A New Hope in the Highlands (Highland Hearts: The Haddon House Duets #1)

Chapter 1

S carlett leaned against the far corner wall, sipping her negroni as she observed the mingling guests, her eyes drifting around the room as she soaked in the atmosphere.

Not bad.

She nodded to herself, feeling satisfied with the outcome of her weeks of planning.

The opulence of the venue was exactly what her mother-in-law, Tara, had requested– luxurious Georgian architecture blended seamlessly with just the right touch of modern, bold glitz.

The presence of a resident French Michelin-star chef was an added triumph, with polite servers gliding through the crowd, offering beautifully presented platters of gourmet delights.

Scarlett noted people’s eyes widening as they sampled the truffle arancini, mini lobster tacos, and stuffed Peppadew peppers, and smiled.

Her gaze travelled across to the far side of the room, where a pretentious jazz band played on a small stage, exuding the haughty air she knew the guests enjoyed. For a birthday party, it wasn’t a bad effort at all.

“Happy birthday, Scarlett!” A small balding man approached her, and pulling her towards him, his hands settling on the small of her back, a millimetre away from being inappropriate, he kissed her on both cheeks. “What a delightful evening.”

Scarlett smiled politely, struggling to remember the man’s name.

“Thank you very much,” she said, trying to take a step back, but he filled the gap to speak closer to her ear.

“And the food! Mon Dieu!” His eyes scanned their immediate vicinity, and he lowered his voice even further. “Better than sex!”

He began laughing loudly and nudged Scarlett, who smiled again and proceeded to drain her glass in one gulp, quickly raising it to show it was empty. “So glad you’re enjoying it. Time for a refill.”

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much now, dear.” He winked at her, and spotting someone across the room, he moved away. “Gerald! My God, it’s been an age!”

“Grand party, Mrs Shrewsbury!” Another random person touched Scarlett’s shoulder and kissed her. Smiling and nodding her thanks, she continued to move through the room, searching for Jason.

“Happy birthday, dear,” an older woman greeted her.

“Thanks. Lovely to see you.”

Then another.

“Great that you could make it.”

And another.

“Thank you, much appreciated.”

By the time she reached the bar, she felt exhausted. The girl serving smiled at her.

“Same again?” she asked.

“Please,” Scarlett responded, handing over her empty glass whilst still scanning the room for Jason.

It wasn’t that Scarlett didn’t appreciate the compliments or well wishes, but large social events had always pushed her out of her comfort zone– especially if it placed her at the centre of attention.

Organising gatherings like this was second nature to her; she regularly handled Jason’s book launches and the openings of the family’s hotels– over the years it had literally become her full-time job. But when it came to her own party, she preferred something quieter, more intimate.

Despite her pleas to Jason for a more low-key celebration– perhaps a weekend in the Lakes or even an escape abroad, just the two of them– she had still ended up planning this monster event, most of it by herself.

Jason’s schedule was packed, and her thirty-fifth birthday had conveniently aligned with the completion of his most recent novel– the grand finale to his six-book series, with film rights now in negotiation.

It was an exciting time for him, and she understood his desire to celebrate, so when he suggested a party, Scarlett had reluctantly agreed, even though everyone knew she hated them– but, as Jason told her, it had the bonus of being a great PR opportunity.

Tara, of course, wasted no time in vocalising her expectations of the event either.

As Scarlett glanced towards the entrance, she finally spotted Jason tucked in the corner near the coatroom, deep in conversation with their young lodger, Angelica– the daughter of one of Jason’s old school friends.

At first, nothing seemed unusual. Jason had always made an effort to ensure Angelica felt at home, helping her avoid the pangs of homesickness.

Her parents had moved to France the previous year while she was still in her second year studying Modern Languages at the university in Bath.

Scarlett had suggested she stay with them until she graduated, and Jason had agreed with little fuss. Angelica was a sweet girl, after all.

Scarlett was about to turn her attention elsewhere when something in their body language shifted and caught her eye. Something felt off .

That’s when she saw it– Jason placed a hand on Angelica’s abdomen, and in turn, she gripped his belt.

He leaned in closer, his expression serious, mirroring Angelica’s intense gaze.

They continued speaking in hushed, loaded tones– words Scarlett couldn’t hear but didn’t need to.

The silent exchange between them said it all.

They’re fucking.

