Outside, Georgie watched in amusement as Logan folded his long legs with difficulty into the passenger seat of her Mini. Even with the seat pushed back to its furthest position, he still looked cramped.
The last of the sun had disappeared from the sky when they set off from the hospital, the full moon the only light on the dark road.
‘The inn is a few miles out of Fort William,’ she explained. ‘At the foot of the mountains. All the climbers meet there to analyse the day’s climbing and plan their next climb. After that they relax with a pint or two and maybe some music.’
‘Does the inn have rooms?’
‘Yes, but it’s a holiday weekend, so I’m afraid it’s likely to be booked up. Loads of people travel up at this time of the year to climb the mountains. Some come from as far away as London, or Europe.’ The implication of what he was asking hit her. ‘Of course, you don’t have anywhere to stay, do you?’
‘’Fraid not. I didn’t expect to find myself here, let alone staying the night. I don’t even have a toothbrush with me. I assumed it would be easy enough to get a room somewhere.’
She hesitated. What she was about to suggest was making her feel like a teenager asking someone out on a first date, which was ridiculous. It was simply the polite thing to do. ‘Then you’ll just have to stay the night at our house. There’s plenty of space. And it will mean you and Kirk will get a chance to talk without interruptions.’
‘He’s staying with you?’
‘Actually, we’re staying with him. My mum’s there too and my daughter, but there’s still a room free.’
She glanced across at him. Even in the dark she could see his eyes drop to her left hand where she still wore her wedding ring.
‘And your husband? Did you leave him behind in Glasgow?’
‘I’m a widow,’ she said shortly, hearing the hitch in her voice. Saying the words still brought a lump to her throat.
‘I’m sorry,’ Logan said.
Silence stretched between them. This was the part when she usually got twenty questions. But thankfully Logan didn’t ask any more. Either he thought it was none of his business or he could tell from her voice that she didn’t want to talk about it.
‘Thanks for the offer of a room,’ he said finally, ‘but I couldn’t put you out. I’m used to making do wherever I can find a bed. I’m sure I can persuade the inn to squeeze me in somewhere. Even if it’s in a hut outside.’
Georgie shook her head. ‘Nope. Sorry. Highland hospitality won’t allow it. There is no way my mother would forgive me if I let you fend for yourself.’
‘If you’re sure—great. Thank you.’
‘That’s settled, then. I’ll phone Mum once I’ve dropped you and ask her to make up the spare room.’ Although Georgie kept her voice matter-of-fact, her heart was doing its little dance again.
‘Where do you call home?’ Georgie asked. ‘I can’t place your accent.’ Damn. Here she was doing the question thing again, just when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t help it—she was intensely curious about this enigmatic man.
‘People tell me I don’t really have an accent. Probably because I’ve travelled all over.’ A shadow crossed his face, to be replaced seconds later by an easy grin. ‘That tends to happen when you’re a regular with the army.’
‘But there must be somewhere you call home!’
‘I’ve rented a place in Glasgow for three months, simply because I didn’t fancy staying in a hotel for that long. It’s the first time in years that I’ve stayed for that amount of time in one place. So I guess it’s home for the time being.’
Georgie felt a pang of sympathy. Her dad had been in the army before he’d retired. She had hated being moved from pillar to post, never really having time to make friends or settle down before moving on. The first time she had ever had somewhere to call home had been when her father had taken early retirement and moved the family to Fort William where his parents had lived all their lives. The last few years of Georgie’s childhood had been spent somewhere settled and she had thrived. Since then, Georgie’s life had been rooted in Scotland and her family and she could think of nothing worse than not having a place to call home. If it hadn’t been for the support of family and friends after Ian had died, she’d never have been able to cope.
‘And your family?’
It was as if the shutters had come down. The atmosphere in the car turned decidedly cool.
‘The army is my family,’ he said briefly. His mouth curved in to a half-smile. ‘Anyway, I’d rather talk about you.’
Some pair they made. He didn’t want to talk about his life and she didn’t want to talk about hers.
However, she couldn’t help wondering what he wasn’t telling her.
The road was rising steeply but Georgie knew the West Coast like the back of her hands. She could almost have navigated them in her sleep. The mountains of Glencoe rose like cloaked giants on either side of the road. She never failed to feel the brooding loneliness of the place where the Campbells had massacred the MacDonalds.
‘Have you always climbed?’ Logan asked.
‘Since like for ever. My father took me out on the hills as soon as I could walk. If I got tired, he’d fling me like a rucksack on his back.’ Georgie smiled at the memory, before the familiar tug of grief pulled at her heart. Although her father had died four years ago, she still missed him. ‘I was brought up here. I’ve climbed every hill in Scotland, including the Munros, at least twice. I joined the mountain rescue team when I was eighteen. Unfortunately tourists and even experienced climbers constantly underestimate our mountains—especially how quickly the weather can change. I’ve even seen women set off in their high heels for a four-hour climb. And then they’re surprised when they twist their ankle and have to be rescued. I also volunteer as a rescue medic at the annual downhill cycle race that’s held in Fort William every year.’
‘But you live in Glasgow now?’
‘Yes. And have done for the last two and a half years. I’m not really part of the mountain rescue team any more. Today was unusual. I just happened to be hanging out at the clubhouse with Kirk when the call came through. The team was out on another call, so I said I would go.’ She took a shaky breath, remembering how she had frozen and the vertigo she’d experienced. It had never happened before, but this had been the first time she’d climbed since before Jess had been born. Just as well, then, that she was no longer part of the team.
Georgie felt Logan’s eyes on her and when she glanced his way he was looking thoughtful.
‘What’s the most difficult rescue you’ve been involved with?’
His question was unexpected and hit her right in the solar plexus. She couldn’t bear to think about the most difficult rescue. She had spent the last two and a half years trying not to think about it.
‘Georgie?’ Logan prompted. Her silence must have told him she didn’t want to talk about it. ‘It’s okay,’ he said ‘You don’t have to tell me. God knows, there’s stuff I don’t want to talk about.’
So she was right. There was a lot more to Logan Harris than met the eye. He puzzled her. On the one hand, he seemed to be a typical all-male action man—on the other, he had this surprising thoughtfulness. He had cared enough to go and see Jack, knowing the child would be frightened and anxious.