Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
A fter a wonderful hot breakfast of fried eggs, potato scones and bacon (sod nibbling on a salad – I’d been through a trauma), which Logan conjured up on his camping stove, we washed it down with the best mug of tea I’d ever tasted.
Once we’d cleared up and packed away our camping equipment, we clambered into Logan’s truck. I’d stuck to my guns about only camping for one night and used my experience rescuing Flipper as an excuse to return to civilisation, and Logan seemed resigned to the fact that being battered by sea winds whilst trying to sleep wasn’t my idea of a good time.
‘The closest public showers are twenty-five miles away.’
Of course they were. Thank goodness I wouldn’t be camping again tonight. I’d dried off the best I could, but I was certain salt water and dried shell fragments were now lodged into places where they shouldn’t be.
At least I’d been able to throw on fresh, dry clothes and I was now wearing one of the new cable-knitted jumpers I’d bought the other day and a pair of jeans.
As Logan negotiated the winding roads that were laced around the island like black ribbon, I tugged down the truck mirror.
I immediately wished I hadn’t.
I looked horrific. Lavender smudges of weariness were under my eyes, topped off by my static explosion of roughly towel-dried hair.
I pushed the mirror back up and inwardly cringed.
If Justine could see me now, she’d be reaching for her migraine tablets.
Our backpacks were nestled side by side on the back seat, and I reached back and located my mobile, which I’d stuffed into the front pocket.
‘You going to take a selfie?’ asked Logan, glancing over as he guided the steering wheel.
‘Are you joking? Looking like this? I’d frighten small kids.’
‘That’s what happens when you morph into Wonder Woman.’
I gave him a wry look. ‘All I want right now is a hot shower and to wash my hair. I won’t feel so much like an extra from Dawn of the Dead after that.’
Logan grinned through his stubble. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you look pretty. Natural.’
I fidgeted in the passenger seat. ‘I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.’
‘Believe me, it is.’ Logan’s eyes glittered across at me, while drizzles of morning sun broke through the clouds.
Was he flirting with me? I looked like something awful dredged up from the bottom of the ocean.
As he returned his attention to the road, I pushed the thought away and made myself concentrate on the reason why I was remaining on Skye for the next three weeks. ‘I can barely contain myself in anticipation of what our next thrill’s going to be.’
Logan’s full lips flickered. ‘It’s a surprise.’
I found myself smiling. ‘That means it’s going to be something equally as horrendous as wild camping.’
‘Oh, ye of little faith.’
‘No, I’m just realistic.’
Logan squinted over at me as he eased us up behind another vehicle on the road. ‘You’re looking at your phone again.’
‘Well done. Nothing much gets past you.’ My attention bored into River Banks’s latest procession of sun-drenched images for her Techno Phones campaign. Her cheeks were buffed and her glossed lips parted in a self-satisfied pout as she brandished a shiny mobile whilst stretched out on a sunbed. Meanwhile, here I was, sitting in a mud-splattered truck, smelling of sea salt and rescued dolphin.
I frowned over at Logan. ‘It’s like I said. This is my career.’
I spotted his eyebrows rise.
‘Don’t you use social media for your shop, Rock God ?’
‘You remembered the name.’ He smiled, dancing around my question. ‘I’m impressed.’
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. ‘Well, it’s hardly understated.’
There was another humorous look from him. ‘I guess not.’
I surveyed Logan as he slowed down to allow some meandering cattle to trot across the road. ‘So, do you?’
‘Do I what?’
‘Do you use social media for your business?’
‘I’ve dabbled.’
‘Dabbled?’ I gasped in horror. ‘Dabbled?!’
Logan looked amused. ‘By your reaction, anyone would think I’d just committed an armed bank robbery. I’ve been on Facebook in the past and a little on Twitter.’
‘It’s called X now,’ I explained. I blinked over at him. ‘And that’s it?’ My voice was incredulous.
