Page 50 of The Midnight Secret

She closed her eyes, reassured...

Effie lay on the banquette, huddled in the blanket, feeling the rhythmic plunge and rise of the boat over the water. It was soothing, somnambulant. How long had she been asleep? She blinked several times, feeling the heaviness in her body and sensing she had been fast off for a while. She had always had an ability to nap for short periods; it was useful in lambing season, and of course when they went to Stac Lee to hunt gannets at night. But a full night of dancing was a different proposition and the boat had been like a cradle, rocking her to sleep...

The sun was sparkling on the sea past the little round windows, diamonds of sunlight glinting off the waves. She frowned. How longhadshe been asleep for?

Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, she carefully made her way up the steps. The wind grabbed at her as she emerged, her hair streaming backwards in lightning-strike blonde streaks and blinding her line of sight, her silk gown pressed back against her body and flapping loudly like the bedsheets on the washing lines at home.

MacLeod stood at the helm just ahead of her. He was reaching over to tighten a sail rope on a cleat to his right.

Effie gasped at the sight of him and immediately twisted to look back along the fore of the deck, searching for Sholto, of course, but Gladly and Colly too...Even Bitsy, Peony and Veronica would be a welcome sight right now.

But there was no one else aboard.

His task completed, MacLeod turned back and startled to see her standing there suddenly, a vision in blonde and emerald green. Immediately his expression mirrored her own.

‘Wait—’ Effie began, confused. This made no sense.

‘Miss Gillies!’ Baird-Hamilton exclaimed. ‘...What the devil are you doing here?’

Chapter Thirteen

‘This isn’t MacLeod’s boat?’ she gasped, staggering over to where he stood, trying to hold her hair back so she could see – but the wind was obdurate, tugging hard.

Baird-Hamilton looked bemused. ‘Sadly not! His is far smarter than this old girl. I just use her for pottering about. Usually in summer, of course. But also when the roads are shot.’

They had to raise their voices to speak over the wind.

‘But...’ Effie looked around her in panic. How could this be happening? ‘But I’m supposed to be on MacLeod’s boat!’

‘Yes, I guessed that.’ A smile played on his lips, his eyes seeming to dance. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I was expecting you to be someone else too.’

It didn’t. Effie stared at him. This was a disaster.

‘But not to worry,’ he said after a moment, seeing she was distinctly less amused by their predicament. ‘I’ve been caught on stickier wickets than this, I assure you.’

‘Where...where are we?’ There was a strong wind at their backs, the mainsail billowing at full reach so that they were flying past sea cliffs and coves, white seabirds diving and gliding on the thermals. It was a familiar landscape, and she felt a reflexive pulse of joy.

‘In the Sound of Raasay. Beautiful, isn’t it? There are always sea eagles over th—’

‘We’re heading south?’ They were going in completely the wrong direction. Dunvegan Castle – Sholto had shown it to her on a revolving globe in Gladly’s library – sat on a promontory on the north-west side of the isle, fronting onto its own sea loch.

‘Indeed, but you see, the great – the very greatest – thing about this vessel, Miss Gillies, is that she turns around.’

He was teasing her, she knew, but she couldn’t smile. What would Sholto be thinking? She had just disappeared into the night! Did he think her drowned? Lost? Would it occur to him that she had somehow ended up on the wrong boat?

‘We have to go back,’ she said urgently.

‘I quite agree,’ he said. ‘But not till this wind has dropped, I’m afraid. These are force five north-westerlies. We’re in the leeside here but if we were to round the Trotternish peninsula now, we’d be exposed to the full force of it. Far too risky.’

‘But MacLeod’s sailing it!’

‘Yes. His yacht is ocean-going. I’m afraid theLady Taraisn’t up to those passes. Speaking of which...’ He reached under the helm to a small stowage compartment. ‘Put this on.’ He handed her a bulky life vest, the same as he was wearing over his green velvet dinner jacket. ‘Pass me the blanket while you put it on.’

She did as instructed, having to turn into the wind again to force her hair to blow backwards while she slipped it on. The dress plastered to her body as she fastened the jacket’s ties. ‘What’s inside this?’ she frowned, feeling hard ridges pressing against her ribs.

‘Cork. Not comfortable, but if you fall in, you’re guaranteed to bob.’

‘Oh.’ She looked back at him, taking back the blanket and clutching it around her again – this time as much for modestyas warmth. A gown by candlelight felt very much like a slip in daylight, and he was watching her with that intense look of his.

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