Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
L ogan awarded me with a cheerful grin as I yanked open his truck passenger door the next morning. ‘Slept well?’
After Logan and I rescued the dolphin yesterday morning and the amount of walking we’d done around the castle grounds, I was still wrestling with weariness. ‘I crashed out,’ I confessed, settling myself in.
‘Not surprised after your heroics,’ he teased. ‘Now, before we go and hit the nature trail at Bayfield Walk, are you OK if I check on my shop first?’
‘Yes. Of course. Everything OK?’
‘I just got a notification on my phone that someone was trying to break in.’
My curiosity was piqued about seeing Rock God and what it was like. And I realised I didn’t like the thought of Logan going to the shop alone, even though it was clear he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d been there for me and Flipper. ‘Crikey. Are you joking?’
‘Nope.’
A sudden burst of a guttural, stray gull somewhere outside my passenger window made me start. ‘Come on then. Let’s go. You might need backup.’
I could see Logan trying to bury an amused smile. ‘OK, Bat Girl.’
‘Have you alerted the police?’ I asked, as we made our way along the sleepy Portree streets towards his shop.
Logan’s peppered jaw was pensive beside me as he concentrated on the road. He looked sexily dishevelled, as though he’d just fallen out of bed. Don’t go there. Darcie.
‘No. Not yet.’
‘Don’t you think you should? If someone’s trying to break into your business?—’
‘Well, I think they are. At least it looked like that on the CCTV.’
Logan flipped me a side eye. The morning light through the windscreen was like whipped cream with splashes of raspberry, swallowing up the remnants of the dark. It was sparking off the polished shop windows showcasing Easter displays of daffodils, chocolate eggs and cuddly bunnies.
‘My CCTV isn’t great quality at the best of times, but I have a movement sensor and that went off.’
I performed another big yawn and clamped one hand over my mouth. ‘Sorry. It could’ve been a cat,’ I suggested.
Logan’s brows bunched together. ‘It looked like it had a pretty big shadow for a cat.’
I shrugged. From what Logan was telling me, it still sounded like this mercy dash up to Rock God was going to be a complete waste of time.
The faint smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from somewhere intermingled with the sound of clanking milk bottles and crates.
I gave my face a ferocious rub again, trying and failing to wake myself up.
The centre of Portree was so tranquil at this time of day, a peaceful network of streetlamps craning their necks and silent pavements. The sky was promising another sun-drenched spring day. I recalled the gleaming sunshine lighting up the scenery yesterday. My heart gave an odd little skip.
Rock God was situated up the next lane, sandwiched between a candle shop and a newsagent.
Logan parked up outside and we both jumped out.
The front of Rock God consisted of a black granite effect, with white windowsills and one, large panoramic window. Displayed in it were an assortment of glittery rocks, crystals and minerals. They were set out on silver painted shelves, exhibiting everything from polished birthstones and crystalline structures to copper-wire-wrapped crystal pendants, shiny toffee and caramel striped agates, and a polished tiger’s eye stone.
The discreet spotlights studding the ceiling of the window made the calcite paperweights glow.
I spun round to Logan. ‘You’ve been hiding your light well and truly under a bushel, Mr Burns.’
‘What do you mean?’
I threw one impressed hand towards the glowing window display. It seemed to warm the surrounding early morning pavement. ‘I didn’t know you stocked all this.’
Logan’s generous mouth hitched up at one corner. ‘I never used to. The likes of the chakra tumble stones and jewellery pieces were Iona’s idea.’ He pulled the shop door key out of his canvas trouser pocket. ‘She said it would attract a more diverse clientele and appeal to the tourists. I was happy with my celestites and apophyllites.’
‘Sounds painful.’
Logan pushed a sarcastic expression at me. ‘Very funny.’ He gave the black granite style shop door a rattle. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone has broken in. Better just check inside.’
I followed him in off the deserted street, the murmur of the water in the harbour just a short walk away the only noise breaking the silence.
