‘I just like the tranquillity of being out on the water.’ He attached the basket to a large reel hanging over the side.
He had an affinity with wildlife, she decided. She’d witnessed that yesterday. It didn’t mean he was trustworthy, though. He was still a shady liar. But maybe he wasn’t all bad.
She watched the basket disappear underwater. ‘Quaint.’
‘There’s no other way of doing it. Commercial fishing’s not allowed in these parts.’ He beckoned her towards the front of the boat. ‘Come on, I’ll take you around the loch.’
When they pulled away, she had to hold on. They weren’t going that fast, but it was a bumpy ride. ‘What are those?’ she asked, pointing to several large cages in the water.
‘Salmon farms. The eggs are hatched on land in freshwater tanks, but they’re transferred to the floating pens when they’re about twelve months old.’
She was impressed by his local knowledge. But then, he grew up around here. Well, apart from attending boarding school and leaving home for a bit. He’d been quite mysterious about that yesterday. Perhaps he’d been in prison? Oh, hell. Is that why he’d been so cagey?
He pointed to a group of islands, distracting her from her thoughts. ‘See the herons?’
She shook away the image of him dressed in prison attire and looked to where he was pointing. Several lanky white birds were dotted about the island. ‘Impressive.’
‘Hopefully we’ll see some seals.’
He searched the coastline, his enthusiasm evident. Not that she was swayed by it. He could still be an ex-con.
‘Over there,’ he said, pointing.
She looked over. Sure enough, a seal was lying on the bank, basking in the sun. They were so close she could see its whiskers twitching. ‘Oh, wow.’
There was so much to see. Everywhere she turned she saw something new. She decided to focus on the beauty around her rather than allowing her mind to run riot.
He circled the islands so she could see a group of seals congregated on the beach. They were almost camouflaged against the grey pebbles.
‘Look!’ He pointed skywards towards the mountains. ‘A sea eagle.’
‘An eagle?’ It was a while before she saw the tiny speck of a bird swooping in and out of the trees. ‘I’ve never seen so much wildlife before.’
‘Seriously?’
‘I haven’t travelled much.’
Holidaying in Spain didn’t count. Despite owning a house there, they hadn’t explored much. Marcus had preferred hanging out in the ex-pat bars. But in a way, she had travelled. Studying art had allowed her to be transported to all kinds of far-off places. She was a time traveller, moving through the centuries, sampling life and cultures. On canvas, anyway.
‘Didn’t you holiday with your ex-husband?’
‘How did you know I was married?’
‘You mentioned it the night we met.’
‘Broke in, you mean.’
He shot her a look. They’d exited the loch now and were in open sea, sailing parallel to the shoreline. ‘You thought your ex-husband had sent me to steal the painting of a woman looking out of a window.’
She’d forgotten about that.
‘I’m guessing your ex wasn’t a nice man.’
Understatement of the century. ‘You could say that.’
It still smarted that she’d fallen for a complete rotter with few redeeming qualities. But she’d been blinded by Marcus’s charm. It’d never occurred to her she was being played. His attentiveness and generosity had seemed genuine, and maybe when lady luck was on his side it was. But when his winning streak had ended and the debts started piling up, his true character had been exposed. Unlike her, Tasha hadn’t been surprised when it all went tits-up. She’d suspected it was an act from the start but, as for herself, she hadn’t seen it coming. How had she been so easily fooled?
She sighed. ‘At the time, I wanted to believe that he was a good man who resorted to doing bad things when his used-car business got into trouble. But it turns out he was shady from the start and I didn’t want to see it.’
‘Is that why you find it hard to trust people?’
‘Can you blame me?’
‘One bad experience shouldn’t stop you from trusting everyone.’
‘By everyone, you mean you?’ She rolled her eyes.
He shrugged. ‘Not just me.’ The boat bounced over the waves. ‘What did he do that was so bad? Your ex, I mean.’
She deliberated how much to say. He might as well know the truth. Well, some of it. ‘He committed fraud. He ran off with his PA and he nearly gambled away my gallery.’
