Through the Glen

Book 3: The Highlands Series

by Samantha Young

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

He’s a cynical, world-weary Londoner. She’s a shy Scot. They might seem like opposites, but a few weeks in the Highlands will bring them together in ways they can’t imagine…

Theo Cavendish is the second son of a British viscount, and he’s spent years running from the aristocratic world he grew up in. Betrayal and loss taught him lessons he’s not quick to forget. As an award-winning screenwriter and creator, Theo prefers to throw himself into the world of film and television. He moves from one project to another, never really letting anyone truly know him.

As a housekeeper at the exclusive Ardnoch Estate, shy Sarah McCulloch feels invisible most days. No one really knows her, and they definitely don’t know she’s a bestselling crime writer. She dreams of seeing her series on screen and believes only one person can develop it for television. On the day she quits the estate for good, she shares her secret with club member, Theo, and asks him to consider her books.

Sarah never expected him to say yes or to show up on her doorstep ready to write with her. Or that weeks spent locked up in her cottage would lead them to form an intense but undeniable connection. A bond that Theo is not sure he’s ready to accept, even though he can’t bear to be without her.

However, when they finally venture out of their bubble, Theo finds he’ll have to battle more than his own demons to protect Sarah from hurt. For he has another fan, one intent on bringing the darkest elements of his most famous script to life. And unless he can figure out this real-life antagonist’s next move, Theo could be in danger of losing Sarah forever.

 

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Release date: February 1, 2024

Print pages: 317

Sample

THEO

 

 

The last thing I expected to happen when I arrived at Haven’s View Cottage was for its owner to open the door and faint in my arms. I lunged for Sarah as her eyes fluttered closed and her knees buckled. Holding her off the ground, I deducted, using my sharp observational skills, that Sarah was ill. She was drenched in sweat, her skin feverish, and she was currently unconscious. Bending down, I slid an arm under her knees and lifted her. Carrying her into the bungalow, I noted how light she was as I searched the house for the bedroom. Although average height, she looked and felt tiny and fragile.

There were two bedrooms, but the one with the rumpled curtains and half-empty glass of water on the nightstand told me this was Sarah’s. I laid her down on the bed, my heart racing a little that she hadn’t woken up yet. Noting her thin nightdress had pulled down at her chest, almost revealing her nipple, I tugged on the strap, restoring her modesty. The last thing she bloody needed was a strange man ogling her. She shivered in her unconsciousness, so I pulled her duvet over her.

“Sarah?” I murmured, brushing her sweat-soaked hair off her face. “Sarah, are you conscious, little mouse?”

She whimpered in her sleep, and I bit out a curse. It had been years since I played nursemaid but needs must. Tugging my phone out of my back pocket, I did a quick search for doctors in the area. Surprised to discover the small village had a health center, I called them.

“Gairloch Health Center, Jan speaking,” a woman answered.

“Ah, yes, good morning. I’ve just arrived at my … my friend’s home here in Gairloch to find her stricken with something flulike. She just passed out and I can’t rouse her.”

“Is she a patient with us?”

“I have no idea. She’s not long moved here, I think.”

“What’s her name and date of birth and I’ll check for you?”

Impatience rose as the little mouse’s eyes suddenly opened. They were glazed with fever. They fluttered closed again on a moan. She was in a bad way. “Sarah McCulloch. I … I’m afraid I don’t know her date of birth.”

“Address?”

“Haven’s View Cottage.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. McCulloch just registered with us.”

Thank God. “Do you do house calls?”

“Let me put you on hold while I speak to a doctor.”

Reaching out, I pressed the back of my fingers to Sarah’s forehead and she pushed into my touch as if seeking the cool. Staying on the phone, I marched across the hall to the bathroom we’d passed and found a facecloth. After running ice-cold water over it, I squeezed it out and took it back to Sarah, where I carefully laid it over her forehead.

She seemed to sigh in her sleep. Tracing my fingers over her flushed cheeks, I murmured, “Poor little mouse.”

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes?”

“Has Sarah woken up yet?”

“She opened her eyes, but she wasn’t cognizant of her surroundings and she’s passed out again.”

“Okay. Dr. Garroway will pay a house call. He’ll be there within the next half hour.”

Relief filled me. “Excellent, thank you.”

Hanging up, I stood over the patient, uncertain what to do next.

“No,” Sarah moaned and then mumbled something I couldn’t make out. Her tone was distressed.

I leaned over the bed, pressing my palms into the pillow on either side of her head. “Little mouse, you’re okay,” I murmured in her ear.

“No, don’t. Please don’t.”

“Sarah, wherever you are, it’s not real. I’m here. You’re fine.”

Her eyes flew open, still glazed with illness, but recognition lit them. “Mr. Cavendish?” she croaked.

I smirked wryly. “I think you can safely call me Theo, little mouse.”

“D-don’t … don’t call … me … that.” Her eyes fluttered closed again, and I would have been amused if I wasn’t low-level alarmed by how bloody ill she was.

Thankfully, I only had to wait nervously by her bedside for another lengthy ten minutes before there was a knock at the door.

