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“I’m sorry,” murmured Judith, her heart full of sympathy for this man beside her because his conscience was weighed down by the death of his friend. “What happened to you? Were you injured?”

His mouth twisted into a cynical smile. “Oh, no. The lab was wrecked, but all I had was a few cuts, a slightly burned hand—and eventually, after the enquiry, no job. Industrial firms are not very anxious to employ chaps who let their minds go wool-gathering when experiments are in progress.”

“And your fiancée?”

He turned towards Judith. “What do
you
think? I must admit Christine was quite logical. She took the line that we’d broken everything between us
before
the accident and that she couldn’t be expected to marry me out of sheer pity because my carelessness had killed somebody else. So she went ahead and married the other fellow.”

“What made you come to the island?”

He stirred the sand with the toe of his shoe. “I’d already spent a climbing holiday in the Highlands with a couple of friends, so I came again alone and tackled two or three difficult climbs, the sort that need all your concentration. I tried fishing in some of the lochs, but I saw Christine’s face in the water and I thought too much about Terry. He was married, you see, and had one small child.”

“Had you ever been to Kylsaig before?”

“No. I was in Cruban one day reading the local paper. This holding of mine was advertised, and I bought it.”

Judith smiled at him and shook her head. “But playing the intellectual shepherd isn’t going to satisfy you for long, is it?”

“I’m not sure. The life has its advantages—few worries, peaceful existence.”

“And no responsibilities?” she queried.

His face clouded sombrely. “That’s an easy taunt. D’you think I don’t remind myself every day of my responsibility to Terry’s widow?”

“Yes, I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He grasped her hand and helped her to her feet from the sandy tussock where they had been sitting. “Come along. Time to be moving. It’s getting cold.”

When they had climbed the slope and were near his cottage, he said, “Have you been on one of those evening cruises by steamer? The ship leaves Cruban about six and goes up to Fort William and back again. Gets home about ten.”

“No. I’ve seen it advertised.”

“There’s a trip tomorrow. Come with me.”

She hesitated. “Well, I don’t like leaving Barbara for too long.”

“Andy’s there in the evenings. Besides, she’s not a complete invalid.”

The thought rushed into her mind that perhaps this was another invitation for three and that Mairi was also going.

“All right. I’ll take it that’s settled, shall I?” His voice recalled her.

“I’m still not sure about it.”

He laughed. “Did you make all this fuss about a simple invitation when Huntly took you and your sister to Iona, or you to Port Appin?”

“Thank you, then. I’d like to go tomorrow, unless Barbara is really ill. In that case I’ll let you know.”

“If it doesn’t offend your notions of respectability, would you like a cup of coffee? It’s still daylight.”

She met his amused glance. “Yes, the long northern twilight. In summer, even the middle of the night would pass for daylight. Of course I’d like some coffee.”

He warned her of the high threshold, like a ship cabin’s storm step, and when he lit the lamp she gazed around the room. Thick stone walls, solid oak rafters, stone floor covered with bright rugs, the cottage had obviously been built to defy the gales and lashing rain. Black oak table and chairs were polished and dusted, and coarse hand-woven curtains discreetly hid the built-in wooden bed.

He noticed her survey. “All it needs is a set of bagpipes hanging on the door and a spinning-wheel to make it a typical crofter’s cottage, fit for any Highland museum,” he mocked. “1 apologise for the bed and for the fact that I sleep and eat in the same room. I had ideas about turning it into a cocktail cabinet or something of the sort, but I have to sleep somewhere and I don’t fancy the outhouse.”

He handed her the coffee, a strong, hot brew.

“Made up your mind to stay here permanently?” He shot the question at her.

“No.” She realised that this negative could be taken either that she had come to no decision or was not going to live on Kylsaig permanently, but she would not add any explanation. Neil must choose his own meaning.

He asked no further questions and they talked of other matters until she said it was time to leave.

Outside, the western glow was still reflected luminously on the water as Neil accompanied her back to Andy’s croft. Just before they emerged beyond the last clump of trees, Neil grasped Judith’s wrist and stopped.

