Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
T he fireworks erupted like summer flowers bursting open in the night sky.
Dazzling whites, silvers, golds, blood reds and cobalt, the colours rained down onto the upturned faces of the admiring onlookers.
I took a couple of shots of the erupting colours on my phone and posted them on my social media accounts.
I glanced at Campbell beside me. He was studying the explosions, which were sending crackles and pops into the dark.
The pensive planes of his face were accentuated by the fireworks.
‘What do you think we should do now?’ I whispered to Logan. ‘About trying to find out more about the cross and who might’ve written that letter?’
I looked over at Campbell, who remained lost in his thoughts. ‘I mean, his conversation just now with Chrissie Aitken didn’t go too well, did it?’
Logan looked past me to sneak a peek at Campbell. ‘You were right about there being some history between them. It’s a pity we haven’t been able to find out who wrote Campbell that anonymous letter.’
But our conversation was interrupted by the sudden drone of bagpipes and the jolly sound of fiddlers soaring into the spring night sky.
The band from the pub had marched their way down the street, accompanied by a procession of high-spirited locals.
Over the top of the firework whistles and bangs, they struck up a merry burst of accordions and fiddles.
‘So, what do we do now?’ I asked Logan and Campbell, who’d dragged himself back from wherever he was. ‘Any suggestions?’
‘I suggest we do this,’ exclaimed Logan, snatching my hand. ‘Please excuse us for a couple of minutes, Campbell.’
The way his long fingers furled around mine made my stomach swish. I planted my feet into the grass. ‘What are you doing?’
Campbell’s debonair face slid into a wry smile. ‘I think this young gentleman wants you to dance with him.’
My mouth flopped open. ‘Oh … no … I mean…’ but Logan was already guiding me through a throng of bodies gathering in a semi-circle on the grassy hill. A few people were dancing already, whirling this way and that to the music. They were spinning around each other, turning round and then doing heel and toe motions backwards and forwards. ‘I … I don’t know the moves,’ I spluttered, with Logan’s warm hand still clutching mine.
‘I’ll show you. It’s not difficult.’ He grinned down at me, sending my heart into overdrive. ‘Half of them are that pissed, they won’t have a clue whether you’re doing the right steps or not. And who cares, anyway?’
This wasn’t a good idea, being so close to Logan. It was doing nothing for my heart rate. So why was I doing it? Why didn’t I just turn and walk away? Say I had sore feet and had to sit down somewhere?
Because I wanted to be close to him, like this, I wanted to feel the heat of his body next to mine, savour the sensation of my hand gripping his.
I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and watched a few couples moving backwards and forwards in front of me, in time to the fervent accordion and fiddles.
Logan held me to the spot with his devastating gaze. ‘Please don’t refuse me, Darcie.’
My throat dried up. I drank him in. He was divine. ‘No,’ I stumbled, not able to look away. ‘I mean, no, I won’t refuse you, Logan.’
‘Good.’
I tried not to pay too much attention to the sea of faces, stamping, clapping and cheering in the illuminated dark, as they watched their more adventurous fellow members of the Skye community spin around, whooping and hollering.
‘It’s the military two-step,’ said Logan. ‘Here.’ He angled one of my arms around his neck and then we were off, putting one heel out first one way and then the other, before he slipped one arm around my waist and we were spinning in time to the music.
At first, I felt self-conscious, stiff and awkward. I wasn’t used to the quick, sweeping moves. But as the music ebbed and flowed, I found myself beginning to enjoy the giddy atmosphere. Nobody cared if you were out of tune or missing a step. Nobody batted an eyelid if you stumbled.
It was just about enjoying the moment and being free. Throwing yourself into the here and now, under the stars and against the backdrop of the fireworks exploding like paints in the black sky. My late father’s words echoed around my head: you can’t keep looking back. It gets you nowhere. You have to look to the future.
I was more used to posing and strutting in London nightclubs, but I soon realised this was more fun. I let out a peel of laughter as Logan encouraged me to move a little faster in his arms, and his eyes twinkled down at me as we did more of the backwards and forwards motions together. ‘You’ve got a very sexy laugh, Ms Freeman.’
As the stars shone like a strung necklace above our heads and the amber bonfire glowed and spat, the cheers and clapping grew louder, in time to another burst of bagpipes.
There was a further volley of fireworks and they bloomed and then died, scarring the sky with their jewelled tails. I jumped at another bang and Logan grabbed me. I could feel his chest rising and falling against mine.