A tall, elderly gentleman with very long limbs stood on the other side. “I’m Dr. Garroway,” he told me in a clipped accent almost as posh as mine.

“Dr. Garroway, I’m Theo. Come in. Sarah is this way.” I closed the door behind him and gestured for him to follow.

“And you say you just discovered the patient?” he asked behind me.

“I arrived less than half an hour ago. She opened the door to me and fainted in my arms.”

I stepped aside as soon as we entered Sarah’s bedroom, and Dr. Garroway marched past to the bed.

“You have no idea how long she’s been like this?” he asked as he bent over and gently lifted her lids to check her eyes with his penlight. She groaned and tried to bat his hand away.

“I assume she was well enough three days ago. According to her very talkative neighbor, that’s when she arrived.” I’d need to have a word with Sarah about the old woman next door. She didn’t know me from Adam, but she’d practically told me Sarah’s entire itinerary since her arrival three days ago.

The doctor flicked me a look, a frown between his brows, but he didn’t say anything before turning back to Sarah. He checked her heart rate and then her temperature.

“Hmm.” He straightened and looked at me. “Her temperature is at 39° C. A little higher and I would suggest hospitalization, but for now, just keep an eye on her. Do you have a thermometer to monitor her fever?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll leave this one with you, then.” He placed it on the bedside. “If her fever spikes past 39.4°, call either the practice again or call NHS 24.”

“Is it the flu?”

“Yes, I believe so.” The doctor sighed. “I’m afraid there’s been a rather bad outbreak in the area. A few of the elderly have been hospitalized. Sarah has been hit pretty badly by it, but she’s young, and according to her records, she has no history of respiratory problems, so I’m optimistic she’ll be able to fight it off. You’ll need to make sure she’s drinking plenty of fluids, even if that means rousing her. Try to get her to eat, even if it’s just a bit of toast.”

He pulled a pad out of the folder he carried, along with a pen, and began scribbling. “There’s a pharmacy just up the road.” He pointed in the general direction of the village. “Here’s a prescription for paracetamol.” The doctor handed it to me, and it finally hit that I was going to have to play nursemaid to this stranger. “Sports drinks with electrolytes in them will help too. I can’t reiterate how important fluids will be in the speed of her recovery.”

“Fluids.” I nodded, looking down at the prescription. “Will she be okay while I nip out for these?”

“It’s just up the road,” Dr. Garroway repeated. “And remember, call if her fever spikes.”

Bloody hell. I looked at her small form and flushed face. How on earth had I become responsible for this human being?

 

***

 

Any slight indignation at the predicament I’d landed myself in I shoved away and got down to the business of making sure Sarah McCulloch didn’t end up in hospital. I pondered whether I should call her family, but then I remembered her grandfather recently died. There was a cousin, but I couldn’t remember his name. Her phone needed charged, so after I collected the paracetamol and some groceries, I returned to charge it. Unfortunately, she had a passcode, so I couldn’t get in to look at her contacts to call someone who would be a more appropriate care provider.

Instead, I made myself familiar with the small kitchen and filled one glass with water and another with a sports drink filled with electrolytes. I then climbed onto the bed beside Sarah and eased her light weight up against me.

“Wake up, little mouse.”

She groaned. “No.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Come on. I need you to take paracetamol and some fluids.”

Another groan as she nuzzled her hot cheek against my throat. Something like tenderness made my chest ache a bit. I ignored it. “I will shake you awake, little mouse, for your own good.”

“Go away,” she mumbled even as she burrowed closer.

“You asked for it.” I shook her and her eyes flew open.

For a moment, I felt caught in her surprising jade-green gaze. Her brow furrowed. “Mr. Cavendish?”

“Yes, as we’ve already established, I am, in fact, Mr. Cavendish. Now”—I reached for the two paracetamol on my lap—“open up and take these.”

“Why … w-why are you here?”

“That’s a discussion for another day. Take the pills.”

“W-what are they?”

“Paracetamol. The doctor said you need to take two every four hours to help bring your temperature down.”

“Doctor. Is … is that who stuck that thing in my mouth?”

I stifled my laughter. “That thing was a thermometer. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let strange men stick things in your mouth for no reason. Now, take the tablets.”

“You’re filthy,” she muttered weakly, making me grin. Then she parted her lips and took the paracetamol.

“Water. Head back.” I pressed the glass to her lips and helped her swallow some down. She winced and tried to pull away after a second. “No, darling, you’re going to drink the whole lot.”

It seemed to take a huge effort, but thankfully, she drank it. Then just as quickly, she fell asleep against me. I lay there in the bed, watching her flushed chest rise and fall in calm breaths, my arm going numb. My belly grumbled. I needed to eat and so did she.

Somehow, I couldn’t quite force myself to move, however, as this was the most restful I’d seen her since my arrival.

I’d sit a little longer with her, let her rest a bit more before I shook her awake to force-feed her. I chuckled at the thought. If she hadn’t liked me before this, the little mouse was going to hate me by the time she recovered. ...