, wasn’t it? And Rhona knocked on the door to tell me she was off to the mobile library and ask if she could fetch me something. I told her anything by James Patterson. What are you making?’

‘Chicken and peanut stew.’

‘What’s that?’ He pointed at the jar she was holding.

‘Peanut butter.’

‘You’re putting it in a stew ?’

‘I am.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘It’s really tasty,’ she assured him. She put the lid on the pan and turned the heat down to a simmer. ‘I’m going to have a quick bath while this is cooking.’

Freya could feel his eyes on her as she walked out of the kitchen, and she hoped he would like the stew. Their tastes in food didn’t necessarily align, but she was getting bored with cooking the same old meals.

She was also getting fed up with having to have a bath, and she grumbled to herself as she waited for the tub to fill.

There were a great many things she missed about London and one of them was the power shower in her flat.

She enjoyed a bath as much as anyone, but only when it involved scented bubbles, candles and soft music.

As a quick freshen-up, it left a lot to be desired.

It did the trick, though, and soon she was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, contemplating the contents of her make-up bag.

She got as far as taking the lid off her eyeliner, before wondering why. Eyeliner wasn’t something she usually applied, so why was she thinking about doing so now?

Freya replaced the lid and dropped the eyeliner back in the bag. This wasn’t a date. This was a friend coming to tea. Nothing more. But her pulse leapt every time she thought of Mack, and she was thinking about him far more frequently than was good for her.

A knock on the door sent her hurrying downstairs to answer it, and after letting Mack in, Freya ushered him into the sitting room to keep her dad company while she finished cooking.

As she’d predicted, talk around the dinner table was dominated by all things boat-related. Mack did most of the talking, though, her dad content to ask questions and listen.

‘Does he seem subdued to you?’ she asked Mack when she was cleaning up afterwards. She had sent her father into the sitting room, but Mack had insisted on staying in the kitchen to help.

‘A little.’

Keeping her voice low, she said, ‘He’s lost his sparkle.’

‘He’s been through a lot,’ Mack pointed out, stacking the plates next to the sink.

‘I know, but getting him to smile is hard work. Could he be depressed?’

‘Maybe.’

‘I think he needs to get out more. He really enjoyed lunch out the other day, but he can’t walk far, so we’re a bit limited. Any ideas?’

‘Why don’t I take him to the quay? He’ll like that. I could even take him out on the boat.’

Freya was shaking her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ The boat had a ramp for less able passengers to embark, but how would he cope with the waves? The loch could be choppy, the swell high. Even seated, he might struggle to keep his balance, which would put undue strain on his hip.

‘I’ll take good care of him, Freya. He can sit in the cabin, and I’ll pick a calm day. It’ll be just me and him.’

‘When? You run three trips a day.’

‘Early morning, late evening?’ He shrugged.

Vinnie shuffled into the kitchen. ‘What are you two whispering about?’

Mack caught her eye, questioningly.

Freya bit her lip, then nodded. Mack would take good care of him, she knew.

‘Fancy a boat trip?’ he asked Vinnie.

Her dad’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker in his eyes. And when he nodded wordlessly, Freya realised he was holding back tears.

Without thinking, she rose up on tiptoe to give Mack a kiss on the lips, and the flash of surprise and pleasure on his face made her smile.

However, the speculative look on her father’s face quickly wiped it off. She didn’t want either man to get the wrong idea.

But long after Mack had said good night and her dad had retired to bed, Freya knew that they wouldn’t have got the wrong idea at all. They would have hit the mark. Seeing Mack with her father, the thoughtful, gentle way he had with him, had brought it home to her – she was in love with Mack.

She suspected she had been in love with him when she was a teenager, and it had taken her return to Skye to realise that she had never stopped loving him. But however she felt about him, it didn’t change anything – she would be leaving the island as soon as her dad regained his health.

Her place in this world wasn’t on Skye, even if her heart was.

Mack loved early mornings on the loch. The sea was calm today, low tide exposing glistening rocks and the rippling pools teeming with life. A gentle breeze was blowing away the low mist drifting across the waters and the sun poked through scattered clouds.

Vinnie had said little since Mack had picked him up in the truck, but his eyes were shining and there was a small smile on his face.

Getting him on deck had been tricky, but with care they’d managed it, and Vinnie was now settled at the helm, gazing out to sea with quiet excitement as the boat chugged away from the quayside.

‘It’s been a while,’ he said.

‘Five years, six?’ Mack estimated.

‘Aye, there or thereabout.’

‘You miss it, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

Vinnie could have come out on the Sea Serpent any time, but it never occurred to Mack to ask him. He’d assumed that Vinnie was done with boats when he’d sold the trawler and hadn’t bought himself a dingy. ‘Just say the word, and I’ll take you whenever you want.’

‘I’m not going to put you out. You’ve got enough to be getting on with.’

Mack smiled, knowing that the old man was too stubborn and proud to ask.

‘If you think you’re going to be having your own private trip every time you fancy feeling a wave under your size nines, you’re sadly mistaken.

If you come out on the boat, you’ll be expected to join in with a proper tour.

The only difference between you and a punter is that I won’t charge you. ’

‘I can pay my own way,’ Vinnie growled. ‘I don’t need charity.’

It was the response Mack had expected. ‘Och, it’s not charity I’ll be giving you. You’ll have to pull your weight, like the rest of the crew.’ Mack would make sure that Vinnie didn’t do much – just enough so he didn’t feel he was getting a free ride.

‘We’ll see.’

‘The offer is there.’ Mack thought Vinnie might need a while to come around to the idea.

‘I can’t do anything with a gammy hip,’ Vinnie grumbled.

‘You’re not going to have a gammy hip forever, so let’s see how you feel when it’s healed. Are you hungry?’

Vinnie’s eyes lit up. ‘I could manage a bite.’

‘How about we drop anchor off the castle? I’ve brought us some bacon sandwiches and a flask of tea.’