Page 58 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

I swallowed back a laugh. That sounded like Joan. And well done to Marcus for thinking of sending Zach up to her farmhouse in the first place. I was struggling to keep my face straight. “Do you think she could be who you’re looking for then? This elusive so-called aristo?”

Zach’s lips twitched. “If she is, I’m Tom Cruise.”

I picked up my water glass and buried another grin in it. Then I rearranged my expression. “Oh dear. Well, no harm done then, eh?”

“No harm done,” he echoed. “I do have other stories I’m trying to work on. That was a waste of my time.”

I prodded at the lemon chicken with my fork. “Well, whoever tipped you off must’ve believed Joan Webber could be this woman.”

Zach scooped up more of the shredded beef. “Yeah, sure they did. I think it’s more likely someone was throwing me a deliberate curve ball.” He offered me a loaded look. “Again.”

I hoped my face didn’t betray me. “Why would someone do that?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Any ideas?”

I gave a dismissive shrug. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m saying I told you so, but like I mentioned before, it’s a close-knit, friendly community here in Heather Moore. The locals tend to look out for each other.”

His dark, brooding eyes lasered me across the kitchen table. “Yes. You’ve said that before.” He looked thoughtful. “It could be a friend of Lady Anastasia’s who deliberately set me up with this. A relative maybe.”

I pushed down a shot of alarm, as Zach laid down his fork for a moment. “But the day wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

“Really?” I popped some rice in my mouth.

“Yes, things took a bit of an intriguing turn with another story.”

“How so?”

“There are rumours of dodgy working practices regarding a family by the name of Temple-Davenport.”

I recognised the name. I didn’t know the family, but I’d heard of them. They owned land not far from Bannock House, which they’d transformed into a fruit market cottage industry, producing strawberries and raspberries. “What’s the issue with them?” I asked, intrigued.

Zach curled his mouth up in disgust. “A whistle-blower who was employed by them contacted me to say they’ve been exploiting their staff. It’s all low wages, long hours, and poor working conditions.”

I shook my head, appalled. “That’s dreadful. Bad enough a couple of hundred years ago, but it’s hard to believe it’s still going on today.” I hesitated. “Sounds like a really worthwhile story for you to get your teeth into.”

And with any luck it would get him off my tail.

Zach retrieved his knife and fork and cut off a chunk of juicy lemon chicken. “Stargazer won’t be interested, of course. It’s a strong news story that deserves to be told. But I still have contacts at some of the old newspapers I worked for who would be.” His jaw clenched. “There’s no way I’m ignoring the plight of these people. I’ll look into it and write up the story. I’m sure one of my editor friends will jump at the chance to expose that lot.”

I blinked, heartened by his passionate reaction to the story of these poor, exploited workers.

“This sort of thing shouldn’t be happening in twenty-first-century Scotland. It shouldn’t be happening anywhere.”

“I agree. You should expose what they’ve been doing.”

“Oh, I will,” he replied with renewed determination. He eyed me across my kitchen table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

My cheeks blanched. “What do you mean?”

“Like I’ve just told you I’ve got the Koh-I-Noor diamond in my pocket.”

I tried to look nonchalant. “It’s just … you know … a bit of a surprise…”

“What is? Hearing that I actually have a conscience?”

“You said that, not me.”

He gave his dark head a playful shake. “I don’t know. Anyone would think I had no scruples.” Zach’s eyes stayed locked on my face. “They couldn’t be more wrong.”