Page 74 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

Mason placed his menu down on the wooden table. ‘You really do believe that he’s not capable of these awful things, don’t you?’

I decided on the chicken burger with salad and put my menu down too. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

He sat back, openly appraising me from under those dark, spiky lashes of his.

‘Don’t you?’ I asked.

He took a moment to consider my question and was about to answer, when a young waiter appeared and took our order. Mason opted for the beef burger with Swiss cheese. Once the waiter had delivered a jug of water to our table and disappeared, Mason said, ‘I try to keep an open mind on things.’

‘Because you’re a historian.’

‘Probably.’ He savoured a long gulp of the ice-cold water. He looked like he was choosing his words. ‘What is it about this guy that you find so attractive, Poppy?’

I bristled at his question. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He leaned his elbows on the edge of the table. Around us, there was the quiet murmur of conversation, punctuated by the odd bellow of laughter from two fishermen lounging at the bar. His voice was softer. ‘Is it safer to be attracted to someone like him?’

I squirmed, my jeans sticking to the orange plastic seating. ‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.’

Mason’s attention slid to my mouth. ‘You don’t give much away, do you?’

A laugh erupted from my chest. ‘And this from the man who refuses to divulge anything about his private life.’

The young waiter reappeared with our food and evaporated again.

‘I don’t refuse,’ said Mason, unfolding his cutlery from a red napkin. He examined me for much longer than I felt he should, his playful expression melting into one more like appreciation. ‘To be honest, I don’t think any man could refuse you anything.’

‘What are you up to?’ I blurted, trying to conjure a casual smile.

‘I’m not up to anything.’

‘Yeah, right.’ I thought again of the two other women Mason had been seen with.

A deep silence embedded itself between us as we began to dig into our respective salads. I tried to concentrate on my supper. The seeded burger was warm and inviting, the chicken was succulent and there was a gorgeous olive oil dressing drizzled over my crunchy salad.

‘I’m assuming that going by your previous comment, Rapunzel would like to know a bit more about Dracula’s past?’

My head snapped up from spearing some lettuce. This was unexpected. ‘Only if you want to,’ I remarked. ‘I mean, there’s no pressure.’

‘Other than the thumbscrews you’ve concealed in your handbag?’

‘I was hoping you wouldn’t notice those.’

Mason took a bite of his burger and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Okay, so you know where I used to live and how close I am to my parents. Well, I studied for my history major at the University of Sydney, but like I told you when I first met you, I’ve always been fascinated by European history.’

He then went on to explain that once he had graduated, his persistence paid off. ‘I ended up working in Australia for the History Now TV channel as a researcher, managed to get myself noticed by the right people over here and the rest, as they say, is history.’

‘I bet you’ve used that line before.’

‘Maybe once or twice.’ His eyes twinkled, before becoming more serious. ‘There’s a particular reason why I didn’t want to dwell on my past.’ He placed his knife and fork on the edge of his plate. His light eyes, like the specks of foam dashing off the cliffs nearby, searched mine. ‘Oh, excuse me for a second.’

He reached into his back pocket and produced his mobile, which had just pinged with a message.

I took another sip of water, trying to anticipate what he might say.

As he peered down at his phone, I noticed the determined angle of his jaw and the faint trace of the dimple in his right cheek. There was something of the sexy highwayman about Mason, I decided. Then a picture reared up in my mind of him wearing one of those black highwayman masks, his icy eyes bewitching any lady who crossed his path.

I snatched up my water glass and took an eager mouthful. This Scarlet Highwayman story was affecting me. I was allowing my emotions to take over. Mason was a flirt, a player; he didn’t take relationships seriously and if I allowed myself to play his games, I’d end up getting hurt all over again.