Shooting Stars Over the Highlands (Highlands #4)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

APRIL 2023

‘I got the job!’ Esme Cassidy said to her mum as she ended the call with Lady Olivia MacBain of Drumblair Castle. A little rumble of excitement made her stomach flutter. She had loved the castle, which sat on the picturesque shores of Loch Ness on the outskirts of Inverness, since her childhood when she saw the Laird and his elegant Lady interviewed on Highlands TV. They had given a tour of their home with its many rooms, lofty ceilings and ancestral portraits and at the tender age of ten Esme had dreamed that one day she would be a famous actress and would buy the castle with her millions earned from blockbuster movies. She could see herself floating down the sweeping staircase in a ballgown on her way to an awards ceremony that would, of course, be held in her honour. It was a dream that had stuck with her right up until her late teens but that she now knew had been crazy, since her parents had convinced her acting was ‘a nice wee hobby to do at weekends, amateur dramatics or panto and such,’ and that ‘hardly anyone really makes it, you know. For all the Kate Winslets in the world there are thousands of Dolly Daydreams that fall by the wayside.’

Now, even as a twenty-three-year-old adult, she was still sad that she had turned down her chance to attend the Conservatoire in Glasgow to study acting and stagecraft in favour of pursuing ‘a proper career in something like travel and tourism’. Deep down she knew her parents were right about choosing such a shoot-for-the-stars career, but someone had to make it. Why couldn’t it have been her? She had watched her talented friends from drama club head off to pursue their dreams and she had been the dutiful daughter; taking a course she knew she could ace, but that would give her no goosebumps or auditions. And certainly, no chance of starring opposite her teen heartthrob Zachary Marchand.

‘That’s great news, love,’ her mum, Sally, said with a warm smile, dragging her from her reverie. Esme had inherited her mum’s long dark wavy hair and green eyes as well as her love of music and film. Looking at her mum was like looking at a future version of herself. ‘I knew you’d get it though,’ Sally continued. ‘She’d be mad not to employ you with your qualifications. You’re overqualified to be a PA, if you ask me. But if it’s what you want to do…’ She gave one of those sympathetic tilts of the head as she placed a mug of coffee in front of Esme on the kitchen table. ‘It’s good to know you’re taking steps to get on with your life. And now maybe you can make that fresh start you’ve been hoping for since you got back from Australia in February, it’s been so hard to see you moping around for the last couple of months.’

Esme tried to ignore the twinge of pain that shot through her chest and instead focused on the trail of steam swirling up into the air and disappearing. ‘It’s much more than just a PA job, though, Mum. There’s a lot more to it,’ she replied, feeling a little defensive. After graduating with a first-class degree in travel and tourism, she had taken a year out to travel – much to the panic of her doting parents – and had returned broken hearted from a trip around Thailand, Australia and New Zealand, thanks to a man called Rhys who was thirteen years her senior.

Her mum pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. ‘I know you’re still missing Rhys, love, but it’s all going to work out for the best. You’ll see. He just wasn’t the one . And the age gap…’

Esme jerked up her head and said through gritted teeth, ‘Can we, for once, not talk about Rhys, please?’ She was aware she had snapped and immediately felt guilty.

Her mum smiled and nodded but there was a clear crumple of hurt to her brow. ‘Of course, love. Sorry.’

Esme closed her eyes briefly. ‘No, Mum, I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid to miss him after what he did but…’

Her mum reached out and took her hand. ‘I do understand, you know. He seemed so genuine. And at first he seemed to care for you. When we flew out to visit, Dad and I were both impressed by how he treated you. Although I must admit the age gap worried me, but if he had carried on treating you properly it wouldn’t have been insurmountable.’

Esme smiled and squeezed her mum’s hand. ‘I know. And like you say, this is an opportunity to start over. Make new friends, use my degree. It’s good. It’s definitely good.’

Why did she sound like she was trying to convince herself?

‘Has he been in touch at all?’ her mum asked, her efforts to sound nonchalant failing miserably as her voice was strained and a little too high pitched.

