Page 35 of The Boathouse by the Loch (The Scottish Highlands #4)

Strictly speaking, they weren’t her own ideas.

She’d copied them from the intricately designed doll’s house she’d found under a dustsheet in the basement of The Lake House.

She wouldn’t have been in that house if Marty hadn’t taken her on a tour.

He had found a key under the doormat by the back door.

She’d taken a keen interest in the house, although she didn’t know why.

Perhaps it was because she had something in common with the wealthy heiress, Eleanor Campbell-Ross; they’d both been involved in an accident on Christmas Day.

Or perhaps it was that the house had been abandoned soon after.

She doubted the family would return. And who could blame them?

That was why she’d been surprised to be asked to revamp the interior of the house.

Annie had suggested that the family wanted it refurbished because they were going to sell the place.

Robyn remembered feeling strangely protective of The Lake House, telling Annie that she felt they’d never do that.

But when she’d got the commission, she had become absurdly anxious about meeting the family.

Annie had told her not to get overwhelmed or intimidated just because the Rosses were so wealthy.

But it wasn’t that she was worried about.

She’d used the designs from the doll’s house at Lark Lodge.

What if they found out? She wasn’t sure how they would react.

Would she lose the commission? Or worse, had she done something illegal by stealing Eleanor’s ideas?

‘I told you both that dinner is in the dining room this evening,’ Gayle said. She walked towards them, waving her spoon. ‘Now scoot.’

They both backed out of the kitchen as Robyn said, ‘Hi, Doris.’ Gayle’s mother was sitting at the kitchen table.

‘Something smells delicious – doesn’t it?’ commented David.

When Robyn didn’t answer, David turned to her. ‘Everything all right, Robyn?’

‘Oh, yes – of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘You look a bit preoccupied.’

Robyn didn’t want to tell him that she had a lot on her mind; not least the thought of returning to the boathouse. She wondered what David would think if she suggested staying the weekend at Lark Lodge. Perhaps Gayle didn’t have any new guests arriving.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ David said, pausing outside the dining room.

Robyn doubted that very much.

‘You want to stay here for the weekend.’

Robyn’s mouth dropped open. ‘How did you know?’

David lowered his voice. ‘Look, I’m not blind. I don’t know why but for some reason we … you were happier here.’

‘I wanted to move in together.’

‘Then what is it?’ He leaned against the dining room doorway and stared at her. ‘It’s me – isn’t it? Since we moved in together, you’ve changed your mind. That’s why you keep going to Lon—’

‘Oh, my god. Of course it’s not you. How can you say that after …?’

David nodded knowingly. They both knew what she was talking about.

As soon as he’d stepped into their room and discovered her there, they had been mad for each other.

It was as though they’d been apart for weeks, months even, and they’d just found their way back to one another.

It didn’t make sense. She’d only been gone a few days.

Or perhaps it did. Robyn raised her eyebrows.

They hadn’t spent such a passionate night together since they’d set up home at David’s boathouse in June a month earlier.

Robyn knew – and she guessed David knew too – that they’d been drifting apart.

She knew that was why her trips to London, especially the latest one, when she’d insisted on going alone, were worrying him no end.

The fact that he’d said they could spend the whole weekend at Gayle’s suggested he understood that she’d been unhappy since moving into the boathouse.

David said, ‘It’s my boathouse – isn’t it?’

Robyn caught Gayle standing in the kitchen doorway with folded arms. ‘And why aren’t you two in the dining room like I told you? Stop hanging around in the doorway.’

Robyn grabbed David’s shirt sleeve. ‘Come on.’

They walked in. ‘It’s a bit dark in here.’

‘Oh look. Gayle has lit some candles.’ Robyn walked up to the dining table in the centre of the room. It was smaller, more intimate than the kitchen table. Gayle had removed the other two chairs, so there were now just two chairs, one at each end of the smooth chestnut oval table.

David suddenly rushed towards Robyn. She wondered what he was up to. Then he said, ‘Here – let me.’ David pulled out the chair for her.

Robyn smiled at him as she took a seat. She watched him take a seat opposite her. He undid his top shirt button and glanced at the fire in the grate. ‘Why did she light that on a summer’s evening?’

‘For atmosphere.’

‘Oh, right.’ He rolled up his shirt sleeves.

Robyn couldn’t believe how thoughtful Gayle had been.

She recognised the tablecloth as Gayle’s favourite.

The she glanced around the room. She rarely ventured into it; she’d spent most of her time in the lounge or the kitchen when she’d lived there.

