Page 25 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

‘Thank you, but I’m too busy here,’ I answered quickly, aware that two sets of interested eyes were drilling into me.

‘No, you’re not,’ argued Katie. ‘I can work through our to-do list and double-check on the other furniture deliveries.’

‘And we’re almost done here,’ interrupted young and usually shy Mark, another of Joe’s ‘lads’, sticking his head out of one of the nearby cottage windows.

Typical, I thought. The one time the young lad participates in our conversation, and I don’t want him to. I could have quite happily thumped the smiling Katie, Joe and Mark.

Mason shot a knowing glance at Katie.

‘And you’re known to have good knowledge of your town history,’ she added lightly.

I looked at her, knowing only too well who’d been extolling my virtues to Mason.

‘I thought you liked to work alone,’ I said, scrambling around for an excuse not to meet up with him.

‘I’ll admit that is my preference for obvious reasons…’

Katie tried to conceal a smile.

‘But I’d appreciate your opinion on this, Poppy.’

There was a charged silence. Good grief. He was so bloody infuriating, with those eyes and that hair. But if I said no, would he think I was being uncooperative or churlish? And I did want to find out anything new that I could about The Scarlet Highwayman. I might regret it if I said no. That was what kept me saying yes to Mason; because this was an opportunity to look into the Highwayman’s past again with someone who did this historical research as a day job. That was the driving force. It had nothing to do with Mason, I assured myself. ‘All right. That’s fine.’ I cleared my frustrated throat. ‘There’s a sweet little place called the Starr Bar close to the harbour that serves light lunches.’

Mason nodded. ‘I know it. Okay, I’ll meet you there at one o’clock.’

I pretended not to notice Katie’s triumphant smirk.

Chapter Fourteen

The Starr Bar was a marble and smoked glass affair, situated just past the harbour on a small green hill. We had been directed by a brunette waitress to our table, which had squashy beige leather seats, although how she hadn’t managed to tumble through the mezzanine window was beyond me. She was far more interested in Mason, who didn’t appear to have noticed her flirting. She made one more last-ditch attempt to dazzle him with yet another blinding smile. When he offered her a polite one in return, she marched off.

As we studied the lunchtime offerings, I stole a glance at him from over the top of the black-and-gold laminated menu. His furrowed brow was concentrating on the options, and his spidery black lashes were casting an impressive shadow on his cheekbones.

I jerked my attention back to the menu and opted for a potato omelette with peppers and salad, while Mason chose blueberry pancakes with yoghurt and honey, together with a black coffee.

The waitress returned with a jug of water, took our orders, then flounced off.

‘So,’ I exclaimed, fluttering my napkin, ‘what’s all this about McKerron Castle?’

He took a long sip of water and placed his glass back down, an earnest look settling across his face. ‘I take it you aren’t aware of two mysterious love letters that were discovered in a secret vault at the castle in August 2016.’

‘No. I’ve never heard of anything like that being found there.’ I lowered my voice. ‘How do you know about these letters?’

Mason sank back against his seat. ‘I would have been surprised if you had, because Mrs Compton appears to be the only person in Port Starr who does know about them – or at least, she wants us to think that.’

‘Sorry. I don’t follow.’

‘Let’s just say that Eliza Compton was very helpful when I explained I was aware of large amounts of money being donated to McKerron Castle by the Lapley family.’

My eyes threatened to roll out of my head. Did this have anything to do with her odd behaviour towards Katie and me a few days ago in the main street? Eliza Compton was head of the Port Starr Historical Society as well as a ferocious custodian of McKerron Castle. She revelled in intimidating locals, unsuspecting tourists and coach parties of innocent schoolchildren who had the misfortune to cross her path. She hadn’t been intimidating that day, though. She’d appeared distressed.

‘Did you just say Eliza Compton helped you? As in, she didn’t threaten to throw you from the battlements, or have you charged with wasting her time?’

Mason looked at me steadily from across the table. ‘Yes, she was very cooperative. It must be my dashing good looks and irresistible charm.’

I pulled a face. ‘Well, it must have been something.’ My mouth dropped open further. ‘And what was that you just said about donations to the castle by the Lapley family? That can’t be right, surely?’ I recalled Eliza’s alarmed face in the bakery once more.

He moved to speak again, but the waitress had returned with our meals. When she’d disappeared, Mason carried on. ‘A friend of mine works in the finance department at Historical Heritage and she said these payments to maintain McKerron Castle have been going on for years – and that they’re all donations from the Lapley family.’