Esme shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘Good… good.’ Esme didn’t miss the silent sigh of relief that her mum expelled. ‘So, when do you start the new job?’

A knot of anxiety took hold of Esme’s insides, and she gasped. ‘Monday. Oh, my word, Mum… I’m not sure I’m ready.’ She felt the colour drain from her face.

‘Of course you are. You’ll smash it, love. It’s the perfect job for you, working for Lady Olivia.’ Pride was evident in her eyes. ‘I remember when you were wee.’ She giggled. ‘You were obsessed with Drumblair Castle. Whenever we drove past the big iron gates you’d tell us how you’d live there someday. You were so determined and wouldn’t hear of it when we told you it would never be up for sale.’ She laughed lightly.

Esme could picture such occasions as she sat in the back of her dad’s truck, gazing longingly out of the window. ‘I did love the place.’

‘And like you said to Lady Olivia, now you get to work there. It may not be the same as living there but it’s the next best thing.’

The front door opened and closed again. ‘Hey, honeys, I’m home!’ a sing-song male voice bellowed in an Irish accent as Colm Cassidy made his way along the hallway of the semi-detached house.

‘Hey, Colm! Your daughter has news,’ her mum replied, not even attempting to hide her excitement.

‘Oh, aye? So do I!’ the tall, dark-haired man said as he entered the kitchen, a wriggling bundle of smooth beige fur tucked under his arm. ‘And, erm… I think I might have to go first.’ He placed his lunch bag and flask on the table with his free hand, and handed the snuffling bundle to Esme with the other.

She gasped and her eyes welled. ‘Who’s this?’ Immediately the little chunky pug began licking her face to catch the escaped salt water while yipping excitedly. Esme laughed through her tears and peered up at her dad, a tad confused, but oh so happy about the occurrence. ‘But Dad, I don’t?—?’

Colm scratched the back of his neck and cringed. ‘I just know how sad you’ve been since you got back home, and I thought you might like a wee friend. She’s only two years old, bless her. A guy at work was getting rid of the wee thing for his son who’s moved away for work, so I thought…’

‘She’s so gorgeous. I can’t believe she’s mine!’ Esme said as she cuddled the pudgy animal, and her broken heart warmed a little.

Sally stared open mouthed for a few moments until she finally found her words again. ‘Hang on a second, Colm, we didn’t want a dog. Why can’t the guy at work keep her?’

Colm’s brow furrowed. ‘He’s allergic. Been in a terrible state while he’s had her but wanted her to go to a good home.’

Sally shook her head. ‘But this has never been mentioned, Colm, Esme hasn’t even asked for a dog, so I don’t…?’

‘To be fair, Mum, I may not have mentioned it recently but I was always asking for one when I was little, and you always said we couldn’t take care of one properly due to work or whatever,’ Esme said as she gazed into the sad dark eyes of the animal. ‘And she’s just perfect.’

‘That’s not a word I would’ve used,’ Sally mumbled with a curled-up lip.

Ignoring his wife’s derogatory comment, Colm’s eyes lit up. ‘So, you’ll keep her then?’

‘Absolutely!’ Esme said without hesitation, nuzzling the dog’s warm fur. ‘What’s her name?’

Colm chuckled and shook his head. ‘That’s the only unfortunate thing. The former owner named her Betty.’

Esme cuddled the dog to her chest. ‘That’s not unfortunate, Dad. It’s like the Taylor Swift song that I absolutely love!’

Sally scoffed. ‘It’s hardly a dog’s name, is it? We have a neighbour called Betty, for goodness’ sake. How will we explain that?’

Esme continued to nuzzle the dog’s fur. ‘It’s a lovely name. You’re lovely, aren’t you, Betty?’ she said in a soft voice that the dog seemed to like, and it licked her chin again as if agreeing. A smile had planted itself on Esme’s face and she couldn’t take her eyes off her new little friend. It was safe to say it was love at first sight.

