Page 28 of A Scottish Island Summer

I pretended to stare into the back seat, as though I was jokingly looking around for who Logan was talking about. ‘That sounds wonderful. If you tell me who this expert is, I’ll thank him.’

Logan’s handsome face split into a grin. ‘Ouch. Careful. You’ll hurt my feelings.’

I snapped my head away and watched the little red brick and white cottages stippling the hills as they flitted past. How come he was always so smiley and cheerful? It wasn’t normal. Did they put something in the drinking water up here?

‘Skye has eleven Munros,’ explained Logan with pride.

‘What’s a Munro?’

Logan jokingly shook his head. ‘Dear me. You Londoners. A Munro is a Scottish mountain that’s over 3,000 feet in height. They’re named after Sir Hugh Munro, who was a mountaineer and London aristocrat. He was the first person to start compiling a list of them way back in 1891.’

‘Congratulations. I’m very happy for you.’

He looked like he was trying not to laugh. That made me even more annoyed.

‘We’re the most northerly and the largest of the islands in the Inner Hebrides. And that’s the town of Dunvegan,’ explained Logan, pointing into the distance as he parked. ‘Not far to go now.’

‘I thought we were there,’ I grumbled, taking in the gravelly car park.

‘You sound like my friend Robbie’s five-year-old niece, Scarlett. Whenever he takes her out, she’s always asking if they’re there yet.’

‘Not soon enough,’ I grunted out of the corner of my mouth.

We clambered out and I threw my rucksack onto my back. Logan fastened on the tent and I adjusted the straps, aware of him where he was standing right behind me. I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I cleared my throat. Bloody rucksack! It was so cumbersome. ‘So, what now?’

Logan gave me a look.

I clamped my mouth shut.

‘It’s not far. Only takes about another twenty-five minutes to walk from here down to the Coral Beach.’

‘Twenty-five minutes?’ I echoed, incredulous. ‘Isn’t there a bus service to get us there?’

Logan strode on ahead, carrying his camping equipment like he was juggling a mini grocery shop. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s called walking and is very good for you. You just put one foot in front of the other.’

He glanced at me over his broad shoulder. ‘Be grateful. It’s not like you’re still wearing those ridiculous boots. You’ve got proper footwear on now, so this should be a breeze.’

I threw a dismissive glare down at my feet. Yes, I had to admit my new walking boots were comfy, but they certainly wouldn’t win any prizes for style.

We’d been striding along for about ten minutes over some farmland, when I pulled out my phone and took a panoramic view of the hills. Then I took out the camera. It was while I was trying to take a shot of the buffeting clouds and the way they were sitting over the top of the mountains, that I thought I noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of my right eye.

No. I must’ve been mistaken.

Shifting the position of my rucksack on my back, I carried on walking a few more steps, before stopping again to take a couple of photos.

There was that sense again though, that something was advancing on me. I lowered the camera and turned my head to the right.

The breath caught in the base of my throat.

Oh shit! Something had indeed been moving over there.

I’d hoped it might be a small bird or a squirrel, but it wasn’t. It was a great Highland bull, two grey horns twisting out of its shaggy head.

Oblivious, Logan continued to stride ahead on his long legs. ‘Be careful,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘This is farmland, so you might see the odd sheep or coo wandering around.’

The Highland bull stood still for a moment, appraising me. Then it took a few heavy steps forwards and drew to a halt, eyeing me from under its clump of fringe again.