The dining room felt like a rather posh room for special occasions, which apparently was how Gayle’s parents had thought of it – sort of like a parlour, in old-fashioned parlance.

The times she had gone into the room had been when she had redecorated and furnished it.

The interior design had come from the doll’s house; the matching cosy armchairs in a floral print either side of the fireplace, the standard lamp in the corner, the bookshelves in one alcove with a lamp on one shelf.

The lamp had a low-wattage bulb and a pretty porcelain lampshade, and Gayle had thoughtfully switched it on; it gave off a warm yellow glow.

‘What are you thinking?’ David asked.

‘I’m thinking I agree with you. The stew smells delicious,’ said Robyn. She picked up the napkin that was neatly arranged in a champagne glass.

‘No, I meant what I said about the boathouse.’

Robyn put the napkin on her lap. She did not want to talk about the fact that it wasn’t the boathouse itself, but something in her past. She looked across the table and said instead, ‘Yes, I’d love to stay on here for the weekend.’

David frowned at her. ‘It is the boathouse, then.’

Robyn was saved from having to respond by Gayle appearing in the doorway. ‘Dinner is served.’

Robyn turned in her chair. ‘That smells delicious, Gayle.’

Gayle smiled as she walked in, carrying a tray. She set it down on the table and picked up a plate and the ladle in the casserole dish. Robyn avoided David’s gaze as Gayle passed them a large bowl of stew each. She put a plate with crusty bread and butter on the table.

Robyn looked at the stew. ‘It’s so lovely of you to go to all this trouble.’

‘Not at all. What are friends for?’

Gayle’s other friends, Marty and Nick, had obviously been told to make themselves scarce. Robyn said as much.

Gayle nodded. ‘It’s true. I couldn’t very well have them turn up while you two are having a romantic meal together.’ Gayle looked from Gayle to David. ‘That is what’s going on here, isn’t it?’

David frowned.

Robyn avoided Gayle’s gaze .

David said, ‘Robyn wants to stay for the weekend.’

Gayle turned to look at her.

‘Yes, I do. If that’s all right with you?’ Robyn was aware that although Gayle had said in the past she liked to keep their room aside in case they came to stay, the reality was that she was running a guesthouse, and the room wouldn’t always be free.

‘All right,’ she said slowly. ‘Is that just you?’

Robyn looked across the table. ‘No, David too.’

He managed a smile.

Gayle looked relieved. ‘Good, that’s good. I have to say I do miss you guys.’ She looked at Robyn. ‘Hey, you know what? You might get to meet one of the Rosses.’

Robyn had just picked up her spoon and was about to taste the stew. She looked up sharply. ‘Pardon me? Did you just say—?’

‘Oh, you mean Jake is coming back?’ David asked nonchalantly before tasting the stew.

‘Yes, hopefully,’ Gayle replied.

Robyn looked from one to the other. ‘I’m sorry, but what are you talking about? I didn’t think you had any guests at the moment.’

Gayle passed David some crusty bread and opened a bottle of wine. ‘No, not this weekend. Well, I did have Jake Campbell-Ross here. He had several nights booked, but had to leave unexpectedly with an emergency.’

Robyn nearly choked on her stew. She spluttered, ‘Jake Campbell-Ross, as in—’

‘The guy whose wife, Eleanor, had that accident here last Christmas.’

Robyn sucked in a breath. ‘A Ross was right here, in this guesthouse?’

Gayle smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I’m afraid you just missed meeting him. ’

Robyn stared at her, open-mouthed, then turned to David, remembering what he’d just said. ‘You’ve met him – haven’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘Yeah.’

‘And you’re on a first-name basis with him already?’

‘We were going to have a drink together at the—’

Gayle added, ‘He left this morning before you arrived.’

Although she’d got a new commission in London, Robyn was still committed to working on The Lake House too.

The problem was that she hadn’t met any of the Rosses to discuss the finer details.

She wasn’t even sure which Ross had actually commissioned her to do it, as the email had come from the company – the Ross Corporation – selecting her little interior design company to do the work, and was obviously signed by one of their employees; a Mr Aubrey Jones.

Whoever that was. Various searches on the internet had produced absolutely no results whatsoever, and she’d started to get concerned that the email might be some sort of scam – especially when Marty, the gardener who worked in the grounds of The Lake House, had told her he had not put in a good word for her with the Rosses as she’d assumed.

So where had the commission come from? She’d wanted to meet one of them, or at least contact them to find out. But getting hold of one of the Rosses personally was impossible.