Page 4 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

Mackenzie Burns ran a practised critical eye over the deck of the Sea Serpent .

Whenever his boat was put to sea, he insisted on it being given a thorough hosing-down with fresh water as soon as it returned.

Not only that, the head (or the loo, as customers called it) was scrubbed, any rubbish was removed, the cockpit was wiped down, and all the gauges were checked to ensure they were working and the engine was running smoothly.

Mack had already given the hull his customary once-over, scanning it for signs of wear and tear.

To others, it might seem excessive to check it after every trip, but he liked being ahead of the game, hoping to spot minor problems quickly so they didn’t become big, expensive issues further down the line.

After checking the oil, he asked Angus, one of his crew, to flush the engine with fresh water (salt water was incredibly corrosive), while he examined the anchor, the dock lines, and every other line and rope on board. His final task was to inspect the life jackets and buoys.

Mack was fanatical about the safety of his passengers and crew.

Although it might be a pain in the backside after a long day out on the loch to then do all this cleaning and perform all these checks, it had to be done.

He could go home, happy that the Sea Serpent would be ready to set sail tomorrow, when he had three more whale and dolphin trips lined up, all fully booked.

‘See you tomorrow, Skip,’ Angus said, giving him a mock salute as he leapt onto the quay.

Mack saluted him back, feeling faintly ridiculous.

Anyone would think they were in the Navy!

And if any of his crew (he had three people working for him on and off, depending on the time of year and the weather) said, ‘Aye, aye, Cap’n,’ he might just make them walk the plank.

They were a good bunch, though, and he would struggle to run his business without them.

If he saw them in the pub later, he’d do what he always did and buy them a pint or two.

Satisfied that he’d done everything that needed to be done, Mack ensured the boat was secure, then sauntered towards his truck and climbed in.

He was looking forward to a shower, followed by some home-cooked food, courtesy of his mum.

As far as he was concerned, nothing could beat his mum’s cooking.

He dropped in every Friday for his tea, and sometimes during the week as well.

He wondered what was on the menu tonight.

Gossip, certainly, because his mum loved nothing better than to keep abreast of everything that went on in Duncoorie.

His brother would probably get a couple of mentions too, usually in the form of nagging Mack as to, ‘When are you going to find yourself a nice girl like Jinny?’ Jinny was his brother’s wife, and his mum loved her to bits.

Mack couldn’t understand this drive to see him settle down that everyone seemed to have. It pained him that Cal, one of his best mates, had also joined the ranks of happy coupledom, and now was extolling its virtues and trying to get Mack all loved-up.

Mack wasn’t having any of it. He was having too much fun being footloose and fancy-free. Besides, he’d done the serious relationship bit, and it hadn’t ended well. There was no way he was going to risk being hurt a second time.

Forty minutes later, he was striding past a row of five terraced whitewashed cottages.

His mother lived in the middle one. She’d moved in a few years back, after Mack had bought his own place, saying that the three-bed family home was too big for her and the wrap-around garden too much to cope with.

He had to admit that this cottage was rather cute.

The two bedrooms were built into the loft, and although small, they were light and airy due to the skylights set into both sides of the grey slate roof.

With a kitchen on one side of the little vestibule and a sitting room on the other, it was the perfect size for her.

When he entered the kitchen, his nose began working overtime as he sniffed the delicious aroma of frying sausages. His mum was at the stove, her face red from the heat, and she beamed when she saw him.

‘What are we having?’ he asked, giving her cheek a quick peck as he peered into a bubbling saucepan.

‘Sausage and neeps.’

‘And onion gravy?’

‘You and your gravy.’ Jean rolled her eyes. ‘I’m mashing carrots in with the neeps.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you don’t eat enough veg,’ she said.

‘Neeps is veg.’

‘Swede only counts as one of your five a day.’

‘Potatoes don’t?’ he teased, and she waved a spatula at him.

‘Go lay the table, else I’ll feed your sausages to the dog.’

Mack laughed out loud. ‘We haven’t got a dog.’

‘The cat, then.’

‘We don’t have a cat either,’ he pointed out, then hastily glanced around the kitchen in case his mother had suddenly acquired one.

‘Rhona has, although it spends enough time in my house that it may as well be mine,’ she replied.

Mack took some knives and forks out of the drawer and placed them on the table, while his mum drained the pan containing the swede, potatoes and carrots.

‘Have you heard?’ she asked.

Mack grinned. Here we go , he thought, gossip time .

He supposed it was inevitable in a small place like Duncoorie, where everyone knew everyone else – unless they were tourists, of course.

The village, along with the rest of Skye, had a fair number of those.

And very glad he was too; tourists wanting to go whale and dolphin watching were what kept a roof over his head.

‘Heard what?’ he asked.

‘Vinnie’s had a fall.’

Mack pulled a sympathetic face. Vinnie Sinclair owned the end cottage two doors down.

An elderly chap, he lived alone, his wife having passed away many years ago.

He used to have a trawler operating out of the same quay where Mack moored his boat, but that was before Mack had started his whale-watching business.

‘Is he OK?’ he asked, pouring two glasses of water.

‘Broken hip, Rhona reckons. She was the one who found him. Poor man had been lying on the kitchen floor for most of the night. She only heard him because that cat of hers was nagging to go out, otherwise he could still be there. She says they’ve transferred him to Inverness.’

Mack’s heart went out to the old fella. It was awful what old age did to a person, and he thanked God that his mum was fit and healthy.

‘Shall I mash the neeps?’ he asked, selecting a masher from the rack of utensils on the wall.

‘You’re a good wee laddie.’