“Judith, there’s something I—I must tell you.” He drew her closer towards him and slipped his arm about her waist. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me. Sometimes I want you to go away, so that I never see you again. Then I know that if you did that, I should have to follow you wherever you were.”

“Neil, please!” she whispered, staring at the intensity of his dark eyes. Yet she did not struggle to free herself, but remained within the circle of his arms, and when he kissed her with almost savage desperation, she neither resisted nor responded.

At last she drew away from him. “Neil, this is madness. You’re not in love with me.”

“How d’you know that? I don’t know whether I love you or not. I know that you have the power to make me forget Christine—and all the rest.”

“Then in that case, let’s leave it at friendship, shall we?”

“You’re not a girl I could be friendly with. You’re too attractive. I’ve either got to resent you so much that I’m near to hating you or—”

“Don’t say it! I shall be here for only a short time. Then you’ll forget me or remember me only as a holiday interlude. Barbara’s sister. Besides, there’s Mairi. Have you forgotten about her?”

“Mairi?” he echoed. “She has nothing to do with—us.”

“I think she has. She’s very fond of you.”

“Then that’s her business. I can’t help it if she mistakes an ordinary friendship for love. I swear I’ve never made love to her or given her the slightest reason to think that I wanted to.”

“I must go now, Neil. Andy and the children will be wondering where on earth I’ve got to.” She said the first mundane words that came into her head, anxious to break the fierce, thick atmosphere between herself and Neil.

She hurried away from him, almost running along the path.

“You’ll come for the cruise tomorrow?” he called out. She paused and turned. “Yes, I suppose so.” If she refused at this particular moment she thought he was quite likely to come pounding after her to make her change her mind. No doubt some excuse not to go would present itself between now and tomorrow evening.

Andy was in the kitchen and glanced up. “I gave the children their supper and packed them off to bed.”

“I didn’t intend to be out so long,” she mumbled.”

“Trouble with the ram? Or did you find others that were caught?”

She laughed, recovering by now some of her composure. “Not exactly. I met Neil and we walked and talked.” That was a fine glossing-over of what had really taken place after the walking and talking, she reflected.

“D’you find him a difficult sort of chap?” Andy asked, paying great attention to filling his pipe.

“Difficult? In what way?”

“He never seems to know what he wants. Whatever trouble he’s had in the past, and nobody knows much about the details, seems to have made him dissatisfied.”

“Well, perhaps his troubles are too recent for him to find his own new way of life.” So evidently Neil had not confided in any of the other islanders. She ought to consider herself privileged.

She escaped from Andy’s gentle probings on the pretext of seeing if Barbara lacked anything.

Later, in the silence of the bedroom she shared with Susan, Judith let her mind roam over the extraordinary change in Neil’s attitude towards her. In one way she ought to feel flattered because he found her attractive, but at the same time there was something in his nature that repelled her while allowing her to be drawn towards him.

It was curious that in that last moment before sinking into sleep she remembered Stuart’s tender, delicate goodbye kiss at the end of her holiday after the outing to Port Appin.

WHEN Judith returned from shopping in Cruban next day, Barbara was dressed and sitting in an armchair by the window.

“Are you sure you’re feeling strong enough to be up so early?” Judith asked anxiously. Barbara had so far been getting up for only an hour or so in the afternoons.

“Perfectly. I’m ashamed of taking everything so easy and leaving you to do all the work. Anyway, I’m glad I was able to be downstairs today. Neil called.”

“Oh?” Judith had her back towards her sister.

“He left a message for you—to meet him at the pierhead in Cruban this evening at about quarter to six.”

Judith nodded.

“At least you might show some interest,” Barbara complained. “Or is it a secret rendezvous?”

“He’s taking me on an evening cruise up the Loch to Fort William, if that’s convenient for you and Andy.”

Barbara’s eyes opened wide. “But darling, I should do my best to make it convenient. I wouldn’t dream of standing in your way.”

“Thank you. Now the groceries. I couldn’t get—”

“Oh, bother the groceries! I’m much more interested in your progress with Neil. Really, you must have made quite a conquest there. To think that all the time I’ve been mewed up in my room all these exciting developments have been going on and I haven’t known a thing!”