Everything was working in harmony, creating a magical complement of music, romance and excitement.
My eyes lingered on Logan’s chest before trailing upwards to look at him.
There was another pop in the sky and then a purple firework lit up the stars, like a giant starfish.
Logan was studying me, his attention trailing from my hair down to my mouth. ‘You got the moves like Jagger,’ he joked, pushing a stray hair back from my cheek.
I suddenly felt drunk, but not with alcohol. The scent of Logan, the proximity of him and the height and presence of him, reminded me of a wild, Scottish forest. He was sending me into a tailspin.
And what with the rush of ceilidh music and the spray of fireworks, the whole effect was addictive. The pretentious nightclubs I was used to couldn’t compete with the joyous laughter, shining eyes and enthusiastic clapping.
We heard our names being hollered over the melee. It was Iona and Robbie, who were throwing themselves into the dancing with abandon. We waved back, and a warm, satisfied glow coursed through me when I saw Robbie squeeze Iona’s hand.
‘You’re an enigma, Darcie.’
Logan’s voice dragged back my attention.
‘Hardly.’
‘Aye. You are. You make out you’re this career focused young woman with no interest in anything else and yet you go out of your way to make my sister and my friend happy.’
I straightened my shoulders. ‘It’s good to do a good turn for someone else. Spread some happiness. And just because I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone, doesn’t mean?—’
‘Why did you leave my place so fast the other night?’ he asked me, in a husky voice, bringing me screeching out of my dizzy, happy haze.
As I admired the glint in his eyes and his stubbled jaw, I was wondering the same thing.
Awkwardness took hold. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Darcie, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.’ Logan angled his head to one side. ‘Well?’
I felt like I was trapped in some sort of spell. I couldn’t move. He’d inched closer. The truth was, I realised, that I didn’t want the spell to break. I wanted us to stay like this. ‘Things are complicated,’ I managed, frustrated that I was struggling to find the right words.
‘You’re in a relationship?’
‘No. I mean, I’m complicated.’
Logan pulled a face. ‘That old chestnut.’
‘It’s true.’ I groaned. ‘The people I meet in my career … well, a lot of them tend to be rather shallow.’
‘I’m not.’
I was losing myself in those mirror-like eyes of his. They were even more alluring in the dark. ‘I know you’re not. You’re anything but.’
‘Then why leave?’
Exasperation filled my chest. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Yes, you do.’
It was true. I did know. It was the fear drilling into me, of beginning to like someone only for them to leave or betray me—or both. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? I saw it so often in my line of work. People making big, brash declarations to one another, only for the relationship to come crashing down about their ears months later.
Promises made turned to dust, hearts broken, dreams shattered.
Who needed that? Life was complicated enough as it was.
And how on earth could I replicate what my late parents had? Their relationship had been like something out of a Disney movie. The loving, fun and committed life they’d had together, had been the stuff of dreams.
Anything else would pale in comparison and I wasn’t prepared to put myself through it.
My eyes searched out Logan’s. Despite my inward insistence that I wouldn’t allow myself to develop feelings for this man, the whole situation was intoxicating, the brisk night air, the crackles and spurts of the fireworks, the whirl of the bagpipes, Logan’s hands on me… ‘I didn’t think it would be a good idea to stay,’ I faltered.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I wanted to stay,’ I blurted out. ‘I didn’t want to leave. I really didn’t. But it wouldn’t have been a good idea. It would’ve made things messy.’
He was so close to me; I could make out the tips of his lashes and the angle of his jaw underneath his dark brown stubble. ‘You know you’re attracted to me. Stop pushing me away, Darcie,’ he pressed.
My heart took off at speed. ‘Logan, it’s not as simple as that.’
‘Isn’t it? All this stand-offish, cool exterior of yours. It’s just an act.’
I let out a gasp as the clapping and cheering along to the music built up around us in the dark.
‘Do you want to know what I think?’ he carried on, his gorgeous face suddenly closer to mine. ‘I think you’re scared of letting anyone see the real you. You think that by keeping people at a distance and pretending that you’re this ice queen, it’ll save you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I laughed nervously. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Save me from what?’
Logan’s eyes lit up with frustration in the dark. ‘Darcie…’ I could feel my legs melting as Logan’s gaze travelled from my hair down to my lips. His eyes were sparkling with something that made my breath come faster.
What was I thinking? What was I doing?
I wanted him to kiss me, here amongst the fireworks, the stars, the amber bonfire. I wanted his lips against mine, taking them over and over. Sod the protestations I’d made when I got here and first clapped eyes on him. I’d been lying to myself.
