Page 32 of The Castle in the Bay

The song trailed off, and she opened her eyes to see Monty gazing at the horizon.

‘You know…’ He blinked and looked at his feet. ‘I didn’t really believe in this island until I came here. Obviously, I knew it existed, but I didn’t get what the fuss was about. I wish now I’d listened more carefully to my father’s stories.’ He glanced at her. ‘I’m aware how much you hate incomers with crazy genealogy stories, but I do genuinely feel somehow attached to this place.’

Iona turned to face him. ‘I’m an incomer myself, though I’ve been here a couple of years now. Your story might be true. I just object to tourists who come here thinking they have some claim to the island and believing that claim gives them the right to act as they please with no respect for the people who live here. And when they insist on their ideas being fact it annoys me – especially when it’s something that they’re telling others about without giving the island a chance to be heard or to defend itself. I guess that all sounds crazy, but I know what I mean.’

‘No, I get it.’ Monty took a deep breath. ‘You want the island to be known for its authenticity, not the stories people make up – especially ones with little basis in fact.’

‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘Nicely put. What was your father’s story?’

‘I can’t even fully remember. According to him, our branch of the MacNeils was descended from the illegitimate son of one of the MacNeils of Kisimul. He believed we were diddled out of Kisimul Castle because the chief was persuaded not to wed the woman for political reasons. So she and her child were never officially recognised. He reckoned our ancestors were the rightful heirs. It was a big point of pride and frustration for him.’

‘That’s quite a story.’ Iona didn’t like to mention she’d heard many like it before. ‘I think Catriona’s mum mentioned talking to a visitor about that before. Do you believe it?’

He shrugged, a half-smile on his lips. ‘It’s a family legend, but there’s no way of knowing if it’s true or not.’

‘Exactly.’ She glanced up at him. Had he read her mind?

‘It happened too long ago, and records weren’t well kept, or even wholly accurate. Evidence was easily covered up with money. My dad was always so passionate about it. He’d go on about how we should reclaim our heritage, our rightful place.’

‘And now you’re doing it.’

‘Not really. I mean, I love what I’ve seen of the island already, but I’m not planning on storming Kisimul Castle or anything so ridiculous.’ Monty tapped his finger on his mug. ‘I wish I’d listened to what my father had told me and that we could have come here together. Maybe I should speak to Catriona’s mum.’

‘She sometimes has good days. You could ask Catriona. And at least you came.’ Iona looked out at the sea. ‘Not everyone would have. Or they might have come, scattered the ashes and gone again. You’ve at least given yourself time to get to know the island.’

‘I suppose. My father would probably have been one of the tourists you didn’t like. He’d have expected you to serve him as clan chief MacNeil.’

‘Are you serious?’

Monty laughed. ‘No. But he would probably have tried to make you believe his version of the truth.’

‘And you’re not going to do that?’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Monty downed his hot chocolate, then raised an eyebrow at her.

Iona grinned, shivering a little. The wind had picked up and was gusting hard. Her hot chocolate was finished, and she wasn’t in particularly warm clothes. Her thin t-shirt and jeans would have been fine if the sun had stayed, but it had vanished completely.

Monty let out a sigh, staring ahead again. Iona narrowed her eyes, trying to work him out. He seemed like a different person to the one who’d knocked her off her bike just a few days ago. Maybe she’d just got to know him a bit better. Funny how she’d got so pissed off at him being a crazy tourist, when really, he possibly had more claim to the island than her. Maybe even island blood.Shecouldn’t claim that. Her reasons for being here were all to do with her incompetence. She couldn’t hack city life and she didn’t intend to try ever again.

But randomly, they’d both been pulled to Barra, then thrown together. Was it mere coincidence? Or one of those predestined moments the universe had in store for them? If they were meant to meet, then why? She sneaked another glance at him. Were they meant to help each other? Or was it one way? Was this his party, and she was just here to help him with the ashes?

The wind picked up, tugging at the rug, and half of it lifted, flapping over Monty.

‘I’m being attacked.’ He tugged at it, but the wind was persistent. It caught Iona’s side too, engulfing her, and she squealed, closing her eyes as sand blew around her.

She grabbed the edge of the rug and pulled it over her head like a hood, anchoring it to shield herself from the sandstorm. Monty did the same and suddenly they were very close, wrapped tightly together. A rush of warmth surged through her, not just from the rug, but from the touch as her bare arm rubbed against his. He was radiating heat and her insides ached for it to infuse her with energy. Her tummy clenched and a lower tingle burned her deep. She glanced at him, their faces now inches apart. ‘Keeps the wind off our backs, I guess.’

He turned a little and stared at her, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her lips, sending an electric current zipping through her. She returned the favour, first taking in his amber irises, glowing behind his glasses, then dropping her focus to his lips. They looked soft and had a hint of stubble around them that hadn’t been there when they first met. The rugged island was having an effect on him.

‘Do you enjoy sitting out on beaches in bracing winds with strange men?’ Monty asked, his voice low.

‘Are you a strange man?’ Iona smiled. ‘If you are, you said it, not me. And yeah, I quite like sitting out in any weather here. Even when it’s wild, I like it. Makes me feel alive.’

‘Suits you.’

‘What being alive?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Being wild.’

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