The Heir of the Castle (Harlequin Romance) (9 page)

Bartholomew Grant would surely want to stake his claim on his girlfriend?

His hand was around her waist, supporting her as she leaned back a little. Across the table Auntie Mary burst into a round of applause.

Her lips were soft and pliable, but, oh, so inviting. He meant just to brush the slightest touch, but his lips caught the taste of wine from her and his gentle brush became instantly more intense. He felt her hands place on his chest. For an instant he wondered if she was going to push him away, but she didn’t. Instead her hands rested lightly—just as they had done earlier that day on the steps.

Her scent wound its way around him, rich, sultry and exotic. It was truly intoxicating. If he didn’t stop now, he never would.

Only the briefest few seconds had passed but he was conscious of the audience around them, and conscious of the fact if she did object, she might not want to do so in front of others.

He pulled back but felt her lips still connected with his. It was as if she didn’t want the kiss to end. Had she felt the same connection he had? As their noses brushed against each other he opened his eyes. Her dark brown eyes were already open, staring straight at him.

She looked a little stunned. As if she didn’t quite believe the kiss had happened. Her hand came up automatically to her lips, which seemed even redder, even fuller than before.

Her eyes still hadn’t left his. All he could see was how chocolate-coloured they looked in this light and a definite dilation of her black pupils. His body reacted instantly—a natural response. Her hips were still pressed against his and her eyes widened, but the smile that appeared on her face was one of pure mischief.

As if on cue, one of the other guests stood up and started shouting—obviously all part of the activities. Callan stepped back, releasing his hand from around her back, and reluctantly sank back down into his seat. ‘Sorry, if I took you by surprise,’ he murmured.

She lifted her glass and took another sip of wine. There was a cheeky glint in her eyes. Laurie Jenkins wasn’t upset or offended. Quite the opposite, in fact. It made the blood race through his body. ‘Seems like it was surprises all round,’ she said softly.

Up close the green dress was perfect for her skin tone and chestnut-coloured hair. Her cheeks glowed and the red gloss on her lips shined. The beads around the neckline caught the candlelight in the room and dazzled. She looked as if she belonged on a magazine cover, or an old-fashioned portrait. But here she was sitting at his side.

He wanted to sweep the rest of the guests away. He wanted to erase the Murder Mystery Weekend completely. He wanted the chance to get to know Angus McLean’s granddaughter on his own, with no distractions.

But the long evening stretched ahead of them. He spoke solicitously to the other guests around him. He ate the steak placed in front of him. But all the while his eyes were watching her every move. Every sip of her wine. Every mouthful of delicious food.

Laurie knew it. And she was enjoying it. Seemed like teasing Callan was the order of the night.

The play-acting continued around them. Callan hadn’t paid attention to a single part of it. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. ‘Do you have any idea who the murderer is?’

She looked up through her darkened lashes. ‘Of course I do, Callan. I’ve known from day one. But it wouldn’t be fair if I told you. You have to guess for yourself.’

‘But I don’t need to guess. I don’t have anything to inherit.’ As soon as he said the words he could feel them wash over his body like an icy wave.

It kept coming back to this. One of the people at the table would inherit the place he called home.

Part of him wanted to behave like a child. Part of him wanted to scream and shout that even though DNA might say they were related to Angus, none of them had been his family.

He
was Angus’s family.

He’d been the one to make adjustments to Angus’s rooms so it was easier for him to get about. He’d been the one who’d eventually had to help him in and out of the bath and shower. He’d been the one who’d tried to persuade him to eat and drink as he’d started to fade away. He was the one that had sat by his bedside while his chest rattled night after night.

He was the one that held his hand while he died.

He was the one that shed a mountain of tears.

Not one person in this room knew a single thing about Angus. They weren’t family. No matter what the DNA said.

And it made him angry.

It made him angry to see relatives examining the antiques and trying to find their value on the Internet. It made him angry to hear them discussing market values. Had they no respect?

‘Callan? Are you okay?’

Laurie was looking at him with those big brown eyes again.

It was so easy to get distracted by her. It was so easy to forget that she might actually be the person to inherit Annick Castle.

Why couldn’t he have met her in a bar? Why couldn’t he have just met her in the street?

Anywhere but here. And any set of circumstances but these.

Callan was usually good with people. He could usually tell the charlatans at fifty paces.

And there was definitely more to Laurie than met the eye.

But could it all just be a game?

He had to remember she could inherit this place. He had to push aside the way his pulse quickened when she entered a room, and raced when she shot him one of her winning smiles.

She was a lawyer. She was on the ball. And despite how uninterested she acted, she’d probably checked out all the legal implications before she got here. Was there a chance she was playing him?

A horrible sensation crept over his skin. Who better to tell her everything she’d need to know about Annick Castle than him? There was no one. No one else.

He’d noticed her talking to Frank Dalglish yesterday when she’d arrived, but Frank wasn’t giving anything away. He was much too cautious for that.

And she’d just told him she already knew who the murderer was. At the end of the day that was all that was needed to inherit Annick Castle. He had no idea what would happen if more than one person got it right. Doubtless, Frank would have instructions for that scenario too.

He’d thought Laurie was genuinely interested in the place and the people. But maybe she was just killing time? Come Monday and the announcement of who would inherit, a totally new Laurie Jenkins might appear.

‘Callan?’ Laurie was tugging his arm now, concern written all over her face. ‘What’s wrong?’ she hissed.

Robin was finishing a long diatribe at the end of the table. It seemed everyone had been listening but him. Some people were even taking notes. Had he given away a clue as to who the murderer was—or wasn’t?

Truth was he didn’t have a clue. About anything.

