Page 90 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

‘I won’t be needing your help with saving the cottages from Lapley,’ I insisted. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about the situation and I’m going to tell my dad. We can deal with this as a family.’

Mason’s silver gaze turned to flint.

‘And as for the Scarlet Highwayman, I won’t be expecting you to get involved. If you want to continue your own research, that’s up to you.’

Mason’s muscles moved under his shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it.

I watched him stalk back towards his car.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

‘Bloody men!’ I fumed under my breath. ‘Boy, can I pick ’em!’

‘Things not going well?’

Jenny Aston, one of our cleaners, hovered in the office doorway.

I eyed her. ‘I take it the gossip grapevine in Port Starr is in overdrive about Alex Lapley’s wild claims.’

Jenny’s powdered, jowly complexion blanched. ‘You could say that.’ She walked towards me.

‘I’m not sure how I’m going to do it, but I will stop Alex Lapley from ruining this business. Even if I have to do it on my own.’

‘Och lass, you’re not on your own,’ argued Jenny, placing an age-spotted hand on my arm. She pulled a piece of paper from her floral apron pocket. ‘Sorry I didn’t deliver this to you earlier, but I had to give the shower screen in Capercaillie a right good going over.’ She narrowed her annoyed sixty-something pale-green eyes. ‘Honestly, some people splash their shower gel around as though it were confetti.’

My attention fell on the piece of paper in her hand that she was offering me. ‘Someone delivered a letter for me?’

‘Yes, when you were out at breakfast.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Only a teenage monosyllabic grunt.’

I took the folded white note from her and scanned its contents. It was typed as normal and in the centre of the paper a sentence read:

Might they be on the list? A historic question worth asking.

There was a phone number I didn’t recognise underneath it.

I entered the phone number into the search engine and after a few moments, it came up as belonging to Historic Heritage. My excitement ramped up. ‘Could White Willow Cottages be on a Listed Building site? Is that what this could mean?’

Jenny’s mouth, dashed in frosted pink, lifted a little at the corners. ‘I’m no expert on these things, love, but if it was, doesn’t that mean it has to be protected?’

‘I believe so.’

‘What do we do now?’

‘All I know is that we have to explore every avenue to protect this business.’

Jenny’s eyes crinkled. ‘Then in that case, I think you should ring that phone number.’

I knew Jenny was right. I rang it straightaway, but no one answered, except for a pre-recorded voicemail message.

‘Historic Heritage don’t open on weekends,’ I said to Jenny, hanging up.

‘But they do open again at nine tomorrow morning, I take it?’

‘Yes, they do. Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll be ringing them first thing.’