LITMIR.BIZ

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      It was a bright, breezy day. Billowing clouds bustled past the sun and sent great patches of light and shade sweeping across the hills. Far below them, the loch shone silver and Lotty remembered her first sight of it. Now it all felt so familiar.

      It felt like home.

      Lotty wanted to stand and drink in the view while Corran and Dick talked business but Kath Rowland kept chatting in her ear. She was determined to remember who Lotty reminded her of, and worked her way through a number of actresses, none of whom she remotely resembled, before deciding that it must after all be one of the mothers at her daughter’s school. To Lotty’s dismay, Kath appeared to be almost as avid a reader of gossip magazines as Betty McPherson. Why couldn’t she be languid and sophisticated like most of the financiers’ wives she’d met?

      It was a relief when they went back to the house and she could escape to the kitchen to make tea. She had made the scone mix earlier so she just added milk and put them in the range while she boiled the kettle and set the tray. Wondering how Corran was getting on in the drawing room, she nearly forgot about the scones and had to whisk them out of the oven.

      They were perfect.

      She broke one open just to check. It was golden on the outside, light as air in the middle. Lotty could hardly believe it.

      She carried the tray through to the drawing room, and her eyes met Corran’s as she set it down on the low table between the sofas. She saw him register the immaculate scones and they exchanged a private smile.

      ‘I’ve got it!’ Kath’s exclamation made Lotty jump. ‘I’ve been racking my brain to remember who you remind me of, and it’s just hit me. You’re the spitting image of Princess Charlotte of Montluce!’

      Lotty went cold and then hot. ‘Oh, do you think so?’ she said as casually as she could. ‘Doesn’t she have dark hair?’

      ‘That’s true,’ said Kath, frowning in an effort of memory. ‘She has that wonderful signature bob. Still, the resemblance is remarkable. You even have the same name. Lotty’s short for Charlotte, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes, it’s quite a coincidence.’ Lotty’s hand shook slightly as she poured the tea. She could feel Corran’s eyes on her face but she didn’t dare look at him.

      Kath was still talking. ‘I feel so sorry for that poor girl,’ she confided. ‘They say that family is cursed. First her father died, then her uncle and his son, and wasn’t there another son who was disinherited? He’s in prison for murder.’

      It was for a drugs offence, but Lotty wasn’t about to correct her. Smiling brightly, she picked up the plate and passed it to Kath. ‘Would you like a scone?’

      ‘Ooh, these look gorgeous!’ Kath took one, but Lotty’s hopes that she might be diverted were soon dashed. Kath had more to say about Princess Charlotte.

      ‘Then she was engaged to Prince Philippe and he dumped her for somebody nobody had ever heard of. Poor thing, it must have been so humiliating for her!’

      Desperately, Lotty offered scones to Dick and Corran, head ducked as if she could make herself invisible somehow.

      ‘They say Charlotte is broken-hearted,’ Kath went on inexorably. ‘She just dropped out of sight.’

      ‘Really?’ said Corran. His voice was empty of all expression, but when Lotty risked a fleeting glance at him she saw that he was watching her steadily and unsmilingly.

      He knew. She could see it in his eyes, which were the clear, cold blue of icebergs. Lotty thought about the warmth she had seen there before the Rowlands arrived and she wanted to weep. You look perfect, he had said.

      ‘Nobody’s seen her for ages,’ Kath was rambling on. ‘Well, she couldn’t hang around and watch her fiancé flaunting another woman, could she? I don’t blame her for lying low.’

      She had to say something. ‘I don’t think they were actually engaged, were they?’ she managed through stiff lips.

      ‘Oh, yes, they were,’ said Kath with all the authority of a regular Glitz reader. ‘She absolutely adored Philippe. It’s not surprising. He’s absolutely gorgeous, although they say he’s a real playboy.’

      They didn’t know anything, Lotty wanted to shout at her, but she had to sit there and listen to Kath speculating about Philippe and Caro, and pitying poor Princess Charlotte who was so beautiful and good and so astronomically wealthy but so unlucky in love.

      ‘It just goes to show nobody can have everything, doesn’t it?’ she said.

      It was a nightmare. Kath went on and on about Montluce and Lotty couldn’t think of a single way to stop her. Her perfect scones tasted like ashes in her mouth.

      After that one glance, she couldn’t bear to look at Corran again. He wasn’t saying anything, but she could feel the cold fury radiating from him as clearly as if he had touched her. They were sitting rigidly side by side on the sofa facing the Rowlands, and the air between them was jangling with such tension that Lotty couldn’t believe that Kath hadn’t noticed.

      ‘She’s probably getting legless on some yacht somewhere,’ Dick Rowland interrupted his wife at last. ‘Corran, have you thought about a fish farm?’

      So then they had to have a long discussion about the merits of salmon versus trout. Lotty crumbled her perfect scone on her plate and couldn’t decide whether she longed for them to go, or dreaded it because then she would have to face Corran.

      It felt as if she sat there for hours before Dick finally slapped his hands on his thighs and announced that they would have to get on the road. He hauled himself to his feet, followed reluctantly by his wife.

      ‘I think you’ve got something here,’ he said to Corran. ‘Send me those figures, and we’ll talk when I get back from Skye.’

      Outside, he thanked Lotty for the tea. ‘Those were the best scones I’ve ever tasted,’ he told her and then turned to shake hands with Corran. ‘You’re a lucky man, Corran, to have found yourself such a good cook!’

      Dick was clearly waiting for Corran to put his arm around Lotty and smile and agree that he was a lucky man, but Corran couldn’t bring himself to touch her. To touch the missing Princess of Montluce. Because of course that was who she was. He’d seen her expression. Only a fool wouldn’t have guessed the truth long ago.

      A fool like him.

      Somehow Corran summoned a brief smile and managed to unlock his jaw enough to thank Dick for coming.

      Face set, he stood next to Lotty—no, next to Princess Charlotte—on the doorstep and waved the Rowlands off. In silence they waited until the car had negotiated the bend in the track.

      ‘Well, I think that went well, don’t you, Your Highness?’ he said at last.

      Lotty flinched at the unpleasant emphasis on the title, but she didn’t deny it. ‘I think it did, yes,’ she said and turned to go back inside.

      Her coolness enraged Corran so much that he grabbed at her arm before he remembered just who she was and snatched his hand back as if he’d been stung. ‘You’ve been lying to me!’

      ‘How?’ Her face was pale, but her chin was up. How could he ever have mistaken her for anything but a princess? ‘How have I lied, Corran?’ she demanded. ‘I told you that I lost my purse. That wasn’t a lie. I told you I needed a job. That wasn’t a lie. I told you that I wanted to get away for a while but that I couldn’t stay for ever. That wasn’t a lie either. I haven’t lied about anything important.’

      ‘What about omitting the tiny little bit of information about you being a princess?’ he said furiously.

      ‘Would it have made a difference?’

      Corran was thrown by her cool challenge. ‘A difference to what?’

      ‘To

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