Page 21 of A Scottish Island Summer

I whipped my attention back to Iona. The more I thought about being paired up with this comedian for the next three weeks, the more it seemed like an accident waiting to happen. I shook my head. ‘I really don’t think this is a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ she asked, looking puzzled. ‘Logan is a safe pair of hands.’

Logan flexed one attractive brow and my face reddened. What the hell was the matter with me?

‘It’ll be great publicity for Rock God,’ carried on Iona, turning to her brother.

‘You don’t have to convince me,’ assured Logan. ‘It’s this young lady you need to get on board.’

My eyebrows gathered together. ‘Sorry? What’s Rock God?’

Logan buried his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘My shop back in Portree. I sell gemstones, minerals, fossils and rocks.’

Rock God, I repeated to myself. That figured. I eyed Logan. He certainly seemed to rate himself.

‘Look, Ms Freeman,’ said Logan. ‘You need someone who knows what they’re doing and has knowledge of the island, am I right?’

I chewed my lip. This was excruciating. I’d already mentally added Primrose and Iona to the list of people I wanted to subject to torture.

Why did it have to be him? Couldn’t there have been a retired fisherman somewhere? My voice was laced with irritation as I said, ‘Yes, of course. I need someone as a guide.’

‘OK then. Well, you’ve got me.’

There was that bloody twinkle again. He shrugged. ‘I can get Rhona and her sister to cover the shop, and lucky for you, I’ve just finished a research paper on neolithic petrology here on Skye, so I’ve time on my side.’

My heart sank. I mulled over what he said. ‘Petrology?’ I repeated.

‘It’s the origin, composition and structure of rocks.’

‘Right. Sounds scintillating. The winter evenings must just fly by.’

Logan let out a throaty laugh.

Oh bugger. The next three weeks were going to seem like three years.

Iona continued to stare from me to Logan and back again, as though she was spectating at a tennis match.

The hillside was whispering and hushing in the rain-filled breeze.

‘I don’t know,’ I stated in a crisp voice. ‘I still don’t think this is a great idea.’

Logan cocked his head to one side. ‘What’s the problem? Scared of the dark, Ms Freeman? Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.’ There was that lazy grin again.

‘Certainly not,’ I prickled. ‘I’m not scared of anything.’

(I was terrified of heights, spiders and wasn’t that keen on water, but I wasn’t about to tell Wolverine that and give him the satisfaction.)

Come on, Darcie. Think of Horizons magazine!

I braced myself. Right. Decision time. I could do this. I could get through it. I just had to think of the end game. Three weeks of unadulterated hell here in Scotland’s answer to Siberia with this grinning geologist, and then I could return to London with my head held high—that’s if I could move a muscle after this weather and the various adventures I was supposed to be undertaking.

I had to think about River, smirking down her petite, snub nose at me. That would put the fire in my belly.

I swallowed my pride and tried not to focus too long on Logan’s chiselled face as I gave in. ‘If you’re happy to do this, then I’m in.’

Logan’s lips flirted at a smile and he extended one hand. ‘Excellent.’

I hesitated for a moment, before taking his hand in mine. It was warm and a little rough; earthy.