Page 92 of A Scottish Island Summer

‘The first round’s on me,’ insisted Campbell, reaching for his wallet as he manoeuvred his way between the sea of bodies. ‘Then we’ll see if we can find Chrissie.’

Logan put out one hand and rested it on Campbell’s jacket sleeve. ‘Are you OK going up to the bar? What if you’re recognised?’

Campbell brushed off Logan’s concern. ‘Don’t worry, my lad. In another half hour most of them will be sozzled and the last person they’ll be thinking about or looking for is me.’

I watched the bartenders weaving their way around one another behind the bar, pouring drinks, slipping money into the till and whisking away empty glasses. ‘Will you recognise Chrissie?’ I asked Campbell. ‘You haven’t seen her for years.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ conceded Campbell, attracting the attention of one of the harassed-looking servers. ‘But I’d like to think I’d still know her anywhere.’

Campbell approached the bar and ordered me a white wine and pints of local beer for him and Logan.

While we waited, I glanced around. The atmosphere was buzzing with Scottish Highland hospitality.

Campbell returned with our drinks a few moments later. He clanked his pint glass against my wine and Logan’s beer, saying, ‘Here’s to successful treasure hunts.’

As Logan took a mouthful of his amber beer, his eyes trailed over my face. ‘We know how to party round here.’

He wasn’t wrong. My feet found themselves tapping along to the thumping drums and bagpipes from a ceilidh band who’d just appeared to a din of applause and cheering. They’d set themselves up in the corner and according to the artwork on the bass drum, went by the name of ‘The Celtic Chieftains’. ‘I hate to admit it,’ I murmured over the top of my wine glass, the swirling music pumping through me, ‘but you do.’

Campbell sauntered off to inspect the photos on the pub walls, while Logan’s lips did that quirky thing again. ‘You know, Darcie, it’s OK to admit that you’re enjoying yourself.’

‘Who said I was enjoying myself?’

Logan laughed. ‘OK, this might not be your idea of a great night out, but admit it, the company is pretty amazing.’ He waggled his eyebrows.

‘If you’re talking about Campbell, then yes, it is.’

He grinned. ‘Touché. I asked for that one.’

Then, a more serious expression settled on his face. ‘I hope all this with the pendant won’t interfere with your travel guide research. Just let me know if⁠—’

I cut him off, guilt running amuck inside me. If I felt rotten before, I felt even worse now. ‘Don’t be daft. Look, it’s fine. I can focus on that while you play Indiana Jones.’

Logan’s eyes sparkled down at me and I forced my attention away. I wanted the pub floor to swallow me.

I looked up from my watch just in time to see Robbie enter the pub. He was wearing a smart, navy blue shirt and dark trousers. He’d also had his sandy thatch of haircut and layered. He looked very dashing in a big, grizzly sort of way.

‘Hey!’ Logan grinned, spotting him and giving him an affectionate pat on the back. He took in Robbie’s attire. ‘What’s all this? Got a date?’

Robbie blushed. ‘Naw, nothing like that. Darcie here told me to come along and dress sharp. She wanted to take my photo for her social media pages.’

Logan blinked down at me. ‘You never mentioned it.’

I waved my hand. ‘Oh, well, I can’t be expected to remember everything.’

‘It’s to help promote Skye.’ Robbie beamed. ‘Only too happy to help.’

The pub noise was getting louder, and I glanced towards the pub doors again.

Logan studied me. ‘You OK, Darcie? You seem a bit distracted.’

‘No, not at all. I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’

Seconds later, there was a flash of long, straight blonde hair.

It was Iona, looking very pretty in a long-sleeved, knee-length, flower-sprigged, button-up dress and long, wine-coloured suede boots.

‘Iona! Over here!’ I beckoned, waving a hand in the air to attract her attention.