Five Days in Skye: A Novel

by Laureano, Carla

  “I’m glad.” He held out a hand to her. “If you’re rested, we can go down the opposite side and circle around.”

  She gripped his hand and hopped off the boulder. This time, he took the lead down the other side of the hill, setting a comfortable pace. Her heart beat a little faster than the exercise warranted. What had just happened on that hill? Every day it seemed James opened up to her a bit more, revealed some of the thoughts he hid behind his flippant attitude. Was it just a way to hold everyone at arm’s length? And what did it mean that he was willing to give her glimpses of his serious side?

  By the time they reached the hotel, Andrea felt pleasantly exhausted, even though her legs were rubbery and her chest tight. The cement jogging paths of an urban park hadn’t quite prepared her for James’s cross-country route, but it had been worth it for the view across the sound. So far, he had an unerring aim to her heart when it came to showing her Skye’s beauty.

  She paced a circle in the gravel lot, cooling down, while he ducked inside his cottage. He returned a minute later with two water bottles and tossed her one. She caught it in midair, twisted off the cap, and gulped down half the contents.

  “I won’t be able to eat for a while, but I should still go make Serena and Muriel breakfast. You hungry?”

  “No. I’m finally in the negative after last night’s dessert. I’d settle for a piece of fruit or something.”

  “Go ahead and have a seat on the deck. I’ll see what I have.”

  She walked around to the deck behind James’s cottage and plopped in a chair. Seabirds soared over the brilliant blue water, diving and calling to one another in the bright morning sunshine. She sipped her water and wondered what it would be like to have this view in her backyard every day. She’d probably never get anything done. She’d already been up for two hours, and work hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  James reappeared with a banana for each of them and seated himself in the chair beside her. “What would you like to do today?”

  “I don’t know. What can’t I miss? I have less than three full days left.” The idea of sightseeing around Skye lifted her heart in anticipation.

  “We could drive the loop around the island. Trotternish is spectacular. It’s really up to you how much walking you want to do after that jog.”

  “You don’t actually think you wore me out with that little walk, do you?”

  “I beg your pardon then. How about I pack a hamper, and we’ll see where the day takes us.”

  “Fair enough.” She leaned her head back against the chair, enveloped in post-workout lassitude. “For once, I actually feel like I’m on vacation. Do you know I went to Hawaii last year, and I ended up writing a PowerPoint presentation on the beach?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I rather need the forced rest.” She chuckled at the memory. “What time should I be ready to go up to the house?”

  “Whenever you like. I’ll make our lunch now and then we can go.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Just come over when you’re finished.”

  She tipped her water bottle to him. “Thanks for the run.”

  He grinned. “Thanks for the view.”

  “Very funny.” She wrinkled her nose at him, but she watched him walk away before sinking back against her deck chair. She should probably check in with the office this morning, but she didn’t want to lie to Michael about her plans for the day. She also didn’t want to spoil the morning’s relaxed mood. The idea of spending the entire day with James, sightseeing and enjoying herself without a thought to business, sounded far more appealing than she had ever thought possible.

  She pushed herself up from the chair and crunched back across the gravel to her cottage. She toed off her running shoes and walked to the bathroom. The claw-foot tub had old-fashioned separate hot- and cold-water taps, and it took a minute to figure out the right proportion of hot to cold water in the bottom of the tub. It was a mark of this morning’s light mood that she found it more charming than irritating.

  The room phone rang shrilly. James or Becky? She hurried back across the room and picked it up.

  “Andrea, how’s it going?”

  She blinked. “Michael? What are you doing calling me at this hour? It’s two a.m. in New York.”

  “Something like that. I wanted a progress report from my best closer.”

  Andrea sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning. “It’s going fine. I’ve closed half-million dollar deals and never heard from you. Why are you checking up on me now?”

  She could hear his hesitation on the other end of the line. “You have to admit, your last appointment didn’t go so well.”

  A sick feeling crept into her stomach. “I hope you’re not suggesting I did the wrong thing in defending myself against a client who was harassing me.”

  “Of course not, Andrea,” he said hurriedly. “You just might have handled things more delicately.”

  “More delicately? I think the fact he was able to walk out of the elevator on his own power showed my level of restraint.”

  “No one is begrudging your right to take care of yourself.” Michael had on his conciliatory, anti-lawsuit voice. “If anything, I’m just calling to make sure you’re comfortable with the situation. MacDonald has a bit of a reputation when it comes to women.”

  “So I hear,” Andrea said dryly. “James has been a perfect gentleman.” Today, at least.

  “First-name basis, huh? I hope that means you’re getting close to a signed contract.”

  “I’ll get it signed, Michael. I’m not the highest producing account manager in Morrison’s history for no reason. So I know you won’t have a problem with the fact I’m going sightseeing around Skye today. If that bothers you, you can take it out of my vacation time. I’ve got plenty.”

  “Whoa, I have no problem with you taking some time for yourself, Andrea. Just making sure you’re on track here.”

  “Got it. I’ll call you on my way to the airport Saturday. When I have a signed contract in hand.”

