Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
L ogan slid me a mysterious smile when he dropped me back at The Gorse. ‘Fancy seeing an old lighthouse at dusk?’
I tried to look enthusiastic.
He must’ve noticed my expression, because he laughed. ‘You won’t be disappointed, I promise you. Wrap up warm and I’ll bring a picnic. I’ll collect you at four thirty this afternoon, OK?’
Then he was off, streaking down Portree High Street in his rattling truck.
Was this a date? No, of course, it wasn’t, I reassured my squirming tummy.
It was just an evening when we were happening to meet up … and Logan was planning to bring some food. It was no big deal.
But the more I churned it over in my head back in my guest room, the more it sounded to me like it could be a date of sorts.
Oh, this was crazy! I tried to banish the notion. I insisted to myself that it was just so I could get more material for my Skye book. No doubt, it would also be a good excuse for Logan to mull over what he intended to do about finding Campbell Adams—if indeed this bearded phantom was him. Logan seemed adamant that he was.
I screwed up my face as I peered at the contents of my wardrobe, which was crammed into the room at the foot of my bed. The weather was so changeable in these parts, it made your head spin, so after a hot shower and having washed my hair, I bundled myself into my dressing gown. Then I took another critical look at my clothes.
Hold on. I was doing it again, treating this evening like it was some big thing between Logan and me.
I was allowing my imagination to get ahead of me.
In the end, I opted for a dark brown crocheted jumper I’d bought when Iona had dragged me round the shops for warmer garments, and paired that with my matching, slim-fitting jeans. If I teamed those with my walking boots and rose gold earrings, it would look quite snazzy.
I finished applying my lipstick and fired my hair up into a tousled ponytail, once I’d given it a blast with my hairdryer.
The sky was beginning to morph into a soupy, early evening hue of dessert tangerines and reds when Logan pulled up outside The Gorse to collect me.
I noted he’d changed into a black shirt and dark combats, and his hair carried an extra dash of styling wax.
As soon as I settled myself into the passenger side, my nose detected the irresistible, rich scent of Scottish salmon.
I glanced around. There was a wicker hamper nestled on the back seat of the truck, together with a fringed electric blue and white tartan blanket.
Logan caught me staring at it. ‘Salmon and crab sandwiches, haggis and beer toasties, salted crackers with Hebridean Blue Cheese and there’s a flask of tea to wash it down with.’
I gawped at the picnic basket and then back at Logan. ‘You’ve gone to all this trouble for me?’
‘I had a bit of help,’ he confessed with a shy smile. ‘I told Iona I was taking you out tonight and she insisted she give me a hand, even though she thinks I’m a prize dick at the best of times. Especially at the moment.’
Taking me out tonight . His words rippled through me. ‘Thank you. It sounds delicious.’ I could feel my cheeks zing. ‘And I’m impressed.’
Logan eased the truck away from the kerb, taking us towards our mystery destination. ‘You look lovely.’
There was that inward ripple again. ‘Thank you. You look … very … handsome.’
‘I’m not bad after a wash, am I?’
I laughed. ‘You’re fishing again for more compliments.’
Logan drove us out of town. ‘Wait till you see this sunset.’
I wasn’t imagining it, was I? There was a crackle of something between us.
‘It has to be seen to be believed,’ he continued, his hands controlling the steering wheel.
‘And does this place happen to have a link to Beardy McBeardface or Campbell Adams, by any chance?’
Logan’s eyes glittered. ‘There is that slim possibility.’ His eyes grew more earnest as we pulled up at a set of traffic lights. ‘But the most important thing is that I do want to share this sunset with you. Very much.’
* * *
We arrived at Neist Point half an hour later.
I had to admit that the prospect of an old lighthouse wasn’t filling me with excitement.
Logan took one look at my expression and couldn’t stifle a laugh. ‘Just give it time. You’ll soon understand why I brought you here.’
He retrieved the picnic hamper from the back seat, while I took the rolled-up rug, camera and phone, and then he locked up the truck. There was a keen wind hurtling in over the sea and I huddled deeper into my quilted coat to try and escape it.
‘It’s a bit of a walk, but the views across the North Atlantic are worth it.’
We followed a path which carried us downwards towards the cliffs and the lighthouse. ‘If you’re lucky, you might spot the odd minke whale or dolphin.’ Logan bathed me in a mischievous smile. ‘You might even see Flipper again.’
I responded with a dry look. ‘Forgive me if I don’t laugh. I still vividly remember the stress of the experience the last time.’
The lighthouse reminded me of white Lego blocks, perched on the wavy, carved-out cliffs.
‘The lighthouse viewpoint is just a short walk to the left of the car park.’
