The Haunting of Willows Cottage (The Strathbairn Trilogy Book 3)

A Past Unearthed. A Ghost Awakened.

Ingrid and her daughter Susan return to the Western Highlands, seeking a fresh start in a lochside cottage. But while their new home is being renovated, they’re drawn back into the shadows of Strathbairn—a place filled with unfinished business and unsettling memories.

As ghosts of both past and present stir—old betrayals, secret agendas, and a violent haunting—Ingrid is forced to confront the darkness buried in the foundations of Strathbairn and Willows Cottage alike. With two men vying for her hand and a restless spirit refusing to let go, Ingrid must uncover what was taken, what must be returned, and what she truly wants.

A gothic mystery steeped in Highland atmosphere and dark family secrets, The Haunting of Willows Cottage is a gripping conclusion to an unforgettable trilogy.

Step inside Willows Cottage and discover what won’t stay buried.

Excerpt from the book

As the carriage crosses the little stone bridge over the burn, impulse has me take Susan’s hand in mine. Despite the long journey, she is wide awake by my side. When the imposing grey-stone edifice of Strathbairn comes into view up ahead, she bobs in her seat, points, and says, ‘We’re here.’

I wish I shared her enthusiasm. Recalling the last two times we were at Strathbairn, I have every right to be frightened. Only, it isn’t trepidation I feel, and neither is it any kind of joy. Instead, a curious blend of anticipation and hope swirls inside me. As though to underscore these feelings, as we pass by the bog, the summer sun pours warm light into the valley.

The carriage pulls up in the drive. For a moment, I behold the astonishing beauty of the surroundings: the mountains that enclose the valley with their green slopes rising sharply to meet the crags, the Scots pines dotted all around, the bog itself a brilliant green carpet of moss save for the patches of dark watery stillness, the cuts of peat beyond, the burn — the lifeblood that enabled the birth of Strathbairn — remaining hidden behind the house.

Gertrude appears as Susan, as pretty as a picture in pink, steps down from the carriage. I follow, smoothing down my dress as I prepare to greet my former employer.

Gertrude is dressed demurely in navy blue, her shirt buttoned to the neck like mine. She has trumped me with the voluminous fabric on the upper portion of her sleeves, but otherwise, we are a pigeon pair. I notice her fiery red hair is shorter and held fast in a flat bun at the crown of her head.

Susan suddenly rushes forward, and I think for a moment she is about to wrap around Gertrude her outstretched arms. Then I notice Ethel standing in the doorway of the porch.

‘Grannie!’

‘You’re home!’

They embrace before linking arms and heading inside, leaving Gertrude and me a little nonplussed.

‘How was the journey?’ she says to me as we follow them. ‘Not too arduous, I hope.’

I am about to answer when I step into the hall, behold the transformation that has gone on in my absence, and let out a gasp of astonishment instead. The gloom is no more. Instead of dark wood panelling covering the walls, there are stretches of elaborate floral wallpaper and other sections painted pastel blue. Pretty curtains frame the windows to either side of the entrance door.

The modern feminisation of Strathbairn continues in the drawing room, where the walls are now wallpapered in a decorative gold design. The gold is continued in the ornate frieze and sconces. Even the curtains have been replaced, and above the fireplace, where once hung that awful portrait of Gertrude’s grandfather, Dougal McCleod, now hangs a floral landscape. Seeing both my amazement and my delight, Gertrude smiles.

‘There is no time like the present to get things done. I’ll show you the rest of the house later, but for now, let us have some tea.’