Page 88 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

I reached the top of the steps. The stiff, salty breeze made my hair flap out behind me like a gold flag, and the cobbled streets were deserted, except for the odd customer weaving in and out of the newsagents.

I shook the sand from my trainers and made my way back through the main street to the cottages. I walked in a dream-like state, churning thoughts about Mason, Alex Lapley, Blake and the cottages on a continuous merry-go-round circling in my head.

With ruddy cheeks and rather breathless from the invigorating sea air, I unlocked the office door and stepped inside knowing one thing for certain. There was no avoiding it: I would have to tell my father about Lapley’s threats.

Katie had taken the day off to work her magic on her kiln, so it was just me at the helm, with the offer of assistance from Caleb, should I need it.

I vanished into the bathroom at the rear of the office for a moment to brush my hair and secure it in a ponytail. Then I battled to tone down the flush in my sea lashed cheeks.

After dabbing and blending on some foundation, pink lipstick and mascara, I surveyed my image in the square mirror. My blue eyes carried an air of disappointment and my mouth dipped downwards.

After rustling myself up a hot chocolate, I sat there, cradling the warm mug, glancing at our small window display of Katie’s ceramics and a few of my watercolours.

Ideas began to form in my mind for what other themes we could feature. I recalled four of her other recent designs, a set of kitchen bowls in russet, brown and beige, as well as two other teapots she was working on; one was red and white, painted with orange squirrels, and the other was cream, dotted with cute snowy owls. That colour scheme, together with some more of my autumnal sketches, would be great to feature for a refreshed changeover in September, the winter season.

As I took another mouthful of my hot chocolate, I reached down into my rucksack for my mobile. I’d forgotten to switch it on. When the screen shimmered into life, my jaw clenched. There were two missed calls from Mason.

I grunted. He only seemed comfortable talking to me when he was flirting or discussing the highwayman.

I stuffed my phone back into the pocket of my rucksack. I couldn’t quite believe I was thinking it, but right now, the last thing I wanted to dwell on was the Scarlet Highwayman. All I wanted to do was concentrate on something creative instead which I could lose myself in.

I grabbed my sketchpad from my rucksack and began doodling.

White Willow Cottages; making a success of the business; proving to Mum and Dad that I could deliver; progressing my art career. They were all things I could control.

I lifted my head up from the white paper and let my attention drift out to sea. These were the things I had to focus on; these were the issues in my life I had to channel.

Frustration gripped me when I thought of Mason. Yes, I confessed, I did find him irresistible – even if he was a guarded, temperamental sod! But what about the way he kept me at a distance sometimes, yet was happy to flirt, grin, twinkle and even kiss me in front of his parents? And then there were the other mystery women he was seen with…

I gripped my pencil harder and made deeper, sweeping strokes on the pad. Something told me I was about to make the same mistake as I had done with Nick: put all my love, faith and trust in someone who wasn’t prepared to return it.

I stabbed the artist’s pad with my pencil.

Nope. I couldn’t allow that to happen again.

Mid-morning swung around and a honeymoon couple heading home to France who checked out of Falcon hadn’t been able to resist my painting of McKerron Castle drizzled with snow and one of Katie’s teaspoon rests in a gold-and-brown leaf design.

They’d just departed, wreathed in satisfied smiles, when I heard the office door swing open.

‘Have you forgotten something?’ I asked, raising my head from the desk. My friendly expression melted.

It was Mason.

‘Good morning, Poppy.’ He was decked out in a loose azure shirt that complemented his navy combat trousers. His sleeves were rolled up, and aviator shades were perched on top of his dark head.

I adjusted the collar of my white blouse for something to do. ‘Morning.’

‘Could I have a word? I did try to ring you this morning.’

‘Yes, I noticed.’

He took a few steps forward. ‘Are you okay?’ Without being invited, he slipped into the chair on the other side of my desk. ‘Why didn’t you call me back? Is there something wrong?’

I tried to flick my ponytail in an indifferent fashion. ‘No … yes…’

Mason’s brows gathered. ‘You look like you’re thinking of saying something.’

‘You don’t know what I’m thinking.’