‘Wow, he is a dick. You’re well rid of him.’
She didn’t need him to tell her that. Still, it was nice that he did. ‘Thank you.’
‘And the painting of the woman looking out the window?’
Trust him to come back to that. ‘Marcus broke in the other night and took it.’
‘Did you call the police?’
She ducked when water sprayed over the front of the boat. ‘No proof. Plus, he has keys. He says it wasn’t him, but I know he’s lying.’
‘Is the painting valuable?’
There was no point denying it. He wasn’t to know she’d nicked the money to buy it. ‘Yes, but it’s more about the sentimental value. I lost almost everything when Marcus was made bankrupt. Including my dignity. Watching bailiffs remove your personal belongings while the neighbours look on isn’t a pleasant experience.’
It had been utterly humiliating. She didn’t know which was worse, seeing her possessions being loaded up, or watching the bailiffs walk around her house with a clipboard pricing everything up, like her whole existence was being valued.
She shook the memory away. ‘The Woman at the Window was all I had left. All the other paintings are owned by the gallery. Marcus stole it as revenge. A deliberate act meant to hurt me. He knows I love it and I’m desperate to get it back. And that means he has leverage over me. That’s what I don’t like.’ Why was she divulging so much? It must be the sea air, lowering her inhibitions.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘No idea.’
They fell into silence.
She turned her head so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to undo her. Without the painting, she couldn’t repay the official receiver. Which meant bailiffs would be calling again and everything she’d fought so hard to save would be taken away.
The motion of the boat sent water spraying up, masking her tears. She was grateful. Crying in front of Olly wasn’t any less professional than mud wrestling.
They sailed along the coastline for some distance. It enabled her to regain control of her emotions. When she glanced over, she realised they were approaching a secluded cove.
‘This okay for lunch?’ He nodded to the empty stretch of white sandy beach.
Was he kidding? ‘This looks amazing.’
‘I wasn’t expecting company, so you’ll have to share my petrol station sandwich.’
‘That’s okay, I brought a packed lunch.’
He moored the boat by the rocks. They removed their shoes and rolled up their trousers so they could wade through the water to reach the beach.
She was dumbstruck by how breathtaking it was. It was like something from the Mediterranean. The sun sparkled off the water like dancing diamonds. Either side were rocks, sheltering them from the wind. It was perfect.
Ignoring the warning voice in her head telling her it was also very romantic, she unpacked her rucksack and placed a rug on the sand before sitting down and unwrapping her bag of goodies: two egg mayonnaise rolls, a banana and a fruit smoothie. Nothing romantic about that.
Olly appeared carrying his sandwich and bottle of water. ‘Blimey, you came prepared. Are you going to eat all of that?’
She handed him a roll. She was getting accustomed to his appetite.
‘Thanks. This looks way better than my limp sandwich.’
When she unearthed a sma
ll Tupperware containing two freshly baked chocolate brownies, she thought he might combust.
His eyes grew wide. ‘Are they …?’
‘I baked them this morning. You said they were Louisa’s favourite, so I thought I’d make some for her. She seemed happy when I gave them to her.’
‘I’ll bet she did.’ He sat down next to her. ‘That was incredibly kind of you, Lexi.’ He looked at her with such sincerity she had to look away.
She opened the container and offered him one. ‘Want one?’
‘Hell, yes.’
They sat side by side on the blanket watching the sea, eating their picnic in companionable silence.
His lordship was quite a conundrum, she decided. One minute he was trying to scam his sister, the next he was caring for her. He loved animals, didn’t eat the fish he caught, and he was generous and fun. It was just as well he was a liar, or she might have fallen for him. And what a disaster that would be.
She finished her roll and wiped her fingers. ‘Tell me about your sisters.’
He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Why?’
She drank a mouthful of smoothie. ‘I’m still trying to work you out. I figured it might help if I knew about your family.’
