Page 84 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

I felt satisfied as I climbed the stairs to my flat that evening. It had been a productive yet hectic day. Being occupied helped filter out thoughts of Zach.

I was shrugging off my quilted jacket in the hall and dumping my bag, when there was a loud, insistent banging on my door.

A familiar voice made me start. “Anastasia? Answer the door. It’s me, Marcus.”

I yanked open the door to see my big brother standing there in his winter coat. I moved to haul him into my arms. “Wow! This is a lovely surprise! I’m seeing you in two days anyway.”

But Marcus was stiff and pulled away from me, his face pinched and his deep blue eyes wet. “No, you won’t be seeing me at Christmas. Are you joking?!”

“Sorry?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you do that?” He shook his head. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Your visit to Mum the other week. About me. About Jacob.” He ground his jaw. “The money Mum gave Samuel.” His expression turned to granite. “Who is no longer with the agency, but you probably knew that as well.”

Dread gripped me. Oh God. He knew.

My stomach churned at his charged expression. I wanted him to understand how awful I felt about it, how complicit, even though Mum had kept her suspicions about Jacob from me to begin with. “Oh Marcus, I’m so sorry. Please believe me. I only found out about it from Mum the other week when I went over to see her.”

Marcus’s mouth contorted.

“I suspected Mum might know more about your broken engagement than she was letting on. That’s why I wanted to talk to her.” My voice was pleading. I was willing him to understand. “I thought I was protecting you by not telling you about Samuel and the money. You had enough heartache to deal with and I didn’t want to add to it.” I stopped and took in his clothes. “Have you just come from work?”

“Well, I don’t normally dress like this on a day off.” His eyes glistened with emotion. There were lilac smudges of tiredness under his eyes. No wonder. From what Mum had said, Marcus had been practically living, eating, and breathing work in order to blank out his heartache, or at least try to. “I’ve been at a meeting in Glasgow with another advertising agency,” he said. “And guess who was there?”

“Who?” I reached out a hand to comfort him, but Marcus wrenched his away.

“Samuel’s sister, Siobhan, that’s who. She told me Mum gave Samuel money as a bribe.” His eyes hardened and he clenched his jaw. “Jacob and Samuel are living together in some riverside apartment in Glasgow now. Siobhan’s horrified by what her brother did. The whole family is, apparently.”

When I didn’t say anything, Marcus let out an incredulous laugh. He stared down at me. “Wow. I thought I could trust you. I thought you were on my side.”

My hand shot out again towards him. I wanted to comfort my brother. I wanted him to believe I wouldn’t deceive him. “No. You don’t understand. You’ve got it wrong. You don’t know the whole story.”

He recoiled. Pain pulled at his mouth.

A lump of worry was threatening to choke me. Marcus was looking at me as though he didn’t recognise me anymore.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you when Mum told me, but I wanted to protect you. What would telling you about the money have achieved, Marcus? You would’ve gone straight to Mum and you would have had a confrontation.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Desperate to put things right between us, I appealed to him again. “Marcus, come in. Please. We can talk about it. Honestly. Whatever you’ve been told, you don’t know the whole story. There’s something you should know…”

He plunged one hand into his coat pocket for his car keys. “No thanks. I know enough. There’s nothing left to say.” He dismissed a tear trickling down his cheek with the back of his hand. Emotion tore through me like a whirlwind.

“I hope you and Mum enjoyed your cosy little chat about me. Have a lovely Christmas, won’t you?”

I stared at him. “You’re not coming? Marcus, please come. Mum and Dad will be heartbroken if you don’t come. We’re family.”

“Family? Don’t make me laugh. If that’s family, I don’t want any part of it.”

I called after him, but Marcus was already thumping down the staircase towards his snow-dusted car.

Chapter Nineteen

“Marcus. Please pick up.”

Hot tears clustered in my eyes. My repeated call; my pleas for him to speak to me were going unanswered. His mobile kept going straight to voicemail.

I paced in vain up and down in my sitting room, but my brother didn’t ring me back.