Logan bumped the picnic basket along in his strong arms. God, I was getting hungry. I couldn’t remember having this ravenous appetite when I was back in London. I would graze on things, not really tasting them or enjoying them. It was as if there was just too much going on to take a breath and savour what I was eating. It was fuel to keep me going when I was firefighting emails, updating my social media accounts, travelling or arranging Zoom calls. Here, I felt able to taste and appreciate, to slow down and enjoy that the creamy cheese was made in the local area or the fact that the bread had been baked five minutes up the road. I assumed it was all the walking, exercising and salty, fresh sea air I was enjoying, which had ramped up my appetite.
Logan located a patch of grass that he said looked good and I spread out the blanket and we flopped down onto it. There was the odd tourist and walker around, but apart from that, the only other company we had was the occasional bird and the lolling waves.
‘It’s a spectacular view,’ I admitted, hoping Logan couldn’t hear my tummy begging for food. Down below, the sea swished and slapped against the cliffs, which were like aqua green frills.
‘You ain’t seen nothing yet,’ hinted Logan, creaking open the picnic basket.
He proceeded to retrieve the delicious food from inside, together with wooden cutlery, napkins that matched the tartan rug we were sitting on and China mugs for the tea.
Logan waggled one of the mugs. ‘I’d been planning to bring a couple of reusable cups, but when I said that to Iona, she was horrified and suggested these instead.’
I accepted a paper plate from him with grateful thanks. ‘So, she’s still talking to you then?’
‘Just about. She still thinks I’m a useless prick, but she didn’t want me looking a skinflint, useless prick where you were concerned.’
I grinned and bit into one of the crab sandwiches. I couldn’t stifle my appreciative sigh as the flavours of the seeded bread and juicy crab meat popped in my mouth.
‘That good, eh?’ asked Logan, savouring one of the haggis and beer mini toasties.
Down below, the waves of the North Atlantic tossed themselves against the rocks and craggy cliff faces. The contrast of the bright light and the dancing shadows would make for some very interesting images for the book so I paused eating and quickly took some photos. I thought of the creative shots I’d taken whilst studying on the photography course, of window blinds and rickety fences under the summer sun, black harbour beams with the light glancing off them. This would be right along those lines, and was the kind of photography I enjoyed most.
Moment captured, I sat down and dived back into the food. My tastebuds were soon exploding with pleasure, as I enjoyed one of the Scottish salmon and cream cheese baps. I gave a considered chew. ‘So, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what happened with Iona and her ex?’
Logan bit into one of the crab sandwiches and considered my question. ‘Their marriage was a disaster waiting to happen. He was a successful Edinburgh architect, sent to Skye on business. Good-looking, flash; you know the type.’
Logan finished off the sandwich and wiped his fingers on one of the napkins. ‘They met four years ago and Iona fell for him hard. They got engaged after only six months and Iona persuaded him that they could live their married life here.’
‘But it didn’t work out?’
‘Nope. They’d been married less than a year when one night, in the early hours, Theo wrote her a note apologising and upped and left to head back to the mainland.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘It was to be expected, I guess, but Iona was broken-hearted. It’s only in the last eighteen months that she seems to have returned to her usual, happy self.’
‘You can’t keep looking back. It gets you nowhere. You have to look to the future.’
Logan eyed me. ‘Wise words.’
‘My dad used to say that a lot.’ Feeling my chest constrict at the memory of my late parents, I admired the scenery around us, trying not to let the tears well.
Logan brushed his hair back from his face. ‘Iona hasn’t had an easy time of it, but I’m proud of her.’
I watched him as the sea air ruffled the fringes of the picnic blanket we were sitting on.
‘She’d never leave Skye. She’s always said it. I feel the same. It just takes you over, hypnotises you, but in the best way possible.’ Logan let out a laugh. ‘Like I said to you before, Robbie’s always had a crush on Iona, ever since we were teenagers, but he’s never done anything about it. In fact, he goes out of his way to avoid her, because he gets tongue-tied around her.’
I thought about Iona insisting Robbie never so much as gave her a second look. I smiled to myself. That explained a lot. ‘Aww that’s sweet! He should ask her out.’
Logan rolled his eyes and laughed. ‘You heard Robbie on the boat when he asked about her. I’ve known for a long time how he feels about my sister. I think most of Portree does as well!’ He sighed with frustration. ‘But as for him asking her out or telling her, forget it.’
The more I thought about Iona and Robbie, the more I came to the conclusion they both just needed a gentle nudge in the right direction. Even though romance wasn’t for me, that didn’t mean it shouldn’t happen for other people.
While I was turning over the idea of the two of them in my mind, my attention landed on a heart-shaped rock, sandwiched between two more incongruous ones. ‘That looks like a heart,’ I pointed out to Logan. ‘Over there. See it?’
Logan followed my outstretched finger. ‘So it does. I’ve never noticed that before. Underneath your sarcastic facade is a true romantic.’
‘Yeah. Right,’ I grunted, concentrating on the skyline again.
