The House on the Shore

by Victoria Howard

  “Mr. Tallantyre—”

  His grin flashed briefly. “I’ve told you, call me Luke.”

  “Luke. This is how it is. The Scottish mountains are dangerous, even in summer. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go wandering the hillside when you can’t understand the map. And I refuse to be answerable to the mountain rescue service when I have to call them because you got lost.”

  “What if I give you my word that I’ll only go half way up crag what’s-its-name?”

  Anna was torn. She knew he would be a liability out on the hill on his own, but when he gave her his irresistibly devastating grin, she was all but helpless to deny him the pleasure of a walk. Oh, what the hell, she thought, putting the kettle on the hob to boil.

  “Let me make you a coffee, and give me five minutes to change. I’ll come with you.” Luke started to complain, but she held up a hand. “Look, this is your first time hillwalking. It’s not like going for a walk in the park or a stroll along the beach. It’s essential that you go with someone who knows the terrain, and besides, the dogs need exercising. It doesn’t matter to them whether they go along the shore or up the hill.”

  While he waited for Anna to change, Luke wandered around the room. It was clean and tidy, but lacked modern gadgets. The pale oak units blended perfectly with the beamed ceilings and polished granite worktops. A small table with two chairs snuggled against the front kitchen window, which looked out over the rocky beach. A cooking range, the like of which he’d never seen before, stood in a stone clad alcove, which on closer examination, appeared to be a huge inglenook fireplace.

  Minutes later, Anna padded into the room, wearing faded denim jeans and a T-shirt. She’d braided her hair, and thrown a russet-coloured sweater about her shoulders. Luke’s gaze was riveted on her face as she sat down at the table, took a mouthful of coffee, then proceeded to pull on her socks and well-worn walking boots.

  Chapter Eight

  Anna set off at a brisk pace with Luke and the dogs in tow. Every now and again she shook her head and waved her arms about, as though arguing with some invisible entity. So much for her plans for spending the afternoon writing. The next chapter of her novel was fully mapped out in her mind, all she needed to do was get it down on paper.

  I must be insane, she thought, as she covered the steep, rough ground with the grace of a gazelle. It wasn’t insanity that had made her volunteer, but pure, unadulterated lust. While there was no denying she found Luke attractive, it was barely a fortnight since she and Mark had split up. She was on the rebound, she reminded herself, but her hormones refused to listen.

  She found Luke’s presence disturbing. A summer romance wasn’t her style at all. If, and when, she was ready for another relationship, it would be with a man who would be around for more than a week or two.

  Annoyed at the direction her thoughts were taking, she quickened her pace. She crossed over a small bridge and continued along the path as it climbed steadily higher. The two dogs raced ahead, only stopping to check their mistress was following. They investigated every old rabbit burrow and animal track as if it were some newly discovered treasure. Halfway up the hill they disturbed a grazing ewe, which stamped a foot in anger before darting into the bracken.

  “Hey, slow down,” Luke gasped. He reached out and placed a restraining hand on her arm. “We’re going for a walk, not a forced march.”

  Anna turned and smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I do this every day. I should have realized you might not be as fit as me.”

  “It’s not a question of fitness. I want to get my bearings. And what’s more, I can’t very well hold a conversation with you, if I’m talking to your back.”

  Something about the way Luke looked at her jolted her heart and made her pulse race. His fingers accidentally brushed her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She gasped in delight as a shiver of awareness rippled through her body in response to his touch. When his gaze lingered on her lips she wondered if he would kiss her. Confused by her conflicting emotions, she lowered her gaze.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude. I don’t usually have company when I come up here. Besides, the path isn’t exactly a four lane highway.”

  “No, but there’s more than enough room for us to walk side-by-side,” he said, and matched his stride to hers. “Hey, I noticed some ruins along the shoreline as I sailed into the loch,” he continued. “Was there an ancient town here or something?”

  Anna moistened her dry lips. “There were two villages further along the coast. Sadly, the houses and crofts have long since been abandoned, and the ruins you see today are all that remain.”

  “What happened?” Luke took her hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She wanted to pull it away. She didn’t.

  “It’s quite an involved story. Are you sure you want to hear it?” Suddenly, her fingers laced with his.

  “It’s a lovely day. The dogs are having fun. If you can spare the time, then yes, I’d like to hear the story.”

  Ambushed by Luke’s slow smile, Anna reminded herself she was no longer an eighteen-year-old experiencing the thrill of a first date, but a grown woman. She wasn’t going to fall prey to this man’s charms. She lifted her head and found him watching her.

  “You’ve heard of Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobite rising of 1745?”

  “Nope. Scottish history wasn’t covered in school. Wait a minute - I read something about him in a magazine somewhere. Didn’t he lose some big battle and then run off to France?”

  “That’s right. The clans were disarmed. Bagpipes were forbidden, and it was an offence to wear tartan.”

  “No big loss there,” Luke said, helping her to negotiate a steep, rocky outcrop.