  “Good girl. I’ll be waiting.”

  Andrea slammed the handset into the cradle and stomped back to the bathroom to turn off the taps before the bathtub overflowed. As if his most accomplished account executive needed babysitting. Apparently, all it took was one cretin who didn’t understand the word no to erase the memory of the hundreds of sales she’d made for Morrison. She flexed her hand, pleased to find it didn’t hurt anymore. Hopefully, the creep’s sore jaw had persisted longer than her bruised knuckles.

  She stripped off her workout clothes and stepped into the overfilled bathtub, where she forced herself to let the hot water soak away her irritation. Leave it to Michael to destroy her one peaceful morning with business.

  If she only had one more day on earth, would she really want to spend it thinking about Michael and the next big deal?

  She braced her bare toes against the porcelain lip of the tub. A week ago, she would have said yes. Being here in Skye with James would have felt like a waste of time, a distraction. But a distraction from what? From her career? From her goal of becoming vice president? She wanted it no less now than she had before, but it was a means to an end. What was supposed to be waiting for her across the finish line? Peace? Happiness? Time to enjoy her life?

  For the first time, she wondered if the unencumbered existence she had built for herself, free from attachments or obligations, was as appealing as she’d always thought it to be. What point was there in success when there was no one to share it with?

  She wasn’t going to answer those questions in ten minutes in a tub of warm water. For once, though, she knew very clearly what she wanted from the day. She wanted to bask in the beauty of her surroundings. She wanted to breathe in clean salt air and feel the sun on her face. She wanted to walk hand in hand with James, have his arms around her, feel his lips on hers.

  Ack
nowledging those desires set her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. She forced the panicked feeling down and made her breathing even out again, even though she felt like she stood on a precipice. She couldn’t see the bottom, didn’t know if jumping would earn her a soft landing or dash her against the rocks. Could she summon the courage to leap?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  James washed quickly, his mind occupied with the conversation he’d had with Andrea atop the hill. The more he learned about her, the more he saw how much the secret in her past had affected every aspect of her life. It seemed like she had turned her back on the person she had once been: her music, her faith, even her family. His heart ached at every new glimpse of pain. He had known plenty of personal tragedy in his life, but he always had his beliefs to fall back on, even in the times he didn’t live by them.

  Andrea hadn’t given up, though. She was seeking, waiting for something to prove her wrong. Something to make her believe again.

  He just hoped he hadn’t missed his chance. Instead of being an example of a man of faith, he had just reinforced her skewed image of him by letting her believe the lies and speculation for so long. Truthfully, he hadn’t done much to show her otherwise.

  He hated when Ian was right. Not that James would ever admit it to him.

  He pulled on jeans and an Oxford shirt and toweled his wet hair dry before he sat down at the desk to call Bridget. Fortunately, it sounded as if it had been a quiet week at the office with both him and Ian in Skye.

  “How’s Kyle?” he asked.

  “Out of ICU, though they’re still watching him closely. Jonathan set his family up in a flat in Islington for now. He figured it would be less conspicuous than a hotel.”

  “Good. Let me know if anything changes?”

  “Of course. Has Ian heard anything from his friend at the Met?”

  James had forgotten to ask amidst the drama of the previous night. “I’ll find out when I see him later. I’ll be out for the rest of the day, but I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually taking some time off.”

  “Why would I need to take time off? Every day’s a holiday with you, Bridget.”

  She snorted. “I’ve known you too long for those lines to work. Just tell me this—is she pretty?”

  “Gorgeous. But don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my work-centered image.”

  “Good-bye, James.”

  He hung up the phone, grinning. At least he didn’t need to be concerned with what his assistant thought of him. He’d taken her daughter to a network party years ago. Of all people, Bridget knew what kind of man he really was.

  Blast Ian. He would be continually second-guessing himself now. It was so much easier when he didn’t give it a thought.

  He made two minor adjustments to his May calendar, and then started making lunch in the cottage’s tiny kitchen. While Andrea met with Ian, James had picked up the makings of what he hoped would be an impressive picnic. He was just packing the last items into the hamper when Andrea rapped on the door. She wore next-to-no makeup, her hair curling wildly in the damp sea air, but he found her effortless beauty even more appealing than her polished business exterior image.

  “Right on time,” he said. “I just finished.”

  She sniffed. “I smell fish.”

  “After last night, I assumed you liked it.”

  “I do. Besides, even if I didn’t, it would probably still be wonderful.” She trailed off. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Am I?” He smiled carelessly to disguise the fact he had indeed been staring and wondering why in the world he’d ever agreed not to kiss her. “Let me get my coat and the hamper, and we’ll head up to the house. I’ll try to make it quick. I have someplace amazing to show you.”

  “You’re going to torture me with that statement and not tell me where we’re going?”

  “Of course I am. But believe me, it’s worth the wait.”

  “It better be after that build-up.” She winked at him and turned on her heel toward the door.

  Had Andrea actually just winked at him? A slow smile spread over his face. He picked up the hamper and followed her out. Whatever the reason for her suddenly light mood, he wouldn’t complain.