‘We don’t all run our lives through a mobile phone screen, Darcie.’ He gestured with one hand at my phone. ‘I’m a geologist, remember? I love being outside and in the moment.’ His eyes shone as he glanced out of his driver side window. ‘I want to see everything, taste everything and smell everything as it happens. Skye is like this big jewellery box with so many natural treasures you can never get to the bottom of it.’
The way Logan was talking about the island he called home, with so much passion, made my mouth break into a smile. Then my ambitious, social influencer persona dismissed that. ‘But nowadays, you need to publicise your business. You’ll get left behind otherwise. Does Rock God do well?’
Logan’s expression clouded. It was like the sun was being eclipsed by a thunderstorm. ‘It does OK. It ticks along.’
I twisted round in my seat with growing horror. ‘It ticks along?! You don’t want that.’
‘Don’t I?’
I shook my head, exasperated. ‘Of course not. You want your business to thrive and that means engaging with social media. Putting yourself out there.’
‘Right.’
Logan gestured to the block of public showers coming into view in front of us.
I don’t think I’d ever seen anything so beautiful.
‘Time to freshen up, Ms Freeman.’
* * *
The shower was glorious.
OK, so it wasn’t in some sumptuous spa with gold fittings and fluffy towels, but it had hot, gushing water and the facilities were spotless.
Once I’d scrubbed and shampooed my hair, I slapped conditioner on the ends and took a moment to savour the warmth of the water on my skin. I felt like a new woman when I emerged, all polished, pink and shiny.
I studied myself in the public shower mirrors.
My face was squeaky clean and flushed.
I lathered myself in my favourite macadamia scented body lotion, before throwing my clean jeans back on, together with fresh underwear and my monochrome, stripey V-neck sweater. I sprayed a cloud of my caramel-scented perfume in the air, walked through it and I was good to go.
I stuffed my old clothes, towel and toiletries back in my rucksack and caught up with Logan, who was waiting for me outside the shower block.
His dark brown hair was damp and dishevelled from his shower and he smelled of pine forest.
He’d changed into a chunky, dark blue jumper and matching canvas trousers.
I found my attention lingering on him a little too long.
I suspect he noticed because he arched one brow.
Oh bugger! I gave my head a mental shake. ‘So, dare I ask, Mr Burns, if you’re prepared to give me any clues as to what’s on the agenda today?’
He threw his rucksack effortlessly over one shoulder and made his way towards the truck. ‘You can ask, but I’m not going to tell you. You’ll know when we get there.’
Part of me—a significant part—didn’t like the element of surprise.
‘Then we can grab some lunch and make our way back to Portree. Unless you fancy finding another location to camp in.’
‘I’d rather remove my own fingernails with a screwdriver.’
Logan held up one hand. ‘OK. Fine. I’ll take that as a no then.’ He tugged open the passenger side door for me and I dumped my stuff on the backseat.
‘I like the sound of lunch, though.’
Logan shook his head in mock exasperation. ‘Och, you Londoners. Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘I don’t have one,’ I replied. ‘Well, I do, but I prefer luxurious adventure.’
‘You’ll learn.’ He fired up the ignition and appraised me. ‘You must be knackered after wrestling with Flipper at 5am this morning.’
I tried to stifle a yawn, but it broke free in one long, unladylike moan. ‘I’m fine.’
Logan laughed, making his silvery eyes feather out at the corners. ‘Yeah, looks like it.’
I checked my watch.
Good grief. It was only ten o’clock in the morning and I’d been awake for hours already. ‘I need to get some good research and material today for the travel guide.’
‘You will,’ he assured me. ‘And some quality material at that. I’ll show you how colourful Skye is, even at this time of year.’
I wasn’t convinced.
Logan drove us back the way we came. ‘I was going to get you to climb a Munro, but seeing as you’ve had such a traumatic experience this morning, I thought I’d go easy on you today.’ There was another of his cheeky grins.
My neck began to blotch. I gave it a self-conscious rub. ‘You don’t need to go easy on me,’ I protested, even though secret relief was coursing through me.
He waggled a brow. ‘Be careful, or I’ll remember you said that.’
