anyone watching that she and Corran weren’t like everyone else. They didn’t touch each other, or confer with their heads together. Instead, Corran marched through the store, determined to get the job done as quickly as possible.
‘A chair is a chair,’ he said briskly, scribbling down the code for the first armchair he came across.
Lotty looked at him in disbelief. ‘That’ll look awful in the cottage,’ she protested. ‘It’s absolutely horrible.’
‘It’s a holiday let. Nobody’s going to care what they sit on.’
‘I care,’ said Lotty firmly. ‘I haven’t done all that painting for you to spoil everything with horrible furniture! You want the cottages to look simple and stylish, not cheap and nasty. If you’re going to charge people to stay, it’s the least they’re going to expect.’
‘Oh, very well,’ Corran grumbled, scratching out the code. ‘You choose, then.’
So it was Lotty who picked out beds and chests and a table and chairs, and a simple colourful sofa for the living room. She added bedding and towels, lamps and tablecloths, and a complete set of kitchen equipment to the list, before handing it back to Corran to go and pay for it all.
He squinted at it. ‘Are you sure we need all this stuff?’
‘If you’re advertising a furnished cottage, you’re going to have to furnish it,’ Lotty pointed out crisply.
And it was Lotty who charmed the assistant into arranging a separate delivery so that they left with just a brightly checked cloth for the kitchen table in Loch Mhoraigh House. ‘Haven’t we spent enough money?’ he grumbled when Lotty picked it up.
‘A few pounds isn’t going to make much difference after all you’ve spent on the cottages,’ she said. ‘The kitchen is so bare at the moment. A cloth will make it look more welcoming.’
‘Welcoming for who?’ demanded Corran, tucking the credit card receipt away in his wallet. ‘We’re the only people who ever see the kitchen.’
‘It’s a shame. It’s a lovely house,’ said Lotty, who was still saddened by the echoing rooms and the bare patches where pictures had clearly been hanging on the walls for generations. ‘It needs a lot of love.’
‘It needs a lot of money,’ said Corran, holding open the door for her as they headed out to the car park. ‘Money I don’t have at the moment. Once the cottages are up and running, I’m going to invite some financial types to come and have a look, see what we’ve done. If they’re impressed and can see some potential, I’m hoping they’ll consider investing in the estate as a whole, but the house is way down my priority list. I need new breeding stock, not tablecloths!’
‘I can see that,’ said Lotty, ‘but I still think it’s a pity the house isn’t more comfortable. It wouldn’t take much to make it nice, and then you could invite people round.’
‘What people?’ asked Corran sarcastically. ‘No one from the village will set foot in Loch Mhoraigh House while I’m there.’
‘Have you asked them?’
Corran’s lips tightened as he opened the passenger door of the Land Rover for her. ‘We’ve been through this, Lotty,’ he reminded her shortly. ‘I haven’t got time to sit around being social. I don’t care if the entire village is queuing up to be invited in.’
Lotty wasn’t ready to let it go. ‘You should be part of the community,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Quite apart from anything else, how are you going to meet that sensible wife when you’re a recluse?’
‘I’m not a recluse.’ Irritation gave Corran’s tone a sharp edge. ‘I’m just busy at the moment. And I’ve certainly got no money to spend tarting up the house for non-existent visitors!’
Lotty held the bright tablecloth on her knees. She hated the thought that the village distrusted Corran so much. If they could just meet him and get to know him, she was sure they would realise that he wasn’t the monster his brother seemed to have painted him.
‘I hope you’ll get round to it one day,’ she said as Corran started the engine. ‘I’d like to think of the house brought back to life as well as the cottages. It must have been wonderful in its heyday. It’s the kind of house that should be full of people, and have lots of children and dogs running around,’ she added wistfully.
‘Well, I’ve got the dogs,’ said Corran. ‘If you can count Pookie as a dog!’
He threw an arm along the back of Lotty’s seat as he put the Land Rover into reverse and swung round to look over his shoulder. Lotty was very conscious of his hand near her shoulder. If he lifted it just a little bit, he could caress her neck.
If he wanted to.
Which he didn’t.
She swallowed.
‘I think you’ll miss Pookie when your mother gets back,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen the way you tickle his tummy sometimes when you think I’m not looking! Under that tough exterior, you’re just a softie.’
Corran finished manoeuvring out of the tight parking space before he glanced at Lotty. ‘I only do that to shut him up,’ he said, but there was a definite hint of a smile around his mouth all the same.
How did he do that, smile and not smile at the same time? It made Lotty feel very strange. One look at his mouth doing that not-quite-smiling thing, and she ended up feeling hollow and light-headed and sort of…fizzy.
She made herself look away.
‘Anyway,’ Corran went on, fortunately unaware of her reaction, ‘the chances are that my mother will have forgotten all about Pookie by the time she gets home. She’ll have moved on to some new enthusiasm, and it’ll be, Oh, darling, I’m sure he’d be so much happier if he stayed with you. And then I’ll be stuck with him!’ Corran shook his head. ‘Another ten years or so of calling a dog Pookie! Meg won’t be able to hold her head up with the shame of it! At least she’s a proper dog, who can bring the sheep in off the hill. What’s Pookie good for?’
‘He’s a companion,’ Lotty managed.
‘I don’t need a companion,’ he said. ‘I need a dog who’s some use to me.’
Just like he needed a wife who was some use to him, thought Lotty sadly.
Corran moved the gear lever into first. Now his hand was near her knee. The same hand that could have stroked her neck, if only he had moved it just a little.
Lotty wrenched her eyes away from it. Her mouth was dry. The Land Rover felt as if it had shrunk since they had driven down to Glasgow that morning. Now the sides were pressing in around her, pushing all the spare oxygen out of the vehicle and making the air twang under the pressure.
Nothing had changed, Lotty told herself. She was the same, Corran was the same, the Land Rover was the same.
She had spent too much time watching all those couples, that was all. It had made her twitchy. All that time she had spent reminding herself to be cool and careful around Corran, and now she might as well not have bothered. She was agonisingly aware of him beside her, and she shifted