  Even the sight of Ian’s car parked in Muriel’s driveway couldn’t dampen his spirits, though he prayed his brother’s naturally reserved nature would prevent a scene in front of Andrea. He needed to talk to him about Kyle, and that would be difficult if he was tempted to take a swing at him.

  The aroma of baking met them when they entered the front door. “Hello?”

  “Andrea!” Emmy squealed and darted into the reception room, once more nearly bowling her over.

  James chuckled and shut the front door. Once, he’d been Emmy’s favorite visitor, but Andrea had clearly usurped that status. “What smells so good, Em? Your mum baking again?”

  “I made muffins.” Serena poked her head out of the dining room. “Join us while they’re still warm.”

  “C’mon, Andrea!” Emmy grabbed Andrea’s hand and half-led, half-dragged her toward the dining room. James shook his head. They’d be lucky to make it to his intended picnic spot before nightfall, especially if Emmy managed to convince Andrea to play the piano before they left.

  The whole family gathered at the table around a basket of blueberry muffins and a large platter of sliced fruit. Ian rose immediately, and James stiffened until he realized he was just being polite. That was Ian. Old-fashioned to the core.

  “May I speak with you outside for a moment?”

  Ian nodded and tossed his napkin onto the table, his expression giving away nothing. He followed James out to the front steps.

  “I talked to Bridget this morning. Kyle is out of ICU. Have you heard anything from the Met?”

  Ian relaxed perceptibly. Apparently, he was as tense over the situation as James. “I got a call this morning. They know who they did it. They’re sitting on his grandmother’s flat. My friend will call me when they pick him up.”

  “Good.” That was something, at least. “Jon’s got the family settled in Islington for now.”

  “That’s good to know. Thanks for the update.” Ian turned toward the door and paused with his hand on the door. “James …”

  James didn’t know what Ian saw in his expression, but whatever it was made him change his mind. He shook his head and headed back inside.

  Andrea was sitting at the dining table with Muriel and Serena, eating a muffin and drinking tea. Serena and Andrea erupted into laughter, which they quickly squelched when the men reentered the room.

  “What’s so funny?” James asked suspiciously, looking between the two.

  “Nothing at all.” Andrea tried for an innocent expression and failed miserably. “Since your services aren’t required here this morning, does that mean we can go?”

  “It does. Let’s get our coats.”

  Andrea tried to pry their destination out of James all the way to Portree, but James refused to give her more than meager hints. Instead, he took her hand and told her stories about summers spent on Skye, while on holiday from boarding school. For once, she didn’t flinch every time he recaptured her hand after shifting, and she twined her fingers with his in an unexpected show of familiarity.

  He had no idea what had changed to make her so affectionate, but he wasn’t going to complain. Her hand felt good in his, soft but not delicate. Small women made him feel like he was going to accidentally crush them. Cassie had been positively petite, but Andrea’s hand was strong and solid, a pianist’s hand.

  “Where are we, exactly?” Andrea frowned out the window at the changing landscape. The road was single-track, just wide enough for one car, with small lay-bys every so often to accommodate oncoming traffic.

  “Outside of Uig. Just wait. You’ll see.”


  The road wound downward into a little glen. Andrea rolled down the window for a better view of the landscape. Even though James preferred the east coast’s mournful, craggy features, this part of Skye possessed an enchanting air. A carpet of bright green grass covered the rolling hills, as if velvet had been draped over the landscape, creating odd conical peaks and valleys. Little patches of trees were beginning to leaf out with their spring foliage, and short, scrubby bushes huddled together on the hillsides. In the distance, white horned sheep clustered in the meadow while their spring lambs frolicked nearby.

  “This is Fairy Glen,” James said, giving her hand a squeeze.

  He pulled off onto the grass and parked. This early in the season, there were no other cars, so they would have the scenery to themselves. Andrea climbed out and turned in a slow circle to take in the panorama. He watched her over the roof. Something about her expression reminded him of himself when he had first come back to the island after years of absence. Even heartbroken over the death of his father and the split from his fiancée, the landscape had roused something inside he had kept buried for years.

  His dad would have said the land recognized its own. There had been MacDonalds on Skye for over a thousand years, even before the castles and keeps that now lay ruined around the island. Whatever it was, the pace and the pressures of his life in London had dissipated like the morning mist was burned off by the sun. If he could have seen his own face, he thought he might have looked like Andrea right now.

  He retrieved the picnic hamper from the car’s boot and circled to her side. “Your castle awaits, my lady.”

  “Castle?”

  He pointed to a dark shape jutting above the hills in the distance. “Castle Ewen. It’s not precisely a castle, it’s just a rock formation, but it has the best view of the valley.”

  Andrea pulled on her jacket, and they headed down the road toward the tower. James reached for her hand, and she laced her fingers with his again, as if she had been expecting it. Soon they left the road in favor of the bracken ridge, the foliage muffling their footfalls. A few insects buzzed in the meadow, and birds called occasionally in the trees. Sheep bleated in the distance.