While Logan focused on the road, I scrolled through my social media accounts and dashed off a few replies to Instagram and TikTok messages.
After a few more minutes, I found my eyelids were beginning to flutter…
* * *
‘Hey, Rip Van Winkle, wake up. We’re here.’
I shot bolt upright, like someone had just dropped several ice cubes down my back.
God, I hoped I hadn’t been dribbling!
I tugged down the mirror and gave my face a quick rub with my hand. Some of my makeup had slid off.
I grimaced and quickly set about fixing it so I was camera ready.
Outside the passenger side window, Dunvegan Loch snaked in a tantalising, icy blue stretch. The sun was out, sparking off the top of the water like scattered diamonds. It looked magical.
‘I’m taking you to see the gardens of Dunvegan Castle. You should be able to get some impressive images there.’
I glanced through the windscreen at the sky, which had morphed into the perfect, powdery blue. ‘Hang on. Didn’t you say you were taking me bird watching today?’
‘I changed my mind. I thought we’d do that another time. Let you recover from this morning.’
‘Thank you, Logan. That’s very considerate of you.’
Logan pretended to jump in shock in his seat. ‘Steady on there. For a moment, I thought you were being nice to me.’
‘Yes. Well. Don’t get used to it.’
I turned my attention to the view through the passenger side window. Crikey! The sunshine had parted the clouds and was lighting up everything in a glorious shade of gold. It was transformative; breathtaking.
I studied the way the sunlight was dancing against the hills, making them into a moving kaleidoscope of emerald, mauve and jade.
I gave him a brief side eye as he parked up in the castle car park.
He angled himself to look round at me, so I pretended to be fascinated by the lit-up horizon.
‘So, your phone and camera all charged?’ he asked. ‘Or is that a redundant question?’
Now it was my turn to raise a questioning brow. ‘What do you think?’
‘Dumb question,’ replied Logan, clambering out of the driver’s side.
I jumped out and stuffed my phone into my rucksack, pulling out my camera to capture some shots of the sky.
Logan locked the truck and led me through the gates.
Once we’d collected our tickets, we set off along a path that snaked its way up past a dizzying array of plants, shrubs and trees.
‘The castle doesn’t officially open again to tourists until April first,’ explained Logan. ‘But I got us special dispensation.’ He grinned.
I tried not to dwell on how good-looking he was. God, he’d be amazing to photograph. He’d make a great study in black and white. I always thought there was something intimate and sexy about monochrome portrait images. He’d be sitting on a wall, staring down the camera at me with those ghost-grey eyes of his, while I captured the angles of his face… I forced my head to clear. ‘How did you manage that? Getting us in here, I mean?’
‘I’ve known old Angus, one of the tour guides here, since I was a kid. He was best mates with my dad.’
‘Does everyone on Skye know everyone else?’
‘Nooo.’ Logan laughed. ‘Well, not everybody, exactly.’ He gestured to my camera. ‘I’d advise you to keep that at the ready. You won’t want to miss this.’
Through the bank of trees, the castle erupted.
Logan guided me down to a viewpoint, revealing Dunvegan Loch and the frilly turrets of the castle. There was clumps of heather and bright yellow, spikey common gorse bushes.
I stood for a moment, taking in the vista. It was gorgeous. It reminded me of a scene from a pop-up fairytale book.
I took a couple of selfies, with the castle emerging behind me, before preparing to take a photo focusing solely on the castle itself. ‘I think I’ll use the bokeh effect for this one. It’ll add depth to the picture.’
‘What’s the bokeh effect?’ asked Logan, intrigued.
‘It’s when you deliberately have an out-of-focus effect. It keeps the subject—the castle—crisp and clear, while the background is soft and blurry.’
After I took more pictures, this time capturing the early spring yellow blooms that Skye is known for – lesser celandine, cowslips and even primroses – we crossed a little lattice bridge to the Water Gardens.
‘So, what do you think?’
I breathed in the delicate scent of damp moss and trees. ‘It’s lovely.’