‘That’s strange,’ Logan remarked, flicking on the light switch just inside the door. ‘The security alarm doesn’t seem to have been tripped.’
A further set of spotlights bathed the darkened interior of the shop in an almost ethereal, vanilla hue.
It illuminated the cherrywood floor and silver fittings.
Shelves ran along the walls, groaning under the weight and responsibility of more impressive stones and alien-like clusters of crystals.
At the far wall was the counter and till and there were a number of paintings filling the space, depicting rock caves on Skye, with mountains with names like ‘Edin bane’ and ‘Oisgill’.
Logan made his way around the interior of Rock God . ‘It doesn’t look like anything’s been taken either.’
‘So, it was probably only a cat then.’ I yawned. I’d better get myself together. Logan was taking me on a local nature walk after this, and I didn’t want to look like a London softie.
Logan sighed and rifled a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry, Darcie. Seems like it was a wasted trip.’ He hesitated. ‘But I definitely thought I saw something or someone lurking outside.’
I admired a Skye marble sphere on one of the shelves. ‘Probably your imagination. Sometimes, our eyes and our minds play tricks on us. At least we didn’t get here to find the place ransacked and your takings gone.’
Logan looked like he was about to laugh. ‘Aye, they’d have a fine old time with the takings I’ve had recently.’
I frowned at him. Sounded like Rock God could do so much better.
Logan cast another look around the premises, wandering into the back of the shop to check his office and the store room.
Once he was satisfied nothing had been taken, he held the shop door open for me and we strode back out onto the silent pavement.
The other shops huddled together, their windows sparking with the splinters of more pearly morning light breaking through.
It was just as Logan was locking up again that there was a loud clattering sound. It seemed to come from the left-hand lane, which snaked its way down past Rock God.
I gasped. ‘What the hell was that?’
But Logan was already on his way to investigate. He started to edge down the side of the shop. ‘Sounds like it was the bins.’ He studied me. ‘Still a cat?’
‘Let’s hope so,’ I muttered.
Logan was now striding faster away from me, into the shadowy lane. ‘Hey. Hold on!’ I hissed at his back.
There was a set of plastic bins lined up like soldiers right down the far end and an old rusty gate that looked like it led out into the next street. A couple of other metallic bins had been knocked over, their contents spilling everywhere. That must’ve been what we heard.
‘Do you think it could be a prowler?’ My voice came out in a worried hush.
Logan looked at me. ‘Whoever it is or whatever it is, you’re with me.’ He shot me a reassuring smile. ‘I’m Rock God , remember?’
My stomach fluttered like the branches of a tree on a windy day.
I gathered myself. ‘Look, let’s just leave. It was most likely a cat who knocked those bins over, and there’s no sign of a break-in; you said so yourself.’
Logan and I set about up righting the bins and stuffing the assorted rubbish back inside.
‘Yeah. You’re probably right. Come on.’
We had started to make our way back up the lane at the side of Rock God , when there was an odd noise from the other side of the old gate.
We exchanged glances.
‘You heard that as well?’ whispered Logan out of the corner of his mouth.
I nodded, my eyes wide in my face.
We both turned and crept as if in slow motion back down towards the bins and the gate. There it was again. It sounded like a ragged breath.
Logan put one finger to his lips in a ‘Sssh!’ gesture.
With his other hand, he slid it onto the wrought iron gate and mouthed, ‘Three, two…’ and jerked it open.
Logan shot out into the next street. I could hear a scuffle and cursing.
Oh God! What was going on? Was Logan being hurt? What if there was someone there and they were carrying a weapon?
I stared wildly around myself, before snatching one of the steel dustbin lids and gripping it in one hand. If anyone was hurting Logan, I could give them a whack over the head with it.
Without deliberating what might be happening a moment longer, I burst out through the open gate.
The sight that greeted me was Logan struggling with a scruffy, older gent.
