“You hope.” Ethan nipped her side, and she squealed automatically.
Ethan laughed, and the sound did something to Isla’s insides that she wasn’t prepared for.
Was she dreaming? Or was she really walking hand-in-hand along the beach with Ethan MacRae, talking, and laughing, as though they were an ordinary couple on a date, not haunted by the ghosts of his past, or anyone else’s?
The sand was littered with the shattered remains of broken shells, and Isla stooped to pick one up. It was heavily ridged and patterned from blue to gold, like a sunset.
She pressed it into Ethan’s palm.
“A dead crab? You’re too kind.” Ethan drawled. He turned it over in his hand, smoothing his fingers across the surface.
“It’s a shell. Most are ground up, but that one has survived somehow.”
He closed his fist gently around it, and they began walking again.
“You dinnae fancy a dip today then?” Ethan turned his head, his hair falling over one eye. This time Isla did brush it away.
“I’m game if you are.”
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“What? You don’t think I’d do it?”
Ethan shook his head. “Oh no, I’m sure you would. But I dinnae want to be responsible for you getting hypothermia...again.”
At the memory of her evening trapped in the woods, Isla felt her mood darkening. Ethan must have sensed it because they lapsed into silence as they made their way to the water’s edge. Grey-blue waves rushed up onto the beach, before slipping away.
“Did you ever find out who laid those traps?” Isla blurted.
She felt Ethan tense beside her. “No.”
“Where did you go that night? The night I was trapped in the tower?”
A look of surprise fell across Ethan’s face. “I had a medical appointment.”
“Oh.” Isla frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”
But Ethan was smiling.
“What?”
“I had to get a tetanus vaccination. My hand- I caught it in the trap. Ryder was fretting, so…” He shrugged. “I put it off as long as I could. I dinnae like doctors, hospitals, needles, and I dinnae often leave Rosehill, as you may have noticed.”
Isla smiled. “But you’re here now.”
He nodded. “I am.”
“What will you do when Rosehill is cleared out? Will you continue with the renovations?”
Ethan cocked his head. “What renovations?”
“The phone line, the electrics, I assumed they were the start of it…” Isla trailed off. “Do you plan to go on living there?”
Ethan turned back to the sea, as though he was staring out at the horizon, but whatever he saw on it was wholly in his mind. His expression darkened.
“I dinnae ken.”
A wave crashed at their feet, and Isla jumped back. The leather of Ethan’s boots darkened with the spray.
“You know, if you wanted, I could help. I’m no interior designer, but further down the line...if you were looking to furnish the place, I could help…” Isla trailed off.
Ethan turned to her slowly. “You’d come back?”
“Of course,” Isla tried to sound more confident than she felt. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The kiss came out of nowhere, Ethan’s mouth crashing against hers, as the waves lapped at their feet. Isla could taste the salt on his lips, and the breeze lifted her hair, whipping it around their faces like a curtain.
She slid her hands into his coat, wanting to touch him, needing fewer barriers between them, and he pressed his hand against the small of her back, holding her against him, deepening the kiss. It wasn’t until a wave crashed against their legs, soaking them, that Isla reluctantly pulled away.
“We should probably get back on dry land,” she said breathlessly.
“Aye.”
On the promenade, they passed a traditional arcade and a hut that sold ice-cream.
“Damn,” Isla said at the sight of the shutters. “I could have just gone for a chocolate cone.”
Ethan shook his head. “You dinnae want chocolate, you want Irn-bru.”
Isla wrinkled her nose. “Irn-bru flavour ice-cream? No thank you.”
A smile danced across Ethan’s lips. “I’ll bring you back in summer, and buy you one, and you’ll soon change your tune.”
Isla’s stomach flipped at the casual suggestion that he would be taking her anywhere come summer.
“Hungry?” Ethan asked.
On the breeze, Isla caught the unmistakable smell of fish and chips. She inhaled deeply. “Very.”
They ate at a small, cast-iron table set outside the café window. The breeze had picked up, and they warmed their hands around styrofoam cups- tea for her, black coffee for him, before walking back along the promenade.
“Are you cold?” Ethan asked.
“A little,” Isla admitted. “I’m mainly worried my beret might fly off at any minute.”
He chuckled “Do you want me to call Ryder?”
“Not yet,” she murmured, holding his arm tighter.
There had been something dreamlike about the entire day, even though it was in many ways the most ordinary day she’d spent with Ethan. They’d eaten, they’d talked- admittedly not about certain things, his accident...his parents...Briony, but that would come in time...wouldn’t it?
They left the promenade, cutting down one of the leafy side-streets back towards the centre of Portobello. The houses stood further back from the pavement here, at the end of long, well-maintained gardens. Ethan stopped in front of a low, iron gate, and tilted his head.
“What is it?” Isla asked.
For a moment she thought Ethan wasn’t going to answer, and when he did there was a strange quality to his voice. “What number is this?”
“Seventeen,” Isla read the number plaque on the wall. She glanced down the pebble drive at the Victorian villa, with its bay windows, and sunshine yellow front door. There was nothing remotely sinister about it, and yet Ethan’s expression raised the hairs on her arms.
