Chapter Seventeen
Monty
M onty wandered down to the beach, the warm afternoon sun making him squint; he shaded his eyes, soaking it all in. The deserted island from the previous days seemed a distant memory. People wandered about everywhere, dressed in surf gear or wetsuits, carrying boards, and chatting. Groups had set up camps on the sand with picnic rugs and changing tents. Monty had put on a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt, not quite surf gear, but the closest he had.
He hadn’t seen Iona since their kiss. That kiss. Wow . It kept him awake for hours at night. Something had taken hold of him inside, like a hidden lion clawing to get out. A hungry lion. Was this what Sophie had wanted? Passion? Desire? And why had it found its way to the forefront with Iona? She seemed to invite it, encourage it. She’d told him not to hold back, and he hadn’t – such a freeing and hot-blooded experience. The memory kept playing in his mind. The kiss had stopped too soon, but maybe that was for the best. Should they even have done it at all? Maybe it was a mistake.
He’d never had a fling in his life before.
Tinny music played nearby from someone’s phone and Monty headed for a spot away from the crowd, near the dunes, and settled down. He spread out the rug he’d borrowed from the farm and sat with his bare legs stretched onto the warm sand. Opening his bag, he took out a packet of crisps and a beer, cracking it open with a soft hiss. Some surfers were out in the ocean, their boards slicing through the waves. His bodyboarding success was nothing next to this. These folks were fearless… And mental.
A tannoy crackled into action, and a man introduced some of the surfers. Monty wondered who the man was. A friend of Iona probably. And who am I? No one. He’d pass through her life like grains of sand through his fingers while these other friends remained.
He scanned the water, looking for her. Was she out there? It was hard to tell from this distance. His gaze landed on an easily recognisable figure. Ruaridh, looking like the Hulk on a board, muscles bulging as he paddled out. Monty still hadn’t found out what Ruaridh’s job was, but he obviously liked pumping iron. Monty had been trying to work out more and he was a lot more toned than he had been, but he wouldn’t ever rival Ruaridh in the muscle department.
‘Show-off,’ Monty muttered to himself, watching Ruaridh catch a wave and ride it. He took a swig of his beer, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat. Coming to the festival wasn’t something he’d planned to do, but now he was here, he may as well make the most of it. It was almost at odds with the wild nature of the place to have so much manufactured energy. Perhaps that was why the waves crashed, and the wind pounded relentlessly, as if to drown the tannoy, the happy chatter of the people, and the low beat of music, and reassert themselves as the island superpowers.
Monty sighed, breathed it all in and scanned the beach again. Was Iona even here? Maybe she’d got caught behind the scenes somewhere, organising something. That wouldn’t please her. What she’d want would be to ride these waves all day long, free as a bird, wind in her hair. He reached for another crisp, still on the lookout. The breeze picked up, flapping the edges of his blanket. At the sound of cheers, he turned to see what the commotion was.
Iona was running down the beach dressed in a tight wetsuit, carrying a board and something that looked like a parachute. The tannoy crackled to life again.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Iona McKenzie, one of the founders of our festival, who’s about to give a demo of kitesurfing!’
Of what? He wrestled in his bag until he found his binoculars. He focused them on Iona, who’d reached the water’s edge. She grinned as she set up her bright red kite, then clipped on some straps.
Monty lifted his phone, opening the camera app and hitting the red button to record. The surrounding crowd buzzed, eyes glued to Iona as she launched her kite and took to the waves.
She skimmed across the water, her kite soaring high, catching the wind perfectly. Holy shit. Monty’s heart almost jumped into his mouth. Those moves must take some skill, but she looked like a natural, and so fearless. Monty couldn’t tear his eyes away, but his insides crumpled at every new move. No way could he keep up with a woman like her. If he wasn’t exciting enough for Sophie, he’d never be good enough for someone like Iona. She carved through the waves, catching the air and performing flips that made the crowd gasp. Monty held his breath.
