Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Right then, I missed my mom and dad so much I could cry like a baby.
I wanted to call my dad and ask him to come get me, knowing he’d send the freaking coast guard and Royal Navy to do it.
“I miss you so much,” I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging my nose.
I wasn’t going to sleep a wink tonight.
And crying wouldn’t help my situation, so I sucked back the tears. Blood rushed in my ears as I strained to hear anything over the sound of the storm.
My mind kept conjuring sounds. Like a door creaking open. A tap on the window.
Maybe the bothy was haunted.
“Oh, fuck a duck,” I muttered, pulling my legs tighter against me. “Survived a week in the rainforest. Can’t even survive a night in a haunted bothy.”
A loud creak sounded, and I held my breath, my eyes trying to detect movement in the darkened front room. Shadows moved and my heart raced at the definite sight of the bothy’s door opening.
I froze in terror as a huge figure stepped inside and the door slammed shut.
The scream rushed up my throat as the figure turned and then stepped into the doorway. The dim light of my solar lamp cast shadows over his face.
I sagged in utter relief. “Ramsay.”
He strode into the room, the light now illuminating his expression.
And he was pissed.
He yanked his hood down and sprays of rain water hit my face. “How the bloody hell did you miss that boat?”
At his belligerent tone, my fear gave way to indignant anger. “Well, hello to you too!”
Ramsay yanked off the waterproof jacket, and I gaped as he pushed down the yellow waterproof trousers, only slightly relieved he had jeans on underneath. He disappeared out of the room and I heard him curse loudly as I imagined he found somewhere to dry them. Then he was back with the other solar lamp in hand.
“What are you doing here?” I asked more calmly, trying not to show him how freaking relieved I was to see him.
“Cammie was in a panic when you didn’t show up, so I brought my boat over to find you.”
“In this weather? Are you insane?”
“Apparently.” He cut me a dark look. “So you’re safe? You’re all right?”
“I hiked to the other end of the island and I fell asleep by the water. By the time I woke up, I didn’t have enough time to make it back to the ferry, so I remembered this place and reached it before the storm got really bad.”
Ramsay let out a long, heavy sigh before he started rummaging in the backpack he’d brought with him.
“What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, he pulled out what looked like a walkie-talkie.
A VHF radio.
He held it to his mouth. “Half-Light, this is McRae. Over.”
The radio crackled and then a distorted voice replied, “Meh-Rae—is Ha—ligh—you—kay?—er.”
“All good. I found Silver. We’re safe for the night. Over.” His eyes held mine and awareness sparked through me as I processed the situation.
I was alone in the bothy with Ramsay McRae and we had to spend the night together.
Wonderful.
“Will—Cam—ow. Stay—afe.—er.”
“Thanks. Over.”
Ramsay dropped his hand to the side and kept looking at me in that way that made me feel like he was peeling back all my layers. I shivered. His eyes narrowed. “Cold?”
I let out a huff of laughter. “Just a little bit.”
“Hungry?”
I nodded. “I only brought lunch with me.”
Ramsay promptly sat down on the bed and dumped his backpack between us. “I brought supplies. It’s not much.” He began unloading protein bars, packets of peanuts and chips, a couple bottles of water.
“Why did you come here?” I dared to ask.
Those wolf eyes met mine. “Cammie was worried someone might have gotten to you.”
Just Cammie?
“I’m sorry I worried her. I haven’t been sleeping well and didn’t mean to nap so long.”
He searched my face, expression grim. “You know … it might help if you tell us what’s going on.”
I looked down at the food supplies. “Is that a chocolate chip peanut bar? Can I have it?”
There was no mistaking his frustration. It practically vibrated off him. But eventually, he replied gruffly, “Aye, knock yourself out.”
Unwrapping the bar, I studied my companion as he took a swig of water. With his beard closely trimmed, I could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed, and I didn’t know why the sight was so erotic. My eyes roamed over his broad shoulders. The Henley he wore hugged his muscular biceps, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He had great hands. Long fingered, but big knuckled. I’d bet my life his fingertips were covered in callouses that would rasp across my skin like sandpaper.
I shivered again and looked away, reminding myself I was mad at the Scot.
And yet …
He’d risked his life crossing the channel between here and Glenvulin.