Page 119 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Hazel remained rooted to the spot in front of a horrified Rafe. The enraged, spiteful glint in her eyes had gone and she was gazing up at him in adoration.

“It was the only way I could accept that you didn’t want me, Rafe. By convincing myself that you caused Emily’s death.”

A hopeful smile broke out on her face, as the evening breeze fluttered the hem of her skirt. “But now I’ve seen how much you’ve been suffering and what Emily’s death did to you, I know there’s hope for us. We need to be together.”

All the odd comments Hazel had been making, the hidden inferences, and the desire to punish Rafe. That’s why Hazel had been so intent on pursuing him, why she had wanted him to suffer. She had been harbouring jealousy for years over Emily being in a relationship with him.

Rafe’s dark eyes widened as he began to come to the same conclusion. He took a few steps away from her.

Hazel’s smile contorted into despair. “You have to understand Rafe, I only contacted that pathetic journalist because I didn’t know the truth. I was desperate.” She stretched out both her hands towards Rafe in a pleading motion. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I told you all the truth from the beginning, but you chose to believe the worst of me. And now you think I could…” Rafe’s disgust was evident. “Do you know how much it has taken for me to try to resurrect my love of music, Hazel? I’ve had to adopt this Mask persona, just to try and cope with each and every day.”

“I’m sorry,” she gulped and threw her arms out to him. “I would never have wanted you to punish yourself this way, had I known the truth. But I really do love you, you know. I always have.”

I tried to understand Hazel’s logic.

“We could make each other happy,” she insisted. “I know we could. We would be a comfort to one another.”

“Please leave, Hazel. Now.”

She swiped at her tearful cheeks with one hand. “You want me to go?”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I think that’s best.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re just confused.” Her fingers tumbled over each other.

She snapped her head over to where I was. “She won’t make you happy, Rafe. Not like I would.”

Rafe’s jaw was like concrete. “I won’t tell you again, Hazel. Just go.”

She hovered for another moment, a lost look drifting through her eyes, before reluctantly moving back towards her hire car. “I’ll email that local reporter,” she muttered. “I’ll tell her there’s no story here.”

“Thank you,” said Rafe, in a barely audible whisper.

Hazel awarded me an indecipherable sidelong glance before clambering back into her car, switching on her headlights, and leaving.

Rafe shot me a relieved look, before striding back over to me and reaching out one hand to clasp in mine.

I furled my fingers around his. “Thank goodness that’s over. You can try to move on properly now.”

Rafe shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that just happened. Emily would be horrified if she knew Hazel was trying to accuse me of causing her death.”

We stood there admiring Coorie Cottage, its cosy lights welcoming in the darkness. “Maybe now after talking to you, Hazel will realise what real harm she could have caused.” I gazed up at him, admiring his handsome profile. “I know you think I’m just saying this,” I began, “but I don’t notice your scar. Especially not now.”

As I drank Rafe in, with his shaggy, dark head and generous mouth, the pain of losing Mac – and his deception – evaporated.

Rafe pulled me back towards the garden with him, just as the furious roar of a car engine erupted behind us.

Hazel had swung the car around, switched off its headlights and stopped there, facing us, with the engine still running. Her freckled face was oddly composed and her glassy eyes shone like those of a lifeless doll.

I could make out both of her hands clamped to the top of the steering wheel as the car engine revved and Hazel pushed the vehicle into gear, slamming her foot down on the accelerator.

She fired the headlights back on, suddenly dazzling us. We raised our hands to our eyes and stumbled backwards. There was a squeal of tyres while she bore down on us.

“Layla!”

Chapter Sixty-Four