  “Thanks.” Anna dropped his hand and walked on. “Never let my friend, Morag, hear you say that! Her husband Lachlan plays the pipes, and although she won’t let him practise in the house, she won’t have a word spoken against them, or his lack of musical ability.”

  Luke laughed. “I’ll try to remember that, when I meet her.”

  “Ensay! Rhona!” Anna called the dogs as they darted into the gorse. They came panting back into view. “Most of the clan land was given to the English aristocracy, and in the process, tens of thousands of Highlanders were evicted from their homes to make way for sheep. It’s a period in Scottish history known as the Clearances.”

  “But that doesn’t explain the ruins along the shore.”

  “Actually, it does. After the crofters were driven out from the glens they settled on the poorer, infertile land near the coast, but they still paid rent to the estate. As a result, nearly everyone lived in hunger and poverty.”

  “I can’t imagine how anyone could survive under those conditions, especially in winter. Brrrrr!”

  “It must have been horrendous. That isn’t the end of the story. When the potato crop failed, the resulting famine left many families with no choice but to emigrate to the New World or Australia, or move south to the lowlands and England.”

  “So they just abandoned the crofts?”

  “Yes. It is something that is repeated in the Highlands today. Young folk are leaving for the cities by the hundreds, as there’s no work for them here. Many homes in the Highlands are second or holiday homes, only used at weekends.”

  “Then how come your croft is still here while the others are deserted?”

  “I don’t really know the answer to that question.”

  “The setting is stunning and it would make a great painting, but you have to admit it’s pretty inaccessible.”

  Anna smile was tinged with sadness. “Tigh na Cladach was my grandparents’ home. They lived here all year round. When my grandfather died, Daddy wanted my grandmother to move to Edinburgh, but she refused and lived at the croft until she moved into a nursing home a few months before her death. It belongs to me now.”

  “I see. It’s just a vacation home, then? And you’re here temporarily.”

  “No.”
>
  “I don’t get why anyone would want to live way out here. There’s nothing. What do people do at night for fun? And what kind of jobs could there possibly be?”

  Anna stopped in midstride and turned to face him. “I have a job, thank you very much. I work in the hotel.”

  “Yeah? What happens when the tourists leave? Does the hotel close up? Besides, whatever you do there can’t pay very much.”

  Anna raised a fine, arched eyebrow and yanked her hand free of his. “What is this, a police interrogation?”

  He held up his hands in defence. “Hey, I’m just curious, that’s all. A pretty lady holed up in some shack—whoops—I mean croft—way out here in the sticks, I don’t get it. Are you running away from something? Or somebody? Now that would make sense.”

  Anna met his accusing eyes without flinching. How dare he question her lifestyle, her character, and above all, her motive for staying in the glen? She felt even more annoyed with herself for allowing him to goad her.

  “Do you think I’m some sort of criminal? Because if you do, I’ve a good mind to leave you here and let you find your own way!” She stomped off up the path.

  Luke caught up with her. “Whoa, whoa, easy there, girl. I got way out of line. I don’t why, but I just got sorta - I don’t know - concerned about you being out here on your own.”

  Anna took a steadying breath. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to be concerned for my welfare. I’m quite capable of looking after myself. I’ve been coming here for years. I know these hills intimately. Come on. There’s a stunning view of the islands a little further on.”

  Without waiting to see if he was following, she walked on until she reached the viewpoint. She sat down with her back to a large, rough granite boulder and drank in the view she’d loved since childhood. Ensay and Rhona lay panting at her feet.

  Anna freed her hair from its braid and allowed it to tumble down her back. She closed her eyes, and wondered why she felt so short-tempered, tired and unhappy. Perhaps coming to the croft hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Her break-up with Mark, the continued lack of sleep, the unexpected letter from the solicitor, and now Luke’s odd behaviour had just about ruined her visit. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  Luke sat down next to her, his thigh warm and hard against hers. Every breath she drew in smelled of citrus and sandalwood, and something indefinably male. She opened her eyes to see him watching her. Sighing, she smiled with no trace of her former animosity.

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she said by way of apology. “I’m a bit touchy when strangers start asking me about my life.”

  “That’s okay. I understand. We all have bad days. As for strangers, I thought we were past introductions.” His husky voice held a faint challenge. His gaze travelled over her face and searched her eyes.

  “Well…I…”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then. Do you have a boyfriend, a significant other?”

  Heat burned her cheeks. She gave him a chilling look. “I’d prefer not to answer that, if you don’t mind.”

  “I've overstepped my bounds, have I?”

  “By a foot or two.”

  “Any way to back out of this gracefully?”

  “Not in the slightest,” she grinned, forgiving his faux pas. “That’s the Isle of Skye, the Misty Isle, as it’s sometimes called,” she said pointing to the islands in the distance. “And the jagged mountains you see are the famous Cuillin.”

  “Wow!” His tawny brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “What a view. It must be even more spectacular at sunrise or sunset. How far are we from the top?”

  “It’s another thousand feet to the summit. I often come up here to watch the sunset. Under the right conditions it can be quite spectacular. But I like it best after a storm, when the sky is dark and moody, yet the visibility can be as good as it is today.”

