Match Play by Merline Lovelace Page A

appeared at the end of the track. A cow byre was attached to one side and the slate roof looked in imminent danger of collapsing in several places, but Dayna had camped out during enough kayaking expeditions to appreciate the fact that it had a roof at all.
    On those expeditions, however, she’d toted a knapsack packed with survival essentials. The only essential she carried with her on this outing was the tube of lip balm in her fanny pack.
    â€œI hope the colonel provides his guests with little niceties like soap and/or toilet paper. Or do we go au naturel? ”
    â€œHe keeps the basics on hand.”
    Luke parked the car in the cow byre and unlocked the front door with a key retrieved from under a loose stone in the windowsill. Dayna started to follow him inside, but a silent vibration against her wrist stopped her in her tracks.
    â€œThis is Rogue. Go ahead, Hawk.”
    â€œGillian’s hopping a plane tonight,” he reported in a voice as stony as the cottage walls. “She’ll arrive tomorrow.”
    Uh-oh. He wasn’t happy about bringing in an untrained operative. Neither was Dayna, but she’d rather have Jilly take her place in the charity Pro-Am than anyone else she could think of.
    â€œThat was Hawk,” she explained to Luke when she entered the hut. “A backup is flying in. I’m meeting with her tomorrow morning.”
    â€œYou have a treadmill test at nine,” he reminded her as he pried open the shutters to let in light and fresh air.
    She nodded, looking around. The interior of the one-room cottage matched its rough exterior. The downstairs combined living and eating areas. An open loft constituted the original crofter’s sleeping quarters, now supplemented with four metal bunk beds.
    Although a gasoline generator could supply electricity, blocks of dried peat stacked beside the stone fireplace were obviously the primary source for heat and light. A bubbling brook behind the cottage supplied fresh water. Nature, Dayna confirmed, would supply the bathroom facilities.
    As promised, a metal storage cabinet contained the basic necessities to include a wide variety of canned goods, tins of tea, soap and tooth powder and an impressive selection of whiskeys.
    â€œAll the comforts of home,” Dayna drawled, eyeing the array of bottles.
    â€œDid I mention the colonel is a native Scot?”
    A rumbling in the vicinity of her stomach reminded Dayna that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Correctly interpreting the signal, Luke grinned.
    â€œI’m hungry, too. Why don’t you kick back and relax while I start a fire?”
    â€œI can help.”
    â€œYou’re supposed to take it easy. Doctor’s orders.”
    Dayna wasn’t any more used to being waited on than she was to being hovered over. Embarrassed and uncomfortable with Luke’s determined attentiveness, she flapped an impatient hand.
    â€œOpening a few cans won’t stress me out. Go start the fire.”
    Within moments a crackling and somewhat smoky fire chased away the dank smell. Mere moments after that, hearty beef stew sizzled in a heavy cast iron frying pan. Mushing tinned soda crackers with water, Dayna spooned the lumpy mixture into the stew to make dumplings.
    Rather than eat at the rickety wooden table, they took their bowls and mugs outside. The late-afternoon sun had warmed the air, although the shadows creeping across the loch presaged an imminent drop in temperature.
    Dayna downed her stew with a disconcerting sense of unreality. This morning she’d completed one of the best rounds of golf in her life. Before, during and after the game, she’d been forced to alternate her concentration between her target and her fabricated reunion with Luke. The scary episode at the hotel had upped the pucker factor considerably.
    Now, a scant hour and forty-five kilometers later, there wasn’t a fairway or green in sight. Just bracken-covered moors, stony crags