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to rely on her royal status to protect her, but didn’t have to like his dismissive tone. ‘I think you’ll find there’s such a thing as sex discrimination.’

      ‘And I think you’ll find I don’t give a toss,’ said Corran. ‘I need someone strong enough to do physical work, not someone whose most strenuous activity is probably unscrewing her mascara.’

      Lotty’s eyes sparked with temper. All at once she could feel her celebrated ancestors ranging at her back.

      ‘I’m not wearing mascara,’ she said coldly, ‘and I’m stronger than I look.’

      For answer, Corran McKenna reached out and took her hands, turning them over as if they were parcels so that he could inspect them. His fingers were long and blunt, and they looked huge holding her small hands. He ran his thumbs over her palms and Lotty burned at the casualness of his touch.

      ‘Please don’t try and tell me that you’ve ever done a day’s rough work in your life,’ he said.

      ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t start now.’ Lotty tugged her hands free. ‘Please,’ she said, trying to ignore the way her palms were still tingling. If she looked down, she was sure she would be able to see the impression of his fingertips seared onto her skin. ‘I really need this job.’

      ‘I really need someone suitable,’ said Corran. ‘I’m sorry, but the answer is still no. And don’t bother looking at me like that with those big eyes,’ he added crisply. ‘I’m immune.’

      Her jaw actually dropped. ‘I’m not looking at you like…like anything!’

      She did astounded very well, but Corran found it hard to believe that she could really be unaware of the power of those luminous grey eyes. They were extraordinarily beautiful, the colour of soft summer mist, and fringed with long black lashes that did indeed appear to be natural when he looked closely.

      The kind of eyes that got a man into trouble. Big trouble.

      She was very pretty, slender and fine-boned, and she wore her trekking gear with an elegance that sat oddly with the short, garish red hair. A soft scarf at her throat added a subtle sophistication to her look.

      Corran had the best of reasons for distrusting sophistication.

      Frowning, he looked behind her for a car, but the overgrown gravel drive was empty. ‘How did you get here?’

      ‘I walked from the hotel,’ she said, eyeing him warily.

      ‘It didn’t occur to you to ring beforehand?’ he asked, exasperated. ‘It would have saved you a pointless walk.’

      ‘My phone doesn’t work here,’ she said.

      ‘If it’s a mobile, it won’t. That’s why we still have landlines,’ he explained as if to a child.

      ‘Oh.’

      She sounded disconcerted. Corran could almost swear she had never used an ordinary telephone in her life. Maybe she hadn’t. Privilege was written in every line of her face, in the tilt of her chin, and cheekbones like that only came from generations of aristocratic inbreeding.

      He hardened his heart against the pleading in those huge grey eyes. Desperate? She was probably down to her last hundred thousand.

      ‘Oh, well…I like to walk,’ she said, recovering.

      ‘You look ready to drop,’ Corran told her frankly. ‘How far have you walked today?’

      ‘Sixteen miles.’

      Great. Sixteen miles, and he was supposed to let her walk back to the hotel? Corran sighed in exasperation as he faced up to the inevitable. ‘What’s your name?’

      ‘Lotty,’ she said. A moment of hesitation. ‘Lotty Mount.’

      Now why didn’t he believe her? ‘All right, Lotty, you wait there. I’ll get my keys.’

      Her face lit up. ‘You’re going to let me stay?’

      ‘No,’ said Corran, ignoring the disturbing kick of his pulse. ‘I’m going to drive you back to the Mhoraigh Hotel.’

      She looked at him in dismay as she waved at the midges. ‘I don’t want to go back there!’

      ‘Frankly, I don’t care what you want,’ he said, irritated that he had actually started to feel guilty there for a moment, irritated even more by the fact that his pulse still hadn’t quite settled. ‘I want you off my property. There’s no way you can walk back to the hotel and my reputation’s bad enough round here without you collapsing halfway.’

      ‘I’m not going to collapse,’ she protested. ‘And I’ve no intention of getting in a car with you,’ she added as an afterthought.

      ‘It’s a bit late to start having scruples, having walked all the way out here,’ Corran pointed out. ‘There’s just me and the dogs.’

      ‘Well, anyway, I’d rather walk back,’ Lotty said stiffly. ‘It’s a nice evening.’

      Corran glanced up at the sky. As so often in Scotland, the day had started murky, but cleared in the afternoon, and now, at almost seven, only a few wispy clouds lurked low on the horizon. At this time of year it wouldn’t get dark for hours yet. The hills were a soft blue, the water still and silver, the air almost golden. Lotty was right. It was a fine evening.

      But there was not a breath of air to riffle the surface of the loch, which meant no breeze to blow the curse of the Highlands away.

      ‘The midges will eat you alive,’ he said, watching her slap at her neck below her ear. ‘If they haven’t already.’

      ‘I’ll be fine.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’d rather walk,’ she added and bent to heave the rucksack onto her back. Corran saw her wince at the weight of it on her shoulders, and he scowled.

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous, woman,’ he said irritably. ‘You can’t walk all the way back if you’ve already done sixteen miles today.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘Stay there. I’m going to get my car keys.’

      He was gone less than two minutes, but by the time he came back Lotty was already toiling up the track.

      ‘Fine!’ he shouted after her. ‘Be stubborn! Just don’t collapse on my land!’

      ‘I won’t,’ she called over her shoulder.

      Frustrated, Corran stood at the door and watched the slight figure. Her head was held high, but he could tell what an effort it was, and he swore again.

      What was she thinking, hiking three miles to a strange house just on the off chance of a job? It wasn’t safe. He could be anybody.

      Corran glowered. He had enough problems of his own without worrying about Lotty, if that really was her name, but he watched her with a frown in his eyes until she had rounded the bend. He would give her half an hour or so and then go and see how far she had got. She would have proved her point by then, and would no doubt be more than grateful for a lift.

      But when he drove along the track later, there was no sign of her. He went all the way to Mhoraigh, although he didn’t go inside the hotel. The locals had made it quite clear what they thought of him, and if she had made it that far, she was perfectly safe.

      The girl wasn’t his responsibility, anyway. Putting the Land Rover into a three point turn, Corran headed back to Loch Mhoraigh House and told himself he wasn’t going to think any more about her.

      Still, he slept badly, and he was in an irritable mood when he set off for the cottages the next morning. The dogs ran eagerly ahead, past the old stable block and the walled garden, past the ruined boathouse and the track leading up to the barns and out beside the loch to the dilapidated cottages that had been built by his great-great-grandfather for the estate workers in the days when Loch Mhoraigh had been a thriving estate.

      It had

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