‘Anyway, pet, you’ve got news?’ Colm asked as he reached out to scratch the dog behind her ears.

In all the excitement Esme had almost forgotten about the recent phone call. ‘Oh, yes! I got the job at Drumblair Castle. I’ll be PA to Lady Olivia MacBain… or whatever her name will be after her wedding this weekend. MacLeod, I think.’

‘Grand! That’s grand. I’m so proud of you, darlin’. After all those years of dreaming about living there too, eh?’

‘I just said the same.’ Esme’s mum beamed.

‘And now you’ll be able to put that arse of a man behind you and move on with your life.’

‘Colm, love,’ her mum said, shaking her head, her eyes wide.

Colm scrunched his brow. ‘She knows I’m right about him, Sal.’

Sally nodded her head sideways at Esme. ‘Just leave it, eh, love?’

Esme remained silent. She knew her parents detested Rhys for what he had done to her. And she knew she shouldn’t still love him. And she didn’t… not completely as she had once done. But she had been deeply in love, and you couldn’t just switch that off, unfortunately.

Colm huffed. ‘Aye, well, I’m off to get a shower. I need to get the reek of malt off my skin.’ Colm worked at the whisky distillery on the outskirts of Inverness and, more often than not, his clothes too were a dead giveaway for his employ as the pungent, earthy aromas clung to the fibres. He tramped up the stairs, heavy footed with apparent exhaustion, leaving Esme, her mother and Betty, the newest member of the Cassidy family, in the kitchen.

‘We’ll have to go out to the pub to celebrate your new job. Maybe the Drumblair Arms. Anyway, I’d better go and finish this edit that I’m working on. The publisher needs it by the end of tomorrow.’ Sally kissed the top of Esme’s head. ‘And stop worrying. You’ll be fine, you’ll see. I hope you’re house trained,’ she added with a pat to the dog’s head. Esme knew she’d warm to Betty soon enough.

Sally Cassidy was a born worrier but always tried to put on the appearance of optimism. She had worked as a freelance editor for a large publishing company since Esme had been a toddler, meaning she had always been around to look after her daughter. This had created a strong bond between them, but it was sometimes stifling these days as Esme tried more and more to step out on her own. The year away travelling hadn’t been a popular suggestion with her parents once she had finished university, but they had relented when she had agreed to check in with them regularly. Now that she was home, she missed the freedoms she had once experienced. Of course, she knew how fortunate she was to have such loving and devoted parents but being an only child had meant their focus had been entirely on her and her alone since she was born. She was beginning to think her independence would be a good thing for them too. Once she had settled into her new role she intended to find her own place.

In the silence of the empty kitchen, she thought back to the moment she first laid eyes on Rhys Carlson…

‘Let go! Please let go!’ Esme screamed in a combination of anger and distress at the opportunist thief who gripped tight to the handles of her shoulder bag as he tugged and yanked, trying to free it from her grip. His masked face left only glaring brown eyes that appeared almost black in the Thai sunshine. She had just stepped off the plane at Suvarnabhumi airport to begin her solo travelling adventure and this was not the best start.

A tall, blond-haired man who Esme guessed to be in his early thirties came charging over and punched the assailant square in the face, knocking him and his getaway bicycle over.

‘You heard the lady! Now bugger off and get a bloody job, you arsehole!’ The cyclist let go of the handbag, picked up his bike and pedalled away at speed, chuntering words that Esme couldn’t understand.

Initially Esme was relieved but then annoyed. She tugged the straps back into position on her body and huffed. ‘I was fine, you know.’

The handsome Australian smiled and his blue eyes glinted. ‘Yeah? You looked pretty terrified to me.’

Raising her chin, she yelled, ‘I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to protect her!’ The scripted words were delivered with the utmost conviction.

The man feigned seriousness and held up his hands. ‘Well, in that case I apologise and promise not to intervene next time you’re being mugged.’ The humour in the crinkle of his eyes wasn’t lost on her. ‘Seriously, though, are you okay? Can I take you for a brandy or something?’

