by Joan Fleming
When Anna Ballantyne is devastated by her birth mother’s refusal to meet her, Anna uses her job as a freelance researcher to fund her trip to the Scottish Island of Mull to investigate the story of the Lord of the Isles. While there, she also plans on tracking down her mother who lives there.
Anna quickly falls under the spell of Finn Ericson, the island’s unofficial tour guide. But complications arise when roommate, Robbie, arrives from Glasgow and his feelings for her are soon revealed more serious than she realised.
Torn between Finn and Robbie, Anna’s confused about pursuing a mother who doesn’t want to meet her. Anna has an important decision to make. And captivated by the island, she wonders if there’s a future on Mull with Finn, or is she ignoring the whispers of her heart that it’s Robbie she truly loves?
DAUGHTER OF MULL
The Magic of Mull Series, #3
Joan Fleming
Published by Tirgearr Publishing
Author Copyright 2017 Joan Fleming
Cover Art: EJR Digital Art (ejrdigitalart.com)
Editor: Christine McPherson
Proofreader: Barbara Whary
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you for the purpose of review, then please log into the publisher’s website and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting our author’s hard work.
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
DEDICATION
For Charlotte, Mark, Zoë, and Josephine
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I owe thanks to all the members of the Tirgearr Publishing team, especially Kemberlee Shortland, who has supported me from the start; also to my lovely editor Christine McPherson for her thorough and sensitive editing; and proofreader Barbara Whary. For creating my beautiful cover thanks are due to cover artist, Elle Rossi.
Thank you to my friends at Erskine Writers for their constant support, in particular Rosemary Gemmell, who is always happy to share the benefit of her experience; and Myra Duffy, who read my first draft and helped me to make this novel a better story.
I am grateful to members of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and of the Scottish Association of Writers who have been ready to offer encouragement and friendship along the way.
Thank you to my extended family and friends from the Isles of Mull and Iona, ever ready to provide factual details as I created my fictional characters. Also to Jessie Gray and Catriona Smyth, who helped with historical points, providing information on graveyards in Tiree.
Finally, thanks to my own family members, who are always there for me: my daughter, Hazel, for the advice she gave me on my first draft; and my son, Iain, for his unwavering support. Also to my four wonderful grandchildren, Charlotte, Mark, Zoë, and Josephine, who are travelling with me along this road, and to whom this book is dedicated.
DAUGHTER OF MULL
The Magic of Mull Series, #3
Joan Fleming
CHAPTER 1
Anna Ballantyne’s twenty-fifth birthday should have been a day to enjoy. Her three flatmates had invited her out to dinner at her favourite restaurant, which she was looking forward to, but she would have much preferred to spend the day in an easier frame of mind.
‘What’s bothering you, Anna?’ Roddie, who owned the flat, gently caught her wrist as she headed towards her bedroom to prepare for the evening.
‘Oh, it’s nothing, Roddie.’ She smiled as she extricated her hand from his grasp. ‘Nothing important.’
Anna knew Roddie was like a terrier worrying at a bone when he was looking for information, but thankfully he seemed prepared not to pursue things for the moment.
She had no wish to introduce an element of gloom into the evening, especially when it was supposed to be a birthday treat. Perhaps changing her outfit and applying some make-up would help to raise her spirits.
Anna had first met Roddie Fraser at college. A few years later, she had been pleasantly surprised when he turned up at a charity event which a mutual friend was running in the form of a fun version of speed-dating. It had turned out to be an evening filled with laughter as the participants got to know each other in a light-hearted way.
Although Anna and Roddie had been judged to be ‘compatible’, neither of them could understand how the ‘judges’ had reached that conclusion. She was a freelance researcher and photographer who spent her free time at yoga, karate, and dance classes. Hardly a match for an architect whose main pastimes were football and classical music.
Having enjoyed each other’s company and discovered that they were both members of the same sports centre, they had gone out together a few times in a casual way. Anna suspected that Roddie might be keen to progress their friendship to a deeper level, but she was not ready for commitment.
When he told her that he was buying a flat and offered her the chance to rent one of the rooms, she had been sorely tempted. But she didn’t want their flat-sharing to be seen as a development of their relationship.
On the other hand, Anna had been impatient to move out of her parents’ house in Bishopbriggs in the outskirts of Glasgow, and it seemed too good an offer to refuse. This would be her first home away from her parents – and she was looking for freedom.
‘Move in on a purely business basis?’ Anna had asked Roddie. ‘Promise?’
‘I promise,’ he’d said, smiling. ‘As a flatmate. Call it a business arrangement. And we’ll have to find one more person for the other bedroom – to help me pay the mortgage,’ Roddie had said. ‘What about Jake? We both get on well with him, and he’s great company.’
‘Trouble is, Jake always has a female hanging on his arm…’ Anna frowned.
