Page 82 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

‘How about ten?’

‘You’re winding me up.’

‘I’m guessing the taxi situation isn’t any better than it was when we were kids?’

‘Nope. If we phone now, we might get one before midnight and that’s assuming a cab will come all the way from Portree.’

‘I’ll have to take my chances and walk,’ she said, hoping her feet wouldn’t be rubbed raw by the time she got home.

‘No, you won’t. I’ll phone Cal or Angus.’ He pulled a face and Freya guessed he wasn’t keen on phoning either. ‘Or my mum,’ he added. ‘She’ll come fetch you.’

Freya shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll walk. It’ll sober me up.’

‘You’re not drunk.’

She wasn’t, and neither was he. She’d noticed that he’d been nursing his whisky, not gulping it. Still, it was kind of him to let her intrude on his evening. She hadn’t meant to burst into tears, and she wasn’t the weepy type, but the stress of the past month had finally caught up with her.

She had to admit that she felt better for having had a little cry, and the restorative whisky had also helped. So had Mack. His calm support had been just what she’d needed to help her see reason and get her back on an even keel.

‘We’ll take it slow,’ Mack said and Freya bit her lip, trapping in the ‘Yes, please,’ she’d almost let slip, as the thought of an entirely different kind of slow to the one he’d meant popped naughtily into her mind.

Dear God, she shouldn’t have drunk that whisky on an empty stomach. Lunch, even though it had been a late one, had been hours ago.

‘Do you need anything before we set off?’ Mack asked.

Hmm, yeah,you. ‘Such as?’

‘Is there anything in your van you can’t live without until tomorrow?’

Oh. ‘No, nothing.’

‘Hang on, I’ll grab some plasters. There’s some in the first-aid kit.’

She hovered in the hall while he rummaged through the bathroom cabinet. ‘You’ve got a first-aid kit?’

‘Hasn’t everyone?’

Not really. Hadrian hadn’t.

Mack emerged from the bathroom with several plasters in his hand. ‘Do you think these will be enough?’

‘Plenty. I hope.’ If they weren’t, her feet would be in serious trouble.

They set off at a gentle stroll, Freya thinking that this wasn’t so bad. The shoes weren’t uncomfortable as such, she simply wasn’t used to walking any distance in them. That was what her Doc Martens and trainers were for.

‘I saw you at the castle,’ Mack said. ‘You were in the lounge.’

Surprised, Freya gave him a sideways look. ‘I didn’t seeyou.’

‘You were busy.’

‘Ah.’ She took it to mean that he’d seen her with Hadrian. How embarrassing. ‘Did you manage to book a table?’ she asked.

‘Um, not really. I wasn’t sure when you would be free.’

A thought caught her off-guard, coming out of left field, and she stumbled. Mack’s arm immediately snapped around her waist, keeping her upright.

‘Are you OK?’

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