Page 35 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

I was sure I wouldn’t be able to walk ever again after Alison and Bennett Lord’s hospitality.

Their housekeeper, a cheery, effervescent and widowed middle-aged lady called Louise Compston, was tasked with coming up with something special for Sunday evening dinner.

Boy, did she achieve that!

She served Scottish sea bass in a lemon and chive sauce, accompanied by boiled potatoes and assorted vegetables. For pudding, there was homemade sticky toffee pudding with a dollop of clotted cream ice cream.

Dane didn’t join us for dinner.

‘He’s got a gig in Aviemore tonight,’ remarked Alison across the table to me.

‘So, Dane’s a musician?’ I asked, recalling his earlier comment.

‘He’s lead singer with his own rock band,’ interjected Bennett. ‘Disciple.’ He rolled his smoky grey eyes. ‘Dane’s got a great voice, and the lads in the band are talented musicians, but whether they’ll have any huge commercial success, I don’t know. He tends to treat this place like some sort of hotel when he’s visiting.’

‘Dane’s a bit of a free spirit,’ remarked Alison dryly, taking a gulp of her white wine. ‘Does his own thing.’

‘That’s putting it mildly,’ ground out Evan beside me.

I frowned. The two brothers didn’t seem especially close. I thought about my own situation, being an only child, and my parents’ selfish approach to parenting. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt as though I always had to prove something growing up if I’d had a sibling.

* * *

The drive from England to Scotland was catching up on me with a vengeance, so I thanked Alison and Bennett for their kind hospitality and said I was heading for an early night.

I just wanted to crawl into that regal four-poster bed and lose myself in the cosy fuzziness of sleep.

It was as I was approaching my bedroom door that I heard tapping from across the hallway.

The door was ajar, and I could see Evan seated at a writing desk in his room, concentrating on his laptop. The screen was highlighting his serious features, the light sparkling off the Clark Kent spectacles he was wearing. A lock of thick, dark hair kept tumbling forward onto his brow as he focused. Every so often, he’d push it back with one, pensive hand.

I found myself appreciating him and gave myself a mental shake. Come on, Daisy. Remember what you said to yourself before. What I’d been saying to myself on a loop, in fact, ever since Evan and his classy cufflinks had appeared at the posh cream tea.

I was about to turn around and head back to my room when he spotted me.

He slid off his spectacles and dumped them on top of his desk. ‘Hey.’

Oh no. I hoped he hadn’t seen me lurking about watching him. ‘Hi.’

He beckoned me in through the partially open door and stood up.

His room had a queen-sized bed, topped with navy blue and silver bedding to complement the blue-toned carpet. There was an ensuite bathroom off to the right and long, deep, sapphire-coloured curtains at the far window.

‘I was just going to say goodnight,’ I said, fidgeting on the spot and not understanding why. I’d intended to slip away to my room without Evan seeing me. ‘Thank you again for your hospitality.’

Evan’s gaze flickered. ‘You’re welcome. I’m the one who should be thanking you. You got me here when British aviation didn’t.’

‘Like I said before, you stopped me from getting sacked yesterday after my moment of seeing red.’

Evan’s mouth morphed into a smile. ‘Believe me, we’ve all been there.’

I remained standing close to his bedroom door.

‘Well, goodnight then, Evan,’ I said, knotting my hands together.

I began to turn away, when what was on his laptop screen caught my attention. It was branded ‘News Update.’

Evan’s gaze followed mine. Underneath the words ‘News Update’, flashed, ‘Bomb find.’