“There have been no developments.” Judith gave her sister an oblique glance. “Neil’s merely feeling a bit sorry for me the way I have to slave here looking after my mischief-making sister and her family. Now, does that satisfy you?”

Barbara laughed. “Not really, but I’ll just go on watching Actually, if it comes to a toss-up between you and Mairi, I’d be glad to see you win. Whatever dark chapters there may be in Neil’s past, I think you’d be better for him than Mairi would.”

Barbara was still laughing when Andy came into the room. He looked at Judith and smiled his gratitude that whatever the cause of the joke, Barbara’s light, rippling laughter was music to him.

Neil was waiting at the pierhead when Judith arrived and they joined the queue, but over an hour went by before the steamer returned from the day trip, disembarked its passengers and was ready to take aboard the second load. Somehow, in the general crowding, Neil failed to secure places on the leeward side of the deck, and although Judith had brought a thick tweed coat, the wind was piercing and almost tore the scarf from her head.

At Fort William, about half the passengers left and another lot crowded on for return to Cruban. In the exchange Neil and Judith were luckier and found chairs on the glass-enclosed sundeck.

She found it difficult to make conversation with him, for she was aware of an undercurrent between them, a tension that stretched invisibly, barring them from easy, uncomplicated exchanges.

She concentrated on a dramatic sunset, all great orange and purple clouds sailing over the mountains. Sometimes the formations became inverted landscapes in the sky, picked out in golden pink and grey with pale green lakes.

The steamer had started late and was consequently more than an hour overdue arriving back at Cruban.

Judith and Neil walked across the dark, deserted fish quay and along the road.

“I’m not sure about the ferry,” he admitted. “I arranged with Frasers to send the boat over for us about half-past ten, but it’s nearly twelve now, so I doubt if anybody has waited that long. I’d have borrowed Andy’s boat if I’d known we’d be so late, and left it on this side.”

At the ferry there was no sign of a boat.' Kylsaig was no more than a long, dark shape in the background and the water slapped gently against the sides of the mainland slipway.

“Sorry about this,” Neil apologised. “It might have been better not to come down here on the off-chance, but get a boat straightaway from Cruban.”

“Donald or his father would have taken a poor view of that if either of them had been waiting here for us,” she pointed out.

“Yes.”

After a long pause, she suggested, “Couldn’t we go up to Garranmure and ask Stuart or someone else if we can hire one of their boats? They’re sure to have a rowing boat.”

“I don’t fancy asking Stuart for favours,” he replied brusquely.

Equally, she thought, she did not fancy being stranded on the mainland at midnight on a chilly evening.

After another long pause, during which she became increasingly resentful that he did not make any constructive suggestion, she said, “Graham Mundon lives at the house on the Point. Perhaps he could help us.”

“Graham? Well, as you’re Barbara’s sister, it’s more than likely that he might.”

She disliked his tone of voice. Barbara had declared that she and Graham were no more than very good friends, but Neil was trying to hint that something considerably more than friendship existed.

Judith sighed. It was pointless to argue, and she did not want to spend the night sheltering in the bushes by the roadside.

She walked with Neil back along the road, then stopped. “Listen! I can hear a boat.”

Distinctly she could hear oars grunting in the rowlocks.

Then a voice called, “Neil! Judith! Hallo there!”

“Hallo there!” Judith called back. “It sounds like Mairi!” she said to Neil.

They hurried back to the slipway as Mairi manoeuvred the boat against it and Neil moored long enough for Judith to clamber in. He took the oars and Mairi sat with Judith in the stern.

“It was very kind of you to come over and fetch us,” Judith said warmly. “The steamer—”

“Why didn’t you put a lantern on the bow?” Neil interrupted sharply. “Then we’d have seen you coming across.”

“I did show a light. It went out.” Mairi’s voice was near to tears.

Judith summoned her tact and held back the questions she was eager to ask—how Mairi had known they would be late and had rowed over the Sound at the right moment.