Page 85 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

‘On second thoughts, okay,’ I replied airily. ‘I’ll come over.’

‘Great. We could get a takeaway.’

‘Takeaway would be good.’ I ended the call by saying I’d be over at his apartment by seven.

I washed and scrunch-dried my hair, so that it looked rather undone and tousled. Then I raked in my wardrobe for something to wear. Most of the tops I considered were dismissed for being too dressy or revealing, and a couple of the skirts I pulled out for a closer inspection were verging on the plain side. In the end, I opted for my new navy shift dress, with its stiff collar and chunky white belt. I decided to pair it with my long blue velvet boots. And to finish off the look, I swept on some cream eye shadow and dark mascara and slid on some of my favourite rose-pink lipstick.

As soon as I began to think I was starting to understand him, Mason would say or do something that threw me off balance. I knew I’d made an extra effort with my appearance. Oh, sod it! I wanted to look and feel good for me. I frowned at my reflection and picked up my scalloped bag from the bed.

My Scarlet Highwayman portrait was just inside the utility room, still perched on its easel, almost complete. All I wanted to do was add a little more contouring to those cheese-grater cheekbones of his.

I loitered for a moment in the hallway, the evening sunshine melting on the carpet. My portrait stared back, a knowing fleck in the highwayman’s dark eyes.

‘At least I know where I stand with you,’ I sighed at his compelling painted face.

I peered into my bag to make sure I had Ryan’s latest note with me. And with a jangle of car keys, I headed out the door.

Our half-empty takeaway boxes of lemon chicken, egg fried rice, prawn curry, crispy shredded beef and stir-fried noodles littered Mason’s breakfast bar in his black marble kitchen.

‘I’ll clear up in a bit,’ he said. ‘Let me make a pot of coffee and then we can try searching the internet again for Gideon Kelly.’ His laptop was set up on a small mahogany desk in the far corner of the sitting room.

I flopped back on the sofa, hoping I didn’t resemble a beached whale with my overstuffed tummy. ‘That was delicious,’ I murmured aloud.

Mason stopped by the door. He didn’t say anything, just hovered for a few moments, appraising me.

Darwin was at my feet, a mass of slumbering fur. I stared up at Mason, noting how tall he looked in his crimson shirt and dark-grey trousers.

A few minutes later, he returned carrying a tray with a glass pot of swirling hot coffee, a jug of milk and two Italian-style coffee cups. ‘If it was just me, it would be straight out of the jar and into one of my rugby mugs.’

‘Oh, that’s right. You said you used to play.’ My imagination conjured up images of Mason in one of those tight tops and with thighs like tree trunks. I dipped down to stroke Darwin and concluded Mason must have looked like a real alpha male on the pitch.

‘I used to play badly,’ confessed Mason, sitting down beside me. ‘But I was a lot younger then and able to take a few knocks.’

‘Oh, you poor old man,’ I teased.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said with a glint in his eye. ‘I still have one or two impressive moves.’

I accepted my coffee. ‘Stop bragging,’ I mocked.

Feeling emboldened, I studied him over the rim of my coffee cup, and with a jokey smile said, ‘So, seeing as I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, don’t you think you should tell me what you want from life?’

Mason’s features shut down. ‘I think we should concentrate on work for a while, don’t you?’

I blinked at him, stung and incredulous. There it was again; the clang of the gates closing, anytime I so much as asked him a personal question.

Mason fetched his laptop from his desk and placed it down on the coffee table in front of us. ‘Do you have that note with you?’

I shot him a cool glance as I leaned down to my bag, unzipped it and handed him the crumpled piece of paper.

He read it, his light eyes boring into the sentence, before he took a slug of coffee and tapped the keys on his laptop.

Darwin’s triangular ears pricked up at the noise, before folding themselves down again.

Mason looked pensive. ‘I wonder if it might be worth us taking a look at the local newspaper at the time; see if they had a society page.’

‘Do you think this Gideon Kelly could’ve been landed gentry?’

He shook his head. ‘I’d be surprised if he was, considering the lack of information about him and the modesty of his gravestone.’