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“Do I know you?” I asked.
“No,” he said with a smile. “But we’ve been expecting you, love. I’m Chef and we’ve all been eager to meet the woman who will finally make an honest man of our Callum.”
I shook my head. “That’s not going to be happening. I’m here to see if someone can help me get home. To the island?”
“Come, come! Taste this.” He held out the spoon further, demanding.
The always-there need to be polite overtook my current need to escape. I slipped over to him, shyly letting him put the spoon in my mouth. I was treated to an explosion of flavors. “Cullen Skink.” A thick soup my mother used to cook. “That’s delicious.”
“The smoked haddock was only just delivered this morning,” Chef said. “Fresh as fresh can be.”
A bubbly voice piped up from the far side of the kitchen. “And there’ll be shortbread for a sweet treat tomorrow!”
“That’s Nan,” Chef said. “She does the desserts.”
“Hello!” I offered the small woman a wave over Chef’s shoulder. “I love shortbread.”
She gave a friendly smile and went back to her dough.
Chef was so kind, maybe he’d offer me help. Did he not hear me before? I’d try again. “Chef, I was surprised to find myself brought here today. I had no idea about any of this. Could you maybe?—”
He said, “For breakfast, we’ll have porridge, of course. But no ordinary bland goo you may have had on the island. I make mine thick with fresh cream and wild blueberries from our hills.”
“Mmm…That sounds lovely. But back to my question?—”
“We’ll need to discuss the cake,” Nan’s little voice piped up. “I do love a good wedding cake.”
Chef belly laughed. “God, yes! Where would a bride be without her wedding cake. Are you a vanilla lass or a chocoholic?”
“I love chocolate but don’t see it as fit for weddings.” I cleared my throat, clutching my bowl for confidence, and declared, “And like I tried to tell you, there’s not going to be any wedding?—”
Nan cried, “A girl after my own heart! A wedding cake must be white. Am I right?”
At that point, Chef and Nan ignored me completely, getting into a deep conversation about the ins and outs of a proper wedding cake. They were just about to devolve into cussing over raspberry jam filling when I finally slipped out and made my exit. Disappointed I’d gotten nowhere in the kitchen, I headed off to find Freya, thinking she would help me escape.
She was nowhere to be found.
I retreated to my room, put my clothes away, and pretended to settle in while I made a plan. I was sure he’d be watching my bedroom door tonight. The only way out would be the balcony out the back.
I spent the next hours tying together every sheet, curtain, and long, strong fabric I could find into an emergency ladder, a trick I learned at the local college when I took a paramedic course as an elective, a way to get out of a two-story building in case of being trapped by a fire.
The time flew by as I focused. I was shocked to find the clock had turned five. Not wanting to raise any suspicions, I dressed and hurried to the parlor for tea as quickly as possible.
I tried to stay calm during the meal but was on edge the entire time, nerves flooding my body. I did well. My only slip-up was when I could no longer bite my tongue and told Callum his home was perfect for him and his sister.
Insinuating it was not for me.
Now, I lock the bedroom door. I run to the chest at the foot of the bed where I’ve hidden my ladder.
I plan on tying it to the strong iron railing of the balcony and climbing down. I can’t risk bringing Mam’s big bowl with me, but once I’m safe on the island, I'll get it somehow. The cab fare home will be dear, but I’ll go straight to Bayne and Kitt’s house once I get off the ferry. Bayne works with Callum. He’ll know what to do.
Wait…are they back from their honeymoon? They didn’t put an end date to their trip, Kitt saying, I’ll see you when I see you. I have no idea if they’re back. I do know the security code for their home alarm system. Kitt told me to use it anytime. If they’re not home, at least their house is safe to hide in while I work on a plan.
I lift the lid and look inside the chest. I know the ladder will be there, but still, I sigh with relief when I lay eyes on it. It’s there, right where I left it, neatly folded and ready for use. I lift my makeshift escape tool from the chest. It’s heavy and longer than I remember making it. Tiptoeing to the balcony, I keep my breath even as I go, trying to remain calm.
One mistake, and I could fall two stories to the ground, risking serious injury. Not to mention the punishment that would be in store for me if he caught me trying to escape. He made the dangers of the city clear, as well as the fact that there would be consequences.
Ones that would leave my skin searing and my pussy aching.
