Page 122 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Faith appeared suitably impressed. “Wow. OK. So, what’s the problem?”

My chest heaved under the covers. “I think he regretted it, once we’d done it. The way he looked at me when I was leaving with Hazel … he was so distant and detached.”

Faith dismissed my doubts and insisted I was reading too much into it. “He almost saw you run down by someone who nearly became his sister-in-law. If that didn’t have an effect on him, I’d be very surprised.”

Yet I could clearly recall the change in him and his standoffishness when I moved to stroke his face as I was leaving. He could barely bring himself to look at me.

My heart sank with embarrassment at the recollection of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to ring Harry?”

“No, definitely not. I’m fine. I think my pride is bruised more than anything.”

Faith moved to speak, but I silenced her with a forced smile. “I’ll tell him once the guys from the band have gone home on Sunday. I know he’ll be furious with me for not telling him straight away, but he’ll get over it.”

Faith leaned over to my bedside table and picked up the glass of white wine she had deposited there for herself. “You should have called the police, you know. That woman could have killed you both.”

She took a gulp of the crisp golden wine and savoured it.

“Hazel needs professional help and she has realised that. I don’t think getting arrested would have been the answer.”

I cursed myself for allowing Rafe to send me into a tailspin in the first place. It was true what I had said to Faith. I had never been kissed like that before. The intensity and fire of it had been overwhelming.

I closed my eyes for a few moments in an attempt to dislodge the memory of it and how Rafe made me feel. It wasn’t working.

I propped one of my pillows higher. “And you’re sure Hazel has left the area?”

Faith curled up her mouth at the mention of the woman’s name. “Totally. I made up some cock and bull story about Hazel Jennings leaving an expensive engraved pen in the tourist office. Norrie fell for it and got Sophie to check with The Beech Tree.”

She took another satisfied gulp of her wine. “The woman who owns the place – Nicola – said Hazel packed all her things and checked out this evening.”

Faith waggled her wine glass in the air. “She got Nicola to organise a taxi for her to the airport.”

She examined me out of her concerned light-blue eyes. “From what you’ve said, this Jennings woman was obsessed with Rafe.”

“Oh, no doubt about that. I think what with the death of her sister and her conflicting feelings for Rafe, everything simply just got too much for her.”

Hopefully getting help would show Hazel the way forward.

Faith eyed my empty whisky tumbler under the glow of my bedside lamp. “Fancy another?”

“No thanks. I don’t want to be pissed and bruised.”

I watched Faith head towards my bedroom door, and called her name. She turned around.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

She blushed prettily. “No worries.”

I stretched my legs under the covers. “I don’t want you going home late on your own. You should head off soon.”

Faith planted her hands on her hips in defiant mode. “I’ve been necking white wine, remember? I’ll stay the night, if that’s OK with you. I’m not due in at the tourist office till lunchtime tomorrow anyway.”

“Of course it’s OK. The spare room bed is all made up.”

Faith started out of the bedroom door again, before pulling up. “But I draw the line at smearing arnica cream on your arse. There have to be some limits.”

I let out a snort of laughter at that graphic image, only to wince as my bruised buttocks let out a bark of indignation. “Ouch! So, how are things going with the lovely lumberjack?”