Page 52 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

We stood now overlooking Port Starr, with McKerron Castle observing us from across the waves.

His apology had caught me off guard.

‘If we work together, I’m sure we’ll crack the identity of the Scarlet Highwayman,’ Mason said finally. ‘I need you.’

His confession made my eyes spring open wider. What was he trying to say?

Mason cleared his throat. ‘Er, what I mean is, I need your enthusiasm and local knowledge.’

A sinking feeling pulled at my stomach. ‘Of course. Right. Yes.’ I waved one hand in the air. ‘I knew what you meant.’

Mason’s eyes rose to the skyline. ‘I was up late last night and then early this morning doing some more reading on local male residents of the Port Starr area around the late seventeen hundreds.’

‘And?’

‘And I’ve read more of Georgina’s diary.’ Mason stopped walking and rubbed Darwin behind his floppy ears. ‘How are you fixed for meeting up again this evening?’

‘Oh, I can’t,’ I answered in a rush. ‘I’m too busy.’ I couldn’t do that again – stand on the precipice and be on the verge of going over the edge. I had too much to lose. My self-respect for one thing. I had to step back from Mason.

He eyed me with a serious expression. ‘Look, I really am sorry for acting the way I did. I think we make a great team.’ He let his arms fall by his sides. ‘I really believe that together we can crack this story.’

My eyebrows flew up to my hairline. ‘So, what happened to the Lone Wolf then?’

He gave a megawatt smile that made my stomach jump. ‘Even a big, bad wolf needs his Little Red Riding Hood sometimes.’ Then his earnest stare was back. ‘Look. I’m so sorry I kissed you last night. Lines were blurred. It won’t happen again.’

I noted the deflating sensation in my chest, followed by a flare of defiance. Okay. Fine. If he could forget about last night and dismiss it as though it were nothing, I could too. It obviously meant diddly-squat to him.

‘Good! Great!’ I gushed, clapping my hands together. ‘That’s fine by me. Perfect.’

An odd expression took over Mason’s face. ‘That’s fine. Settled then.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s just that I’ve uncovered some really interesting facts about some of the local families,’ he continued. ‘And there are a couple of other things I really think you should see.’ He plunged both hands into his jean’s pockets.

This is not about you, anyway, Mason Cooper. This is all about getting to the truth of the Scarlet Highwayman.

I aimed to sound nonchalant. ‘I’ll meet you here again, outside the office, at five-thirty.’

Mason nodded. ‘Great. See you then.’

I gave my upper arms another absent rub and started back. I’d only got a few feet, when Mason’s voice called after me across the cobbles.

‘And it’s my turn to make us dinner this evening.’

What? At his flat?

I began to protest, but he held up one long-fingered hand. ‘I insist.’

What I failed to notice as I waved Mason goodbye was Alex Lapley’s pretentious sports car secreted around the next corner.

Chapter Twenty-Four

After the delicious chicken-and-beansprout stir-fry Mason made us, we cleared up. Then I flopped down on his leather sofa, weary but contented after a brisk afternoon of business at the cottages. Things were looking promising. Might my revamp of the cottages actually be working? It was starting to look that way.

Mum and Dad were delighted when I sent them screenshots of the local paper coverage and told them that we were receiving a slew of reservations. I let out a satisfied yawn. Mason shot me a cagey look. ‘Let’s leave it for tonight, Poppy. You’re tired. I can go over my latest findings with you another time.’

I stifled another yawn. ‘Absolutely not.’

He reached under his glass coffee table for a large white envelope. ‘Stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe you, does it?’

‘You should talk.’