‘Bloody hell!’ someone nearby shouted.
Monty zoomed in with his phone. Her power and grace left him gobsmacked. She was shining in a whole new light. How could he ever look at her the same again? He knew she was a daredevil, but this was incredible. She was incredible. Bold. Uninhibited. Everything he felt he wasn’t.
She rode the waves like she was born to do it, every movement fluid and commanding. As she neared the shore, she executed a final jump, her kite lifting her high in the air before the board landed back on the water. The crowd erupted into applause, and Monty clapped along too. Wow, just bloody wow.
As she walked back up the beach, carrying her board and kite, the tannoy crackled again. ‘Let’s hear it one more time for Iona McKenzie!’
The cheers grew louder, and Monty watched people crowd around her to chat. He’d leave them to it. If there was one person whose absence she wouldn’t even notice, it was him.
‘Next up, it’s happy hour!’ the announcer said over the tannoy. ‘Anyone who wants to join in, get some tips from the pros, or just have a go, now’s your chance!’
Iona was chatting with a group of surfers and festival-goers, laughing and exchanging high-fives. After a moment, she glanced Monty’s way and smiled. Uh-oh… Why did he just know this meant trouble? That smirk on her face was a bit of a giveaway. Excusing herself, she jogged over to where he was sitting.
‘Hey.’ She stood in front of him, shielding her eyes. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’
‘You were amazing. Incredible. I’m speechless.’
She grinned. ‘Thanks. I love doing it.’ Her eyes travelled over him, and he was pretty sure she was alluding to something other than kite-surfing too. ‘Do you fancy having a go yourself?’
Monty’s eyes widened. ‘Me? No, no. On that kite thing? No way.’
‘Na, not that. Just on a board.’
‘I’m not dressed for it.’
Iona waved a dismissive hand. ‘That’s not a problem. I’ve got spare wetsuits in the container, remember? You can borrow one.’
‘I don’t know, Iona. I’m not really—’
‘Come on.’ She folded her arms. ‘It’ll be fun! You said you wanted to try new things, right? This is your chance. Plus, you’ll have me as your personal instructor.’ She gave him a wink and dropped to her knees beside him. Leaning in, she whispered in his ear. ‘Call this a bit of foreplay. I haven’t forgotten about our other deal.’
Monty looked away, letting out a dry laugh. She was something else. She really was… And also, totally irresistible.
‘And’ – she leaned even closer, so her words were almost like a kiss, setting his insides alight – ‘you’re at a water sports festival. When in Rome, right? Just give it a shot. Go on.’
‘Ok.’ He turned so the end of his nose touched hers. How satisfying would it be to kiss her, here and now? Would anyone notice or care? She sat back on her heels and pulled out the top of her wetsuit, then put her hand inside it. ‘What are you doing?’
It looked like she was fishing for something. Monty’s imagination leapt up, along with another part of his body that really had no business doing so. But how could he help it as he imagined it was his hands in there? Hell, he had to stop.
She pulled out a key on a string. ‘Had to hide it in here. I’m scared I lose it.’
‘Couldn’t you have given it to someone to look after?’
‘Ah, maybe. Anyway. Take that and go get a wetsuit from the container. I’d come with you, but I better not. I’m supposed to be helping people.’ She pulled a face. ‘I’d rather get locked in the container with you and carry on… you know what.’ She winked and jumped to her feet. ‘Don’t be long. See you in a bit.’
Monty packed up his stuff and took it to the container. Once inside, he sighed and checked the wetsuits for one that was his size. This week was just one crazy moment after another.
Once dressed, he emerged from the container, wiggling his shoulders in the tight wetsuit, trying to make it feel comfier. How ridiculous did he look? But then, who here would even notice or care? Most of the people here were dressed like this. He made his way to the water’s edge, squinting against the glare of the sun. The sea stretched out before him, a glittering expanse of blue and white foam. Surfers dotted the waves further out and some beginners played at the water’s edge.