‘Would you kindly take your hands off me, young man!’
The stranger was dressed in a shabby, herringbone winter coat and his features were obscured by a bushy black beard and long unkempt hair. His accent surprised me. It was cultivated, Scottish but with a hint of English pronunciation.
Logan glowered down at the struggling man as he gripped him by the arm. ‘What the hell are you doing, creeping about my shop?’
The man tried to straighten his coat, as though it were a designer Burberry affair. ‘I was admiring your window display.’
Logan blinked at him in the early morning light. A lone gull screeched into the air, as it flapped overhead. ‘What, at this time in the morning?’
The mystery man shuffled in his black, scuffed boots. ‘I suffer with insomnia and I’ve nothing better to do.’
Logan looked over at me, incredulous.
‘I wasn’t trying to break in,’ insisted the man, wrapping himself deeper in his coat.
‘So, what were you going to do then?’ pushed Logan.
I pulled an exasperated expression. This was all very fascinating, but I just wanted to get going. We had a lot to do today to accumulate more material for the travel guide.
The man squinted out at both of us from under frowning, black and grey tinged brows. ‘I’m interested in geology.’
Logan folded his arms. ‘Oh aye?’
The stranger flicked him an indignant look out of his intense, hazel eyes. ‘Yes. Really, young man. There’s no need to look at me like that. I’m not in the habit of lying.’ He thrust out his beard. ‘I understand Moonen Bay is a good place for the pale green, clear apophyllite.’
Bloody hell. Was it just me or was this situation and my time on this island becoming more surreal by the day? Here I was, at not even eight o’ clock in the morning, on the Isle of Skye, witnessing a weird conversation about rocks.
I gave my confused eyes a rub. Nope. I wasn’t imagining it.
Logan was shooting the man a series of curious glances. ‘Aye. That’s right. Can be up to about twenty millimetres in length, some of it.’
The man nodded his mop of messy, black hair. It had shards of grey in it.
The morning was breaking now, like a delicately cracked egg in the sky.
The bearded gent spoke again. ‘Light cream to black erionite there too, if you look hard enough.’
My attention followed Logan to the man and back again. This was bewildering. What in the name of God were they talking about?!
The man shifted in front of a bemused looking Logan. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve tried to find the Skye Lovers’ Cross at all?’
Logan pulled a disbelieving expression. ‘I’m a geologist, not Indiana Jones. And anyway, it doesn’t exist.’ He continued to appraise the man. ‘Are you local? You seem to know an awful lot about round here.’
There was no reply.
Logan continued to study him. ‘You seem familiar, somehow.’
The man dropped his head.
I started to ask what this Skye Lovers’ Cross was, but was stopped in my tracks by the sight of the man breaking away from us and taking himself off down the street at a run. Logan didn’t seem to register what was happening for a moment. ‘Hey!’
‘He’s gone. Just leave it,’ I suggested. ‘He didn’t break in or steal anything.’
Logan, frustrated, sighed and rubbed at his stubble. ‘Aye. You’re right. It’s not worth reporting it to the police.’ Logan looked thoughtful. ‘I’d still like to know what the hell he was doing though, lurking around the shop.’
Logan gave the empty street and the direction in which the man had fled a narrowed gaze before we stepped back through the old gate, and he clicked it shut behind us.
‘What’s the Skye Lovers’ Cross he was talking about?’ I asked.
Logan strode on ahead, back down the side of the shop, with me behind him. ‘It’s an old fable around these parts.’
‘Go on. You can’t just leave it at that. Tell me.’
He pulled a dismissive face over his shoulder. ‘It’s only really locals on Skye that know about it. That’s why I’m wondering if he comes from the island.’ He frowned. ‘You know, I’ve got a feeling I know him from somewhere.’
We returned to the front of Rock God . The sky looked even prettier now, like a bowl of whipped cream, trailing across the harbour.
