Page 4 of Kilts and Kisses at Highland Hall (Kilts and Kisses #1)

‘You are going to pay for this, Nigel.’

Bex was talking to herself through gritted teeth, partially because of how angry she was, but mostly because the water was bloody freezing.

She had rolled up her jeans, grabbed a towel from her bag and walked over to the edge of the ford, at which point she had removed her shoes.

She’d initially planned on only going halfway, reasoning that would give her the best indication of how deep it got, but then she also figured there could be some hidden pothole near the other side.

It would be a far wiser approach to go all the way across on one side, then back on the other, hopefully gauging where the wheels would drive.

It may have been summer, but the water didn’t seem to know that, and every step was painfully cold.

Still, she made it to the far side unscathed, before turning around and heading back.

By the time she was at her car, drying off her feet, her entire body was covered in goosebumps – even though she had only got wet up to mid-calf.

Which meant, thankfully, that the ford was shallow enough for the car to get through.

Even though she knew there should be no issues driving through the shallow water, it didn’t stop Bex from holding her breath the entire time.

One way or another, she was going to find a way of billing this journey as extra expenses beyond the petrol.

Never could she remember having a drive that had left her so fraught.

And so much for thinking she was going to pop out for weekends and visit local places.

If this was what it was like trying to get to Highland Hall, then she would stay there until the job was done.

Her details from Nigel had told her that Highland Hall was on the outskirts of a village called LochDarroch, about which Bex had done zero research.

That wasn’t her normal style of things. Normally she liked to do as much research on one of her clients as she could, but normally, she wasn’t thrust into living with them, and she had enough to deal with, packing up and coming here, to bother scouting out all the tourist traps.

She was a city girl through and through, and as such, LochDarroch, was not somewhere she could imagine liking.

Still, as she drove past the little sign, with ‘LochDarroch’ written on the side, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of guilt for already disliking a place she had never even been.

Especially a place that was so unequivocally beautiful.

It could have had something to do with the way the sunlight was glinting off the white painted houses, or the contrast between the dark slate tiles and the pale sky.

Or maybe it was the mix of stones that the buildings were made of which combined so perfectly with the rugged landscape and lush green grasses, but whatever the reason, as Bex drove slowly through the village, she found herself drinking it all in.

The place that was to be her home for the next two months.

Relief billowed through her as she noticed two pubs, at least one café, and a restaurant too – although only one small shop.

The chances of getting a supermarket delivery here seemed unlikely, but she could cope with eating out.

She’d bill it to the firm anyway – after this journey, that was the least she deserved.

As she followed the directions on her satnav, she moved away from the village, passing through a stone lodge gate and onto a gravel driveway.

In her mind, she had created a very loose image of Highland Hall.

Given that the village was called LochDarroch, it felt likely that the house would have a view out over the water, and if it had room for her to stay there, it was probably fairly sizeable, but beyond that, she wasn’t sure what else to expect.

As strange as it might have sounded to Daisy or Claire, she hadn’t wanted to look it up.

She had been feeling bad enough about having to do this move as it was.

The last thing she needed was to see the grey and sombre building she was going to be trapped in for the next eight weeks.

Yet, as the driveway continued, with thick cedar trees marking either side of the route, her nervousness flickered up a notch.

This wasn’t the driveway of an average house.

Or even a larger-than-average house. In fact, she had visited stately homes that had smaller driveways than this.

But maybe it was just a Scottish thing. Maybe having all this land meant people liked to spread out more.

That was what Bex was thinking when the trees finally gave way to a wide-open driveway.

The moment she looked up, one of her hands flew up to her mouth and the nerves in her stomach gave way to a full-on somersault.

‘It’s a castle,’ she said, struggling to take in the building in front of her. ‘It’s an actual castle.’