Iona was finishing up with a couple of them, showing them the basics of paddling the board. She glanced over and caught sight of Monty. With a quick smile, she excused herself and jogged over to him.
‘Looking good.’ She gave him a once-over. ‘Ready to become a surf god?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ he muttered, handing back the key chain.
‘Come on then.’ She hooked the key around her neck, grabbed a board, took his hand and led him into the water. The coolness was a shock at first, but he adjusted quicker this time than he had before. She placed the board in the water. ‘Ok, let’s start with the basics. First, you need to lie on the board in the correct position.’
Monty lay on the board, trying to find a comfortable spot. ‘Like this?’
‘Almost,’ she said, lying on her own board. ‘Like this, so the nose of the board is just above the water, and your nose is level with the line on the board. Perfect. Now, keep your legs together and your feet on the board, otherwise you’ll fall off.’
‘The bodyboarding was easier. This looks impossible.’ He eyed the people around him. Most of them were barely managing a wobble on the board before falling off.
‘You can do more of that in a bit. Just give this a try.’
‘Ok.’ Monty clung to the sides, sure every bob of the water was going to knock him off. ‘Shouldn’t I try this on dry land first?’
Iona laughed. ‘Yeah, but I’ve not got long, so let’s just get you in the water. Now, use your arms to paddle out. Try it, just paddle with your arms at your sides. Freestyle. Push your way through the water.’
Monty dipped his arms in and started to paddle. It felt awkward at first, but he gradually got the hang of it, moving the board forward through the waves.
‘Good job.’ Iona paddled alongside him. ‘Keep your strokes even and steady. You’re doing great.’
They paddled out a bit further, the water getting deeper. Monty’s arms were starting to ache, but he was determined to keep going. After a while, they stopped.
‘Ok, now that you’ve got the hang of paddling, let’s try to catch a small wave,’ she said. ‘When you see a wave coming, you need to paddle hard to match its speed, then pop up into a standing position.’
‘No way, will I manage that,’ Monty shouted over the waves.
‘It’s fine if you don’t. It’s quite tricky, but I’ll show you, then you can have a go. Don’t worry if it goes wrong. Just have fun.’
Fun, huh? She was mad. ‘Well, ok… I’ll give it a shot.’
‘So, if you push up with your knee like this first, then move your back leg like this. Then just rise into a standing position. Keep your shoulder pointing to the nose of the board, look where you’re going and keep your feet flat. Ok?’
‘Is that all? Easy.’ He stared at her with his eyebrows raised, and she giggled.
‘The more you practise, the easier it gets. Now watch this.’ She paddled around, so she was facing the beach. ‘Wait for a wave.’ It caught her and, in a swift fluid movement, she was on her feet, gliding in.
Without waiting for her to come back, Monty copied what she’d done, waiting for a wave. When one caught the board, he felt a rush of exhilaration and he attempted to stand in the way Iona showed him, but he immediately lost his balance and toppled into the water. He leapt up, gulping for air and shaking his head. Bloody hell. This was why he had no desire to do stuff like this.
Iona paddled back to him. ‘Are you ok?’
‘I fell off. What did you expect?’
‘It’s fine. Try again. I’ll watch and see if I can help.’
They repeated the process and Monty fell off again. It didn’t feel quite so shocking this time, and he recovered himself.
‘It’s all good, except you’re leaning too far back. Try and keep your weight centred.’ Iona patted the middle of the board.
He tried again, managing to stay upright a little longer before plunging to his doom yet again.
Iona took hold of his arm as he straightened up. He wiped water from his face.
‘I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to watch me make a fool of myself.’
Iona grinned. ‘No, I’m just helping you to be more adventurous. I think we can safely say you’ve accomplished that. Aren’t you enjoying this even a tiny bit?’
‘A little bit, but I think I’ve had my fill of dunkings for the day.’
