Authors: Emily Harvale
Highland Fling
HIGHLAND FLING
EMILY HARVALE
Copyright © 2012 Emily Harvale.
All rights reserved.
The right of Emily Harvale to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, copied or stored in or introduced into, any information storage and/or retrieval system, in any form or by any means now known or hereinafter invented, without the prior written permission of the publisher and author. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are the work of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
First Published by Crescent Gate Publishing 2012,
Hastings, UK.
Emily Harvale 2012
Cover design by missnyss
This book is dedicated to Margaret and James Millgate, with all my love
Contents:
Title page and copyright
Acknowledgements
Coming soon
Author contacts :
http://www.twitter.com/emilyharvale
http://www.facebook.com/emilyharvale
http://www.facebook.com/emilyharvalewriter
http://www.emilyharvale.com/blog
Acknowledgements:
Thanks to my wonderful friends for their support and friendship, particularly Julie Bateman, James Campbell and Sherry Thomas.
To Karina of missnyss for the gorgeous cover of Highland Fling. –
www.missnyss.com
Special thanks to David of DC Creation, not just for building me such a fabulous website but also for designing my newsletter and all the other clever things he does; for always being at the end of a phone or email when technology gets the better of me and particularly for never getting annoyed when I say ‘What’s this button for?’ for the thousandth time. –
www.dccreation.com
Thanks also to Heather at Aviemore Library for answering my rather foolish questions.
Thanks to my twitter followers and friends, facebook friends and fans of my facebook author page. It’s great to chat with you.
And to you, whoever you are and wherever you may be, for buying this book – Thank You.
Best Wishes,
Chapter One
‘It’s too early Max.’ Lizzie Marshall tucked a long strand of wavy, brunette hair behind one ear and tried to keep calm.
‘Please honey.’
‘But it doesn’t give me enough time –’
‘Sweetheart,’ Max turned on the charm, ‘they’ll pay handsomely and it is only four days. They’ll be no trouble, I promise.’
Max had promised things before and Lizzie felt an urge to remind him how they’d turned out, but this wasn’t the time. Having yet another argument over the phone with him, wasn’t on her list of “things I must do today”.
‘You don’t understand Max. March is only three weeks away and there’s a lot to do. The roof needs repairing and –’
‘That’s why I thought you’d be pleased. You said money was tight and as you won’t take any from me, I figured I could help you in this small way. The place they’d booked has had a fire or something, so they’re pretty desperate, and cost is no object. I’d be really grateful. One of them works with me and ... I sort of said I was sure you’d do it. You will, won’t you sweetheart?’
‘That’s just typical of you Max! You’ve got to stop assuming that you can just snap your fingers and I’ll do your bidding. Those days are gone.’
‘Darling,’ he purred, ‘don’t be like that. You know how much I love you. I thought we’d settled all this over Christmas ... and you seemed very happy to do my bidding then, as I recall. God just thinking about those two weeks gets me horny. Hey. It’s Valentine’s next week, why don’t I whisk you away to Venice? We can stay at the Danielli, just like on our honeymoon. Remember? Then we can talk properly about getting you moved back in here. It would be great to wake up with you beside me again every morning instead of just a few snatched moments every few weeks ... Lizzie? Are you still there Lizzie?’
Lizzie had opened her mouth to interrupt him several times but with each word he spoke she was more astonished and now, she as struggling for what to say.
She could picture him, leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the desk, his long, lithe sun-tanned body dressed in pristine Armani; looking like he’d just stepped out of an advert for the gold Rolex he wore. He would be gazing out of the window of his executive corner office at Brockleman Brothers Bank, confident he was closing another deal.
‘I’m still here,’ she said, trying to control the anger bubbling up inside her, ‘and it’s where I’m staying.’
‘But Lizzie –’
‘No! I thought I’d made it clear that Christmas and New Year were ...,’ were what? Yet again, she’d fallen into his arms, temporarily forgetting the pain he’d caused her and for twelve blissful days, they’d been like they used to be – until she’d seen the email and realised, it was from
that woman
, ‘... were based on a lie.’
For a moment, Max didn’t respond and, struggling to keep her emotions in check, Lizzie stuck the phone under her chin, yanked open the oven door, took out a tray of meringues and banged it down on top of the Aga.
‘Darling.’ His voice was as enticing as a chocolate soufflé. ‘It wasn’t a lie. It’s over. I swear. It was over that night you ... saw us together. I’m not interested in her and anyway, I told you, she’s been going out with some guy for the past two years and is engaged to be married.’
‘So? You
are
married and that didn’t stop you! And you did lie. You said you’d sacked her.’
‘I said she no longer worked for me and that’s the truth. She works for Martin in legal.’