‘As you’ve chosen the small bedroom, he could have the double room,’ Roddie had replied, a mischievous grin on his face.
‘It’s up to you,’ Anna had said. ‘I’m happy with Jake. And no doubt the women he attracts will be a source of interest, especially to you.’
‘You can say that again.’
Although Anna’s bedroom in the ground floor flat in the Hillhead area of Glasgow was small, it had the advantage of a large, south-facing window. Sitting at her desk, which also served as a dressing table, Anna caught sight of her downcast expression in the mirror. With an intake of breath, she picked up her hairbrush and attacked her long, red hair. Sometimes it seemed to have a mind of its own, but vigorous brushing usually brought it under control.
On this occasion, it seemed determined to defy her. Her hairbrush set up currents of electricity, creating a red-tinted halo with strands of hair as elusive as feathers in the wind. She sighed, placing her brush back on her desk, and turned her attention to putting on her make-up. She paid particular attention to her eyes, aware that their bright green, which frequently drew compliments seemed to have lost its sparkle. Would some shiny mascara help her to present herself in a more cheerful light?
At last she was ready to join the others, and they set off for Stravaigin, a popular bar and restaurant in the heart of the student district in the West End of the city. It was a venue they visited infrequently, reserving it for celebrations of birthdays and other special occasions. Under the gaze of the head of a highland cow, which was mounted on the wall at the top of the stairs, they made their way downstairs to the restaurant.
They were shown to their reserved table in a corner and settled into the relaxed atmosphere, surrounded
by a decor which one newspaper critic had described as ‘shabby chic’. With a glass of wine in front of her, Anna began to unwind, putting her worries to the back of her mind.
‘Happy birthday, Anna!’ her three friends wished her.
‘Thank you.’ Her smile was genuine. ‘This is so kind of you all.’
‘I hope you’re going to enjoy it,’ Roddie said, a questioning look in his eyes. Anna knew he would make it his business to find out what was troubling her.
Having been in the restaurant before, the group – except for Jake’s current girlfriend, Yvette – were familiar with dishes they had tasted previously, but there were a few new ones they were keen to try. As they studied the menu, Jake did his best to translate the description of the dishes into French for Yvette. Although she could speak and understand English fairly well, some of the vocabulary on the menu was beyond her.
‘Neeps?’ she asked. ‘What are neeps?’
‘A type of turnip,’ Jake said. ‘Des navets.’
After lengthy discussion and the occasional explanation, their waiter took their order, and, with their wine glasses refilled, they sat back and enjoyed casual conversation: the weather (warm), last night’s television programmes (rubbish), holiday plans (none).
When their food arrived, all their attention was focused on the presentation of the dishes and their taste. Even Yvette, an enthusiast of French cooking, was impressed.
‘Did you enjoy the haggis, Yvette?’ Roddie asked.
In reply, she kissed the tips of her fingers and pointed them heavenward.
‘My fish was delicious, too,’ said Anna. ‘I see they use local products and prepare them in unusual ways, which makes the whole dining experience an adventure.’
‘Of course, it’s possible to have a less adventurous meal here, if you prefer,’ Jake said.
‘But what would be ze point of zat?’ Yvette asked. ‘Every meal should be an adventure when one dines in a restaurant.’
‘Next time I come here, I’ll miss the starter so that I have space left for one of those delicious-sounding desserts,’ Anna said, picking up the menu. ‘Listen to this: Yoghurt parfait – caramelised banana, salted chocolate toffee, frosted pecans, and honeycomb. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?’ Her theatrical manner, followed by an exaggerated sigh met with signals of approval from the others.
When the four friends returned to their flat, Roddie opened a bottle of red wine and they made themselves comfortable in the living room. Jake and Yvette were on the sofa where they could squeeze up close, and Roddie and Anna on the two well-worn armchairs.
‘I’ve had a wonderful evening,’ Anna said.
‘Me, too. Those cheeses were some of the best I’ve ever tasted,’ Roddie said.
‘What did you choose in the end?’ Anna was curious.
‘Isle of Mull Cheddar…’
Anna heard no more. She felt a sharp pain in the pit of her stomach, which had nothing to do with her digestive system. It was the mention of the Isle of Mull.
‘Anna, are you all right? I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but you haven’t been listening to a word any of us are saying.’
With an effort, Anna dragged her thoughts back to the conversation in the living room.
‘Sorry, Roddie. I was miles away. It must be the effects of all the wine I’ve been drinking.’
‘Jake asked you when you’re leaving for Islay.’
‘I’m not sure. I may decide not to go to Islay.’
‘Oh, you women, you’re always changing your mind about something,’ Jake said, trying to move even closer to Yvette on the sofa, if that were possible.
‘But what about your research?’ Roddie asked, taking a sip of his wine. He leant back, easily filling his armchair. Anna knew his bulk was all muscle, having seen him working out at the local sports centre several times a week.