She edged closer through the water that was up to their waists, placed her hands on his hips, and pulled him towards her. ‘You’re doing great.’
He watched her closely, his body burning to get out of this wetsuit and be free. After a quick glance around, he cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘Have you any idea what you’re doing to me?’
‘I have an inkling.’ She smirked and pulled him even closer, rubbing against him, making him thank every sea god everywhere that his bottom half was underwater.
‘Then stop it. This isn’t what we’re supposed to be doing.’
She pulled away. ‘Are you calling time on the deal? We haven’t even started yet.’
‘No. Just not here, with so many people about.’
‘Fair enough. I should probably help some other people too. It wouldn’t do for you to monopolise me.’
‘I’ll leave you to it. I’ve had enough surfing for one day.’
She caught hold of him. ‘Stick around though. I’m doing some more kite-surfing later.’
‘Ok. But I want to get dry first.’
‘If you want. There’s a bunch of spare bodyboards kicking about somewhere if you want to have some fun with them.’
‘I think I’ll just watch.’
‘Ok.’
As he left the water, he turned back to see Iona chatting with two young guys. Why was he torturing himself with her? It would be so much better to leave her with guys like that. But there she was, dangling like the forbidden fruit. And one taste wouldn’t do any harm. Just something to tick off on the bucket list – the one he didn’t know he had prior to this trip.
He trudged back to the container and peeled off the wetsuit with a sigh of relief. The saltwater made him feel sticky and uncomfortable as he changed back into his shorts and t-shirt. Maybe he could nip back to the farmhouse for a quick shower. He checked the time. Still early and it wasn’t far.
He strolled up the dunes and along the ridge onto the track that led past the derelict croft and back to An Grianan. The wind flattened the grass and wildflowers as it whipped across the machair, and fluffy white clouds raced across the blue sky. Although it was a warm day, the strong gusts had a bite to them and Monty decided to grab a hoody while he was back.
When he got to the farm, Catriona was in the yard wrestling a bright pink hat onto her daughter’s head. Another woman stood beside them with folded arms, smiling.
‘Hi.’ Catriona glanced up at Monty. ‘I think I forgot to say, but I’m not doing meals tonight as we’re going to be at the festival. Is that ok? I should have mentioned it before.’
‘It’s fine. No worries. I was just there myself. Iona persuaded me to surf. I got soaked and I feel a bit yucky. I’m going to have a shower, then head back.’
‘Ah, I see. This is my mum, by the way.’ Catriona turned to the other woman and went on, ‘This is Monty MacNeil. He thinks he might have ancestors here.’
‘Oh really?’ The other woman came forward and held out her hand. ‘I’m Nora. My mother was a MacNeil.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
Catriona smiled. ‘I’ll leave the two of you to chat. Maybe see you later.’
‘Sure,’ Monty waved.
‘So where do your MacNeils fit in?’ Nora asked.
‘I don’t really know. It was my father who was into it all.’
‘And what was his name?’
‘Hector. He died recently. I just scattered his ashes at Kisimul Castle.’
‘Sorry for your loss.’ Nora put a somewhat frail hand on his arm. For someone who didn’t look much over fifty-five, she had a weariness about her.
‘Thank you. My father told a story many times that he was descended from a branch of the MacNeils that were somehow cut from the main family line and diddled out of inheriting the castle.’
Nora nodded. ‘I’ve heard that story too. No one can prove it one way or another now, but I wonder if maybe you’re related to us somehow. My mother definitely talked about that legend before.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes. Also, did you know that the castle’s name isn’t pronounced “kissy-mull” but more like “kish-mul”. Only islanders usually pronounce it correctly.’
‘I didn’t realise. Excuse my ignorance.’