“What’s wrong?” Isla asked.
He shook his head. “I haven’t been back here in years. This is my parents’ house.”
Isla gaped up at the house, and then back at Ethan.
“I didnae realise what street we were on. I must have gone into autopilot,” Ethan murmured.
“Do you want to go in?”
Ethan shook his head. “Another time, maybe.”
The breeze lifted the loose sand on the pavement, and it swirled around their feet as they walked away.
*
The car ride back to the shop was a quiet one. Ryder navigated the Range Rover down the narrow back street, bringing it to a standstill beside the iron staircase up to her front door.
“Thanks, Ryder.”
He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “See you again soon.”
Isla nodded and climbed from the car. Ethan followed. She briefly considered inviting him in, but she wasn’t sure she could handle another rejection, besides, she had the feeling it meant something to him to do this his way, at his own pace.
“Thank you for today,” she said.
“No, thank you.”
Isla’s eyes flickered to the car, and she wondered if Ethan was as aware of Ryder sitting right there as she was.
“Same time next week?” Ethan asked hopefully.
“Yes. Wait...no.” Isla smacked a hand to her forehead. “The auction. I’m sorry Ethan. I can’t. It’s one thing for Zoe to cover me in the shop, but I should really be there next week.”
“The auction, as in- the one where you sell all my stuff?” Ethan’s eyebrows raised.
“Yes, that one. Although it won’t be me doing the selling, I want to be there to represent Parsons & Co, and see the outcome.”
“I understand,” Ethan said.
“You’re welcome to come if you want.” Isla bit down on the inside of her cheek. Why had she said that? Of course he wou
ldn’t want to.
“Really?” Ethan frowned. “You wouldnae mind?”
“Mind? Why should I mind?”
“Well...” he turned away, and then back again. “Won’t there be people you know there?”
“Yes. And?”
Ethan shrugged.
Isla narrowed her eyes. “Ethan. Do you think I don’t want to be seen with you?”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you?”
“Yes.” Isla stepped forward to plant a kiss on his cheek, but Ethan turned at the final second, and it landed on the corner of his mouth. It was the most awkward end-of-date kiss Isla had ever had, but it still sent goosebumps ricocheting up her arms beneath her thick coat.
And the next time she saw him would be at a crowded auction house. Isla bit back a groan.
“The auction starts at twelve,” she said, climbing up the stairs. “Don’t be late.”
Thirty Nine
He was late.
Ryder had called ahead and arranged for Ethan to meet her at the auction house, but the auction was about to start any minute, and there was still no sign of him.
Maybe he’d changed his mind. Isla wasn’t sure she could stand and listen to her worldly goods being auctioned off to the highest bidder, but Ethan had never shown any attachment to anything at Rosehill. If today went well, the only rooms left with furniture in the entire castle would be those in the west wing.
The rows of red and gold chairs in front of Isla were filling fast as potential bidders took their seats. Isla could see the bid caller at the front of the room, a smartly dressed twenty-something with fair hair, and glasses. Isla knew him as Robin, one of the ambitious young auctioneers. He was sharp, and not the warmest person she’d met, but he had a good eye, and his assessments had always tallied with her own when it came to valuations, and reserve prices. She trusted him to make some decent sales on her behalf today. Or rather, on Ethan’s behalf.
Where was he?
Isla took another glance around the large room, tipping her head to scour the balcony for any sign of him, but if he was here, he was well hidden among the crowd.
As she lowered her eyes and turned her attention to where Robin was taking to the stage, Isla felt a prickle creep along her spine, as though someone was looking at her. She turned around, but the only people behind her were latecomers trickling through the doors, and their attention was either on Robin or the brochures they clutched in their hands as they awaited their lots.
She turned back to the front of the room with a frown.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen…” Robin’s crisp Morningside accent cut through the chatter, and Isla’s heart sank a little.
Ethan had stood her up.
*
Isla’s heart fluttered as the Rosehill lots approached. No matter how many auctions she attended, she was always nervous hearing the items she’d entered called, and watching the bidding unfold. They sold as many pieces as they could at the shop, but with limited room for stock, larger items, and multiple lots were almost always auctioned, and the job at Rosehill had been the biggest they’d ever had. So much so that today would only feature a third of the items- mainly large pieces of furniture.
Robin began with the armoire Isla had found as a time capsule in one of Rosehill’s bedrooms. The first time she’d ever heard Ethan play the piano. The day he’d almost kissed her. Now empty of clothes, which had already been sold to an online vintage clothing company, Isla expected the armoire to sell for a few hundred pounds. By the time they’d paid lottage, and commission to the auction house, very little of their commission would be left, but Isla told herself that every little helped. Still, her palms sweated as bidding seemed to stall at £300 before Robin got it moving again.
And so it went, piece after piece, each one triggering a memory of when she’d found it. Each one reminding her of him.
Finally, came the Victorian writing table. Not the only desk she’d found at Rosehill, but the nicest, and the one she’d found the old ledgers in...the one that she’d pressed Ethan’s hand against. The reserve was set at one thousand, and Isla knew she should stay to hear the final bid, but she couldn’t.
