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Chapter Seven
After the two of them chatted for almost an hour, Bella began to get antsy. The two cups of coffee she had drunk were making themselves known. Bella couldn’t risk leaving Hilda unattended while Bella made a trip to the bathroom. What was she going to do?
Fortunately, Hilda’s long-suffering husband called her cell phone to say a tour bus had unloaded on the street and he needed Hilda’s help with the shoppers. At last, the other woman stood. “I’d best be gettin’ down the hill or he’ll accuse me of bletherin’ all day while he’s hard at work.”
“You don’t fool me. That man dotes on you.”
Hilda preened. “Aye, ‘tis true.”
Bella got up with her single crutch, said good-bye to her friend, and locked the door behind Hilda. Not everyone in these parts was security conscious, but with reporters likely still nearby, Bella erred on the side of caution. She didn’t want unexpected company, especially not the kind who might slip in without permission.
After a quick trip to the loo, she managed the steps to the landing where the guest room was situated. Wrinkling her nose in indecision, she knocked lightly on Ian’s door. “Ian, she’s gone. You can come out now.” No answer. Well shoot. Was he ignoring her deliberately?
As much as she enjoyed Hilda’s company, she couldn’t help thinking about last night and all that had happened. The pleasant dinner, the blood-pumping escape from the paparazzi, the cozy time by the fire in the cabin, her twisted ankle. And then the kiss…
The kiss. It was either a beginning or an unfortunate slip. Sadly, she concluded it was the latter. Flirting with Ian was fun. That’s all it was. He would only be hiding out from the press for a short while. Probably about the time Ian returned to London, Bella would be on her way to the Orkneys for a few days. It was a trip she had planned weeks ago. Her house-sitting duties would be covered while she was gone by the same teenager who looked after Cinnamon now and again.
The prospect of that upcoming adventure had beckoned on the horizon like the cherry on the top of her wonderful visit to Scotland. Why now had it lost its luster?
With the step-clunk that was her new less than graceful pattern, she climbed another flight of stairs and made it to her bedroom. This walking-with-crutches thing was not easy.
It took more effort than it should to shower, wash and dry her hair, and dress in loose-fitting black knit pants and a soft jersey top. The shirt was peony pink. She needed the bright color to boost her mood.
Nothing had changed. With Finley on his honeymoon, she had an unprecedented and extremely affordable opportunity to explore the country that had intrigued her for years. Ian was not part of the equation. He was a blip on the radar. An annoying fly on the windshield of her life.
Unfortunately, no amount of rationalization could take away the feeling that she was missing out on something wonderful.
When she went downstairs for lunch, she found evidence that Ian had already eaten. That fact shouldn’t have hurt. It was a sandwich and a drink. Ian had told her he focused intensely when he was working. Likely he didn’t want to be interrupted while his impressive brain was calculating obscure equations with multiple variables.
Moodily, she sat at the kitchen table—solo—and consumed an apple with peanut butter. Not even Cinnamon was around to keep her company. The goofy dog was probably holed up with Ian in the guest room.
Suddenly, Bella couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house a minute longer. Using both crutches this time, she retrieved her purse and a small backpack and set out for Eilean Donan Castle. It wasn’t terribly far… across the new bridge and on around toward Dornie.
Only when she arrived and the ticket seller apologetically explained that the tour was not handicap friendly because of all the uneven stairs and narrow corridors, did Bella realize that her injury was going to hinder her ability to explore. Instead of touring the picturesque home of the MacRaes, she could only enjoy the grounds.
As second best, it wasn’t a bad option. The castle sat on a tiny island where three great lochs converged. Though the original structure had been destroyed and rebuilt several times over the centuries, its latest facelift in the early years of the twentieth century had restored the castle to its former glory. A stone bridge encouraged visitors to approach and admire.
Although it was awkward, Bella managed to balance on one crutch and take photographs with her iPhone. Eilean Donan was striking from any angle. With the clouds and the water, and the wind whipping the Scottish flag, it wasn’t hard to see why this particular location had been used repeatedly in television and movies. The massive stone castle was impressive. It conjured up images of centuries long gone by.
All the wonderful photographs in the world didn’t make up for the fact that she wanted to see what was inside. Another day. Maybe even another trip. Her time in Scotland was speeding by much faster than she had anticipated. Not that she couldn’t visit Finley again in the future, but she was surprised by how quickly the days were ticking off on the calendar.
Because her ankle was aching, she bought a cinnamon scone in the bustling visitor center café and sat down to eat it, her swollen foot propped on a chair. Clearly, she had endured enough physical activity for one day. No point in making things worse.
The pain and swelling had stabilized, though, so she didn’t see the need for X-rays. She’d always heard that bad sprains took longer to heal than breaks. Patience was all she required, not medical care.
As she enjoyed the pastry, she acknowledged the truth. She didn’t want to go back to Finley’s house. She was afraid Ian would be there, and she was afraid he wouldn’t be there. How did her perfect sabbatical get messed up so quickly? It was ridiculous to feel exiled from her own house.
The snack wasn’t going to hold her for long. On the way back, she decided to stop in town and order chicken cacciatore for two. If Ian was MIA, she would simply save the other half for her lunch tomorrow.
By the time an hour and a half elapsed, she had developed a great appreciation for people with mobility issues. Parking, walking to the restaurant, carrying the food to the car—all while on crutches—was hard.
At last, she made it back to her home away from home. She felt hot and grubby and out of sorts. Somehow, all her frustrations led back to Ian. She couldn’t blame the injured ankle on him. That was her own carelessness, but dreading the thought of going inside was all his fault.
She could hear Cinnamon barking. If Finley was home, he had to know she was back. No sooner had she made it up the steps than Ian jerked open the door. She had her hand on the knob, so she nearly overbalanced. He rescued the food just in time and put his arm around her waist.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
Ian was fresh out of the shower. His thick chestnut hair was damp and his tanned skin smelled like manly soap. Bella might have swooned, but she didn’t trust the darn crutches to hold her up. She tried to wiggle free. “I’m all sweaty,” she said. “Let me go.”
