Tears stung Mallory’s eyes. ‘It’s perfect. I can’t think of anything I’d love more.’
*
Mallory and Sam hadn’t heard anything about the viewing arrangements over the weekend and it took forever for Monday to come around. Thankfully it was Josie’s day in the shop so Mallory didn’t have to make the journey into Leeds. She would probably have been as much use as an inflatable dartboard. Sam had taken a day’s leave too, which rarely happened. Despite the opportunity for a blissful lie-in with her hunky man, she could fight the excitement no longer and tugged at Sam’s earlobe in a bid to wake him from dreamland. If that hadn’t worked, plan B was to send Ruby in to jump on him in her giddy canine fashion.How can he be asleep when there are things to be done?She stressed.
Sam begrudgingly opened his eyes. ‘What time is it my little Yorkshire puddin’?’ He yawned.
‘Half seven. I couldn’t sleep, Sam, I’m so nervous.’
‘Ya don’t say,’ he mumbled, rubbing his weary eyes.
‘Shall I go and make coffee?’ she urged, leaning in for a kiss.
‘That’d be grrrrand,’ Sam replied, rolling his ‘r’ in his best attempts at a Yorkshire accent.
Bashing him playfully with a cushion, she told him, ‘That accent still needs work, mister.’
Mallory clambered out of bed, scrambled into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and headed down to the kitchen. She was greeted by her giddy little dog who made excited noises and darted back and forth between Mallory and the back door. Mallory let Ruby out and made a pot of coffee in the hope that the aroma would lure Sam from his bed.
When Sam had finally crawled out of bed and spoken to the agent later that morning, it was suggested that it would be best for them to travel up to view the property as soon as possible as there had been a lot of interest from other parties. This was unwelcome news and Mallory’s nerves jangled even more. Since talking to Josie things had become real and the prospect of losing the cottage before they had it filled her with dread.
But Sam didn’t falter. He simply proceeded to book a bed and breakfast a short drive from the Sealladh-mara cottage for them to take a few days break in the area the following weekend. They would have a nail-biting wait, hoping and praying that no one would pip them to the post.
*
After a ridiculously early start to drop Ruby off with Josie and Brad, Mallory and Sam arrived around noon at the B and B they had found, located at Easdale, just along the road from the Atlantic Bridge. The owner greeted them with home-made Scottish shortbread and fresh coffee. Their appointment with the agent wasn’t until one o’clock and so they had an hour to relax in their room. The problem was that Mallory’s nerves were on end and she found it hard to sit still, never mind relax. Her palms were sweating and her heart rate could rival that of someone running a trolley dash. She kept glancing at her watch.
Sam smiled and shook his head. ‘Mally, honey, you’re driving me crazy. Would youpleasejust calm down. We’re here. It’s not long now.’ He pulled her into an embrace on the squashy bed and kissed her. The kiss was enough to temporarily fog her brain into a calm trance-like state as his delicious lips moved over hers. She sighed against his mouth and felt him smile. Suddenly Mallory’s phone began to beep.
‘Ooh, it’s time!’ She leapt from his arms. ‘Come on slowcoach!’ She tugged him by the hands and he allowed her to pull him upright, shaking his head again, a grin firmly fixed on his face.
‘Yup, crazy,’ he muttered to himself.
The drive along the road to the cottage took all of ten minutes. There were jagged rocks rising skyward to Mallory’s left side, with a few houses dotted just in front. She peered out of the window next to Sam as he drove, killing two birds with one stone. On the one hand, she was able to look at Sam’s handsome unshaven profile and on the other she could look over the Firth of Lorne. The winter sun glistened like scattered diamonds on the sea and the rocks way out in the distance looked like a stationary ship that had dropped anchor just off the stunning coastline. She couldn’t help but allow the small smile that had been curling up the corners of her mouth to spread into a full-on grin.Why on earth it took me so long to agree to this I’ll never know.
They passed a pub on their left-hand side.That’s handy, Mallory thought as she appraised the old white building with its wooden outdoor benches. Across from the pub was a small parking area and what looked like a little tourist information hut. The bridge stretched out over to their right. A large beautiful stone structure where she and Sam had stood before and admired the spectacular vista out towards the ocean.
The road curved around to the right and traversed over the hump, but they pulled off to the left onto a little track that ran parallel with the water as it swept along under the bridge and out to sea.
The double-fronted, whitewashed Sealladh-mara Cottage stood looking out over the firth. The little path that led up to the front door was dusted with frost where the sun hadn’t yet reached. They were greeted by the estate agent who was quite young and not what Mallory had expected.
‘Ah, Mr and Mrs Buchanan I presume?’ The suited man held out his hand. ‘Jim Warriner of McTavish and Co.’
‘I wish,’ Sam smiled, shaking the man’s hand. ‘Shehasagreed to marry me but we haven’t done the deed just yet.’
Mallory blushed and held out her hand. ‘Mallory Westerman. Pleased to meet you.’
‘Well, the door is open, feel free to have a good roam around. I’ll wait in my car so you have some privacy. Oh, and there are still a few bits in there belonging to the owner. He hasn’t quite cleared the place out yet. It should all be done by the end of this week.’
Sam nodded. ‘Great, thanks. We’ll see you soon.’
The estate agent returned to his vehicle and the couple made their way into the house.
They stepped into the entrance hall and were met with two doors, one to the right and one to the left. Straight ahead was the staircase. Mallory reached for the door on the right. She gasped as the door opened onto the lounge. The ceilings were surprisingly high considering the cottage was almost two hundred years old and despite some of the owner’s effects still being dotted around the place, Mallory could mentally place all of their furniture. A brick inglenook fireplace sat under a large, gnarled and pitted oak beam mantle on the wall opposite the door. The log-burning stove stood in the middle of the slate hearth with a thin layer of dust atop it.
‘Oh Sam, it’s a Christmas house,’ she exclaimed, as her eyes travelled around the white walls that were in need of a freshen up.
Sam’s brow furrowed. ‘Sorry, a what now?’
