Page 6 of A Scottish Island Summer

She flashed me a shy smile. ‘It isn’t always like this. When the sun shines, it’s spectacular.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I murmured into the sea air.

She jerked her head back at the pastel-coloured houses nestled near the harbour. ‘They’re one of the reasons why Portree’s so famous. You’ll see them in so many photographs of the place.’

I tightened the belt around my coat.

‘So how long have you worked in PR?’

Iona negotiated my wheelie case out of the car park. Her expression flooded with colour again. ‘Och, a little while.’

My brows furrowed. ‘So, who were you with before?’

‘Before?’

I kept pace with her as the traffic lights flickered to green. ‘Which PR agency did you work with before you set up on your own?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Didn’t what?’

‘I didn’t work in public relations before.’

An icy sliver of worry pierced my chest. I drew up outside a gift shop, its window display bursting with cuddly Highland cattle, Isle of Skye tartan lambswool scarves and cute Skye Terrier mugs.

Iona clung to the black handle of my case. ‘This is my first foray into PR.’ Her green eyes shifted everywhere except towards me.

My morbid curiosity was firing on all cylinders. I tried to stem my growing tide of dread. She wasn’t experienced in public relations? At all? I gave her a suspicious glance. ‘What did you work as before?’

Iona pushed on with my case, leading me up a winding side street. ‘A lifeguard.’

I almost let out a bark of laughter. Was I trapped in some sort of weird social experiment? Or perhaps I was in one of those prank TV shows? ‘A lifeguard?!’

‘Aye. Well, that was in between helping my brother out in his shop.’ She set her shoulders and tried to exude more confidence. ‘So, I’m used to dealing with people.’

A hot lava of disbelief flowed over me.

Jesus.

This just got better and better.

All I wanted to do was spirit myself back to London.

‘Where’s my hotel?’ I sighed, struggling not to dwell on my situation. ‘I hope it has a spa.’

Iona rattled on, past a bow-windowed shop selling Skye sea-salted chocolate and demerara shortbread. She swallowed. ‘A spa?’

‘Yes. You know, somewhere I can maybe get a massage and a facial.’

She picked up a sharper pace.

The bite of the wind and the combination of the clinging mist made me think I could freeze to death on the spot if I didn’t keep moving, so I swiftly moved to catch up with her. ‘I think I’m staying at a hotel called The Gorse?’

Iona dropped her head and pushed on. She didn’t look at me as she admitted, ‘The Gorse isn’t a hotel, Ms Freeman. It’s a bed and breakfast.’

I screeched to a horrified halt behind her. ‘A bed and breakfast?’

Iona pushed a loose blonde hair away from her flustered face; she was looking as frazzled as I felt. ‘Aye. It’s just up the lane here.’ She examined my stricken expression. ‘Did you not take a look at the place online before you came here?’