Page 79 of Highland Getaway
‘Ah, Hunter, there you are,’ the Laird barks, waving his stick in the direction of his great-great-nephew once removed – or whatever Hunter’s relationship to him is. ‘Been looking for you everywhere. Damn place is overrun with people. I need you to send them back to wherever they came from.’
‘You know where they came from, Dougie,’ says Hunter patiently. ‘You invited them to stay here yourself. Or so Dante’s just been telling me.’
‘Yes, yes,’ says the old man impatiently, stopping next to the seat Daniel Foster is sitting in, and prodding him with his stick until Daniel takes the hint and reluctantly gets to his feet. ‘I said they could stay overnight,’ he goes on, taking the seat for himself. ‘It’s morning now, though. Time for them to go, I think. And this one too,’ he adds, catching sight of me sitting opposite him, trying my best to sink into the cushions and out of sight. ‘I don’t know what she’s still doing here. Didn’t I tell you to remove her last night, Dante?’
‘I was just about to say—’ Dante begins, but Hunter cuts in.
‘What’s this?’ he asks, his eyes narrowing. ‘Why d’you want Rosie to leave, Dougie?’
He looks from the Laird to Dante, and then back again. The atmosphere is so tense that even Sabrina looks up from her laptop to see what’s going on.
‘So, it’s a funny story, really,’ Dante says, shuffling his feet on the tiled floor. ‘Remember a few weeks ago, when you’d gone down to Inverness for supplies, Hunter? Well, the WanderNest rep called while you were gone. They said they’d be sending a mystery guest. It’s like a mystery shopper, but, well, for hotels. Anyway, they wanted to send someone to review the place as part of the process of deciding whether they wanted to make an offer.’
He looks around at us all, as if to make sure we’re following this.
‘I don’t get it,’ says Millie, puzzled. ‘How’s that a funny story?’
‘I assumed it would be one of the influencers who were booked in to stay,’ goes on Dante, ignoring her. ‘So I googled you all, and I saw that Rosie Summers had just got a contract with WanderNest. Well, it was obvious it was her, wasn’t it? It was obvious she was the mystery guest. And I, um .?.?. I might have mentioned it to Lord Glenmuir.’
‘There’s no “might” about it,’ the Laird says. ‘You most definitely did mention it; while you were bringing me my elevenses, it was. I remember it well. The toast was slightly burnt, as I recall.’
‘It was just a throwaway comment,’ says Dante desperately. ‘I didn’t think he’d remember it.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory,’ says the Laird, sniffing. ‘“It’s a girl called Rosie Summers,” you said. “She’s coming to review the hotel,” you said. “And if she gives us a good review, the deal’s as good as done,” you said.’
Dante stares rigidly at the floor and doesn’t bother to reply.
‘But Rosie Summers didn’t turn up,’ I say, the pieces falling into place at last as I turn to face Lord Glenmuir. ‘I came instead. And I guess you thought if you made my stay as difficult as possible, I’d report back to WanderNest that the hotel was awful, and they wouldn’t buy it. That’s it, isn’t it? That was the plan. I guess you didn’t realise I was .?.?. well, the wrong Rosie.’
‘And a jolly good plan it was too,’ says the Laird staunchly. ‘Get rid of this Rosie person; save the hotel from the invading forces. Just like the war.’
‘And you didn’t think to mention any of this to me?’ Hunter asks Dante, his expression fierce. ‘You didn’t think a mystery guest was something I might want to know about?’
Dante shuffles his feet miserably.
‘I wanted to handle it myself,’ he admits, raising his chin defiantly. ‘My family’s been running this castle for generations, Hunter. It means as much to me as it does to you. And I would’ve told you about the mystery guest, but, of course, Rosie Summers was replaced with RosieWinter. And I knew RosieWinterwasn’t likely to be the mystery guest, so—’
‘Why not?’ I blurt out. ‘Icouldbe a mystery guest. Any one of us could be.’
‘I couldn’t,’ says Millie, blonde hair flying as she shakes her head. ‘I’m a terrible liar. And you probably couldn’t either, Rosie; you only have about two thousand followers, don’t you?’
Dante nods, confirming that this was, indeed, the reason he didn’t suspect me of being this mystery guest. I actually have 4,912 followers now, having gained some more thanks to Luna’s photos of me on the beach, but I don’t bother mentioning it; there doesn’t seem to be much point.
‘But what about me?’ wails Bex, who still looks like she’s been involved in something unspeakable, thanks to the ketchup stain on her chest. ‘What didIdo to deserve my clothes being ruined?’
‘Well, this one didn’t seem to want to leave,’ says the Laird, pointing a bony finger at me. ‘So I started to think she mightnotbe the spy after all. But it had to be one of you, so I decided to hedge my bets. We don’t want hotel chains here in the Highlands. No, we can manage perfectly well on our own, I think. That was the original plan, and I’m damn sure we’ll be sticking to it, no matter what Hunter here has to say about it.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Hunter puts in, his tone ominous. ‘You’re seriously telling meyoudid all of this, Dougie? The turnip? The missing clothes? Thesauna?’
‘Hang on. You said the sauna was an accident?’ I interject, my stomach lurching at the thought that it might not have been. Hunter meets my eyes for the first time since he walked into the room, and I’m annoyed with myself for the way his glance makes my skin tingle, even after everything that’s happened.
‘Oh, I didn’t have anything to do with the sauna,’ says the Laird with a shrug. ‘That really was an accident. You want to get that looked at, Hunter,’ he adds sternly, looking at his nephew from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘Can’t have people getting stuck in saunas. Could seriously hurt someone. Keep up, man, would you?’
‘But .?.?. you did the rest?’ replies Hunter incredulously. ‘You? On your own? Just because you didn’t want the WanderNest deal to go ahead, and you thought Rosie had some kind of influence over it?’
There’s a loud crash as Agnes drops the tray she was holding, sending pieces of crockery careering over the tile floor.
‘I didn’t want to do it,’ she wails, putting her hands over her mouth. ‘I swear I didn’t. But we’ve all been so worried we might lose our jobs if the hotel gets sold.’