Knowing she should probably be grateful to the stranger, she softened a little. ‘I’m fine… really. Thanks, though.’

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. ‘Look, there’s a bar over the road and I’ve never tackled a mugger before.’ His eyes widened. ‘Shit, he could’ve been armed.’ He shivered as the reality of the situation apparently dawned on him. ‘Bleurgh! I think a stiff drink is definitely called for, don’t you?’

Against her better judgement and with her parents’ voices screaming in her head – ‘Don’t accept drinks from strangers! Don’t talk to men you don’t know! Don’t go anywhere with anyone you have just met!’ – she smiled. ‘Okay, just one drink and I’m buying my own.’

He shrugged. ‘Fair enough. You could buy mine as a thank you.’ She rolled her eyes as he beamed a hundred-kilowatt smile at her.

The place was busy but not oppressively so. They took two stools at the bar and Esme ordered their drinks.

‘I should introduce myself seeing as I just saved your life,’ the man teased. ‘I’m Rhys, I’m thirty-five, divorced, from Sydney in Aus, and to put your mind at ease I’m not a creep, I’m here taking a sabbatical from my job as a sound technician on movies. You?’

Oh yeah, I’m Esme, I’m twenty-two and a supermodel on a break from my job as the muse for Giorgio Armani , she scoffed inwardly. ‘I’m Esme, from Inverness,’ she stated bluntly.

Rhys smirked and nodded. ‘Okay, I suppose what I just said did sound a little farfetched,’ he said as if reading her mind. ‘But it’s all true, I can assure you. I can even prove it and tell you some of the features I’ve worked on.’

‘I didn’t say a word,’ she replied.

He gave her a knowing glance. ‘You didn’t have to. The disbelief is written all over your beautiful face.’ She had never been called beautiful before. Well, not by someone who wasn’t her dad, anyway. Apparently accepting he was going to get no further personal details from her, he asked, ‘So, what brings you to Thailand? You can share that at least, eh?’

Choosing her words carefully, she paused. ‘I’m… taking a gap year. Just finished uni.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh, wow. You really are a youngster.’

She scrunched her face. ‘A youngster ?’

‘Yeah. I mean, you do look young, but I was kind of hoping you were one of those lucky people who doesn’t age like the rest of us.’

She tilted her head, thinking how presumptuous he was. ‘And why is that?’

He gave a shy smile that didn’t really correlate with his hitherto seen personality. ‘Because I was going to ask you if you fancied getting dinner with me while you’re here. But you’re probably not interested in an old bloke like me.’

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. ‘You’re thirty-five, not sixty-five.’

His eyes lit up. ‘So, you’d consider it then?’

She cringed, realising she had dropped herself slap bang in the middle of an offer she would struggle to refuse. She felt heat rising in her cheeks as her parents’ voices sprang up once again. ‘Oh… I don’t know… I’ve only just arrived and…’

He nodded and held up his hand. ‘Say no more. I understand.’

She fell silent, strangely a little disappointed that he hadn’t pushed the issue. He was rather gorgeous. And his accent was quite sexy. But he was a complete stranger, albeit one who had rescued her from a mugger. But no, she was here to experience Thailand and then would move on to Australia and New Zealand. It was a trip paid for with inheritance from her beloved grandma and she didn’t come here to find love; certainly not with a thirty-five-year-old divorcee from the other side of the world.

They parted ways after their drink and didn’t exchange any information. Esme located her hotel, checked in and sent a message to her parents to let them know she had arrived; of course, leaving out the startling details of the events since her arrival on foreign soil. Nothing would’ve have brought her dad out to Thailand faster than hearing the words, ‘I was almost mugged and have been for a drink with a man thirteen years my senior who wanted to take me for dinner.’

The following morning, Esme stood in the hotel lobby, waiting for her taxi that would take her to her first lodging house, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

‘Well, well. If it isn’t Esme from Inverness.’

Esme turned and looked up into the crystal-clear blue eyes and chiselled face of Rhys and smiled.

And the rest… as they say… is history.