Page 112 of A Secret Scottish Escape

The brunette stood her ground in the middle of her blue and green tartan carpet. “I’m sorry but, as I’m sure you will appreciate, we can’t allow people to simply wander in here and try to gain access to our guests and their rooms.”

I pushed my hands deeper into my trouser pockets. This woman had missed her calling. She would make a wonderful bodyguard. “Look, Miss…”

“Crawford. Nicola Crawford.”

“Nicola,” I began again, in my best persuasive voice. “I do appreciate that you have to be cautious, but all I’m asking is that I’m allowed to return Ms Stone’s sunglasses in person.”

Nicola’s attention swung away from me to look upwards, to where there was a short staircase. A door had just banged shut and there was the sound of feet padding down towards us. “Ah, Miss Stone,” she smiled, indicating her head towards me. “Perfect timing! There’s someone here to see you. She has your sunglasses that you mislaid today.”

I fought to keep calm as Hazel Jennings’s puzzled voice wafted over in my direction. “I haven’t lost any sunglasses…” Her pale, freckled complexion lost more colour when she recognised me.

I pinned her to the spot with a calculating smile. “Hello Ms Stone. How are you?”

She blinked at me out of alarmed blue eyes. “Er … hello.”

I tilted my chin. “I was just explaining to Nicola here that I was hoping to catch up with you again. For a little chat.”

I sounded, at least to my own ears, like a convincing and confident woman. Inside was a different story. My heart was zinging around my chest like an out-of-control pinball.

“Oh, would you mind coming back another time?” she blustered, leaning one hand on the carved staircase. “I’ve done a lot of walking today and I’m wiped out.”

There was a charged silence as Nicola surveyed our verbal exchanges with an element of suspicion.

“That is a pity,” I pushed, playing with the strap of my shoulder bag. “I wanted to tell you that Hazel Jennings sends her regards.”

I watched as Hazel’s eyes grew large. She gripped the staircase tighter and inhaled. “Really? Oh, well, that’s wonderful.”

I cocked one eyebrow at her.

She slid a frightened look at Nicola and then back to me. “Why don’t you pop up to my room for a quick coffee then?”

“Thank you. That would be lovely,” I replied through a forced grin. “I’m sure there will be lots for us to talk about.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

I followed Hazel up the short flight of stairs to where there was a small corridor of guest rooms.

My imagination started to ramp up visions of her knocking me down the stairs or clubbing me over the head with a candle stick holder as soon as we entered her room.

I mentally rolled my eyes up to the cornice ceiling. This isn’t an episode of Murder, She Wrote.

Despite this, I ensured I didn’t turn my back on her and stood a discreet distance away as she produced her room key from her skirt pocket.

Her room was much like the rest of the place. A set of lemon flower-sprigged curtains framed the window that overlooked the quilted landscape of fields and to the right of that was a small en suite bathroom.

I positioned myself in the centre of the room.

She closed the door with a click. “I don’t know what you’re doing here.” She folded her freckled arms. “If you need to speak to anyone, it’s that weirdo musician.”

I shook my head. “He isn’t a weirdo.” A burning defence mechanism kicked in, a surging conviction to defend Rafe.

Hazel smirked. “Oh, and you know so much about him, I suppose.”

“I know enough.” I tilted my head to one side. “He isn’t the one going around Loch Harris using about a dozen different aliases.”

She delivered an indifferent shrug. “I had no option but to keep changing my name. I have to achieve what I set out to do.”

I frowned over at her. “And what have you set out to do?”