‘Don’t worry about it. No one bothers about it. I just thought you might like to know for your own interest. Tourists often think its name had something to do with kissing.’ She let out a little laugh and Monty forced a smile – the name might not have anything to do with that, but he and Iona had done exactly that in its grounds. ‘It actually comes from the Gaelic, Caisteal Chiosmuil and means castle on the rock of the small bay. If you look it up on your internet, you’ll see how to spell that.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
‘Well, I’ll let you get on, but I’ll also have a look and see if I can find out where your Hector fits into things. My mother had a big box of family tree stuff. I’ll dig it out and see if I can find anything.’
‘That’s really kind, thank you.’
‘Not at all. It’s a job I can do sitting down, and it’ll be fun looking through it.’
He thanked her again, then headed for the annex. The shower was soon piping hot, and he spent longer than was strictly necessary, washing away the salt and sand. His body wasn’t in bad shape, but he’d never manage muscles like Ruaridh or surf-board prowess like the guys back at the beach. All the things he supposed Iona valued.
Why do I care about that?
He emerged feeling refreshed and threw on some clean clothes before heading back to the festival. All the way along the track, his thoughts tumbled about like sheets on a washing line in the Barra winds – a mix of curiosity about his MacNeil connections and Iona, who was always on his mind, it seemed. By the time he got to the top of the dunes and looked down, all the thoughts were tangled and twisted, and he couldn’t make sense of them.
The festival was still in full swing, with people milling about, music playing, and laughter filling the air. As he approached the surf area, he spotted Iona talking to the same two young guys from earlier. Something about the sight made his hackles rise. One of the guys was getting a bit too handsy, his arm snaking around Iona’s waist. She pulled away from him, giving him a dirty look, but he didn’t back off. In fact, he looked to be moving in again for a second try. Iona was more than a match for him. If anyone came off worse from the situation, it would be him, but still. She was obviously trying to maintain politeness. As one of the leaders of the festival, she wouldn’t want to cause a scene, but the guy wasn’t backing away or reading her obvious body language.
Monty made his way towards them, his feet slipping a bit in the dry sand at the top of the beach. Iona caught his gaze and wordlessly expressed her exasperation at the guy with a slight grimace and a flash in her eyes. The look made him keep walking, and he strode right up to her side. ‘Ah, there you are.’ He slipped his arm around her shoulder. ‘I was looking for you.’
‘And you’ve found me.’ She smiled at him.
The guy frowned, looking Monty up and down. ‘Who are you?’
‘Monty.’ He gave a little shrug, almost bursting with a laugh at the bemused look on the guy’s face.
Iona turned to Monty and slipped her hand around his cheek. ‘I missed you.’ She leaned in and kissed him. He didn’t resist. Sure, she was making a point to this guy, but it felt good.
‘I missed you too.’
She pulled back, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on his.
The guy muttered something under his breath.
‘Come on.’ His friend gave him a push, and they stalked away.
Monty kept his arm around Iona, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. ‘You ok?’
‘Sure, but I appreciate that. He was getting impossible to shake.’
Monty gave her a little squeeze. ‘He looked like a dick, but then he’s probably saying the same thing about me.’
Iona laughed and prodded him in the chest. ‘Well, you’re a lot nicer than him. I wanted to knee him in the balls, but I didn’t think that would go down well with the other organisers.’
‘I could tell, but part of me wished you’d done it. I’d like to hope the other organisers care more about you than one twat who can’t keep it in his pants.’
She let out a little snigger. ‘When you put it like that, I wish I’d done it too. Where did he go?’
Monty raised his gaze, not seeing the two guys anywhere, but his focus zoomed in on Ruaridh, who was standing a little way off, sipping a beer and watching them. ‘I’m not sure, but probably best to let him go, now that he’s disappeared.’ Monty let go of Iona and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. If Ruaridh had his eye on Iona, Monty couldn’t compete with him and nor did he want to. His time here would be short, and Ruaridh lived here.
‘Yeah. I suppose so.’ Iona waved to Ruaridh, who tipped his bottle in her direction.
Monty took another step back, and his insides roared in protest at the thought of Iona with anyone else, ever.
What on earth was wrong with him?