‘The story about the Skye Lovers’ Cross is said to be connected to the Vikings,’ explained Logan, as we reached his truck. ‘The Vikings are thought to have invaded Skye as early as 794. Norse living is very evident here.’
Even though my eyes felt like two poached eggs, I wanted to hear Logan talk and focused hard. The lilt of his deep, Scottish accent was warming. ‘Go on,’ I pressed. ‘Please.’
‘I didn’t think someone like you would be interested in fairy tales.’
‘Because I’m such a hard-nosed cynic?’
Logan’s lips trembled, but he didn’t say anything. He unlocked the truck doors and we got in. ‘OK. So, the story goes that it all started at a battle between two clans, the MacAskill’s and the MacLeod’s, in the twelfth century.’
Logan looked over at me again, out of those dazzling pale eyes of his. ‘At the same time as these clan battles, there was an impressive Viking warrior around, called Garth. He’d heard about Skye and came looking to see what all the fuss was about. He rocked up at dawn one misty morning with his fellow warriors in his ship, Ulfr.’
‘Ulfr?’
‘It’s the Scandinavian word for wolf.’
‘Ah.’
‘As you might imagine, Garth and his men marauded all over the place, and during their pillaging, they stumbled over an old cottage up by the Cuillins. Garth and his crew were about to break into the cottage and take what they could, when Garth heard noises coming from inside.’
Logan paused for dramatic effect.
My bleary eyes popped, as I stared across at him. ‘Come on, Burns. Out with it. What was the noise?’
Logan’s expression was cynical. ‘I honestly thought this tale might not be your cup of tea.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged his broad shoulders under his fleece. ‘Because it’s quite romantic, I suppose.’
‘And you don’t think I’d appreciate romance?’ There was a part of me that felt wounded.
‘I don’t know. You come across as a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense kind of girl.’
‘You mean unfeeling?’
‘No.’ Logan laughed. ‘Anyone who was unfeeling wouldn’t have waded into the North Atlantic at ridiculous o’clock in the morning to help a dolphin.’
I tried to push Logan’s observations about me to one side. Yes, OK. I could come across as rather stand-offish at times, but I didn’t mean to. I think it was more of a defence mechanism. In the media industry, it can be difficult at times to tell who your real friends are. And after losing my parents, I closed off. I only allowed my aunt and uncle in. Romance seemed to demand too much, opening you up to hurt and disappointment. At least, that was my track record with it, as my bruised heart and emotions could testify.
A thought prodded at me. What did it matter what Logan thought of me anyway? But the nagging fact was, it did matter to me. It irked. ‘Anyway, enough about me. Please tell me about Garth and what happened next.’
‘OK. So, when he and his men ventured inside the cottage, they found a pretty young woman and an old man inside.’
‘Father and daughter?’
Logan sighed and adjusted his propped arm on the driver side door. ‘Are you telling this story or me?’
I bit my lip. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s alright. I can tell you’re desperate to hear more. I get that. It’s my sexy voice and charismatic delivery.’
Logan’s face split into a devilish grin.
My stomach performed an impressive back flip. ‘Yep. That’ll be it.’ I hoped my voice was dripping with sarcasm. ‘You were saying?’
Logan concentrated again. ‘Well, it wasn’t father and daughter in the cottage. Turned out the old guy was the young woman’s husband. Her clan had married her off to one of the other clan leaders, by way of trying to strengthen their numbers and authority.’
I tutted in disgust. ‘Poor her. So, what then?’
‘Legend has it, that the old goat, Bran McMaster, was hurting young Bella McKew. As soon as he saw that, Garth was straight in there and rescued Bella.’
‘Good for him,’ I said.
‘Aye, but it was then that things got even more out of hand. In the struggle to save Bella, Garth pushed McMaster and he fell backwards, striking his head on the corner of the table. He died on the spot.’
‘Jesus,’ I breathed, seeing the ensuing melee in my imagination.