  “It’s like that on the Cape. My studio faces the ocean. The light after a storm is amazing, but hard to capture on canvas. I should have brought my sketchbook. This would make a great watercolour. Do you get many days like this?”

  “You never can predict a Scottish summer. Do you paint often?”

  Luke’s smile deepened into laughter. “Now who’s asking questions?”

  Anna felt herself flush. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  “I’ll answer your question. I’m an artist. I paint for a living.”

  Anna’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? When you first appeared at my door, I had you down as some sort of rich company executive playing with one of his toys. From what I understand, yachting is a very expensive hobby. Look, I didn’t mean to imply...your financial status is none of my business,” she said, colouring fiercely. “Oh dear, that didn’t come out right at all. What exactly do you paint?”

  “Mainly land and seascapes. I’ve had some showings in New York and Boston. I’ve been pretty successful, so far. But tastes change, and what’s considered hot today might be considered not-so-hot tomorrow.”

  “Would I recognize your work?” Her mind rolled back to Saturday afternoons when she and Mark visited art exhibitions and museums. “That didn’t come out right either. Are your paintings hung in any of the galleries over here, perhaps in Edinburgh?”

  “Not that I know of, although six months ago I did get commissioned by a Boston lawyer who eventually moved to London.”

  “I’m impressed. So why did you stop painting?”

  Luke sighed, his eyes fixed on something at the far edge of the sea. “My work lost its edge. I feel like I’m churning out the same painting over and over again. I was having lunch with this client when I finally realized that I needed to get away, that maybe a vacation would fix things. I drove home, stocked the yacht, and sailed up the coast to Maine.”

  Anna’s mouth twitched in amusement. “What did you do, take a wrong turn?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Despite what you might think, I really can read a chart.”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It can’t be easy to sail single-handed.”

  “It’s damned hard work. Not to mention lonely and sometimes scary. One night there was a particularly bad storm. The waves were huge, at least twenty feet high. Sandpiper was pitching and yawing so much I thought she’d capsize. I started to wonder if I was up to the task. I even thought about turning back, but I guess I was just too stubborn to give in.”

  “I’ve seen hints of stubbornness in you a couple of times. Keep talking. What is it about sailing that draws you? What started it all?”

  “I crewed for a friend once. He entered his yacht in the America’s Cup. There were twelve of us onboard, working the winches.”

  “Did you win?”

  “No. We finished. Alive. That was all that mattered. I thought that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, up until this trip. I had nightmares about running into another vessel in the dark, especially in high seas. Or worse, that I’d end up like Jonah in the belly of some God forsaken whale.”

  Anna chuckled. “But you didn’t.”

  He smiled. “No, thank God.”

  “How do you manage to sleep?”

  “I slept an hour or so at a time. The yacht has the latest navigational aids and an autopilot, when it works, which allows you to take cat-naps.”

  “An artist. A yachtsman. You’re a regular Renaissance man, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do a lot of different things.”

  “Why come to Scotland?”

  “Funny story. I was originally going to sail up the up the coast to Nova Scotia. I took a break in Bar Harbor. I found this little oil painting, a landscape. This is going to sound really stupid, but something about it just plain fascinated me. I asked the owner about the artist, but all he knew was that it came from an old lady whose family came to America from Scotland sometime in the 1800s. I bought it and hung it in my cabin. I couldn’t get the image out of my min
d. The following morning I set sail, and the next thing I knew, I was headed east across the Atlantic. Does that sound romantic and foolish or more like a load of bullshit?”

  “Definitely the latter. Morag would have great fun talking to you!”

  Luke studied her face. “Is she a psychologist?”

  Anna laughed so hard tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

  “No, no, not at all. Morag is a…a strong believer in Highland folklore. She says she’s got the Sight.”

  “What’s that? Some kind of night vision or something?”

  Anna suppressed another giggle. “Physically, she can’t see any better than you or me. She thinks she’s a kind of psychic. She’d say that your actions were predestined, that your ancestors had decreed that you would find the painting at that particular moment in time, or some other such mumbo-jumbo.”

  “And you don’t believe in that stuff?”

  “No way! Very few modern Scots do.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What about providence? Do you believe in that?”

  “In what context?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think you and I were destined to meet?”

  Anna thought for a moment then shook her head. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for us meeting. You sailed into the loch because your yacht had a problem and you needed to use a phone. You saw the croft and knocked at my door. It’s nothing more complicated than that.”

  “What if I said I wasn’t so sure? I don’t deny the autopilot is pretty messed up, but that happened after I left Stornaway. I could have turned back, but I didn’t. I sailed south until I ended up in Loch Hourn. Why? And what made me drop anchor here, when I could have limped along to another harbour?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not clairvoyant.”

  “Personally, I think it was fate.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  He didn’t answer. His tawny brown eyes held hers.

  “Oh, my God, you do! Remind me never to put you and Morag in a room together, you’ll spend all night telling each other that the Loch Ness Monster really does exist and that its cousin lives in Lake Erie.”