‘She sent you that email about a meeting.’
‘A client meeting. I’ve explained all this. Legal were involved and she was emailing a reminder to everyone. Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you, it was a mistake; she was a mistake ... and I’ve been paying for it ever since.’
‘You’ve been paying for it! Max of all the .... Oh forget it. I’ll do the bloody stag party. But not as a favour to you – just because I need the money. And get one thing straight, Max. I am never going to sleep with you again and this time, I mean it. It’s over!’
Lizzie slammed the phone down, furious at Max for assuming he could twist her around his little finger; furious at herself for letting him, once again. Unable to calm down, she called Alastair, her Labrador, who’d been curled up in his basket beside the Aga and stormed out of the house. In a blind rage, she drove the three miles to her friend Jane’s, to tell her about Max’s call – and the early booking.
Jane Munroe’s refurbished croft had been left to her by a maiden aunt. She had originally intended to use it as a holiday home, staying there for a few weeks and renting it out for the rest of the time. It held many happy childhood memories, so selling the place was not an option as far as she was concerned.
It didn’t take long though, for her to realise that the croft and Kirkedenbright Falls was where she wanted to be on a permanent basis, so she sold her flat in London, gave in her notice at work and headed for Scotland.
Earning a living wasn’t an issue; as an illustrator, she could work from home and when Lizzie bought Laurellei Farm and started running it as a bed and breakfast, Jane also became Lizzie’s part time employee. She helped out with anything and everything during the tourist season.
‘So what are you panicking for?’ Jane was totally unfazed when Lizzie told her about Max’s call. ‘We can get the place ready in time.’ She switched on the kettle and leant against the worktop to wait for it to boil.
‘I suppose so. It’s just Max. Why do I always let him do this to me?’ Lizzie slumped on to a chair at the kitchen table.
‘You don’t really want me to answer that do you?’
‘No. I don’t want to go over all that again, thanks very much, but frankly, the thought of six guys on a stag do doesn’t fill me with joy.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ Jane made the coffee and handed a mug to Lizzie then sat on a chair across the table from her. ‘It’s just like the booking you had last August bank holiday and that went okay.’
Lizzie’s light blue eyes opened wide in astonishment. ‘That went okay! If you call a broken leg, a sprained back, three black eyes and a broken jaw okay, not to mention the damage they did to the hen house and the pig pen, then you’re madder than I am.’ She shook her brunette waves and sipped her coffee.
Jane giggled at the memory. ‘Oh come on Lizzie. It was funny you must admit. They had a great time and they paid for the damage – rather well if I remember correctly. It wasn’t your fault they got drunk on the local brew and ended up trying to ride Peter and Penelope.’
‘No. If I remember correctly – it was yours. And why they were trying to ride the pigs I’ll never understand. The farm is for rest and relaxation, to experience life on a small holding, to get away from the stresses of city life –’
‘Oh God. Spare me the sales pitch. I helped write it. You can’t lay down the law about how people spend their time. You provide bed, breakfast and access to miles of open country and outdoor pursuits, but you can’t stop people doing their own thing and with city guys that’s getting drunk, chasing chickens and riding pigs. That’s it. It goes with the territory. You know that, you were married to one for four years.’
‘I still
am
married to one,’ Lizzie reminded her. ‘Got any biscuits? I need chocolate.’
Jane strolled over to the dresser and grabbed the biscuit barrel. She pulled off the lid and offered the barrel to Lizzie. ‘Well, the good thing is, knowing what they’re like means you can charge them more.’
Lizzie took two homemade chocolate chip cookies and dunked one in her coffee. ‘Yeah, I know. It’s just ... I’ve got a really bad feeling about this booking and I just know there’s going to be some sort of major disaster. I just know it.’ She bit into the soggy biscuit.
‘Beware the Ides of March!’ Jane cackled, taking two biscuits for herself and sitting back down. ‘Look Lizzie, you’re a thirty-two year old business woman. Portents of doom and all that crap have no place in your life. Now, drink your coffee and I’ll come back with you and get started on the spring cleaning, oh, and we’d better make sure there’s plenty of food for Peter and Penelope; we need to fatten them up in case the guys try to ride them.’
Lizzie groaned. The first week of March was when she’d usually start to get the house ready for the tourist season which ran from Easter until September, so taking this booking meant bringing forward her maintenance and spring cleaning schedule and three weeks was not a lot of time to do that, even with Jane’s help. ‘D’you really think we can be ready in time?’
‘It’ll be a push but of course we can.’ Jane finished her coffee and glanced towards the kitchen window. It had started raining. ‘They say we may have snow in March.’
Lizzie dropped her head into her hands, ‘Oh God. That’s all we need. Why can’t I ever just say no to Max?’