Chapter 29 #2
‘It was that bad,’ Hunter replies bluntly.
‘Loans, gambling, you name it. He’s had quite the life, has Dougie; I have to hand it to him.
But he’s not stupid. Reckless, yes, but still – he knew he was going to have to find some way to pay it all off by that point, so I guess that’s why he got his lawyer to track me down.
It wasn’t so much that he wanted to leave me the castle; it was more that he knew he’d be leaving me everything that went with it, and he wanted to at least give me the chance to fix it. ’
‘So, whose idea was the Chrysalis?’ I ask, still trying to make sense of all of this. ‘Yours?’
‘Dougie’s,’ he says, surprisingly. ‘Well, he didn’t come up with the idea of it being a wellness retreat, obviously.
He wanted it to be a hunting lodge. I managed to talk him out of that idea, but I couldn’t persuade him to sell up.
He only grudgingly agreed to let me turn it into a hotel, and that was bad enough for him.
It’s his family home, Rosie. He’s lived here his entire life.
He couldn’t stand the thought of losing it. ’
‘Which he will anyway if you sell it to WanderNest,’ I exclaim, any sympathy I was starting to feel for him evaporating as I realise the truth of this. ‘Poor Dougie! I mean Douglas. Lord Glenmuir.’
‘No,’ says Hunter, leaning forward intently.
‘No, that’s just it; Dante got it wrong.
I was never planning to sell the place. WanderNest would have a stake in it, that’s all.
A large one, sure, but Dougie would still be the owner.
Hannah and I would still get to stay here, which .
. . well, you know how much I want that.
I fell in love with the place, Rosie. I wasn’t expecting to, but I did.
It gets under your skin – you must feel that too? In fact, I know you do.’
His golden eyes bore into mine, and I focus my gaze on a rack of dusty wine bottles behind him, avoiding the question.
He’s right, of course. I’ve only been here a few days, but I can feel the magic of the place, the same way he does. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to leave either. I don’t want to leave. But . . .
‘In the maze, earlier,’ I say, in a small voice that sounds like it’s being dragged out of me.
‘I told you I was sure Dante was the Laird’s nephew, and you didn’t say anything.
You let me believe it. You let me make a complete fool of myself, accusing him like that. And in front of all those people.’
The cellar suddenly goes blurry, my eyes filling with tears of both shame and sadness. Hunter makes a move as if he’s about to reach for me, but I step sharply back, and he lets his arm fall uselessly to his side instead.
‘I was going to tell you, Rosie,’ he says hoarsely. ‘I promise. But you were so upset; so scared. I wanted to calm you down first, but . . . well, then we got a bit distracted, didn’t we?’
He tries a smile, but I can’t bring myself to return it. I just keep thinking of the way I stood there in the lobby, like some kind of budget Nancy Drew, accusing Dante of being someone else.
I wish I could be someone else right now. Someone who has even the foggiest idea what to do about all of this.
‘In fairness, I didn’t think for a second you were going to accuse him like that,’ Hunter points out.
‘And I was about to tell you in the maze, but then Sabrina turned up. After that, there was always someone around, so I didn’t get the chance.
But I was going to tell you, Rosie. You have to believe me. ’
He holds up his hands in a gesture of helplessness, and we both fall silent.
‘I honestly don’t know what to believe, Hunter,’ I tell him at last. ‘I know you didn’t owe me an explanation of who you really were .
. . we barely even know each other, like you said.
But it still hurts that you didn’t tell me.
And it’s going to hurt everyone if you end up selling the hotel to WanderNest. That would .
. . well, it would really, really suck.’
‘Would it, though?’ he says, his eyes bright in the dim light of the cellar. ‘Would it really be worse than having to sell up altogether? Probably to some property developer who’d turn it into executive apartments? Trust me, I know what I’m talking about here. ‘
Something tugs gently at my memory.
‘A property developer,’ I say slowly. ‘That’s what Ian said the Laird’s nephew is – what you are.’
‘That’s what I was.’ He nods. ‘And that’s how I know what’ll happen if the castle ends up being sold outright. This partnership idea seems like the lesser of the two evils.’
He watches me carefully, waiting for my reaction.
He doesn’t look any different from the Hunter who kissed me at the funfair just a few hours ago; which makes it almost impossible for me to believe that this Hunter is not the rugged, tree-chopping, outdoor man I thought he was, but actually a cut-throat property developer.
No. I definitely didn’t know him at all, did I?
Everything that’s happened between us has been based on a lie; or, if not a lie, exactly, then at least an omission of truth. He’s no better than Bex, really, pretending to be younger than she is, or anyone else who lets people think they’re something they’re not.
No wonder he didn’t make a big fuss about me pretending to be Rosie Summers when I first arrived here. How could he, when he was pretending to be someone else, too?
And he’s been pretending the entire time.
My shoulders sag in defeat as I lean back against the cellar wall.
‘Could you say something, please?’ Hunter says, his voice raw. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking?’
I consider this carefully. What I’m actually thinking is that there’s no chance of a future between us; and there never really was. Even if Hunter had been honest with me from the start, he’d still live hundreds of miles away, and there’s just no way around that.
Plus, he said it himself: I’ve only known him for a few days. It’s nothing, really. It was silly of me to think it could be something more; just as silly as it was for me to think I could come to the Chrysalis as myself and emerge as someone else.
Nothing’s going to change.
‘What I’m thinking is that we barely know each other, Hunter,’ I say softly. ‘We’re from completely different worlds; and in a couple of days, I’ll be going back to mine. So I think it’s probably best that we just end this – whatever this is – between us now, don’t you? It’ll be easier that way.’
A flash of emotion crosses his face, too quickly for me to be able to identify it. Then he nods, just once, not looking at me.
‘Can we at least still be friends?’ he says, his voice cracking on the last word. ‘I know you don’t want it to be any more than that, and I get that – I do. But . . . well, I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a friend around about now.’
I pause, one foot on the first step.
Friendship isn’t what I want from him; and I’m not sure it’s what he really wants, either. But we don’t always get the things we want in life – isn’t that what he told me?
And isn’t it the truth?
‘I’m not sure,’ I say honestly. ‘I don’t know if I can trust you anymore . . . even as a friend.’
Then, before he can say anything else, I open the door and walk away.