‘ Wee? ’ He laughed. He towered over his mother by about a foot.

‘I’m just wondering how poor Vinnie will cope. He’ll never manage on his own.’ She reached up to pat him on the cheek. ‘If anything happened to me, at least I’ve got you and Carter to look after me.’

Vinnie’s daughter lived in London and had done so for years. She’d gone to university there and hadn’t come back – not to live, anyway. Mack was aware that she visited her dad now and again, but he hadn’t seen her since school.

As he tucked into his delicious tea, his thoughts lingered on Freya Sinclair and he idly wondered what she was doing now.

Mack supped the pint of dark ale and smacked his lips. He’d had a

good day on the loch and a lovely meal that he hadn’t had to cook

himself ( Thanks, Mum ), and he was now enjoying a pint with his

mates. Even though he had work tomorrow, Friday night down the pub was a

symbolic start to his non-existent weekend.

The place was buzzing, full of locals and tourists alike, and he made his way towards a group in the corner, careful to ensure no one jogged his elbow.

He was pleased to see a good turnout, as not everyone could make it every Friday. His brother, Carter, was there with Jinny. So was his mate Cal along with his better half, Tara, plus a few of the people who worked at Coorie Castle.

Among them was Giselle, and as Mack approached the table, he gave her a speculative look. Would it be worth asking her out again?

‘We’ve saved you a seat,’ his sister-in-law said, removing her handbag from a chair as she noticed him.

‘ Jinny saved you a seat,’ Carter said. ‘If it was up to me, I wouldn’t have bothered.’ He smirked as Mack sat down.

‘You’re just jealous because Mum loves me best,’ Mack shot back.

‘You’re mistaking love for pity, bro. She feels sorry for you.’

‘You’re not funny, you know.’

‘My wife thinks I am.’ Carter patted Jinny’s knee.

‘I really don’t think she does,’ Mack argued. ‘She’s just humouring you for an easy life.’

Jinny rolled her eyes and said, ‘Don’t involve me in your childishness.’ She turned to the others. ‘These two are worse than the kids. Speaking of kids… Calan, I thought this was your weekend to have Bonnie?’

Cal had a daughter who he looked after every other weekend. She was a sweet kid.

He shook his head. ‘I had her two weekends on the trot because Yvaine and Lenn went to Liverpool for a city break.’

Jinny said, ‘Katie will be disappointed; she was hoping to see her.’

Katie (Carter and Jinny’s daughter) was another sweet kid. Mack quite enjoyed being an uncle, and he often took her and her younger brother out on the boat. Ted, especially, loved being on the loch, and Mack always found something his nephew could do so he felt ‘part of the crew’.

As the conversation swirled around him, Mack caught Giselle’s eye.

She smiled shyly, and he hoped it meant she was more receptive to his advances than she’d been the last time he’d asked her out.

‘How’s business?’ he asked.

Giselle’s reply was practically a whisper. ‘Steady.’

Nevertheless, Jinny overheard. ‘ Steady? She’s being modest. Giselle’s stuff flies out the door.’

Mack supposed Jinny ought to know, considering she managed the gift shop up at the castle.

Giselle was one of the talented artists who rented a studio in the castle’s craft centre.

She made the most amazing pictures out of sea glass and other bits and pieces, such as shells, pebbles and driftwood.

He had one of her creations on the wall of his sitting room.

Giselle dropped her gaze and a light blush spread across her alabaster cheeks.

She reminded Mack of the mist that crept over the loch in the early mornings: ethereal and beautiful, and not something you could hold in your hands.

Dreamy ? that was another way to describe her, as well as reserved.

She’d had a studio at the castle for a couple of years and lived in the village, yet he knew next to nothing about her.

Would he like to?

Actually, Mack wasn’t certain he would. He had a feeling Giselle was an all-or-nothing kind of woman, and Mack didn’t want a steady relationship and definitely wasn’t looking to settle down, so maybe he should leave her be. Anyway, he would probably have more luck with a tourist.

There was a group of women who had taken up residence near the bar, and from their laughter he guessed they were having a good time.

Finishing his pint, he got to his feet. ‘Refill, anyone?’ he asked and after some of his mates had taken him up on the offer, he sauntered casually up to the bar and placed the order.

While he waited for the drinks to be poured, he leant back against the counter and pretended to casually glance around.

One of the women smiled at him and Mack smiled back. She held up her glass, and he noticed it was almost empty. But as he was debating whether to buy her a drink, he felt a tap on his elbow.

‘You’ll have as much luck with that lot as you’ll have with Giselle,’ Cal said. ‘I noticed you eyeing her up. If you upset one of my crafters…’ He wagged a finger.

‘ Mhairi’s crafters. She rules the roost.’

Cal narrowed his eyes in mock irritation and reminded him, ‘Mhairi employs me to manage the castle.’

‘And you do it brilliantly.’ Mack chuckled.

‘It won’t be so brilliant if you upset Giselle. Don’t worry, there’s someone out there who’ll make an honest man of you. Just not Giselle.’

Mack was used to the ribbing. ‘An honest man? No chance! I’m not the settling-down type.’

‘You know what your problem is?’ Cal observed. ‘You’ve not found the right woman yet.’

‘I’ve found lots of women.’ Mack fished his wallet out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, caught the woman’s eye again and smiled.

Cal followed his gaze. ‘One of these days someone will give you a taste of your own medicine,’ he warned.

This was also a familiar refrain. Mack couldn’t help it if women found him attractive. He found them attractive, too. He just didn’t want to be tied down, and as long as both parties understood this, he couldn’t see the harm in it.