‘You can say that again. So, Garth whisked Bella away on his Viking ship. At first, she didn’t want to go. Her family was here on Skye. It was all she’d ever known.’
I continued to listen, enthralled. ‘What happened? What made her change her mind about leaving the island?’
‘Not what. Who. Garth,’ replied Logan simply. The morning light was casting shadows down his face through the windscreen, while he sat there, regaling me with this enthralling tale. ‘Garth fell in love with Bella there and then and won her over. It’s said Bella was no push-over, though. Made him work to win her hand.’ He appraised me. ‘She sounds a bit like you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A woman who knows her own mind.’
We swapped a prolonged look as the wakening sky glowed vanilla. ‘But what about Garth taking her away from Skye? Where did they go?’
‘Garth and his crew took Bella back to Norway and they were eventually married there. Had four children, by all accounts.’
‘And did Bella ever return to Skye?’
Logan nodded. ‘Eventually. Several years later. It’s said that Bella still hankered after the island. She was born here, raised here. Skye ran through her bones.’ Logan’s eyes softened as he talked. ‘It has that effect on a lot of people.’
‘And what happened when Bella and Garth came back?’
The tentative sunshine danced through his hair. ‘It didn’t end well, I’m afraid. Bella wanted to visit her sister and they arranged a secret meeting here on the island, but her brother-in-law found out about it and betrayed her.’
I clapped one shocked hand to my mouth. ‘No!’
‘Yep. When Bella and her sister met up, little did they know that McKew and McMaster clan members were waiting for them. They were ambushed.’
Logan shifted in his seat. ‘One of the locals got word to Garth and his men. They’d been deliberately sidetracked by the two clans, with hospitality and ale, so they could capture Bella and her sister.’
‘Did Garth rescue Bella then?’
‘He tried, but by the time he and his crew made it up to Kilt Rock, Bella was in real danger.’ Logan continued. ‘There was a battle to try and get her back, but Bella had been told that Garth was already dead by this time.’ Logan hesitated. ‘It was a lie, but Bella didn’t know that, and she was distraught; so much so, that it’s said she managed to get away and threw herself to her death from the top of Kilt Rock.’
I let out a horrified gasp. ‘That’s awful. And what about Garth?’
‘He was the one who discovered her broken body lying on the shore. He insisted on taking Bella back to Norway for a proper Viking funeral. And that’s where the Skye Lovers’ Cross comes in. To commemorate his late wife, Garth insisted on a token of his love being made in her honour, by one of his craftsmen. But on seeing the piece of jewellery, Garth didn’t think it was beautiful enough and went into a rage.’
‘What happened?’
Logan eyed me. ‘Garth was said to have tossed the pendant off the top of Kilt Rock when he came back to Skye to seek revenge for Bella’s death.’
I digested this. ‘That’s so sad. And was the cross ever found?’
Logan’s brows arched. ‘It depends on who you speak to. Some locals say it was discovered and Bella’s mother buried it somewhere on the island. Others say it doesn’t exist and the whole story is up there with the Loch Ness Monster and little green men.’
I examined his pensive face. ‘And what do you think?’
Logan let out an amused sigh. ‘I’d like to think that the Skye Lovers’ Cross was real and is buried somewhere here on Skye, but I wouldn’t bet money on it.’
I screwed up my eyes in sudden concentration. ‘That man just now with the beard, he was going on about it, wasn’t he?’
Logan nodded. ‘That’s what made me think he might be local. Nobody, apart from islanders, really knows the story, and anybody not from Skye, whose heard about it, tends to laugh it off as some tall tale.’
I turned over the tragic story in my mind. Romance, passion, grief … it had it all. It’d be great to mention the story in my travel guide.
I yawned yet again. ‘Sorry.’
Logan smiled and encouraged me on. ‘Come on, sleepy head. We’ll head for the nature trail. Some fresh air will do you good.’