‘Oh, I don’t know, Roddie,’ Anna said, more sharply than she intended. ‘It’s a bit late to discuss it tonight. I’ll decide tomorrow.’
Anna was aware of his scrutiny. He was looking at her in a puzzled way, as if he was sure there was an explanation for her possible change of plan, but she’d made it clear the matter wasn’t for discussion at this point.
‘Where exactly is Islay?’ Yvette asked in her rather thick French accent. Her guileless question succeeded in taking the tension out of the atmosphere.
‘It’s an island off the west coast of Scotland,’ Anna said. ‘In the Inner Hebrides. The job I’m doing is about The Lords of the Isles, and that was the centre of their operations.’
‘I don’t know much about the Lords of the Isles,’ Jake admitted.
‘They controlled parts of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland from around 1330 to the 1490s. The title still exists today, but there’s no power attached to it.’ This was Anna’s short version of a complicated era in Scotland’s history, but it seemed to satisfy her flatmate.
‘So, for this project,’ Jake said, pulling the conversation back to the subject under discussion, ‘don’t you have to go to Islay? To do your research and take pictures?’
‘Yes, I do. But… I may have to see to something else first.’
‘What’s your deadline?’ Jake asked.
‘I don’t have one. He’s a private customer, and he wants the information and the photos to use in talks he gives. He’s a public speaker, working with an agency in America. I don’t know much more than that about him. I usually email his secretary.’
‘I thought you were really keen to go to Islay,’ Jake said.
‘Oh, Jake, you can be so persistent at times.’ Roddie stood up to refill their glasses. ‘If Anna wants to talk about it, it’s up to her.’
Undeterred by the tone of Roddie’s remark, Jake continued with his questions. He even managed to take his eyes off Yvette for a moment.
‘So how did you land the commission?’ As a student of business administration, he was interested in small businesses.
‘My client’s name’s Mel MacDougall and he has Scottish ancestors. He’s always on the lookout for interesting topics to use in his speeches, but there are times when he’s unable to come over here to do the research himself. He’d seen some of my work on my website, and his secretary, Cindy, contacted me.’
‘So, you—’
Roddie interrupted at this point.
‘Jake, this is Anna’s birthday and we’re attempting to have a pleasant evening. Stop badgering her with questions, and let’s all relax.’
Jake shrugged and cuddled up closer to Yvette.
‘You look comfortable there, Anna. You’re not about to fall asleep in the chair, are you? Have you recovered from your mishap this morning?’ Roddie asked.
‘Mishap?’ Anna’s tone was sharp.
‘Yes, you banged your toe. How is it?’ Roddie had a cheeky grin on his face.
Anna felt heat rising to her face. In her teenage years, she’d become aware of her inability to conceal her embarrassment when she knew her pale skin could not hide her blushing. Although she loved her red hair, she wished she had the complexion of a brunette or a blonde. She’d even tried when she was in her last year of junior school to erase the freckles across her nose, using a product that promised to turn any hair colour to ash blonde. Needless to say, it didn’t work on the skin of her nose.
‘Oh…’ she mumbled. ‘It’s fine, thanks.’
‘Your toe? What’s wrong with your toe?’ Jake emerged from a tortuous position on the sofa.
‘It had a fight with the doorstop when the postman arrived this morning – and my toe came off worst,’ Anna said.
Jake burst out laughing. ‘Temper, temper,’ he said, wagging an admonishing finger at her.
‘She can’t help it,’ Roddie said. ‘It goes with her hair colour.’
Anna stood up. ‘If you think for one minute I’m going to stay here to be insulted by you lot, then you have another think coming. I’m off to bed.’ Her tone made it clear that she was used to the banter which
was part and parcel of the relationship among the four residents in the flat.
Roddie stood up and swept her into his arms in a comforting bear hug.
‘Good night, birthday girl. You know we all love you… and your temper. Life would be pretty boring around here without it.’
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ Anna said, making her way to the hall.
A chorus of ‘goodnights’ rang in her ears as she left the room.
When Anna closed her bedroom door, she stood for a moment, leaning against the cool panelled wood. It was such a relief to be alone. She had spent the day pretending that her only concern was whether or not to arrange a trip to Islay. Now that she was on her own, she could let her thoughts roam over the real issue which was bothering her.
She lowered herself onto the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands. How could she set off for the island of Islay when every instinct was pulling her to the Isle of Mull? The letter, which she’d received that morning, was on her bedside table; in her mind’s eye, it had become an object of ill-will, hinting she might burn her fingers if she touched it again. How she wished she hadn’t opened the letter as soon as it arrived, hadn’t read the contents, hadn’t faced the unforeseen rejection.
When Roddie’s gentle knock at her door interrupted her train of thought, she jumped up from her bed and let him in.
Almost falling into his wide-open arms, she surrendered to her pent-up emotions and wept.