‘And I’ve got work to do.’ A shadow flitted across his face. ‘Thank you for letting me come with you this morning.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They walked down the hill, soon reaching the bottom, and he fell in beside her again. His gaze swept across the landscape, and he kept slowing down for a longer look.
‘I can’t believe how incredibly beautiful it is.’
‘It’s only a small part of the island. There are places like this all over. Some are far more spectacular.’
‘Do you mean the mountains? I drove past some impressive ones on the way to Duncoorie.’
‘Yes, tourists flock to the Quiraing, which is probably the most beautiful place to hike on Skye, as well as The Old Man of Storr and Trotternish Ridge, and quite rightly too, as they are all impressive. The scenery is stunning, but they can get busy in high summer.’
‘Like now?’
‘Exactly.’
So far, they’d had this walk to themselves, but they were starting to encounter the occasional person, and she knew from experience that as the day wore on visitors to the beach would increase. Which was why she preferred getting here early. Not that she visited often because, as she’d told Rocco, it wasn’t the best beach to find sea glass. But she’d wanted to show him how beautiful her island was, and she’d also wanted to make him suffer. Although that plan seemed to have backfired, because getting up early hadn’t fazed him and neither had the long walk. If she was honest, she was impressed he’d coped so well with the hike, considering he was a pencil pusher, chained to his desk for hours on end.
‘I get the feeling you prefer quieter places,’ he said. ‘Are there any?’
‘Plenty, but you really should see the more touristy ones as well; they’re popular for a reason.’
‘Such as?’
She sent him a sideways glance. ‘I know you love history, so you could go see the dinosaur footprints at Staffin, and if you want something more recent, there are plenty of brochs around – they’re round towers built around two thousand years ago – and of course, you have your very own castle.’
‘I doubt mine is the only one on Skye,’ he replied.
‘It’s not. The ruins of Duntulm Castle are worth seeing. It was owned by the MacDonald clan, the same clan Flora MacDonald belonged to. Her grave is on Skye, if you wanted to visit it.’
‘Where do I know that name from?’
‘Bonnie Prince Charlie. She helped him evade the British after the Battle of Culloden and brought him to Skye. That’s where the “Skye Boat Song” comes from.’
‘The what song?’
‘It’s an old Gaelic song with several versions, but the most famous is the one that goes… “Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day, Over the sea to Skye.”’ Suddenly aware that she was singing, she closed her mouth abruptly.
‘You have a nice voice.’
‘Och, I do not! Although I sometimes do a bit of karaoke in the pub on a Friday night. But not often. I get too self-conscious.’
‘The pub in Duncoorie?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Is that your local?’
‘Aye, since I can walk there and back.’
‘That’s lucky if you want to have a drink. I should imagine taxis around here are scarce.’
‘You can say that again!’ But even if they weren’t, she wouldn’t waste her money on them, not when she had two good legs.
‘What’s Duncoorie like? I haven’t seen much of it, apart from the church and the loch.’
‘It’s quiet during the winter, busy the rest of the year.’ She shrugged, not sure what he wanted to know. ‘There’s a bakery, a corner shop that’s also a post office – although it’s not really on a corner – a shop selling fishing gear and bait, a couple of cafes, a restaurant, several B&Bs, a teeny-weeny primary school…’ She trailed off.
