Page 103 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

Mason’s encouraging smile made my heart sing. ‘It is.’

I let out a happy gasp.

Mason grinned at me and turned back to Gideon’s headstone. This time, he focused on the lower, damaged carving. He rubbed his fingertips across and over it a few times, before rising to his feet and returning to stand on the path. ‘Come over here, Poppy, and tell me what you think that other shape reminds you of.’

I walked over to stand beside him and screwed up my eyes. ‘I’m not sure.’

Mason’s sooty lashes flicked above his light eyes. ‘If I were to suggest that could have been a carving of a horseshoe, what would you say?’

He moved back towards the gravestone to where Georgina’s jewellery box was sitting beside it. He eased open the lid and removed the horseshoe pendant from inside. He lowered himself until his angular face was almost touching the granite. As he held the pendant up beside the crumbly hole where the original piece of artwork had been, the gold horseshoe spun gently on its chain.

‘I think you’re right.’ I grinned. ‘Yes, it looks like it was a depiction of a horseshoe.’

Mason slipped the pendant back into the box and the lid closed with a satisfying clunk. ‘If I were a betting man, I’d say Georgina had the roses and the horseshoe carved into Gideon’s stone as a token of her love for him.’

‘And someone took exception to it – the Lapley family, no doubt – and had the horseshoe engraving damaged out of jealousy.’

Mason nodded. ‘I reckon so.’ He strode back to me and slipped his arm around my waist.

‘So, what now?’

‘Let’s sleep on it,’ he suggested. ‘Well, when I say sleep…’

My stomach pirouetted. He was grinning.

‘And tomorrow?’ I asked him.

Mason tilted my chin so that I was lost in his eyes. ‘Tomorrow, we save White Willow Cottages.’

Chapter Forty-Four

After the most wonderful night with Mason, I returned home.

My hair was tumbling and tousled down my back, and a smile decorated my face as I showered.

I could still feel the imprint of Mason’s body against mine; his fingers tracing my curves; his mouth tasting every inch of me.

My skin was pink and glossy. Despite the needles of hot water, I could still feel the impression of Mason’s hands roaming over my skin. I’d finally been able to release myself from my past and from Nick and how he’d treated me.

I struggled to eat my cereal. My stomach and heart seemed to be competing against each other in the most delicious way, but once I’d styled my hair in a messy ponytail and threw on my belted aubergine shift dress and cashmere cardigan, I walked across to the cottages with a big, silly grin.

While I’d made an effort with my soggy bran flakes, I’d created a poster to put in some of the local shop windows. It said:

2pm today – Tuesday 27 July at Port Starr town clock.

The truth about the Scarlet Highwayman!

Your exclusive opportunity to find out about the man behind the mask.

Q & A with Mason Cooper, Historian, Author & TV personality, to follow.

I tried not to smile as I typed the word ‘personality’, knowing Mason would cringe at being referred to in this way.

I had fired off the same details in a round-robin text to as many people as I could possibly think of, targeting everybody from our local newspaper to Gilbert Evans, head of the Port Starr Business Federation. And I posted it on Bluebird Cottages’ social media.

I was just finishing off an email to Mum and Dad, telling them about the latest developments, when Katie made me jump in my lavender heels. She stood in the office doorway, her bottle-green jacket flapping open. ‘What is that poster all about? First, I get some strange text and now there’s that in the window?’

‘Come at two and everything will be clear,’ I assured her. ‘Just trust me. Please.’