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These questions are tough to think about, especially this early in the morning, so to distract myself, I get up, pour myself an orange juice, and collect a pot of raspberry yogurt.

Once I’m back at the table, a man comes over and places down a rack of toast then fills my cup with coffee. I do a double take. This isn’t the owner, nor is it the well-groomed brother I met last night—Lewis, I think his name was. This is yet another brother. A bit leaner and taller than the other two, he shares the same broad shoulders and chestnut hair. Oh, and he’s handsome, of course. This family has strong genes.

Wait, three brothers . . .

Something tugs at my mind, an elusive thought that, when I turn my attention to it, dances just out of reach. I try to catch it, but the young man speaks, chasing the thought away.

“Well, why are you staying here for a month, then?” He stuffs his free hand into his pocket.

Someone ought to teach these men some professionalism.

“I’d rather not talk about that, thank you very much.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough. The people of this town are nosy, though. Don’t be surprised if you get asked that a lot during your stay.”

My stomach twists in a knot. I came here to get away from everything, not to answer questions about my recent past.

“Are you for any hot food?”

“I’ll take the vegetarian breakfast, please.”

“And how would you like your eggs?”

“Poached.”

“Lewis will be pleased. They’re his speciality.”

“Ah, Lewis. The . . . middle brother?”

“That’s right. He’s the breakfast chef here.”

I think of the brother I caught wrestling last night, who flashed a big grin at me after I broke up the fight. Clean-shaven face. Carefully styled hair. Bright, laughing eyes. He was incredibly good-looking, and yet there’s something about the rugged, less groomed appearance of the eldest brother . . .

Ugh, no, what am I thinking? I am not interested in men right now.

Glancing at this brother’s name badge, I see he’s called Jamie. I’ve not caught the eldest’s name yet. He wears a badge too, but each time I’ve met him, he’s so infuriated me I haven’t had the presence of mind to check it. I’m about to ask Jamie what he’s called, but he’s already heading to the kitchen with my order. As for the man in question, he’s no longer anywhere to be seen.

I butter my toast and spread on marmalade then snack on it as I wait for my hot food. The bread is tasty—I bet it’s baked locally. The yogurt is yummy too, and the coffee hits the spot.

Sipping the rich, full-bodied brew, I glance around the restaurant. It’s in good condition, less tired than the rest of the hotel. Over-tartaned, possibly, but maybe that’s to be expected up here.

A memory comes to me. As well as the restaurant, this hotel has a bar, although it’s a tiny room with space for no more than a handful of people. I . . . dreamt about that room last night. That’s the thought that was tugging at my mind earlier. Three brothers . . .

Jamie comes over with my breakfast, so I snap back to the present. He serves me a plate that looks and smells delicious. Two vegetarian sausages, two perfect poached eggs, a potato scone, mushrooms, grilled tomato, beans, and even some vegetarian haggis.

I only ordered the hot food to keep Grace happy, given she warned me I need to eat well. On seeing the food, though, I feel genuinely hungry for the first time in days. I can’t wait to tuck in, but something is troubling me.

“You don’t . . . have a sister, do you?”

Jamie, who was already walking away, turns back, his expression puzzled.

“Aye, Cat. She’s the youngest. She’s at uni in Glasgow, but as you’re staying with us for a month, you may get to meet her. Why do you ask?”

“Oh . . . no reason.”

Frowning, Jamie shrugs then leaves, passing Lewis, who’s peering at me from the kitchen door, in his chef’s apron, watching and waiting to gauge my reaction. I smile his way, which elicits a big grin from him, then he disappears into the kitchen.

I raise my knife and fork to get started, but there’s a tightness in my chest. There were four children in my dream, which was a memory of my last stay here. And this is a family of four siblings. Does that mean the sweet little boy I remember and the grumpy Scotsman who manages this hotel are one and the same?