Page 120 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Rafe threw himself at me, encircling my waist with his arms and propelling me to the ground.

Tufts of grass and dirt rose up from the driveway as Hazel’s car shot past in a shiny streak and slammed to a halt.

We raised our heads, preparing to scramble to our feet, when Hazel’s face, twisted with rage appeared out of the open car window. She ground her jaw at the sight of Rafe and me lying in a tangle of limbs.

We scrambled backwards, reaching out for one another, in fear that she intended to screech towards us again.

“Hazel! For Christ’s sake, stop!”

Rafe’s yell made her gasp. She clutched at the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. Then she gave a horrified, wounded cry which seemed to reverberate around the surrounding hillside.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she gasped. The car remained still for a moment, before Hazel switched off the engine.

Rafe and I rose to our feet, refusing to take our eyes away from the car or its sobbing occupant.

Rafe dusted down his jeans. “Shit! Are you all right, Layla?”

“Yes,” I managed. “Thanks to you. Are you?”

He didn’t reply. He just blinked down at me, an odd, trance-like edge taking over his features.

Hazel had her head thrown back in the seat, her chest rising and falling. She was gasping for air between racked sobs.

I took a few tentative steps towards the car door. The interior of the car was dark, except for the odd glowing light on the dashboard. Rafe’s concern for me crackled in the night air. “Layla! What are you doing?”

I lifted one finger and put it to my mouth.

Hazel sensed me there and turned her head slowly, as if it was physically painful to do so.

“Let me help you.”

I eased open the door and took a step back. I didn’t want to alarm her.

Hazel’s teary eyes travelled the length of me. Finally, she placed one sandal-clad foot out, followed by the other.

“There you go. Take it steady.”

She blinked at me, her summer outfit crumpled.

Rafe watched as I took her by one arm and steered her gently towards Coorie Cottage.

“I’m going to make you a cup of tea, OK?”

She clung to my arm, taking ginger steps in the dark, and allowed me to manoeuvre her into Rafe’s sitting room and onto his couch. Hazel lost herself as Rafe helped me make her a cup of tea.

She accepted it from me with whispered thanks and cradled it between her trembling fingers. Rafe sank down opposite her and I took up a place beside her on the sofa.

Hazel moved the mug to her lips as if to take a sip. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

I shot a concerned glance over at Rafe.

“I don’t recognise who I’ve become.”

My voice was low. “Hazel, you lost your sister. You’re struggling with your grief.”

She shook her head, her up-do threatening to fall down at any moment. “I needed someone to blame, someone to hold responsible.”

Her pale eyes flitted across to Rafe. “I was jealous that Emily had you, and when she died I just felt so guilty that I had been harbouring all these feelings for my sister’s fiancé.”