Page 50 of A Scottish Island Summer

Water was dripping from his stubble and his hair was slicked back from his gorgeous face. ‘Still can’t tempt you?’ he asked.

I found a rock and perched on the edge of it, watching him but pretending I wasn’t. The surrounding cascade of hills were sweeps of olive, purple and moss. Peaks and troughs of clouds nestled in between, but the sunshine was winning through, making the rock pools spangle.

‘Why are they called The Fairy Pools?’ I asked him, trying to move my mind away from the sight of Logan’s muscles sliding up and down his back as he moved.

‘They say the waters possess magical powers.’

‘Like what?’

Logan pushed his slick of hair back again. ‘There’s a story that the chieftain of the clan MacLeod of Dunvegan married a fairy princess. She was known as one of the shining folk.’

‘These clans seemed to get themselves involved in lots of things back in the day.’

Logan’s mouth flickered. ‘Aye. I guess they kept themselves busy.’ He gestured around with one wet hand. ‘That’s why so many places on Skye, especially in the Dunvegan area, have the word “fairy” included in them. Another fable.’

I gave a small smile. ‘So, what happened between the chieftain and the fairy princess then?’

Logan treaded water for a few moments. ‘They were very much in love, but the Fairy King forbade them from getting married. However, after seeing how devoted they were to each other and how upset his daughter was, he changed his mind, but under one condition: they were only allowed to be married for a year, on a trial basis.’

I propped my chin on my hand, listening intently.

‘After the year was up, the Fairy Princess was called back to be with her own kind. But she and the chieftain had a son by this time and her heart was broken without him.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ I tutted.

Logan’s gaze shone. ‘They say she snuck back one night upon hearing her little boy crying, wrapped him up in a silk shawl and comforted him. That’s how the fairy flag got its name.’ He shrugged his shoulders under the lapping water. ‘That’s just one version of the story, though. There are many others.’

He flicked me a look from under his damp lashes and we studied each other as the rush of the waterfalls echoed in the background. I forced my eyes away first.

Logan gave me a playful splash and I squealed.

‘This island is brimming with fairytales and stories.’

‘Oh, you’re telling me,’ replied Logan. ‘Selkies are supposed to be attracted to these pools too. They’re said to disguise themselves as seals during the day and then turn themselves into humans at night, so they can bathe in the light of the full moon.’

Another idea rippled through my mind. ‘F’ for fables and fairytales. This would have to be included in my guide. Readers and tourists would lap it up.

I eyed Logan with interest. ‘Do you believe all this stuff?’

He gently floated in the water. ‘I believe that Skye is something special.’ His eyes danced. ‘And I believe there’s nothing wrong with a bit of romance.’

My thoughts churned. I steered the conversation away. ‘Aren’t you beginning to get cold in there?’

I was relieved when Logan’s mobile erupted in his rucksack nearby. His ringtone was Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’—quite ironic really and kind of sweet. ‘I’ll get that for you.’

‘Thanks. And could you get me a towel please, Darcie? I’ve rolled one up and stuffed it at the top of my rucksack.’

I hurried over to where Logan’s rucksack was propped against a rock, located his ringing mobile in the front pocket and threw him his towel.

I turned my back again, not that it stopped my imagination from pulling up pictures of Logan emerging, beads of water coursing down his broad chest. I focused on his mobile. A smiley picture of Iona filled the screen.

‘Hi, Iona. It’s Darcie. Your brother is just enjoying himself in one of the Fairy Pools.’

I risked a look over my right shoulder. Logan was patting himself down with his towel and I admired the shape and contours of his sturdy legs. He must’ve sensed me looking and jerked his head up.

I whirled away and burned my gaze into the hills instead.

‘Och, bully for him,’ grunted Iona. ‘Good to know someone’s having fun.’