Page 10 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

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’scrafters. 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.

Chapter 4

When Freya unlocked the door to her father’s house, she felt utterly drained. This past week had been exhausting, worrying and frustrating. Her dad wasn’t the easiest of patients, she’d discovered, and she dreaded the time when he would be allowed to go home and she would be the one responsible for his care. She pitied the poor nurses for having to put up with his surliness. He resented having to be cared for, and she got the feeling he would resent it even more when he was in his own house.

Hopefully, his mood would improve once his mobility started to return, but as both the physio and the occupational therapist had warned, it could be a long journey before he was completely mobile again and able to cope on his own. It didn’t help that Freya had read that three-quarters of people who’d suffered hip fractures were unable to do their own shopping after a year and, more worryingly, over half were still unable to feed or dress themselves.

She hadn’t shared that little nugget with her dad, of course, not wanting to upset him more than he was already. However, if determination was any indicator of recovery, he would be fighting fit in a matter of weeks.

He was still in hospital in Inverness, but Freya had fought tooth and nail to have him transferred to Broadford on Skye, and she’d been informed that they’d be moving him in the morning, which was the main reason she had travelled to Duncoorie today. The other reason was that her dad had been fretting about his cottage, and she hoped to be able to put his mind at rest when she visited him tomorrow. Also, after spending several nights in a hotel, Freya was more than ready to live in a proper house again.

However, he had no idea that she intended to move back in with him for a while. Bless him, he was convinced he’d be able to manage on his own, with a bit of help with his shopping every few days.

She was dreading havingthatconversation with him and had been putting it off, but it was clear he would struggle on his own for a while, so he didn’t have any choice.

Her dad being so helpless and so dependent on others had been distressing for both of them, and she was shocked to discover that her strong, dependable father had grown old, almost overnight. She could see in his eyes that he was aware of how frail he’d become, and he was railing against it with all his might.

As she heaved her case out of the hire car and dragged it into the tiny hall, kicking the door shut behind her, Freya shook her head ruefully. If anyone could beat the odds and make a full recovery, it was her dad.

The house felt chilled and damp, despite the afternoon warmth, and the air smelt stale and musty. It was gloomy too, with the curtains in the sitting room still drawn, and she hurried to open them. Then wished she hadn’t, as she saw the state of it.

‘Oh, Dad,’ she murmured, tears springing to her eyes. Not only did everything look older and more careworn since the last time she was here (which was only three months ago), but there were also little piles of what her mum used to refer to as ‘messes’ everywhere. Used plates, old flyers and leaflets, clothes… And she hadn’t ventured into the kitchen yet.

Her mother would have been horrified. She used to be so house-proud, and had always ensured everything was just so. What had happened for her dad to let standards slide so much?

Freya took in the dresser, with the ornaments she knew so well now covered in a layer of dust thick enough to draw her name in, and her heart ached. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Mum flicking a duster over them. Her most treasured, and the one that brought tears to Freya’s eyes every time she saw it, was the little pot she’d made in high school. Her mum had been so proud of it. Even then, she used to tell people that her daughter was destined to be a potter.

Freya swallowed hard, the memories threatening to swamp her. They made coming back to Duncoorie and to this house difficult, and she didn’t know how she was going to cope with living here for the next few weeks. But she would have to put her grief to one side for her father’s sake, no matter how hard she might find it.

The house was an end-of-terrace; a simple farmworker’s dwelling, it had originally had two downstairs rooms and a small bathroom, but at some point a staircase had been put in and the attic had been converted into two bedrooms.

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