They let the rest of the islanders pull ahead – and the islanders let them, striding ahead on the path. James’s hand closed around hers as they walked back towards the village. They both knew they had only these precious few moments together before word of the engagement officially broke and the celebrations erupted; their joy would be claimed by everyone, and Flora wanted – needed – these few minutes with her fiancé before their happiness was public property.
They approached the shoulder of the headland onto the easterly flank but before she could round it and step into the shadow, he pulled her into him and kissed her deeply. Her first kiss, and she hadn’t even seen it coming. In company, he was a model of decorum and restraint, but the private man had hidden depths and his duality excited her.
They were breathless by the time they pulled apart.
‘Don’t leave me here,’ she breathed. ‘Take me with you.’
‘I wish I could, but it’s impossible,’ he murmured, though his eyes were burning into hers. ‘I leave for the Faroes next week.’
‘Next week?’ she quailed. ‘But . . . I thought . . . you being here after all . . . I thought you’d changed your mind.’ She felt a kick of panic, fear rising once more.
‘It’s not something I can change my mind on. They’re already waiting for me as it is. Most of them arrived in the Faroes days ago.’
‘But—’
‘My departure has been delayed on account of some late deliveries, that’s all. I’ll be bringing them out with me, and then we’re heading off to Iceland together.’
‘Iceland.’ These were all worlds she would never see.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said tenderly. ‘The sooner I go, the sooner I return. And this doesn’t change anything, not really. We would have been separated over the winter anyway – and I don’t have to stick the expedition out to the bitter end. I can be back by August.’
‘August?’ she cried.
‘Or . . . or possibly July,’ he murmured, smoothing her hair back from her face.
‘But that’s almost a year from now!’ She pulled back from him; she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t.
His hands reached for her again, warm and solid, soothing her. ‘A year from now, life will be ours for the taking. And it’ll be easy from thereon in – the difficult part was finding you,’ he smiled. ‘I may have had to come almost to the edges of the earth to discover you, but one sighting and I’d have rowed myself back here in a pudding bowl if I’d had to.’
‘. . . I’m glad you didn’t have to,’ she said quietly.
‘Me too.’
Almost another year here. Could she do it? She looked down at the jewels glittering on her finger, felt the lipstick weighty in her skirt pocket. Would they be enough? Talismans to keep her safe?
‘It looks beautiful on you,’ James murmured, looking too at the ring on her finger.
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘It was my mother’s. She died when I was seven and it’s been in a vault in London ever since. I’d have been back sooner, but I had to go to London to get it first.’ He reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips again; his eyes never left hers. ‘It’s been frustrating, all this to-ing and fro-ing, especially as I already knew before I left here the last time that I was going to ask for your hand.’
She was surprised. ‘You did?’
‘Yes. But I wanted to do it properly. And besides, back then . . . it wasn’t the time, of course.’ He cleared his throat and, for the first time, looked away.
‘No,’ she agreed, remembering that awful night and the thundering silence that had followed Edward’s punch. ‘. . . How is he?’
He didn’t reply immediately. ‘He hates me.’ He shrugged, though he looked pained. ‘He hasn’t spoken to me since.’
‘Oh, James,’ she whispered.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t blame him. He’s entitled to be angry at me. I’d be the same if the shoe were on the other foot. Besides, I knew what was at stake – I was choosing between you and him. And I chose you.’
She watched him, seeing the sadness in his eyes nevertheless. She felt responsible for it; she had cost him a good friend. ‘And Sophia?’
His face dropped. ‘Inconsolable, I’m told. Edward told her before I could, so God only knows how he broke the news. She locked herself in her cabin and they dropped me at first landfall.’
‘Which was where?’
‘Benbecula.’
The Outer Hebridean isle was closer to the mainland than here, of course, but still remote – and a very difficult journey back without a boat. ‘Surely not?’
‘It was for the best,’ he said quickly. ‘Far better for everyone that we parted ways. There was no point in dragging out the awkwardness. I was week-old fish at that point.’
Flora sighed at the mess. ‘She must have been so hurt.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Possibly? There’s no doubting it!’
