Page 74 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Wondering whether she’d had any calls or messages this morning, she was about to reach into her bag to check, when her dad squeezed her hand.

‘You’re a good daughter.’

Freya knew that wasn’t true. She should have visited more often, phoned him more frequently. And she definitely shouldn’t have felt as irritated with him as she had over these past couple of weeks. She’d had to keep reminding herself that he was set in his ways and that however much he loved her and she him, it couldn’t be easy having her invade his space.

‘I’ll give it a go,’ he said, patting his shirt pocket and bringing out his tablets. ‘But you’ll have to keep reminding me.’

‘Don’t worry, I will!’

The peace of mind it would give her would far outweigh the amount of nagging she was going to have to do.

Mack knew a bawbag when he saw one, and the guy wearing an obviously brand-new and expensive Barbour jacket, and carrying a camera with a telescopic lens that was big enough to see a speck of dust on the moon, was clearly it.

‘We’ve got a right one here,’ Angus muttered in Mack’s ear as he walked into the cockpit. ‘He’s just told me he wants to sit up top.’

Mack flicked a couple of switches and grunted. ‘You might want to ask him whether he can read the sonar while he’s there. He might be better at it than you.’

‘Cheeky blighter! I told him he has to sit on the deck with the rest of them. Up top, my hairy… And have you seen the size of his camera? I reckon he has to have a big one to compensate for the size of his willy.’

Mack barked out a laugh. ‘I won’t argue with you, but he’s one of the castle’s guests and we need to treat him with the same respect we treat all our passengers, small willies notwithstanding.’

‘Aye, aye, Skip.’ Angus sprang to attention and gave him a mock salute. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘I know. Are we ready to cast off?’

‘I’ll go take a look.’

Mack grinned. Angus was as down-to-earth as it got. He called a spade a spade, but Mack knew that he’d be professional in front of the passengers, even if one of them appeared to be a dick. Mhairi’s trips paid well, and it wasn’t as though they’d never had difficult passengers in the past, as they’d had their fair share.

Thinking about Mhairi reminded him that he needed to have a chat with her about booking a table for dinner. He’d pop in this evening and have a word.

Angus was back. ‘All aboard, so we can set sail.’

‘You’re not on a yacht.’ Mack chuckled.

‘I wish I was. I wouldn’t say no to a trip around the Med.’

‘You’re having a trip around Loch Duncoorie instead, and you’re going to enjoy it.’

‘Is that a threat or a warning?’

‘It’s an observation.’ Mack pressed a couple more buttons. ‘Go on, admit it, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You love it here.’

‘That’s true enough, but a wee holiday on a white coral beach wouldn’t go amiss.’

As Mack steered the boat away from the quay, Angus’s words lingered in his mind.

A holiday would be nice. He hadn’t had one of those in years, too busy building up the business and renovating his house. Not to mention the cost. If he was going to have a holiday, though, he wanted it to be somewhere warm, where sun was guaranteed and not the hit-and-miss affair it was in the UK. And he didn’t want kiss-me-quick hats and an arcade at the end of a pier. He wanted palm trees and a hammock. He didn’t want fish and chips on a windy promenade, or a pint and a bag of crisps in a beer garden, either. What he wanted was cocktails on a sun-drenched beach and a bowl of olives to nibble on. And tanned women in skimpy bikinis, with long legs and…auburn hair and freckles?

His brain provided him with an image of Freya, and he sucked in a breath.

Now, why would it be doing that? He really must stop thinking about her. She was taking up more space in his head than anyone he’d ever met. Trust him to have developed feelings for a woman who would be out of his life in a matter of weeks. Karma must be having a right laugh at his expense.

Hoping there was something important in her inbox, Freya took her mobile out of her bag, but not before she’d hunted for her dad’s phone and made sure he put it in his trouser pocket. He gave her a resigned look and she chalked it up as a win, relieved that no nagging had been required.Thistime, at least.

After filling the kettle and plugging it in, she took her phone off airplane mode and… Dear God! She had three missed calls from Hadrian, but he hadn’t left a voicemail or sent her a message.

With a hand to her heart, she called him back, her mind filled with worry. This was so unlike him; something must be very, very wrong, and she prayed he was OK. She mightn’t love him, but she did still care for him, and the thought of him being ill or injured made her feel sick.

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