Page 10 of A Summer House on Arran (Scottish Romances #3)

Olivia had woken early, far too early, to the sound of heavy rain.

She stretched out, noticing how comfortable the bed was, before she drifted back off into a peaceful slumber.

When she woke again, still feeling tired, she opened the curtains to allow daylight in.

Then she hopped back into bed, propped herself up on the fluffy pillows and reached for her phone — the holiday rather than real-life one — popping her earbuds in.

Usually listening to a meditation on YouTube did the trick, and she would often fall asleep within a few minutes with no idea of what the meditation had been about.

This morning, the coach was telling her to breathe in deeply, exhale slowly and focus on that very moment in time.

Olivia was trying her best not to fidget as the soothing voice kept talking.

She couldn’t keep her eyes closed as she had been invited to.

They kept flicking open and noticing things that needed to be done.

Important things like her nails — the varnish was chipped — and there was a trail of fluff on the floor, which maybe she should hoover up.

She shifted a bit, which then made her focus on the achy pain at the base of her back.

She squirmed and tried to find a comfortable position, idly thinking about what to have for breakfast.

Stretching her long limbs out to straighten her back, she kicked off the bedcovers and stood up, gently padding her way through to the kitchen.

She gave a loud sigh. Coffee. That was what she needed.

A good, strong coffee. Then some food. Filling the kettle at the sink, she paused to watch the birds hopping about on the lawn.

The sky was a pale blue and dotted with a few wisps of cloud.

She should really go out and get some fresh air and exercise.

Then she reminded herself there was time.

While she waited for the kettle to boil, she reached for the cafetière and tipped in some of the ground coffee that Amy had thoughtfully left.

She had just poured the water in and was stirring the coffee when she heard the slam of a car door.

It reminded her that she wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, despite how quiet it was, and that other civilisation did exist. How different it was to the usual sounds she would hear from her apartment, like the constant blast of car horns, the wailing of sirens and the pinging of the elevator.

But then she heard the sound of a key scratching in the lock — her heart skipped a beat.

For a moment she was frozen to the spot and all she could do was blink rapidly.

Who on earth was that? Had he found her?

What should she do? Then she reminded herself to breathe .

Come on, Olivia, she said to herself. There was no reason why he would know she was there.

The only person who knew was Trudy, and Olivia knew that she would never betray her confidence like that. Not in a million years.

As she heard the door swing open, her mind did an irrational U-turn.

She should have known better than to think Patrick wouldn’t track her down.

Her breathing quickened and she felt physically sick.

Her hands turned clammy, and she rubbed them together, urging herself to think fast. She frantically scanned the kitchen for something, anything , and grabbed a rolling pin.

She very gingerly peered into the hallway.

Olivia’s heart threatened to explode in her chest. Her eyes widened when she saw someone, with a mass of red curly hair, turning back to drag in a case.

As the sounds of the wheels scratched on the floor, she dropped the rolling pin, which fell to the ground with a clatter. Then Olivia screamed.