We ate more of the picnic in companionable silence, enjoying the rushing sound of the waves. Logan pulled out the flask of tea from the hamper and glugged the hot contents into two mugs. He then produced a small carton of milk.
‘You’ve thought of everything!’ I laughed.
He shot a glittering smile at me. ‘I wanted to make a good impression.’
The wedge of Hebridean blue cheese I was about to eat stilled in my fingers. I put it down and played with my napkin. My blood was fizzing in my veins. I felt like I didn’t know what I should say next, which wasn’t like me. ‘Oh?’
I cringed. Oh?! Is that the best you could come up with?
‘You bet I did.’ He swallowed a piece of salted cracker he’d been holding. ‘Look! The sun’s about to set.’
I turned my head to gaze out at the skyline.
It took a few moments for my eyes to process the stunning spectacle I was witnessing.
The sea had been transformed into the most romantic shade of lilac. As though out of nowhere, the rippling cliff faces had changed too: they were now encrusted with what looked like solid gold where they met the water.
The light was almost biblical, glowing and pushing through swathes of raspberry and tangerine. Even the lighthouse, perched on the lower cliffs, had been kissed by its beauty. Splinters of jewelled colours danced along and down its tower.
I continued to watch as the shades blended together, like an artist’s paint palette. I knew I had to capture these rainbow colours, before they evaporated, so I reached for my camera. It wasn’t there. ‘Where’s my camera?’ I gasped, spinning round on the rug. My hands fumbled around. ‘It was here a moment ago. Oh God!’
‘Hey, it’s fine Darcie. Don’t worry. Look.’
Logan peeled back a corner of the rug we were sitting on, which had blown over the top of it. I breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’
He handed it to me and our fingertips brushed against each other. I swallowed.
‘That camera means so much to you, doesn’t it?’
I nodded, embarrassed. ‘Sorry about panicking there. You must think I’m a right idiot.’
Logan shook his head. ‘Quite the opposite.’
My cheeks lit up. ‘It’s just my aunt and uncle bought it for me last year. I take it everywhere. It’s the sentimental value, I guess.’
I was aware that Logan was smiling softly across at me. His gorgeous light eyes were framed with laughter lines that spoke of a life well lived. It was hard to turn away but I got my camera ready and made myself focus on the amazing sunset playing out in front of us.
I took a series of photographs, hoping I could capture even a small part of the essence of the erupting colours in the sky.
‘Well?’ asked Logan in a reverent hush beside me on the rug.
I didn’t want to tear my eyes away in case I missed another sweep of delicious shades. ‘It’s breathtaking,’ I managed, setting my camera down again beside me and admiring the way nature’s paintbrush was showing off her artistic talents, daubing, blotting and gliding such vibrant colours across the sky.
I turned to Logan. ‘It’s so beautiful. It’s almost as if it’s not real.’
He pushed out his broad chest with delight. It was almost as if he’d created the whole spectacle by himself. ‘I know, right? I bet you don’t get sunsets like that in London.’
Images of people rushing every which way like harassed ants, beetling below the searing office blocks, flashed in front of my eyes.
Here, it was just the cartwheeling waves, the lashes of salt water, gilded rock faces and a tumble of multi-coloured clouds. ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve never seen a sunset like this before.’
‘Impressed?’ asked Logan. His long legs were stretched out in front of him on the rug. ‘With the sunset, I mean?’
My face lit up ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Burns. Yes, I’m impressed. Very.’
I appreciated the spectacular vista again. Darkness was beginning to creep in and the sea was taking on a moodier, darker edge all of a sudden.
Under the letter ‘S’, this stunning sunset would be a definite feature in my book, although I was certain my photographs wouldn’t be able to do it justice.
‘Thank you for bringing me here. It really is something else. So much so, I’ve almost forgotten how chilly it is.’ I pulled a begging face. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any more of that tea left?’
Logan didn’t seem to hear me at first. He was too busy studying me, a shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘No. Sorry. We’ve already drunk it all.’ He hesitated. ‘I could make us some more tea back at my flat in Portree though, or you could have something stronger, if you prefer? Then I could drop you back at The Gorse.’ He gave an easy shrug. ‘It’d also be a good opportunity to decide what we should do tomorrow, as part of your book research.’
My head tumbled with thoughts. Going back to Logan’s? Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Darcie! You’re making a big deal out of it. It’s just the offer of a cup of tea.
Logan gave me a look from under his lashes that made me feel like I’d become a block of melting butter.
I rose to my feet and dusted down my jeans for something to do, before turning my attention to the rug we’d been sitting on. I scooped it up and gave it several shakes that it didn’t need. Was I really considering going back to Logan’s place?
He was staring at me.
What did I want to do?
I wanted to go.
‘Yes,’ I found myself saying, as I rolled up the rug far tighter than I meant to. ‘Thanks. A cup of tea at yours would be good.’