‘Well . . . I’m not sure whether she actually loved me or just the idea of me. Sophia is used to getting what she wants, so it was a blow to her pride more than anything. But I never wanted to make her suffer, and she would have done if I’d gone ahead with it – being married to a man who’s in love with someone else would have been a form of torture for all involved. This is better by far. She’ll understand that in time.’
‘It’s all my doing, though,’ Flora said quietly. ‘You’ve lost your friends, we’ve hurt all these people—’
‘You’re not responsible – I did this. I made a choice, and I wouldn’t change it,’ he said, looking at her intently. ‘Not a thing. What’s between us is real. Make no mistake, you were a . . . a vanity project for Edward, something pretty on his arm. I stand by everything I said then. He was my friend for a long time and if I had believed for a moment that his feelings were genuine, then I . . . I hope I would have done the correct thing and stood aside.’ He paused, his gaze burning, then clasped her face in his hands. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘No, I wouldn’t. I’m not as honourable as that. I would still have fought him for you. I’d have fought anyone.’
Flora could feel the heat coming from him as she looked into his eyes, the press of his hands on her waist as the two of them stood barefoot in the grass. He was so sure of his convictions; his emotions were so . . . straightforward. He drew her in, kissing her again, and she felt the passion immediately surge between them. She wanted his lips, but also his hands too, caresses and sighs and everything she had read about in Big Mary’s copy of Jane Eyre. She had never felt like this before, but she could see how it could swallow time, making hours feel like minutes – and by contrast, how his absence would make days feel like weeks.
A sharp whistle suddenly split the sky and they instinctively broke apart. She knew it was a warning shot from Effie; their absence had been noticed.
No. Not yet, she thought, clinging to him still. She needed more time. And yet, a month still wouldn’t be enough. A lifetime . . .
He pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing coming hard, as if pulling back was an act of resistance. ‘Floss . . . my Floss . . .’ he breathed, his fingertips digging in as still they kissed.
For several moments they stood there, wrapped in one another’s arms, together but apart. Close, but not close enough.
‘We should head back,’ she whispered finally, reluctantly, moving her fingers lightly over his cheeks as if trying to commit their contours to her muscle memory. ‘Ma will be like the whale if we don’t allow her to share the news.’
‘The whale?’
‘One went pop in the bay a few days past.’
‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘It was dead first, I’m hoping?’
‘Aye,’ she laughed, liking his dry wit. ‘The whalers tied it to the buoy out there in the bay, but they waited too long on getting back to it . . . You’re lucky the winds have carried away the stench.’
He pulled a face at the thought. Exploding whales weren’t a part of his reality. ‘Well, I’d rather your mother didn’t explode on my account, so yes, we probably should get back.’ She laughed again as he took her by the hand and led her round the headland.
The village was already abuzz with excitement. She could see even from a distance Big Mary, Crabbit Mary and Rachel MacKinnon carrying out the tripods for the hogget roast. There would be music and dancing this evening; Old Fin would have an opportunity to play his beloved accordion again – but James wouldn’t be here to see it. Aboard the Shamrock, the crew were already making preparations to get underway again and Sir Thomas, Mad Annie, Ma Peg and Old Fin were making a slow procession down the street towards the pier.
They saw it all from this distant remove – the waves pounding the shore, fulmars wheeling on the breeze, the dark shadows of fluffy clouds speeding across the slopes as every step took them closer to separation. James’s hand tightened around hers, their jubilation giving way to incipient despair. Sweet reunion had been all too brief.
‘You promise you’ll come back for me?’ she asked fearfully, pulling him back again, out of sight. Panic came in waves.
‘I promise.’ He clasped her cheeks and kissed her once more. Immediately her body sank against his, an unstoppable force driving them together, his hands in her hair. It was cruel that they had found one another in the dying moments of summer, sharing mere moments in private, only to be forced into a year’s separation.
‘But you might change your mind,’ she gasped as he kissed her neck, holding her so tightly that she was suspended on tiptoe.
‘Never. We’ll write as much as we can, and . . .’ He looked back at her. ‘I’ll come back again if I can. I promise, I’ll find a way.’
But she knew it was a vain hope. He was sailing to the Arctic Circle via the Faroes and Iceland, then Greenland. He would be gone for months.
She could only wait, and hope, and trust that his word was as good as his kisses.