house, white-painted, snuggled down in a crease in the hillside with a glimpse of the sea in the distance. No wonder it had appealed to her. He wondered what Little Gluich meant. Nothing, probably.
He read the directions, located it on his road atlas and pulled out of the car park. Just one more hour, and he’d be with her.
He wound his way north, crossing an estuary on a bridge—the Firth of something. Cromarty? Moray? One or the other. Cromarty, he thought. He’d done Moray on the way out of Inverness. He saw seals swimming off the shore and more basking on rocks near the wreck of a ship, then turned north again onto a little road that headed over the hills towards Tain.
And there it was, or at least there the turning was. He couldn’t see the house from the road, there was a kink in the hill, but he turned down the track and winced as his car grounded on the stony grassy hummock in the middle.
Tough. He lurched and bumped his way down, and round a little bend, and there it was, a thin plume of smoke curling from the chimney in welcome. A car was outside—nothing flashy, nothing like the BMW in the garage at home, but hers, as she’d put it.
He felt a flutter in his chest as the adrenaline kicked in. Fight or flight?
He’d never backed away from anything in his life, and he wasn’t starting now. He wanted his wife back, and he was going to have her.
All he had to do was talk her into it …
SHE heard the car before she saw it, grinding slowly down the track towards the house and disturbing the peace and tranquillity of her little hideaway.
A neighbour, come to welcome her? The postman?
From her vantage point in the office over the garage, she peered down at the drive a little warily. ‘Who is it, Midas?’ she asked, her voice instinctively lowered, and the dog whined and stood up on his back legs, his front paws on the windowsill, and watched with her.
The ghostly silver bonnet of Rob’s Mercedes nosed through the gateway, its headlights gleaming dully in the fading light, and her heart sank as the car crunched over the gravel and came to rest beside her much more modest Ford.
How on earth had he found her? She’d been so careful, cleared everything away without trace, or so she’d thought. Even the attic she’d left spotless—hadn’t she? There must have been something lying around, some little clue. Blast. She’d always known he’d find her in the end, because he didn’t give up on anything, but she had hoped for a few more days—maybe even weeks—to sort her thoughts out.
And now he was here. Still, maybe he’d ring the bell and go away if she didn’t show herself. Her heart pounding, she sank back away from the window and grabbed the dog’s collar, pulling him down beside her. He whined in protest and tried to jump up again, but she hung on tight.
‘Midas, no,’ she whispered. ‘Be quiet, there’s a good boy.’
He whined again, recognising the sound of the car, and she wrapped her hand round his muzzle and stroked him with the other hand, trying to calm him. ‘Good boy. Hush now. Maybe he’ll go away.’
She snorted softly under her breath. Not a chance, and the dog knew it. Just in case, though, he was determined to bark a greeting, and she had to hang on to his muzzle and pet him constantly to keep him quiet. Still, at least she hadn’t got the lights on in the office, although the glow from the computer was probably visible. She reached out a hand and switched off the monitor, and her little office sank into gloom. Heavens, it was later than she’d realised, but she’d been so busy.
Edging up to the window, she peered down onto the drive and watched.
Rob got out of the car and straightened, then looked around, his eyes narrowed, scanning for clues. First he checked out her car, then he went over to the cottage and knocked on the door before turning the handle and going in.
Damn him! she thought, fuming. How dare he just walk into her house! She crossed to the other side of the room, peeping through the roof-light to get a better view.
She could see him going from room to room, flicking lights on, prowling. She imagined him fingering the things left by the owners, things he’d never seen before. She’d hardly been here long enough to put her stamp on anything except the bedroom and bathroom. Everywhere else was just as she’d found it, because she’d brought practically nothing with her yesterday except the contents of her office, a few clothes and the dog.
She’d wanted to get away from her old life, have a fresh start, and now he was all over it, touching it, imprinting himself on it so it would no longer be hers alone, the safe haven she’d wanted it to be.
Safe haven? What was she thinking about? He was hardly dangerous! She made it sound like he was a serial killer instead of her husband of five years. She must be going crazy. But even so, she felt somehow violated.
No. That was too strong. Invaded, then.
She watched him moving around, doing his tour of inspection. It didn’t take long. There were only the two rooms downstairs, one at each end, and the stairs running from side to side with the bathroom behind them. Above were two bedrooms, hers and the store, and a big cupboard full of all sorts.
Surely to goodness he couldn’t be much longer, she thought, the adrenaline surging through her body and making her heart race.
He wasn’t. He emerged from the front door, shrugging down inside his coat collar against the bitter wind, and she moved back a little from the window, her heart pounding with suspense. Maybe he’d think he’d come to the wrong house and would go away.
Or not.
He looked up at the window, his eyes seeming to fix on her face, and even from this distance she could see their piercing cobalt blue. She shrank back into the shadows, getting a better grip on the wiggling dog.
He could hear his master coming, hear the crunch of footsteps on the stones and the squeak of the handle as the door opened at the bottom of the stairs. A blast of icy air invaded their cosy little hideaway and Midas whimpered and squirmed in her hands.
The stairs creaked under a firm, steady tread, and Rob’s head appeared over the top step, his eyes assessing.
‘Hello, Laurie,’ he said, and the dog, displaying a singular lack of judgement, hurled himself out of her arms and hit him in mid chest.
He staggered back, righted himself against the wall and ruffled the dog’s fur affectionately while Laurie tried to quell the thundering of her heart and compose herself to deal with him without hysterics.
‘Hello, mutt,’ he said, pushing the dog down out of the way and climbing the last few stairs. He looked around, his eyes like twin blue lasers scanning the sophisticated computer equipment, the notes pinned up on the wall, the collection of mugs by the keyboard.
‘Nice little place you’ve got here,’ he said blandly, but it didn’t fool her for a second. She wondered what the chances were of her hustling him out before it was too late.
Huh. It was already too late. She sat down in front of the computer, blocking his view of her desk, or trying to.
‘What
