Page 16 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

Stephanie beamed. ‘Thank you. We’re slowly getting there with it.’

Max indicated over his shoulder. ‘It has been a bit of a money pit, having to put things right. The window frames were on their last legs and the whole place needed re-wiring, but we had a rough idea what we were taking on.’

He pulled a rueful smile. ‘Stephanie and I are therefore hoping we can recoup some of the money swallowed up by this place by making a go of our new business venture.’

He threw one hand out to the right, where there was a gravelled buttery path between the lawns and the hedges. ‘Now, we know you don’t have a great deal of time as you need to get back to the shop, so shall we show you what we’ve been working on?’

‘Yes please.’

I had expected both of them to whirl around and lead me into their glowing, sumptuous home, but instead they began walking away from Rowan Moore House and guiding me along the gravelled path. That was odd. Where were we going?

We made our way through a kissing gate that took us through some crunchy, damp woodland. Thank goodness the rain had stopped!

I bundled myself deeper into my quilted jacket, glad that I was wearing my flat riding boots. Above us, the bare branches of the trees formed an intricate criss-cross roof. My hair bobbed about in its ponytail as we strode on.

We reached the other side of the woodland. I spun round to talk to them. ‘All this land is yours?’ I asked.

The air was earthy and laced with the scent of wet bark.

Stephanie nodded. ‘It is. That’s why we wanted to do something with it, and hopefully bring some money and extra tourism to Craig Brae too.’

Max agreed. ‘That’s why we decided to do this.’

‘Do what?’ My back was still turned away from what they were now gesturing at.

Max smiled and pointed over my shoulder. ‘That.’

I turned.

My eyes widened. Oh, my goodness. This wasn’t what I was expecting.

Chapter Five

Facing me were four gorgeous log cabins.

They were clustered together in a semi-circle, with more trees thrusting up behind them in the background. Each possessed their own porches and sweet chimney pots.

I immediately conjured up an image of them, dusted with snow and sporting festive wreaths on their doors.

‘Is this your project?’ I asked, whirling back round to look at Stephanie and Max.

‘It is,’ he said. ‘We started building them several months ago, just before we moved into the house.’

Stephanie studied my stunned expression. ‘So, what do you think?’

My face broke into an appreciative smile. ‘They look lovely.’

Max arched one brow. ‘From the outside they do. Wait until you see inside each of them. You might not be saying that then.’

Stephanie rolled her eyes and strode on, pulling a set of keys from her jeans pocket. Max and I tapped up the steps of the first log cabin behind her.

I expected the interior to be all fringed woven rugs, an amber log fire spitting in a heavy ornate fireplace and stout candles casting shapes against framed paintings on the walls.

Instead, I was met by cheap plastic furniture and limp Christmas decorations hanging around the kitchen doorway. Bright orange cotton curtains were at each of the windows, clashing with a loud paisley rug on the floor.

Stephanie and Max eyed my bemused expression. ‘Come and see the kitchen,’ she encouraged, moving ahead.

That wasn’t any better. The dark wood cabinets were smart, but more tacky festive decorations cluttered the windowsill. The kitchen floor consisted of amber laminate, that was almost as migraine-inducing as the curtains.