Page 72 of A Scottish Country Escape

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I ended up snatching a shower, freshening up my make-up, and throwing on my most flattering jeans and scoop-neck cream top before I heard the unmistakeable growl of Dexter’s car as it slid down the lane towards the house.

Gran was out, having left a cryptic note saying she was going for dinner and would be back a bit later.

I clambered into the passenger side. Dexter’s mouth softened. ‘Hi.’

I smiled back, my stomach flip-flopping around.

‘Well,’ he announced, flicking his indicator to the right, ‘I’ve already programmed the address you gave me into the sat-nav.’

My attention fell on the black screen jutting out of the dash display. ‘So I see.’ A red dot blinked, indicating where we had to drive to.

I allowed the subtle hum from his car radio to puncture the silence for a few seconds. ‘So, your plans for returning to London going well?’

Dexter’s stubbled jaw remained impassive. ‘I’m having Hawk West Hall valued next week and I’ve already been in touch with a couple of removal companies for quotes.’

I fought to keep my voice light. So he was serious about leaving. ‘Right. Good.’ I trained my eyes on the woodland sliding past the window. Tears were lingering, but I jutted out my chin and refused to look at him.

‘I really do appreciate everything you’ve done to try and help me. I just think that after everything, maybe it was a mistake to leave London after all.’

‘Well, you have to do what you think is right.’

Dexter’s handsome profile remained focused on the road ahead. I didn’t want to ask this question, but it was pressing down on my chest like an immoveable object. I cleared my throat. ‘So, if this Linda Carlucci lead proves to be successful and your writing capabilities return…’ The rest of the sentence lodged in my mouth, but I forced it out. ‘You’re still leaving?’

Dexter drew the car to a smooth halt at a set of traffic lights. He appeared troubled. ‘Yes. Even if my writing talent doesn’t come back.’

What was he running away from? Why was he quitting his new life here?

‘And what would you do? Back in London, I mean?’ I was struggling to digest all of this. I didn’t want to. It was pummelling my chest.

Dexter threw me a charged look. ‘Probably go to the Cotswolds for a bit and help Mum and Dad and my sister with the stable business.’ He put his foot down on the accelerator as the traffic lights dazzled green. ‘Writing is my life, but if I can’t do that anymore then at least I can focus on the horses.’

We wound our way round the country roads that took us beyond the carpets of lush fields and overhanging trees, which reminded me of emerald petticoats, flirting in the breeze.

He had made his mind up. No matter what happened now.

‘Things,’ he said, ‘are getting overcomplicated. I never foresaw any of this.’

I forced out a laugh. ‘Well, how could you? It’s not every day you have a curse put on you.’

Dexter checked both ways at a quiet junction and eased us across it.’ I guess that’s true.’ He took a considered breath before he spoke again. ‘You know that I have this certain image.’

I knew what he was alluding to. You only had to google his name to see reports of his various parties and extravagant book launches.

‘I suppose I’ve trapped myself inside that persona now.’

‘But no one is trapped. You can be someone else, if you really want to.’

A flicker of a smile crossed his features and then evaporated as fast as it had appeared. ‘My agent often reminds me that my image helps to sell my books. That and my considerable writing talent, of course,’ he added with an eyeroll. ‘That is, when it’s not being obliterated by mysterious Italian women.’

‘Well, I’m sure we’re on the cusp of sorting all this out,’ I replied, willing my voice to sound positive.

We drew up at another set of lights, surrounded by more woodland that opened out to reveal the roof of a house rising through the treetops.

‘Thank you, Elle,’ said Dexter. ‘Whatever happens, thank you for trying to help. I won’t forget it. And, like I said, I won’t forget about the reserve. You can still rely on my support.’

I forced another smile. ‘Thank you.’ My heart stuttered in my chest like a faulty car engine.