up. âYou.â
âAre you trying to kill me?â
If the first impression he had made earlier was lame, the second might be classed as criminal assault. Fraser held up his hands. âSorry, I thought you were Dunny.â
âDo I look like a small, weird Scottish boy?â
âLess of the weird, he is my brother.â
âWell, Iâm not him.â
They sat on the grass, both frowning, Hayley looking at the castle and Fraser at the ocean.
âHave you seen him?â Fraser asked.
âI saw him earlier today but not recently.â
âHeâs around here somewhere. Probably watching us and laughing.â
âWhat is this place?â
âItâs an old castle.â
âWell I get that, but is it real?â
âOf course itâs real. This isnât Hogwarts.â
âItâs a bit of a ruin.â
âThatâs because itâs old.â
âHow old?â
âAuld, sae very auld,â he said, putting on a Highland burr. âI dinnae ken exactly.â
From her quizzical look it was clear that she hadnât understood.
âI donât know exactly,â he said by way of translation.
âItâs your accent.â
She was still proving difficult to like. âItâs not my accent you canât understand, itâs my dialect.â
âOK, whatever.â
Fraser thought to himself, Iâve just been whatevered by an American girl . A bit of him was outraged, a bit of him thought it was pretty cool.
âSo why are you sneaking around an old ruined castle?â she asked. âI saw you.â
âWhy do you care?â
âItâs very strange, thatâs all.â
âAnd who made you the judge of all things strange?â
âIâm surrounded by it, itâs hard to miss.â
He snorted. She was implying that he was as strange as his brother.
âItâs just a game Dunny and I play. A kind of hide-and-seek.â
âWell, I found him last night, so it would seem Iâm better at it than you.â The girl looked behind her, along the path to the lip of the cliff. âHe was standing over there, on the edge, in the storm.â
âAye, I heard. My mum and dad were out looking for him as well.â
âAt least one of us got to stay in bed.â
Fraser didnât want the girl thinking he was safely tucked under the duvet while everyone else was out in the storm. âEveryone thinks I was in bed, but  . . . â He shook his head.
âWhere were you?â
He pointed towards the ocean. âOut there.â
âSwimming?â
âNo, I was on Ben McCaigâs boat.â
âWho is Ben McCaig?â
âYou met him this morning on the beach. By the dead whale.â
âWhy were you on his boat?â
âWe were trying to find a pod of pilot whales.â
âIn the middle of a storm?â
âAye. It seems a bit daft now.â
âAnd your mom and dad thought you were in bed?â
Fraser suddenly panicked. He had divulged information to a girl he didnât know and didnât like. âYou canât tell anyone.â
âWho would I tell?â
âMy mum. Your mum.â
âI donât know your mom and Iâve kept bigger secrets than that from mine. Much bigger than stupid sailing stories, believe me.â
âWell, my mum doesnât need to know there were two of us out in the storm last night.â
The girl gave a rueful laugh. âThere were five of us out in the storm: your family and me. We all got wet.â
âSix, actually.â
âBen the whale man.â
Fraser had forgotten about Ben. âSeven.â
âWho else?â
He looked in the direction of the sea, so different now from a day ago. He had a burden to share, a story to tell that none believed and it seemed important that someone else heard, even if it was an infuriating American girl. There was