‘I wish it had been my idea,’ Mo adds airily. ‘I’d have gifted him to myself.’
Not this him, pal. This him doesn’t swing that way. Rather than comment, I take a mouthful of the scalding hot liquid.
Though I’m not sure if the plan was yours or his for him to greet me in bed, but it was a little forward, don’t you think? I know your heart’s in the right place, even if your mind is in the gutter most of the time. God knows where he’s going to sleep, and yes, you can take that to mean there won’t be any copulating. It’s just not worth it for me. I’ll call in the morning.
‘Mmhmm?’ His lips pursed, Mo sends her a very eloquent look as Isobel stands, moving to lean against the windowsill on the opposite side of the room.
‘I’m touched you came all this way for me,’ she says.
‘What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t get through to you on the phone, my texts went undelivered, and then you didn’t turn up to the wedding!’
‘All because of the snow,’ she replies apologetically.
‘I thought you’d been kidnapped.’ His gaze swings to mine. ‘For all I know, you might have been chained to his headboard.’ Under his breath, Ithinkhe adds, ‘If you’ve been really, really lucky.’
‘Thank you both for allowing Mo to rope you into my rescue,’ Isobel says, turning to the other two men.
‘Mr Mohan wanted to file a missing person’s complaint.’
‘And I was already in Scotland,’ Will says, his unamused gaze sliding to his friend. ‘And apparently, Scotland is a very small place.’
‘Okay! Okay! So I’m a hysterical queen,’ Mo exclaims. ‘But when you weren’t at your holiday rental—’
‘Ah, maybe you can clear this up for us,’ I butt in before Isobel insists she is.
‘Thisisthe place.’ And there she goes. ‘I’m almost sure of it. And my direction thingy brought me right to the door.’
‘Well, you were near. I’m sure this is what Will would call abaw-hairaway from the place you were actually supposed to stay.’
‘Not in front of a lady, I wouldn’t,’ Will mutters.
‘A baw . . . hair?’
‘Yes, dear,’ Mo continues. ‘You were the width of a solitary pubic hair away from your actual holiday cottage—a ball hair, if you will.’
‘But this is the place—it is Faileas Cottage.’
‘No, darlin’,’ I reply, drawing looks from at least two of the fuckers. ‘Faileas is over on the other side of the loch. My place is called Faodail. As for the sign on the fence, I’m sure it’s broken.’
‘Faileas, Faodail. They’re both so close together,’ Mo offer sympathetically.
‘Not really,’ answers Jim, even though it’s not necessary. ‘Faileas is Gaelic for reflection. Faodail is a lucky find.’
As I look at her all pink and discomforted in her heeled boots and her fluffy sweater, I realise lucky find doesn’t even come close. I can tell by the flare in her gaze she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
‘A lucky find indeed,’ says Mo, almost echoing my thoughts. ‘Particularly when you consider Izzy’s blind faith in technology. If the navigation system had decided to drive her into the loch to get to the other side, she would’ve drowned.’
‘Very funny, Mo,’ she mutters. ‘The key was where the letting agent said it would be. Under the little Christmas tree with baubles. How do you explain that?’
‘I have a theory,’ I begin, rubbing my cheek. ‘I had a cleaning service come in and make the bed and stuff before I arrived. They’ll give the bathroom and kitchen a wipe down when I leave, too. I’m guessing the letting agent runs this service. And the wee tree isn’t one of mine. I guessed it was a house warming gift of sorts for pushing a bit of work her way, but I imagine it’s where the keys are kept for their cleaning ladies.’
‘That’s just asking to be murdered in your bed!’ Mo looks aghast, clutching his hand to his throat.
‘Weeel, it’s maybe no’ the best state o’ affairs,’ Jim begins. ‘But this is the Highlands, y’ken. Things are a wee bit different up here.’
‘No harm done,’ Will asserts, standing. ‘I’m glad the mystery is sorted and that you’re okay, Izzy, but I’ve got to get back.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Isobel says, standing herself. ‘Thank you so much for coming to find me, Will. And for supporting Mo.’
