Page 88 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape

Chapter Twenty-Seven

As soon as I’d thanked Kirsty for coming over, she vanished across the patchy remnants of snow.

I closed the door and fetched my mobile from the sitting room table.

I dialled Mitch. ‘I need you,’ I blurted before realising what I’d said. My cheeks scorched.

‘Well, there’s an invitation I’m not going to turn down,’ teased Mitch.

He made me blush even harder. ‘Sorry. I mean, I need you to come over. I’ve got some rather interesting information about Ruth Mangan.’

‘Sure. Give me ten.’

Minutes later, there was a knock on the front door and I moved to open it. I realised I was fluffing out my curls and stopped. Bronte let out a volley of excited barks when she saw it was Mitch.

He sat down on the sofa and began fussing over her, and I took up a seat opposite. I tried not to register how delicious he looked, with his dark hair windswept and the stubble grazing his chin.

Mitch gave a mock bow of his head. ‘So, why did you get me over here?’

I explained about meeting Gwen and then Kirsty and what Kirsty had told me about Ruth’s jealousy of my grandma’s artistic talents.

‘Okay.’ Mitch looked at me, waiting for me to explain further.

I sat forward in the armchair, still mulling over what Kirsty had just told me.

I steepled my fingers together.

‘But that’s not all. It turns out Ruth was in love with my grandfather.’

Mitch’s eyes grew. ‘Seriously? Wow!’

‘It wasn’t reciprocated,’ I went on. ‘Kirsty said my grandma and grandpa knew about Ruth’s feelings for him, but my grandfather never encouraged her.’

Mitch’s expression was thoughtful. ‘It certainly explains a lot, doesn’t it? Why she changed her mind about exhibiting the paintings when she found out the name of the artist, and the way she reacted about the whole thing.’

‘It does, for sure.’

Bronte slithered over to me for some TLC. ‘I know this is going to sound bad, but in a way, I can’t wait until Ruth finds out it wasn’t you behind those paintings but my grandma.’ I realised my jaw was tightening at the unfairness of it all. ‘I’m sorry. That must sound so awful and petty.’

Mitch held me to my chair with his tropical sea eyes. ‘No, I get it. We’re all human after all.’

He was right about that and I so wanted this exhibition to happen for Tilda’s sake.

But I didn’t want to make Mitch do anything he didn’t want to. I knew I was beginning to think too much of him for that. ‘Look, Mitch, do you still want to do this? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.’

Mitch shook his head. ‘Rosie, I volunteered.’ His lips quirked. ‘Well, okay. Ruth assumed I was the artist, and I chose not to correct her. You didn’t bully me into it.’

I cringed at the thought.

‘Don’t look like that,’ he insisted with a devastating smile. ‘Let’s just push on. If Ruth were to find out now, she’d have us both run out of town. More importantly, Tilda’s paintings will just continue to languish in her studio without anyone ever having the privilege of seeing them.’

I knew what he was saying was true.

‘Our goal is to get those paintings seen and that’s what we’re going to do. We’re so close now.’

Mitch stood up and towered over me. ‘I’d better get back. The forecast is looking a bit choppy out at sea, so I’d better be on standby.’

‘Sure. Thanks for coming over.’