Page 72 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

I exchanged small talk with Evan’s parents as Louise busied herself with making the tea.

Hmmm.

I wondered what had happened between Sacha and Evan for Louise to make a comment like that. I was also curious about the reference she’d made to The Ramblings’ mysterious history and this young woman Florence.

There seemed to be at least a couple of secrets that this grand old house was keeping to herself.

* * *

Once I’d spent some time with Alison, Bennett and Louise and enjoyed a cup of tea and one of the delicious almond macaroons Louise had baked earlier that day, I vanished up to my bedroom.

Alison and Bennett made no reference to Louise or me about the financial stresses and strains they were experiencing. Instead, they talked about the latest charity they were doing some volunteering for, the Forrest Bank Disabled Care Centre.

It just seemed so unfair to me, I’d concluded as I had traipsed back up the sweeping, spiral staircase. They were good people. Kind. It was clear they wanted to give something back to their local community, even though they had their own worries to contend with.

This house had been part of Bennett’s life for so long.

Dropping my bag onto the dressing table chair, I flopped backwards onto the four-poster bed. I lay there for a few moments, thinking about Evan and Sacha, before I dismissed them from my mind, but they kept insisting on creeping back in.

In the end, I clambered off the bed and rummaged around in my bag for my mobile.

I nestled myself back against the pillows and typed The Ramblings Forrest Bank into the search engine. But if I’d hoped for something exciting or juicy to jump out at me, I was disappointed. All that appeared was a few photographs of the house and gardens and confirmation of its location.

I thought again about what Louise had said about the Lords’ financial issues before she’d looked uncomfortable, as though she’d regretted saying anything.

Undeterred, I scrolled through the next few pages, but there were still only photographs of The Ramblings and its rolling lawns.

In one photo, everything was draped in snow. Tangerine lamps glowed through the windows, and gold fairy lights were strung around the branches of a couple of the trees. It would’ve made the perfect Christmas card.

At that moment, I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on my bedroom door. ‘Yes? Who is it?’

‘It’s me. Evan.’

Evan?

I almost toppled off the bed as I fumbled my way towards the dressing table mirror.

I had a stain of rose-pink lipstick on, but most of it was gone, thanks to the recent cup of tea and Louise’s macaroon. My hair was escaping out of its high ponytail too. Reaching for my makeup bag, I dashed on a fresh slick of lip colour.

I knew what I was doing and why, which in turn made me annoyed with myself, so I stopped titivating my hair.

I strode over to my bedroom door, took a breath and opened it.

Evan filled the doorway.

He cocked a brow at me. He must’ve noticed me staring at him. Dang!

I rearranged my features into what I hoped were indifferent ones. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I wondered if you’d seen Dane around?’

‘No. Not since I got back.’

His hot, dark gaze stayed on my face. ‘Oh. Ok.’

I hoped I didn’t look mesmerised by his eyes. ‘Why did you say it like that?’

‘Like what?’