He shrugged. ‘What can I say? They’re both outgoing and sociable, they’re loyal and they’re smart. They were good at sports when they were young and they both still enjoy horse-riding. More than anything, they’re both incredibly resilient.’
She unpeeled her banana. ‘In what way?’
He seemed to consider this. ‘Growing up in a remote castle isn’t the fairy tale some might imagine. It can be brutal. Especially in winter.’
When nothing more was forthcoming, she asked, ‘What do they do? For a living, I mean.’
‘Louisa runs Rubha Castle. She also works for an animal charity. She heads up their fundraising activities. It involves a lot of people interaction, which she’s very good at, and public speaking, which she excels at. She’s very adept at persuading rich people to part with their money.’
‘A handy trait to have.’
He finished his brownie, eyeing up hers surreptitiously.
She moved it out of reach. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘Worth a try.’ He smiled. ‘Sophie’s equally clever, although she uses her skills to different effect. She writes a weekly blog for various fashion and lifestyle magazines. She also coerces people into doing what she wants, but instead of extracting money, it’s gossip she’s after. I don’t know how she does it. She’s been socialising with the same crowd for so long you’d think they’d have wised up by now. But once the champagne starts flowing and she lays on the charm, they spill.’
‘Sounds like you’re very proud of them.’
He took a swig of water. ‘They’ve overcome a lot.’
She nibbled on her brownie. ‘You’re obviously close.’
He turned to look at her. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘The way you all bicker. It reminds me of my sister and me. We argue, disagree, annoy the hell out of each other, but there isn’t anyone I trust more.’
‘You have chocolate on your lip.’
She licked her lip. ‘Gone?’
His eyes lingered a little too long on her mouth.
She cleared her throat. ‘What about your parents? I’m sensing from what you said yesterday there was a falling out of some kind.’
‘You could say that.’
‘What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.’
He took another mouthful of water before answering. ‘The short version is that I left home at eighteen and didn’t return for eleven years.’
Wow. ‘And the long version?’
He sighed. ‘It’s complicated. Let’s just say, it spawned from years of disagreements and not being the dutiful son they wanted me to be. How I saw my life panning out didn’t match the life they had planned for me. They refused to see things from my perspective and I couldn’t agree to their demands. In the end, my father gave me an ultimatum. Back down or leave. So I left. After that, my parents disowned me. I never saw them again.’
There was such agony in his expression it broke her heart. She offered him the last bite of brownie, but he shook his head. ‘What about your sisters? How did they feel about you leaving?’
‘Louisa came to visit me a few times. Tried to persuade me to come home, but I always refused.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Stubbornness, I guess. Shame, too.’
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. The anguish on his face was hard to watch. ‘That’s such a sad story.’ She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
It was an impulse reaction to reach out and touch him. And if her guard hadn’t been lowered by his heart-breaking confession, her sensible inner self would have alerted her to the danger of touching him. But it was too late. It was probably the relief of discovering he wasn’t an ex-con.
His eyes remained fixed on the sea, but his fingers slid between hers and he held her hand so tightly she could feel the pulse in his wrist. She ignored the rise in her own pulse and returned to staring at the sea – it was safer than looking at the troubled man next to her.
Chapter Twelve
Later that day …
It was gone seven by the time they left the beach at Red Point. Even then it had been with some reluctance. There was something magical about watching the sky fade from pale blue to orange, to mauve, while listening to the rhythmical sound of the waves caressing the sand. Lexi had fallen asleep next to him, lulled into slumber by the tranquillity of the secluded beach.
He’d been content to lie next to her, absorbed by his own thoughts, switching from enjoying the views around him to enjoying the one next to him. There was no escaping his attraction. Lexi wasn’t his usual type. Did he even have a type? He’d never stayed in one place long enough to find out. He’d resisted forming any attachments – long-term relationships weren’t conducive to travelling – but perhaps it was like his mother had said. If he let his guard down the truth would emerge. And there was no way he could risk that.
When Lexi stirred, she was shocked to discover she’d been asleep for over two hours. She blushed, straightened her clothes and smoothed down her hair, suddenly self-conscious.
