Page 81 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

I climbed back into the driver’s seat and drove up the crunchy, pale pink, gravelled drive.

“Have I ever told you about the time I ended up in a sports car on Route 66 with Oliver Reed and two Playboy Bunnies?” Ezra said, out of nowhere.

“No, you haven’t! What was it like?” I asked with a grin.

He gave me a cheeky wink. “One of the best nights of my life!”

I laughed as I pulled up beside the house and climbed out of the car.

Ezra’s gaze swept appreciatively across my family home. “Well, well. It’s even more spectacular in real life.”

“I suppose it is.” Growing up, I think I viewed it more like a museum than a home. There were always assorted antiques Marcus and I were never allowed to touch, rooms we weren’t allowed to go in, ways we had to behave.

Ezra and I had barely made it up the first couple of steps before my mother came flying out to greet both of us, like an avenging angel wrapped up in pastel cashmere.

She clasped Ezra’s hand in hers and pumped it up and down. “It’s such an honour to meet you, Mr King. I’m a huge admirer of your work.” She flushed prettily. “I loved your role in that mafia drama and I never missed an episode of your detective series.”

Ezra bathed in a thousand-watt smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Countess Tweed Muir. And please do call me Ezra.”

As I witnessed their exchanges, I thought she was going to dissolve in a puddle in front of him. “Oh please! It’s Vanessa. No need for formalities, isn’t that right, Bailey?”

I blinked in consternation. What on earth had this strange woman done with my mother? “News to me,” I muttered to Ezra out of the corner of my mouth.

He grinned.

Mum ushered us into the hall and I drew up. Bloody hell! The two Christmas trees, which had been standing to attention on either side of the sweeping staircase the last time I was here, were now decorated and studded with crystal and white ribbons with matching lights swathed everywhere.

Mum swung round to Ezra, who was taking in the vaulted ceilings of the hall. “I hope our modest little home meets with your approval.”

“Mum!” I ground out, embarrassed.

Ezra slid me a sympathetic wink. “It’s perfect, Vanessa.”

She bristled with pride. “Excellent! Well, I can assure you that everything is in hand, and Anastasia is doing a sterling job with the flower arrangements. I must say I’m a seasoned professional when it comes to entertaining,” she preened. “I will take you on a proper tour of the house once we’ve had afternoon tea. Anastasia’s father is just finishing up at bridge club and will join us directly.”

* * *

I squinted through the windscreen as the light became almost ethereal over the fields on our journey back to Heather Moore.

It had been a very successful visit, with Mum pulling out all the stops to make Ezra feel welcome. She had organised for Mrs Bamber to serve us a sumptuous array of sandwiches, scones and cakes. Mrs B was known for her coconut and cherry cake, and I’d never had a better scone in my life than her homemade creations.

Ezra made a show of patting his stomach as he slumped beside me in the car on the way home. “Good grief! I think I’ll have to hibernate like a bear for the rest of the winter!”

I smiled. “Between them, Mum and Mrs B always bring out the big guns when we have visitors. Mrs Bamber doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘less is more’, bless her.”

‘Well, it was met with much appreciation by me,’ said Ezra, who turned to gaze out of the window at a couple of red deer skittering around on top of the hills. The whole landscape looked like something from a gorgeous, rural Christmas card.

He turned back to me, a hesitant look on his face. “Bailey, please don’t think I’m trying to interfere, but don’t you think you ought to contact that Zach chappie?”

I kept my eyes on the road. “I’ve tried, Ezra, but he doesn’t want to know.”

He let out a tired sigh. “It’s Christmas in a few days. I know I can be somewhat of a Grinch at the best of times, but you’re a lovely young woman. You and Zach shouldn’t let your pride get in the way of something wonderful.”

“You’re very sweet,” I said with a smile. “I’m not too proud. I’ve tried to reach out, and to explain, but Zach won’t hear it. Or he doesn’t care. I don’t know.” I fought not to think about Zach’s intense, dark gaze as I guided the steering wheel.

“He didn’t appear to me like a man who doesn’t care. Quite the opposite, in fact. Maybe he cares a little too much––”

“Zach made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me. He said he has other important stories to focus on, and he practically left tyre tracks with how fast he drove off.” I flicked Ezra a look. “And Zach has his own secrets. He obviously has no intention of sharing them with me.”