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‘I thought we were only going to kiss?’

‘Yes, of course. I didn’t expect anything else.’ He cringed at his presumption.

She sighed. ‘Now I should apologise for winding you up. I doubt very much we would only have kissed … and maybe, because of that, you’ve done the right thing. Maybe we would both have regretted this in the morning.’

‘Maybe …’ he said, no longer sure at all.

She stepped back. ‘And now, I’d better go back to bed.’

‘But I need you to know,’ he said desperately. ‘I promise I wasn’t rejecting you!’

She arched her eyebrows. ‘What were you doing?’

‘Protecting … myself. Protecting both of us. I’m supposed to be your host, responsible for making sure you – everyone – has a great time. I’m supposed to be professional. I mean, how wrong is it to want to sleep with your guests?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you often want to sleep with your guests?’

‘Jesus, no. I haven’t wanted to sleep with any of them. Or anyone – for a long time. Only you.’

Katie shook her head and gave that wry sad smile again. ‘There’s that, then, I suppose. I can console myself that I’m a special case.’

‘You are. That’s why I didn’t – take it further. You – you don’t want the hassle, believe me.’

‘OKayyyy. Then let’s not go round in circles, trying to outdo ourselves in shame and guilt. Maybe it’s best we wipe the slate clean and pretend tonight didn’t happen. All of it. The nightmare, the whisky, the kiss and the thing that might have happened.’ Her wistful smile and the fact she appeared to be letting him off the hook very lightly made him want to sweep her into his arms even more.

‘If you think it’s best,’ he said, his spirits in his boots.

‘I do. Thanks for the drink and the company. I’ll see you in the morning … It’s going to be a big day.’

‘I also won’t be late picking up your guests from the jetty tomorrow.’

‘I believe you,’ she said, indicating she probably didn’t.

‘Thanks. Um. Why don’t you go up while I turn off the lights?’

Katie went upstairs but Arlo didn’t turn off the lights. He poured himself another whisky and sat in the armchair until the hall clock struck three, thinking that this particular booking had become a lot more complicated than he’d expected and it was only the first night.

CHAPTER FOUR

Tomorrow is another day.

Throwing open the curtains to flood her room with light, Katie sincerely hoped so.

At least the weather offered a completely fresh start. The glorious sight of clear blue skies, a glittering lake and a ring of snow-dusted fell tops greeted her, making it impossible to believe anything bad could happen at the Island House, even in her nightmares. It was also almost 9 a.m., which was unheard of for her. She liked to be at her laptop by seven thirty while her synapses were firing on all cylinders.

She was determined to banish the memory of her nightmare, which was lingering on the fringe of her consciousness. Before she’d fallen asleep again, she’d rationalised that it had happened while she was alone, apart from Arlo, after a tiring journey and for all the other reasons Arlo had pointed out. Hopefully, the bad dreams were out of her system and wouldn’t rear their ugly heads again once her guests arrived.

What had happened after the nightmare, involving Arlo, was much harder to dismiss.

She couldn’t blame the whisky, although she had probably drunk quite a large measure in a short time. Even so, she’d been fully aware of what she was doing: kissing a very sexy Viking who hadn’t, initially at least, resisted.

The impulse to do it had been overwhelming. Perhaps the fact she’d acted on it was one more example of her erratic decision-making following the accident, along with splitting up with Ned, and booking the Island House.

Joyful barks drew her to the window. Pongo was racing around the gardens with a Border collie who clearly belonged to the man with whom Arlo was chatting.

She’d have bet her royalty cheque that the man was Greg, the friend Arlo had mentioned last night. From his thatch of blond hair to his battered waxed jacket and Hunters, he screamed ‘farmer’. A further clue was the actual shepherd’s crook in his hand, which Katie did think was living up to the cliché a little bit too much.

Maybe it was for an Instagram or TikTok shoot as plenty of hot rustic types had zillions of followers. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Arlo being one of them, even if Greg was.