He understood that. There was something intimate about sleeping in front of another person. The ultimate lowering of a protective barrier. He could have teased her about the cute noises she’d made while sleeping, or how she’d cradled her hands close to her chest, but he didn’t want to embarrass her further.
Instead, they packed up and headed to the boat. The temperature had dropped, so he dug out a blanket for her to wrap herself in while they sailed along the blustery coastline.
The sea was choppy, sending up sprays of water, making it hard to keep the boat steady. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long journey.
‘This isn’t Shieldaig,’ she said when they pulled into Port Henderson.
‘It’s Gairloch,’ he said, jumping onto the jetty and dragging the boat closer to its mooring. ‘The boat belongs to a friend. I borrowed it for the day.’
She looked concerned. ‘How will we get back to Shieldaig?’
He helped her off the boat. ‘My Vespa.’
Her eyes grew wide. ‘And I thought the tractor ride was risky.’
‘I’ll call you a taxi if you want.’ He secured the tarpaulin flaps and joined her on the walkway.
She seemed to consider this. ‘That’s okay. I’m learning to live dangerously.’
He smiled. ‘Hungry?’
‘Starving.’
‘There’s a great pub up the road, but I need to drop the boat keys back first.’ He showed her where the pub was and promised to join her when he’d finished dealing with the boat.
He arrived at The Badachro Inn fifteen minutes later. Lexi had found a table by the open fire and was drinking a glass of ale. ‘You’re on the beer?’
Her cheeks were rosy from the
fire and she’d unbuttoned her retro pink top, revealing a white vest top underneath. ‘I ordered prosecco, but the barmaid persuaded me to try this. No idea how you pronounce it.’ She pointed to the label. ‘I ordered you one, too.’
‘It’s called An Teallach. It’s brewed locally. Do you like it?’
She nodded. ‘But I’ll need to eat soon or you’ll be carrying me home unconscious.’
He laughed. ‘That’ll make the journey interesting.’ He picked up his ale and clinked glasses with her. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers. Thanks for a lovely day.’
‘My pleasure.’ He sipped his ale. ‘It’s not over yet.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Ah, yes. The excitement of riding pillion on a Vespa.’
‘Ever ridden a motorbike before?’
‘God, no.’ She studied the menu. ‘This trip is opening me up to a whole new world of transportation.’
The barmaid came over and took their orders. He opted for pan-fried scallops. Lexi ordered the tarka dhal.
When the barmaid disappeared, she relaxed against the padded bench seat. ‘I’m curious,’ she said, studying him like he was an interesting art subject. ‘You said you left home at eighteen and went travelling for eleven years.’
‘That’s right.’
‘How did you finance the trip? If you don’t mind me asking.’
He took a swig of ale. ‘I did some bar work, fruit picking, a few temp jobs. But mainly I used my inheritance. My grandfather left us a lump sum in his will. I don’t think he envisaged me using it to run off. I know my parents didn’t approve of me squandering it by “wandering the planet”, as they called it, but I don’t regret it. I’ve lived in some amazing places and met some wonderful people.’
And it wasn’t like he’d had a choice. Staying in the UK hadn’t been an option.
She sipped her ale. ‘Where did you travel to?’
‘I started off in America, bought a beaten-up 1975 Chevrolet Camaro and worked my way along the East Coast from Boston to Miami. I stopped off for a few months in New York, but when my visa expired, I headed to South America.’
She looked wistful. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit South America. What’s it like?’
He knocked back a mouthful of ale. ‘Depends where you go. Like anywhere, it has its beauty, but it also has areas of severe deprivation. I spent a year in Colombia. Bogotá’s a modern city, cosmopolitan and business-focused. Cartagena’s a historic walled city steeped in tradition and culture. And then there’s Magdalena, areas of which have poor sanitation, low school attendance and high child mortality rates.’ He took another swig of ale, remembering some of the horrors he’d witnessed. ‘I worked in a school there.’
Secret Things and Highland Flings Page 14