of clean white sand lay curved in the lee of the bay, and the crystal-clear water was turquoise in the sunlight. It looked inviting, as it always had. Many times she had swum here with Finn and the others in her childhood, and again that summer …
With a quick glance round to make sure she was alone, she slipped off her shoes, wriggled out of her tights, tucked up her uniform skirt and walked knee-deep into the water. It was cold, of course, being the North Atlantic, but blissfully refreshing, and for a mad moment she considered ripping off all her clothes and diving headfirst into the gently lapping waves.
It wouldn’t have been the first time, but now modesty forbade her—modesty and a very real appreciation of what such a scandalous act would do to her reputation in this very tight-knit and highly moral Highland community. Once she hadn’t cared, to her parents’ utter humiliation, but she was, after all, no longer fifteen, and it was still broad daylight!
With a sigh of regret she turned back along the beach, paddling at the water’s edge and staring out across the sea at the islands floating in the low mist that swept across the water. A little sloop was moored in the bay, rocking gently in the swell, its mast gilded by the sun. She could hear people talking and laughing on board, their voices carrying clearly in the still, clean air.
She loved the evenings here, the glorious colours of the sunset, the changing sea and sky, the gradual darkness that enveloped the pleated land and laid it to rest.
A ripple of laughter came to her over the water—the occupants of the boat enjoying each other’s company.
A sharp stab of loneliness pierced her, and with it dread. How would she cope with Finn’s return? He had meant—still meant—so much to her. Did he have any idea how hurt she had been by his casual dismissal of their love?
It had been seven years ago, and they were both older and wiser now. Would it hurt less? She didn’t think so. Jessie was right, it was over but it wasn’t done with. Not by a long way—at least not for Janna. Finn had left it behind him years ago, which was the trouble, of course. If only she could let it go too, perhaps she might heal, but the pain of his rejection and indifference was with her daily. They could have had so much, and yet they had nothing, their love swept aside by his sudden and inexplicable return to their long-standing friendship.
He had come back at Christmas, months after her birthday, after their loving, after his promises, and had treated her exactly as he always had, as if the summer had never happened. She had been so shocked and hurt that she had avoided him all that holiday, and ever since she had gone out of her way to avoid him.
Well, she wouldn’t be able to now. They were stuck with each other, working together, and she was going to have to put on the acting performance of her life to survive it.
For a long time she stood motionless, staring out over the water, and then with a sigh she turned and walked back towards the rocks.
As she did so she felt a sudden prickle of awareness and glanced up. There was nothing there, of course. It was just because she was thinking of him, in this place which had been so special to them that summer. She was conjuring his presence out of thin air, an extension of her night-time fantasies, her dream lover come back to haunt her. And yet the prickle was still there …
She scanned the area again. Nothing. All she could see were the sheep, grazing around the ruins of McPhee’s derelict barn—the barn where she and Finn had lain together seven years ago and promised each other eternity.
Then she saw him, silhouetted in the doorway, tall, broad, his dark hair touched with red by the sun, an old T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, tucked into snug jeans, faded and ancient and clinging lovingly to his narrow hips and long, lean legs. Nothing changes, she thought in despair. He was exactly as she remembered him, and the effect he had on her was just the same.
She stood transfixed, her heart thrashing in her chest, desperately trying to swallow the lump in her throat as he threaded his way surefootedly over the rocks towards her.
She couldn’t move, her feet rooted to the sand, but it didn’t matter because he came to her anyway, moving with an easy grace as he sprang lightly down off the rocks and came to rest a few feet away.
‘Janna.’
Just the one word, but it took her breath away. His voice hadn’t changed at all—deep, soft, slightly husky, it sent shivers racing over her skin and turned her resolve to mush.
With a superhuman effort she dragged air into her lungs and met his clear blue-grey eyes, navy-ringed around the iris and able to see clear through to her heart—or so she had once thought. They hadn’t seen her pain, though, so apparently they were just ordinary eyes after all, if one discounted how incredibly beautiful they were …
‘Hello, Finn.’
He studied her for a moment, his head tipped to one side, and then clicked his tongue.
‘You’ve lost weight.’
She gave a strained little laugh. ‘I needed to.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You were perfect just as you were. Oh, Janna, it’s good to see you again.’
Without warning he took the last step forward and enveloped her in a huge, bone-cracking hug. Her nostrils were assailed with the familiar scent of his skin, and for a second she allowed herself the luxury of returning his hug, her arms sliding round his big ribcage, her hands involuntarily flattening against his smooth-muscled back.
His body was warm under her palms, warm and lean and solid, bigger even than she remembered. She ached to hold him, to stand there in the shelter of his arms and hang on for dear life. For a moment, it almost seemed as if they were lovers again, as if her love was returned by the man in her arms …
She was deluding herself. Dropping her hands back to her sides, she straightened away from him. He let her go, his large hands cupping her shoulders and holding her at arm’s length while he studied her face, his own creasing in a frown.
‘You look tired,’ he told her bluntly.
‘I am. It’s the height of the summer season. All the visitors are here, and we seem to have a particularly stupid lot this year.’
Laughter touched his eyes. ‘They can’t be that stupid. They chose the most beautiful place in the world to have their holidays.’ He released her and turned towards the sea, gazing out as she had done, his eyes reflecting the islands and the changing clouds in the sky. ‘I’ve missed it so much—the sea, the gulls, the people—and you, Janna.’
She swallowed and turned away, refusing to be lulled by the sincerity in his voice. ‘Me?’ she said with a fragile laugh.
‘Does that seem so strange?’ he asked softly.
Strange? Why should it be strange that he should vow to love her for all time and then forget about it for seven long, aching, miserable years until it was convenient to amble back into her life? Did he really expect her to believe he had missed her? Hardly, surely!
And, just because he was back, did he imagine they could pick up where they left off?
‘It’s been a long time, Finn.’
‘Twelve years since I left.’
And seven since their summer. ‘I’ve changed,’
