“I suppose you’re right, Myrtle,” Rose said slowly. “If Percy helped arrange things from his end in London, I probably could pull something together. After all, drivers in Europe are itching for the chance to race after four years of war, and it is excellent timing to attract competitorsto a new event. Muckle Skaill won’t possibly be completely up to snuff, but some guests could stay in Kirkwall like Hannah suggested.”
“I think it is a perfect idea,” Astrid said. “It would be a good way of testing both whether Frest and Hamarray can attract tourists and whether or not we islanders like having so many visitors.”
“But do we really want vehicles roaring about our homes?” Thorfinn asked.
“I don’t desire it at all.” Mr.Flett harrumphed.
“You wouldn’t,” Widow Flett said dismissively before she turned to Thorfinn. “It is only a few days, Sinclair. If it is a failure, then we shall know not to proceed further. If it is a success, we can discuss it more. Let Miss Van Etten and Miss Morningstar hold this event, and in the meantime, we will talk to the other crofters if Miss Van Etten is willing to listen to their opinions. Then after the race, we can meet again and come to a decision. Miss Van Etten will decide what she makes of our request.”
“That is a wonderful idea,” Rose said. “And if the people of Frest ultimately do not wish to have a hotel on Hamarray, then I will stop all plans.”
“Good.” Widow Flett thumped her cane against the floor. “It is decided. Miss Van Etten shall hold the race near the day of the ceilidh.”
“If this celebration does come to be,” Mr.Flett said rather dourly, “perhaps I shall get on the stage and tell one of my tales.”
The twins squealed as Hannah, Margaret, and Alexander bounced in their seats. Freya glanced over at Rose and Myrtle. “Da is the best storyteller in all of Orkney. He also spins yarns at the ceilidhs. So did our mother.”
“Which story? Which story?” Alexander demanded, tugging on his father’s arm.
Instead of addressing his son, the man focused on Thorfinn, his eyes the color of a bitterly cold sky. “It’ll be a tale about a selkie.”
Mr.Flett swiveled, slowly and deliberately, stopping when he faced Rose. The right side of his thin mouth lifted in clear challenge.
“Do you know what a selkie is, Miss Van Etten?”
“I’m afraid I don’t, Mr.Flett—although I have become acquainted with trows.”
“It is a seal who transforms into a human when it sheds its skin.” Mr.Flett’s voice and eyes were as sharp as one of the flint blades Myrtle was hoping to find at Fornhowe.
“That sounds like a rather painful process, Mr.Flett.” Rose lifted a bit of cheese to her mouth and nibbled.
The children giggled. Their father remained unamused.
“I do not believe selkies suffer any discomfort—it is they who bring agony upon the poor mortals foolish enough to take them in.”
“I do believe you are skipping the part where the human hides the poor creatures’ pelts, preventing them from returning to sea,” Myrtle interjected.
“Ah, but in my tale, the selkie princess is bored of her life at sea and is seeking to amuse herself on land. She tells the man who discovers her to hide her skin. Entranced by her beauty, he complies and falls in love with her. He gives her all that he owns and his heart. But when the selkie grows tired of living on the isle, she instructs one of her children to find her pelt. And then she dons it, leaving behind the brokenhearted gappus and her human bairns.”
“I have always been partial to less melancholy tales myself.” Rose shrugged despite the chill that washed through her. She’d always lived a carefree life with no one reliant upon her, not even a pet. Rose had spent her entire adult life transient—and even her adolescence had been nothing but a collection of boarding schools.
But suddenly Rose had begun to make promises. Hell, she’d even formulated future plans rooted to one physical spot. What if she was making guarantees, formingconnections, that she could never keep?
Chapter 10
“Try picturing it in your mind.” Rose slowed her speedboat to a stop near the cliffs of Hamarray. From the water, the crags appeared even more striking—great, sheer towers of sandstone rising from the turquoise water. It was as if a piece of the Grand Canyon had traveled to the North Sea and taken up residence among the waves.
“Imagining it is not the problem.” Thorfinn had his arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at the gables of Muckle Skaill peeking above the grassy cap of the precipice. “I’ve seen revelers on Hamarray before. They only brought misery to us crofters.”
Rose found herself momentarily distracted by Thorfinn’s flexed muscles—something that had been happening with quite some regularity since she had picked him up this morning to travel to Kirkwall.
As she had promised Myrtle, she had not strayed from Thorfinn’s side in case the spies decided to attack. Thorfinn might be a suspect still, but he clearly wasn’t trying tokillRose. After all, he could have easily ended her life on the beach. Myrtle had wanted Rose to stay inside Muckle Skaill, but Rose refused to be cowed—nor did she want to drag Myrtle away from exploring the broch or Fornhowe. After all the help Myrtle had given her, Rose was not about to ask her friend to delay her career dreams for even a day, especially not when Myrtle was finally on the cusp of realizing them.
Once Rose and Thorfinn had arrived in Kirkwall, they’d phoned Mr.Lewis to discuss what steps they needed to take to legitimize the distillery. He’d promised to draw up a partnership agreement between Rose and the crofters and to begin the process of attaining the appropriate license.
Rose had questioned Mr.Lewis about Mr.White’s character. Although she had feigned concern about his previous management of Hamarray and Frest, she had really been digging to see if there was anything that would make it more likely that Mr.White could be a spy. Shedidlearn that his firm had been shedding clients for the past few years, which could have given Mr.White an incentive to seek German coin.
After Rose had finished that conversation, she had contacted her friend Percy in London. As an obscenely wealthy newly minted duke, he had both the political and social power to help her throw the race together in an absurdly short period of time. Thankfully, he’d been bored out of his mind after leaving the Royal Air Force and itching to return to his racing days. He’d leaped at the chance.
