Page 79 of A Scottish Island Summer

Logan continued to gawp. ‘So … um … Mr Adams…’

‘Campbell. Please. Now, do you think we could come in?’

Logan rubbed at his stubble and gathered himself. ‘Aye. Of course.’ He stepped back, pulling his door wider and encouraged us both inside.

Logan directed Campbell to his sitting room. ‘What the hell is going on, Darcie?’ he whispered, clearly struggling to contain his disbelief.

‘He was hanging around outside The Gorse last night and spoke to me once you’d driven off.’ I paused, thinking again about Logan trying to look nonplussed about me making excuses and calling an abrupt halt to our evening.

Regret nipped at me, but I returned to the topic of Campbell. ‘He said he wants our help.’

‘With what?’

‘Finding the Skye Lovers’ Cross. He’s sure it does exist and that it’s located somewhere here on the island.’

Logan looked at me as though I’d just started speaking Cantonese. ‘Are you joking?’

I shook my head.

Logan encouraged me to follow him into the lounge, where Campbell was sitting. Again, I tried not to think about last night when I’d been sitting in here contemplating taking the next step with Logan, before convincing myself it was a disastrous idea and donning a protective shield.

Logan was wearing a tight-fitting, vanilla V-neck sweater that made his eyes look even lighter and more transparent than normal, and I felt my resolve weakening yet again.

He sat down on his sofa next to me and I found myself wishing he had chosen to sit anywhere else, because all I could focus on now, were his amazing thighs in those black jeans and the wafts of his woody cologne that were flowing my way.

I gave myself a mental slap and trained my attention back on Campbell sitting opposite me, perched on one of Logan’s armchairs.

Campbell scratched his beardless chin. ‘I haven’t told Darcie this yet, but someone delivered a letter to The Gorse this morning, addressed to me.’

‘A letter?’ repeated Logan, still appearing overawed that his archaeological hero was sitting talking to him in his own flat.

‘Aye. I’d been sleeping in a tent just outside Portree, until Kathleen insisted I stay at The Gorse instead. I don’t have a proper room there as they’re fully booked, but they have a big linen store room…’

‘Why? How long for?’ pushed Logan. ‘I mean, how long have you been camping for?’

‘I’ve got nowhere else to go. Been sleeping in the beauty of Skye’s natural wonder for about ten days now.’

There was an embarrassed silence before Logan took up the questions again. ‘So, you said someone’s written you a letter? Who? And about what?’

Campbell shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea who sent it as it isn’t signed. Julie Allwood said it was lying on the front door mat first thing this morning, and as it has no stamp, I know it hadn’t been mailed. Someone obviously knows I’m staying there and popped it through their letterbox.’

His dark brown eyes glittered as he dived one hand into his coat pocket and produced a white envelope.

He handed it over to Logan, who glanced at the front where Campbell Adams was scrawled across the paper in floaty black pen.

Logan flipped open the envelope and tugged out the folded letter. It was written on expensive, pale lemon writing paper. The handwriting raced across the single sheet of paper in black biro.

It said:

Dear Mr Adams,

Your career has been affected by your search for the Skye Lovers’ Cross. Folks on the island have accused you of being a fantasist, an exhibitionist, obsessed with finding something that never existed in the first place.

I have to tell you that in my opinion, I think you were right all along.

I believe the Skye Lovers’ Cross does exist and I’m not the only person here on Skye who thinks the same. It’s just a case of proving it.

Goodness knows what’s happened to it, but I know with your professional expertise, you’ll be able to track it down.