I couldn’t pull away. I didn’t want to.
My body was yelling to press itself against Logan’s.
He groaned. ‘Oh, sod it.’
I let out a little moan as his mouth hovered over mine, my pent-up emotions about him tumbling out. I knew what I was doing went against the promise I’d made to myself not to open my feelings up to the possibility of being shattered. It went against everything I’d said I would do.
But the adrenalin charging through me was like a drug I couldn’t resist and I knew if I turned and walked away right now, I’d regret it. Just like I did when I made my pathetic excuses and headed home the other night.
But just as we were about to give in to a kiss that now felt like an inevitability, we were interrupted by a sudden burst of agitated and raised voices.
Disappointment rocketed through me, and Logan let out a frustrated sigh.
We tilted our foreheads against one another and he gave me a small, private smile as a number of the locals halted their conversations and even the ceilidh band drizzled their Scottish medley to a halt.
We turned and squinted through the darkness where, several feet away, someone was approaching while letting out loud angry expletives. Despite feeling drunk with the effect of almost kissing Logan, I did what I could to focus. ‘Isn’t that Gabriel Jamieson?’
Logan nodded. ‘Aye, and it looks like he’s four sheets to the wind.’
Stumbling and his mottled face contorted, Gabriel performed a sarcastic bow. ‘Ah. Here she is. Here’s my wife. The lovely Chrissie. Isn’t she grand?’
Heated murmurs rose up from the intrigued spectators.
A grey-haired man in red tartan trousers, who’d been dancing with his wife, started to make his way towards Gabriel. ‘Come on, Gabe. Let’s get you home, eh? You need a strong coffee.’
Gabriel shrugged away from the man’s outstretched hand. ‘Och, away with you, Bill. I’m not needing coffee. I need to see my wife!’
Chrissie moved closer towards Gabriel, with Conall in tow. Her cheeks were flaming almost as much as the bonfire.
‘Uh-oh,’ murmured Logan. ‘This could turn nasty.’
He started to make a move towards the three confrontational figures.
My hand shot out, reaching for Logan’s leather-jacketed sleeve. ‘What are you doing?’
Logan glanced down at my hand on his sleeve. His mouth twitched. ‘I’m going to ask Gabriel for the pleasure of the next dance,’ he joked. ‘No, I’m going over to see if I can defuse the situation.’
‘You could get hurt.’
Logan lifted one brow at me. ‘I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.’ There was that irresistible tremble of his lips again. ‘Tell you what, if things get a bit fractious, I’m giving you permission to come and rescue me.’
I gave my head an exasperated shake. ‘Do you ever stop cracking smartass remarks?’
‘Not usually.’
Campbell reappeared at Logan’s elbow and frowned over at the huddled group. ‘I’ll come with you. I’m curious to hear what this is about.’
As Logan and Campbell approached, the voices of Gabriel, Chrissie and Conall were growing louder and more accusatory.
‘I’m not your wife anymore, Gabe. Please. You’re making a scene.’
‘He’s already done that.’ Conall smirked. ‘Look at the state of him.’
Gabriel’s eyes hardened with drunken rage. ‘I’m not in such a state that I couldn’t put you flat on your arse!’
There was a series of gasps from the surrounding locals.
Campbell and Logan took this as their cue to intervene, together with the man in the red tartan trousers and another gentleman who looked like a WWE wrestler.
The stocky-built gent tried to reason with Conall, while Logan and Campbell were heading in Gabriel’s direction.
But out of the darkness, a shadowy figure emerged and gripped Gabriel by one arm. ‘Enough now, Gabe, OK? We don’t want to embarrass ourselves any more than we have done already, do we?’
The man was sporting a baggy navy hoodie and though the hood was tugged up and over his features, I could make out a long, sharp nose and whisps of fine pale blond hair tumbling over his forehead.
‘Who’s that man talking to Gabriel?’ I asked, having dashed over to Campbell and Logan.
Campbell craned his neck. His greying hair stirring in the breeze. ‘I don’t know. I can’t make out his face.’
While Conall huffed and puffed, irritated by the big-built man and Chrissie, who were both appealing to him to back off, Gabriel appeared to now be in the middle of a heated conversation with the hooded man.
After a few more moments, Gabriel’s enraged expression sagged into one of apprehension.
It was only when the man in the hooded top angled his head as he led Gabriel away into the darkness that Campbell let out a disbelieving snort. ‘It’s that crook, Leyton McPhail!’