*

Scarlett wasn’t sure if it was the negronis she’d downed the night before or the shock of what had apparently unfolded right under her own roof, but when she woke the following morning, it took her a long moment to piece together what had happened.

She knew she was alone in their bed and her head was pounding, her mouth bone-dry.

She felt sick. Forcing her eyes open, she squinted against the autumnal sun that blasted through the window like an assault.

Groaning, she draped an arm over her face and slowly fragments of the previous night came back to her– coming home in a haze, angrily packing a bag.

She peeked out from under her arm, hoping it had all been a terrible dream, but the small case sitting by the window confirmed it was all very real. The nausea surged again as she sat up.

Holy mother of shit.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the clothes she had tossed aside the day before, when she’d been rushing around to shower and dress for the party.

Tugging on the crumpled t-shirt and jeans, she was at least relieved to find she’d had the presence of mind to charge her phone.

She tapped the screen, bringing it to life. One word flashed back at her: June .

Scarlett blinked in confusion.

Then it all hit her.

After flying into a rage and humiliating herself in front of all their guests, she’d stormed out, flagged down a taxi, come home, packed a bag, and sent a message to her mother, June– the woman who had disappeared almost fourteen years ago, leaving nothing but a nonsensical note, and who she had barely spoken to in over six years.

Not since Maggie’s funeral, when her mother had insisted Scarlett take her number, just in case .

Apparently, just in case just happened.

Scarlett scanned through the messages, impressed by the weirdly formal but well-written texts she had sent to her mother– especially given her alcohol-fuelled rage at the point she’d written them.

Scarlett: Hi Mum. It’s Scarlett. Thanks for the birthday card and flower seeds.

Very thoughtful. So, to cut to the chase.

Turns out Jason has been shagging our lodger who is very young.

Very pretty. Also very pregnant with his baby.

I can’t stay here. I have nowhere to go.

Can I stay with you until I sort myself out. Please. Thanks, Scarlett.

June: Oh, Scarlett. I am so sorry! And on your birthday?! Are you ok? Of course you’re not ok. Sorry. You do remember I am in Scotland?

Scarlett: Yes. That’s perfect.

June: Do you maybe want to think on it?

Scarlett: Not really, no. Unless you don’t want me to come?

June: I didn’t say that. It’s just all very sudden.

Scarlett: Are you saying I should stay?

June: No. I’ve told you before, you’re always welcome here with me.

Scarlett: Yeah, you said.

June: Do you still have the address? Are you driving?

Scarlett: Yes. To both.

June: Ok. I’ll speak to the laird, but I’m sure he won’t mind– I have a spare room. When are you coming?

Scarlett: I’ll leave in the morning. Probably stop over somewhere… I’ll let you know.

June: Ok, text me when you’re on your way.

Scarlett:

Scarlett: Are there any jobs going? I’d like to stay busy.

June: Not sure, I can ask him when I speak to him about you staying… There won’t be anything very glamorous. Maybe some cleaning? Gardening? Appreciate that’s not really your thing. Don’t worry about that for now though. We’ll figure it all out.

Scarlett: Great, thanks.

June: Are you sure about this?

Scarlett: Yes.

June: ok.

What a shit show.

Leaving her case by the front door, Scarlett had no desire to see or speak to Jason, but she needed to grab her handbag from the sunroom, and she could hear him rustling around in the kitchen.

“Scarlett—”

“Save it!” Scarlett walked past him to look for her handbag. “Have you seen my bag?”

“We need to talk about this.” Jason was following her around the room like a retriever as she moved cushions around, carelessly discarding them on the floor in her search.

The quick movements made her feel dizzy to the point she needed to sit down for a minute, and feeling something uncomfortable underneath her, she realised she was sitting on it.

Jason took this to mean she was open to talking and sat across from her whilst Scarlett fidgeted around, removing the bag from under her. She was feeling increasingly crappy and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

“It just happened, Scarlett,” he said, taking hold of her hand. She noticed how hot and clammy his skin felt. She didn’t like it.

Jason continued, “If I could go back and change it, I would, in an instant.”

Scarlett couldn’t move, let alone speak. Her chest felt tight and heavy, as if her heart was sinking deep into her stomach with the weight of his words. Even breathing felt like a monumental effort. And she felt sick.

I may actually just die here .

The idea seemed more appealing each time he spoke.