The silver rush of the waterfalls and the bustling leaves framing them were almost Disney-like in their perfection.
I panned my camera towards Logan. ‘Can I record you talking about this place for a minute or two please? Any interesting facts?’
Logan pretended to pout at me. ‘Only if you promise to make sure you capture my best side.’
I let out a cross between a laugh and a grunt and pressed record.
Logan took up a seat on a nearby rock and proceeded to explain the history of Dunvegan Castle. ‘The gardens here began life sometime in the eighteenth century. They’re made up of a Water Garden, which is where we are now, the Rose Garden, the walled garden and the woodland walks.’ He paused and pointed around. ‘The woodland walks really contain so many hidden treasures with an eclectic mix of flowers, exotic plants, specimen trees and pools.’
‘And the pools are fed by the waterfalls?’ I asked, staring down the camera at him. He did have the most amazing eyes.
He nodded at me. ‘They are. The waterfalls and streams feed all the way down to the sea.’
The tumble of green shades and brilliant emerald lawns were reminiscent of a Constable painting.
I turned my camera round to take a couple of photos of myself, admiring a swathe of snow drops.
I reached down and stroked their brilliant white, bulbus heads. Then I swivelled the camera back to Logan.
He was watching me, a small smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re not as much of an ice maiden as you like people to believe.’
I pulled a sarcastic expression, hoping to conceal the sudden colour flashing across my face. ‘I don’t know whether to be pleased or offended.’
When he continued to study me, I cleared my throat.
There were box hedges running around the length of the gardens, which made me picture the likes of Henry the Eighth swaggering around in his finery—if he’d owned the place, of course.
After visiting the Walled Garden, with its gravelly paths and bushy trees, we ventured down another path, so I could take some more photos of Dunvegan Loch.
When we were done, Logan insisted on heading back to the Coral Beach area. I began to come out in a cold sweat, fearful that he was going to insist we wild camp again tonight. That was until he stopped laughing at my panicked expression and explained we were going to have dinner at a local restaurant close to the beach.
It was a sweet place, with fishing nets tacked to the walls and paintings of the North Atlantic in its full, stormy splendour.
Logan opted for seafood chowder. He’d told me about the excellent reputation of Skye’s shellfish so I decided to have the monkfish scampi with chunky fries and home-made tartare sauce. It was divine.
We’d stayed far longer around Dunvegan Loch, the castle and grounds than I anticipated. It was too beautiful a day not to.
* * *
My legs trudged back up the steps of The Gorse, as though I’d just undertaken a marathon. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be so grateful to see this little bed and breakfast guest house.
I paused and gazed up the dark street, lit only by the throng of glowing street lamps. It didn’t seem like it’d just been this morning that I’d been thrashing about in the sea, trying to save a dolphin, whilst nearly naked.
My cheeks sizzled with colour at the thought of Logan seeing my bum.
Logan stood a few steps below me now and he thrust both his hands into the pockets of his canvas trousers. ‘Something tells me you’ll sleep well tonight, Ms City Slicker.’
I tried to stifle a big, gaping yawn and failed.
He looked up, appreciating the clear night sky and the tumble of stars. ‘I hope I’m showing you how special Skye is, Darcie.’
I waggled my brows. ‘Are you fishing for compliments?’
‘Is that a yes?’
It was my turn to eye the stars above us, now popping like shards of bright glass in the blueberry-black night. Darkness descended so quickly here. ‘Goodnight, Logan. Sleep well.’ I hesitated and wrapped my arms around myself. ‘And thanks for rescuing me and Flipper this morning.’
He planted both hands on his hips and struck a Superman pose in the middle of the street. ‘Anytime.’
I couldn’t help it; my face broke into a grin.
As soon as I reached the comfort of my room, I yanked off my clothes and slipped into clean pyjamas. I was relieved to sidle into the fresh, crisp bedding, and I fell asleep listening to the gentle hush of the waves in the distance, recalling the way the Skye sunshine had drizzled through my hair in the garden. And the way Logan had smiled at me as he said goodnight.