Ethan was right not to have come. Isla wished she hadn’t either. Robin started bidding at a hundred over reserve, and Isla was vaguely aware of the numbers rising swiftly as she began easing her way through the crowded auction room towards the door.
“One thousand five hundred pounds. Do I have a fifty?” Robins’ voice rang clear through the room, and Isla slowed and she neared the exit. “Yes, sir, one thousand, five hundred and fifty. Going at one thousand, five hundred and fifty…”
It was a good price, especially for something that had narrowly escaped being chopped up for firewood, but Isla felt cold. She pressed her hand to the door.
“I beg your pardon, sorry. I didn’t see you there on the balcony, sir. One thousand six hundred to the gentleman there, if you could hold your number up, sir, thank you.”
Curiosity got the better of Isla, and she turned her gaze up to the gallery, where bidders crowded the brass railing, but before she could catch a glimpse of the new bidder, Robin had pressed on.
“One thousand six hundred and fifty, I have.”
Isla’s spine tingled. A bidding war.
Robin lifted his gaze to the gallery once more, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Do I have one thousand seven hundred?”
Isla followed his line of sight, but heads, and shoulders crowded her view. She should have worn higher heels.
“Three thousand pounds.”
Isla’s jaw dropped, but it wasn’t the amount that had shocked her. She still couldn’t see the mystery bidder, but she would recognise his voice anywhere. Ethan MacRae was here, and he was buying back his own belongings.
*
Shit. What was he doing?
Ethan lowered the paddle and tightened his grip on his cane. He hadn’t meant to bid. He hadn’t meant to come at all.
When he’d woken that morning, after a measly two hours sleep, his head pounding with memories like fists against a locked door, his only intention had been to send his apologies to Isla and drink himself into a stupor. But then Ryder had come back from making the call.
“I told her you were running late, and that you’d meet her there.”
Ethan had been furious. But he’d showered, and dressed, and forced down the coffee Ryder had presented him with, and somehow ended up here. In this crowded auction room, listening as item after item sold, room after room emptying in his mind. Until the desk. The god damn, bloody desk. As though he didn’t already have a desk. As though he needed another. As though it meant something.
But it did. Ethan could still remember the carved pattern beneath his fingertips, and the warmth of Isla’s hand over his. It was the first time in five years anyone had touched him from anything other than necessity.
How could he let someone else haul it away, dragging his memories of Isla with it?
So he’d raised his hand again, and again, finally growing impatient, and calling out an absurd figure in the hope of putting a stop to the entire farce. And he’d won.
Of course he had because no one else was stupid enough to pay that for a hunk of wood.
He’d known today would be bad. He’d hoped that making plans with Isla would have held it all at bay, distracted him. But here he was, alone, buying back furniture he didn’t even want because it represented something he shouldn’t have and didn’t deserve- hope.
“Ethan?”
The voice was muffled by the sea of bodies pressed around him, but he turned towards it. And then her hand was on his arm, and she was guiding him away from the noise, and confusion, and Ethan didn’t care where they were going, just so long as she didn’t let go.
*
Ethan looked lost. When Isla had finally fought her way through the crowds to reach him on the balcony, he’d seemed to be in a daze, clutching his paddle in one hand, and his cane in the other, lo
oking as though he had no clue where he was, or what he was doing.
His bruises had faded, and he no longer wore dark glasses to hide the purple smudges that remained. Under the bright lights of the auction room, the silver pink lines of his scars shone, and Isla noticed heads turning as she led him to one of the back rooms, where she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.
The windowless room was small and stuffy, and lined with shelves of document boxes. Isla pressed the door closed behind her, enveloping them in darkness.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Ryder told me...he said to meet you here,” Ethan answered.
“No, I meant, what are you doing? Ethan, you do realise you just bought something for three thousand pounds? Something you already owned?”
He shrugged. “It doesnae matter then does it since I’ll only have myself to pay.”
“Minus the commission. You’ve just thrown away a grand. Ethan if you wanted to keep it, you should have just said.”
“I didnae know that I wanted to.” Ethan swiped one hand through his hair.
Isla touched a hand to his arm. “Why did you bid?”
In the dim light of the store-room, Isla could only just make out his features. Ethan’s tawny eyes flickered, as he seemed to be asking himself the same question.
“It’s a gift,” he said finally.
Isla frowned up at him. “For who?”
“Me.” His voice was flat. “Today’s my birthday.”
*
Isla thought he was joking at first, but there was nothing in his expression to suggest that was the case.
“Happy birthday,” she said automatically, but Ethan looked as unhappy as she’d ever seen him. She placed a hand on his arm. “You know maybe if I explain to Robin-”
“Robin?” Ethan interrupted.
“The bid-caller,” Isla explained. “He’s one of the auctioneers. Maybe if I told him that it was your property, explained the circumstances…”
“What circumstances?” Ethan said sharply.
Isla faltered. “I don’t know Ethan, that you regretted the listing? That it’s your first auction? That you’re-”
“Blind?” Ethan interrupted.
Isla sighed. “Would you care if it saved you a thousand pounds?”
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