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“Why do we need to sneak away without your big brother knowing?” I’m in no rush to see Ally again after embarrassing myself last night, but Lewis’s suggestion strikes me as suspicious.

“Because we’re not going to tell Ally where we’re going.” Lewis gives me a conspiratorial wink. “He wouldn’t like it.”

* * *

I gaze out the car window in amazement at the grand, castle-like building Lewis is driving us up to. A short distance from Bannock, it’s located in extensive grounds that include a gorgeous garden and a full eighteen-hole golf course. A sign by the side of the long, narrow drive welcomes us to the glen garve resort.

“Wow! This place is amazing. Why wouldn’t Ally like us coming here?”

Lewis chuckles. “Well, he knows I come, but he’d rather I didn’t. And he definitely wouldn’t be happy if he found out I was driving guests here and directing business to the resort. See, since childhood, he’s had this . . . well, rivalry with a guy called Robbie MacDonald.”

An image comes to me of an attractive tattooed man in a leather jacket with dark hair and cold blue eyes.

“Yesterday, in the Pheasant, a man came to my table while Ally was in the toilet. I’m sure his name was Robbie MacDonald.” I briefly describe him.

“That’s him, all right,” Lewis confirms. “I bet Ally wasn’t pleased about Robbie swooping in to speak with you the moment his back was turned.”

“He really wasn’t. Anyway, what’s Robbie got to do with this place?”

Lewis enters the car park and pulls into a space. “The general manager of the Glen Garve Resort is Craig MacDonald, Robbie’s dad. He doesn’t own it—it’s part of the MacPhail Hotel Group—but he runs it. Anyway, the Bannock Hotel and this place are the only two hotels in the area, and that caused a bit of competitiveness between Robbie and Ally when they were growing up.”

“They argued because their parents both ran hotels?” I get out of the car and take in the huge building before me. “Was it a size thing? It always comes down to size with boys, doesn’t it?”

I mean it as a joke, but Lewis’s single “Ha!” is forced.

“There’s more to it than that. To be fair, Robbie was always getting into trouble as a lad, so he made a lot of enemies, but there was a special hatred between him and Ally. Then, a few years back . . . actually, I shouldn’t get into it. We’ve come here to relax, so let’s relax!”

I nod, deciding not to press the point. Instead, I admire the Glen Garve Resort. It really is something.

The hotel’s main entrance is particularly ornate, and a concierge in tartan trousers and a smart jacket stands by the door, waiting to help guests. I’ve visited many hotels in my career as a wedding planner, and my instinct is to march straight in and explore the facilities on offer. If the inside matches the outside in terms of grandeur, then this is a very special place.

Lewis, though, leads us away from the main entrance and onto a path. A signpost indicates this is the way to the spa and leisure club. We soon reach it, and once inside the spacious reception, Lewis chats with a man behind the desk. I’m very lucky: thanks to a cancellation, they have an appointment available in an hour and a half.

On Lewis’s instruction, I took my swimming stuff with me, and I’d have been happy to just make use of the leisure club’s pool, sauna, and steam room. If I can get a treatment too, though, then that’s perfect.

I’m handed a brochure of options to peruse and, oh my God, this place sounds like heaven. They offer five types of facial—including “Purifying Facial” and “Skin Radiance Facial”—and a bunch of different massages: hot stone, aromatherapy, Swedish, Balinese, deep muscle . . .

I read through all the descriptions before deciding on a Balinese massage. As we’ve got time to kill, Lewis suggests we go for a swim first, then he can hit the gym while I’m getting my treatment.

We split up to head into the changing rooms, then a short while later, I emerge into the pool area. I spot Lewis doing lengths, but I decide to start with the bubble pool. I sink down into the warm, frothing water and let out a sigh of contentment.

Soon, Lewis wanders over, dripping and grinning as he pushes back his wet hair. Like his older brother, he has an amazing body, although his has more of a gym-sculpted look to it, including a clear six-pack. I’ve not seen Ally’s abs, so I don’t know whether he sports a six-pack, but I did feel them last night, and they were solid.

Lewis joins me in the bubble pool, and for a while we just enjoy the water, saying nothing.

It’s Lewis who eventually breaks the silence. “Would it be all right if I ask you something?”

I arch an eyebrow. “That depends. Not if it’s another question about what happened between me and Ally last night.”

He laughs. “No, it’s not. It’s about the hotel—our hotel, not this one. I was wondering . . . what do you think of it? And don’t hold back: I want to hear your honest answer.”

I grimace. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Maybe we should just enjoy the bubbles?”

“I promise I won’t take offence. You can speak freely.”

“All right. Well, in that case . . .” I let rip, describing my disappointing first impressions, from the faded tartan carpets at reception to the mattress problems in my first room. I also savagely criticise my current room, with its old-fashioned wallpaper and swirly carpet, but I make a point of praising the breakfast.

Lewis, to his credit, isn’t upset by anything I say. Instead, he listens intently and nods.