Maybe he hadn’t seen her properly. Maybe—
“Ms. Campbell.”
His voice cut through her thoughts. Low. Unmistakable.
She turned slowly, wearing casual surprise like a mask. “Oh! Mr. Kerr. Small world! Do you—do you have family in Portree?”
He studied her a beat too long. “Something like that.”
“Well, what are the odds?” she said brightly. “Flynn’s company is restoring the roof on the pink building down by the pier. I begged him to bring me along; I’ve seen Portree in pictures for years.”
Kerr’s mouth tilted, not quite a smile. “How fortunate.”
“Isn’t it?” she said, trying not to wring her gloves. “The island’s every bit as beautiful as I imagined.”
“Beautiful,” he echoed softly. Then, almost absently: “And treacherous.”
The silence that followed felt thin enough to tear.
A prickle crawled down Heather’s spine—old, familiar. Beautiful things often hid danger best.
She cleared her throat. “Well. I should order before they run out of pastries.”
He stepped aside. “Of course.”
She crossed the space, ordered two hot chocolates and pastries with touristy cheer she didn’t feel. When she turned back, Kerr was still watching her. Like someone trying to solve a puzzle that refused to stay still.
“Enjoy your stay,” he said at last.
“Thank you,” she managed. “I intend to.”
She slipped past him into the street, the bell above the door giving her away with its bright, traitorous ring.
Outside, she walked faster, clutching the pastries like a lifeline. The harbor looked the same, but something had shifted.
A thread had tightened.
A net was quietly closing.
Flynn waved from across the quay. “Campbell! Did ye bring the peace offerings?”
She lifted the cups, smiling as if nothing had happened.
But the café door opened behind her.
Heather didn’t look back as the blood drained from her face.
She crossed the cobbles to Flynn, handing him a hot chocolate.
“Tell me that’s caffeine or sugar.”
“Both.” She passed him a cup. “You’re welcome.”
He took a sip and winced. “Christ, that’s lava.”
“Miracles come at a cost,” she said nervously, still on edge.
Before he could tease her, the rhythm of the street shifted.
