He gives me a little nod or maybe a slight bow depending on how I interpret it and sits down. His skin is swarthy, dark. The sort of tone that just has to look at the sun to be tanned in two minutes, and his eyes are melted chocolate. The thick stubble that was on his jaw last night has been tamed, although there’s still a shadow.
“I’m not sure how you like to be addressed.”
“Blair is fine. How about you?”
“Isaac.”
Isaac. It’s a name loaded with history and promise.
“We haven’t properly met before. I’m afraid I know very little about you.” For some reason I’m rankled.
“I always think that’s a good thing. I work for William as an advisor.”
“What do you advise on?”
“International relations. I try to help him navigate treacherous waters.”
He elicits a smile. “There’s no water between us and the South.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t treacherous. Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to discuss policy and future trade deals this early in the morning. Can we talk about something less boring?”
He’s completely playing himself down but his tone tells me this is for real. He’s bored with it, maybe like I am. Or maybe he’s better at disguising his motives.
“What would you like to discuss?”
“Books. Tell me what you like to read?”
Romance. Usually with a kink. Maybe reverse harem or definitely BDSM, and not always with the man as the dom.
“Daphne Du Maurier.Jamaica Innis one of my favourites. I like the classics, but prefer the children’s:Alice in Wonderland, The Secret Garden,Narnia.What about you?”
He stifles a laugh. “What do you really read? When you’re on holiday, you know, to switch off?”
My smile is now genuine. “More contemporary novels. How about you?”
“Crime. Hardboiled detective. I’d like to say I spend my time on the beach reading Victor Hugo or Dickens, but I prefer something I can enjoy more. And I always fancied being a detective.”
His hair isn’t as styled as last night. There’s a natural wave to it that was muted with gel before, but now it’s loser, as if he’s been running his fingers through it.
“Why didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “I kind of fell into politics.”
No one falls into politics.
“What would you recommend for breakfast?”
“The full Scottish.”
He laughs, his eyes shining and grin wide. “No English alternative?”
“Why have second best?”
We’re both laughing now.
A dense roar of thunder clatters overhead and I hear the rain. We stop laughing and instead look outside at the battering rain and the maelstrom. The loch is black, a nightmare of depths and mysteries, and the mountains close in, guardians.
“This is something else.” Isaac is spellbound by the storm. Lightning flares, reflecting across the water, sharp stems of light illuminating the sky. Night looks to have fallen and yet we are here eating breakfast.
