head. I was never much of a Harry Potter fan, to be fair, whether in print or immortalized on screen. Now Harry McLeod, I could get interested in…
Christ, where did that come from?
By mutual and unspoken consent I pull into a lay-by with a view across to Holy Island. It’s low tide so the connecting causeway is visible and there are figures hustling to and fro, tourists mostly, I imagine. The priory, castle and harbor look stunning against the clear blue of the late afternoon sky, and I make a mental note to perhaps come back here sometime. I’ve always had a soft spot for castles.
“It’s a pity we don’t have time to go over there, have a proper look around.” Harry leans back in his seat, surveying the turreted skyline.
“Would you like to?” Perhaps he shares my fondness for old ruins.
“Why not? I’m on vacation.”
“There’s a castle in Edinburgh. A huge one, I think.”
“We’ll go there then, for sure.” He returns his attention to the iPad and taps the screen with his customary determination. “Hey, and pandas. They have real pandas at Edinburgh zoo. Do you like pandas, Hope?”
I’ve never given pandas a great deal of thought, but Harry’s enthusiasm is infectious. I can’t help the smile that seems to be always hovering around my face now, ready to break through at the least provocation. “Yes, I expect pandas are just lovely.”
“Right, we’ll be needing tickets to see the castle and the pandas. I’ll call Jill and get her to sort it all out.”
“Who’s Jill?”
“My secretary, in Winnipeg. I’ll get her to book us a hotel too.”
“Separate rooms.” I’m considerably less convinced of the necessity of this, but feel compelled to make my point nevertheless.
He shakes his head, looks amused. “For now. Yes then, separate rooms.” He taps the screen on his phone—obviously Jill is on speed dial. I pretend not to listen as he issues his instructions for tomorrow’s excursions and tonight’s accommodation.
“Yes, just one night in Edinburgh. We’ll travel on later tomorrow.” A pause, then, “Thanks. If you would.” Another pause. “Perth probably. I’ll let you know after that.”
I surmise that he plans for us to be staying at Edinburgh today, and at Perth tomorrow. I find I have no objections. I start my engine.
Chapter Four
The arts center in Berwick lives up to its reputation as described by the Northumberland Tourist Board. The food is excellent, the service cheerful, the atmosphere vaguely bohemian. The evening’s entertainment could have been rounded off nicely with a Billy Joel tribute act, highly recommended by the lady on the front desk, but it’s not my scene. Nor is it Harry’s. We prefer to press on to Edinburgh. As we get back in the car to leave Berwick, Harry reels off a postcode and asks me to put it into my satnav.
“Our hotel for tonight. It’s about ten miles south of Edinburgh. Should take about ninety minutes. Wake me up when we get there.” With no more ado he props his feet on my dashboard and closes his eyes. He’s asleep in seconds.
I spend the hour and a half of quiet solitude enjoying the soft and lilting Borders landscape and wondering what on earth I’m thinking of, haring off to Scotland at a moment’s notice with a man I met only slightly more than twenty-four hours ago. I glance at Harry from time to time, his breathing light, relaxed, his face softened in sleep. He looks as though butter wouldn’t melt, but I already know better than to trust that innocent exterior. The clues are there. His casual reference to being kinky, his response when I said I wouldn’t sleep with him, his gentle teasing on that subject since. He fully intends to get me into bed.
And I’m starting to think I fully intend to let him. But not straight away. He can work for it.
I follow the satnav instructions religiously, and swear under my breath when I pass through an imposing gateway into the grounds of what I think
Christ, where did that come from?
By mutual and unspoken consent I pull into a lay-by with a view across to Holy Island. It’s low tide so the connecting causeway is visible and there are figures hustling to and fro, tourists mostly, I imagine. The priory, castle and harbor look stunning against the clear blue of the late afternoon sky, and I make a mental note to perhaps come back here sometime. I’ve always had a soft spot for castles.
“It’s a pity we don’t have time to go over there, have a proper look around.” Harry leans back in his seat, surveying the turreted skyline.
“Would you like to?” Perhaps he shares my fondness for old ruins.
“Why not? I’m on vacation.”
“There’s a castle in Edinburgh. A huge one, I think.”
“We’ll go there then, for sure.” He returns his attention to the iPad and taps the screen with his customary determination. “Hey, and pandas. They have real pandas at Edinburgh zoo. Do you like pandas, Hope?”
I’ve never given pandas a great deal of thought, but Harry’s enthusiasm is infectious. I can’t help the smile that seems to be always hovering around my face now, ready to break through at the least provocation. “Yes, I expect pandas are just lovely.”
“Right, we’ll be needing tickets to see the castle and the pandas. I’ll call Jill and get her to sort it all out.”
“Who’s Jill?”
“My secretary, in Winnipeg. I’ll get her to book us a hotel too.”
“Separate rooms.” I’m considerably less convinced of the necessity of this, but feel compelled to make my point nevertheless.
He shakes his head, looks amused. “For now. Yes then, separate rooms.” He taps the screen on his phone—obviously Jill is on speed dial. I pretend not to listen as he issues his instructions for tomorrow’s excursions and tonight’s accommodation.
“Yes, just one night in Edinburgh. We’ll travel on later tomorrow.” A pause, then, “Thanks. If you would.” Another pause. “Perth probably. I’ll let you know after that.”
I surmise that he plans for us to be staying at Edinburgh today, and at Perth tomorrow. I find I have no objections. I start my engine.
Chapter Four
The arts center in Berwick lives up to its reputation as described by the Northumberland Tourist Board. The food is excellent, the service cheerful, the atmosphere vaguely bohemian. The evening’s entertainment could have been rounded off nicely with a Billy Joel tribute act, highly recommended by the lady on the front desk, but it’s not my scene. Nor is it Harry’s. We prefer to press on to Edinburgh. As we get back in the car to leave Berwick, Harry reels off a postcode and asks me to put it into my satnav.
“Our hotel for tonight. It’s about ten miles south of Edinburgh. Should take about ninety minutes. Wake me up when we get there.” With no more ado he props his feet on my dashboard and closes his eyes. He’s asleep in seconds.
I spend the hour and a half of quiet solitude enjoying the soft and lilting Borders landscape and wondering what on earth I’m thinking of, haring off to Scotland at a moment’s notice with a man I met only slightly more than twenty-four hours ago. I glance at Harry from time to time, his breathing light, relaxed, his face softened in sleep. He looks as though butter wouldn’t melt, but I already know better than to trust that innocent exterior. The clues are there. His casual reference to being kinky, his response when I said I wouldn’t sleep with him, his gentle teasing on that subject since. He fully intends to get me into bed.
And I’m starting to think I fully intend to let him. But not straight away. He can work for it.
I follow the satnav instructions religiously, and swear under my breath when I pass through an imposing gateway into the grounds of what I think
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