‘I’ll show Nina the old castle, if you don’t mind?’
‘Go right ahead,’ she called back, and Mutt, his black kilt swishing, led Nina through open glass doors and past a vast ballroom with a huge stone mantle where a fire roared. She glimpsed white linen cloths on round tables all around the dance floor and a stage set for musicians.
‘That’s where the party’ll be. We’ll grab our seats in a while. I want to show you something first,’ he told her.
Nina couldn’t help gaping in at each room as they passed: an ultra-chic modern restaurant, a cosy snug coffee bar, all high ceilings and tartan everywhere, then a glimpse of industrial chrome in the busy kitchens. ‘Something smells amazing in there,’ she said as they passed by, hoping it was the veggie haggis.
They turned away from the stairs that led to the guest rooms on the upper floors, instead taking a corridor that seemed to be growing narrower and lower as they walked. White-shirted serving staff passed them going in the opposite direction and Mutt greeted each one.
‘You know everyone because you worked here?’ Nina asked.
‘That’s right. First I came to work at the inn but after I arrived in Port Willow I heard about the laird needing a painter and Atholl said he didn’t mind me taking the job. He knew I needed…’ Mutt drew himself up, not finishing his line of thought. ‘Anyway, I was here for four weeks before I got stuck in to renovating the Princess. That was back at the end of October.’
‘That’s a long time to be away. You don’t have family missing you at home?’
Now the ceilings were only a little higher than their heads and the carpeted floor seemed to be uneven and sloping downwards. With each step the temperature fell a little more. There were no windows in this part of the castle, only thick, rough stone walls painted white.
Mutt didn’t say another word, and Nina didn’t repeat her question, and soon they stopped at the very end of the corridor before an arched door of grey wood studded with beaten iron buttons.
‘In there?’ Nina wasn’t so sure she wanted to go any further. ‘It’s not a dungeon, is it? Because I’m telling you, I went to the London dungeons once and nearly had a coronary.’
‘Nothing scary, I promise. Place isn’t even all that haunted. Just say a wee prayer we steer clear of Bogle McTavish, the Jacobite who drowned when thrown from the ramparts by a British army officer. Legend has it he wanders the ramparts with a cannon ball in one hand and his bloodied axe in the other. You can go first.’ He nodded at the door.
‘Right, thanks for that.’ Nina rolled her eyes, but she still clenched her teeth when reaching for the cold metal handle. ‘Aww, I was expecting the door to creak like in some creepy movie,’ she joked as she opened it.
Mutt only smiled and waited for her reaction.
Mutt was right, there was nothing scary in here, far from it. ‘Oh my…’ Nina gaped, turning all around to take in the sight.
They’d passed right through the thick grey stone wall. In front of them was a wide bed swathed in heavy covers in a rich golden silk. Above an elaborate carved headboard hung a tapestry depicting the castle as it once may have looked rising out of the purple heath. The landscape was stitched in jewel colours with various Gaelic mottos and clan insignia in each corner.
There was no stone ceiling and no other old walls at all, only a curious construction, like a great glass box enclosing the warm and luxurious room. Nina walked over plush carpet and to the far corner, peering out through the glass into the darkness. The whole place was softly lit somehow from inside the thick layers of glass, Nina couldn’t fathom it, but the effect was dreamlike.
Outside, she could just make out the lights of Port Willow in the distance and nothing else but a sense of the far black mountains.
‘This was the clan chief’s chamber, long ago,’ Mutt told her. ‘It fell into ruin like the rest of the medieval castle. I worked on this bit, through here…’
He pressed a finger to a panel to the right of the stone archway they’d entered through and a glass door opened, leading to a private dining room with a bar and then on further to a lounge and a grand bathroom. Each room had one wall of glass overlooking the wild countryside, the rest was immaculately plastered and painted, corniced and finished.
‘You did all this stuff?’ Nina guessed.
‘Aye, chalk paint, you’ll be glad to know.’
She was generous enough to laugh. ‘Ugh! Sorry about that.’
‘Ach, don’t be. I wasn’t very welcoming that day, if I remember right. Not to mention your ruined shoes.’
Nina let that slide and changed the subject. ‘Why is nobody staying here?’
‘It’ll open to its first guests in the spring.’
‘Well, it’s beautiful. You should be proud of it.’
‘Och, I only contributed a tiny part of this. The architects, the planners, the engineers, the laird himself, they all made it happen.’
Mutt led her back through the rooms to the bedchamber.
‘You’re happy being a decorator?’ Nina asked his back, watching the way he moved in his leather and heavy black kilt, liking the way his hair shone under the discreet lights.