‘Tomorrow night, more will be revealed as Annick Castle hosts its very own ball.’ Robin’s normally high-pitched voice was practically squeaking with excitement. ‘Formal dress will be required—all available from our costume room, of course. I look forward to seeing you all there.’

Laurie gasped and put her hand up to her mouth. He could almost see all her childhood fantasies dancing about in her head.

Callan pushed his chair out and stood up. ‘Sorry, Laurie, something’s come up. We’ll talk later.’ He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the thought of all this merriment in Annick Castle.

Not when Angus McLean wasn’t here to see it.

None of this seemed right. None of it at all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

T
HIS
WAS
,
WITHOUT
doubt, Laurie’s favourite room in the whole castle.

She leaned back in the well-worn leather chair and turned the pages of the book in front of her. It was one of the classics—
Anne of Green Gables
—and she’d never had the chance to read it before.

Her feet were tucked under her and the sun was streaming through the multi-paned windows. She took a deep breath. She loved that. The inhalation of the smell of books and wood.

The library was one of the grandest rooms in the castle. Set in the base of one of the large drum towers, the circular bookshelves ran along the inside of the room on three different levels. There was even a sliding set of stairs that allowed you to reach the books on the top level. But the real pièce de résistance was the views all around the tower. Sitting in the middle of the room Laurie could see the sea on one side and the beautiful gardens on the other. The room was every book lover’s dream.

The knock at the door startled her. She’d closed the door and turned the key in the lock in order to try and have a little privacy. Just her, the views, the books and a steaming-hot cup of lemon tea.

She shrank down into the chair. It was silly. No one could see through the door. No one could really know she was in here. Maybe if she just kept quiet they would go away?

But no. The knock was more insistent this time, sharper and louder. She cringed.

‘Laurie? Laurie, I know you’re in there. Can you open the door, please?’

She straightened in her chair. Callan.

After his abrupt departure last night she hadn’t seen him again.

She had no idea what she’d said or done to upset him. One minute they’d been almost flirting, the next second he’d disappeared. She’d made excuses as soon as she could and tiptoed up the stairs to bed. She hadn’t really been in the mood for socialising after that, her excitement about the ball all but crushed.

The knock came again. ‘Laurie? Will you let me in, please?’

She sighed. Callan. This was his home. She couldn’t really keep him locked out. He probably had a master key somewhere anyway.

She walked over and opened the door, not even waiting to speak to him but crossing back to her chair, sitting down and picking her book back up.

He was carrying a tray in his hands that he set down on one of the tables before turning and locking the door again.

The fresh smell of his aftershave drifted across the room. She was trying to make a point by ignoring him.

But ignoring a six-foot-four man who’d just locked them both in a room was kind of hard.

That and the smell of bacon rolls that was floating across the room towards her.

Her stomach betrayed her and rumbled loudly. A plate landed on her lap. ‘Can I interest you in some breakfast?’

She looked up. ‘Is this an apology?’

He hesitated. ‘It’s a peace offering.’

‘Did you bring ketchup?’

He lifted the bottle and shook it.

She held out her hand. ‘Let me think about it while I’m eating.’

He sat down in the chair next to her with his own bacon roll and a cup of tea.

He smiled. ‘I see you went for the old lock-the-door-and-keep-them-out trick.’

She was mid-chew. ‘Sometimes it feels as if there are just too many people about. I mean, I know it’s a big place—it’s a castle, for goodness’ sake. And I can always lock myself away in my room. But it’s weird—sometimes I feel I just need a little space. A little time out.’

He nodded. ‘I get it. I do. And I get agitated every time I see a measuring tape.’

She burst out laughing. ‘I know. They were doing it again last night as I was going to bed. What is the obsession with that and taking pictures with their phone?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m trying hard not to think about it. I’m sure if I go online I’ll probably see half the furniture and antiques in this castle listed for sale.’

She was horrified. ‘Callan? Do you really think that?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘What other reason is there? I take it they’re sending the pictures to someone to get things valued first.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘That’s life.’

He said the words so simply. As if he was finally trying to accept the fact that in the next few days Annick Castle would have a new owner. She couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. If people came into her home and started doing things like that—well, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.

Their eyes met and there it was again. That connection she felt every time she was around him. Her breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t want to drag her eyes away from his. What she really wanted was to get to the bottom of what was happening here.

They hadn’t discussed it. They hadn’t acknowledged it. Surely this wasn’t just in her head?

Callan looked away and she took a steadying breath, bringing herself back to reality. She had to think about normal things. Things that weren’t Callan McGregor.

Focus. She took a sip of her tea and looked around the room. That bacon roll had really hit the mark. ‘I still don’t get it. How did Angus McLean manage to have so many children that no one knew about?’ She stood up and started walking around the room.

There were a few pictures of Angus in here. One with him in his army uniform in World War II. Another with him looking a little older and standing in front of the sign for Ellis Island in New York.

Callan walked over next to her. ‘I’ve been trying to figure it out—believe me.’ He pointed to the picture of Angus in his uniform. ‘I’ve worked out that Angus was stationed in a few places throughout World War II. He was down in England for a time, then over in Canada just after the war. I think that accounts for two—or maybe even three of his children.’

‘What about this one—the New York picture?’

He nodded. ‘He was apparently sent there after the war to negotiate deals for the pharmaceutical company.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘That would be another child.’

‘Wow. The guy certainly got about.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘What about my Irish relatives, then? Did he go to Ireland?’

Callan shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. But Mary said her mother was originally from Scotland and moved over to Ireland as a young woman.’

‘A young woman with a baby on board?’

Callan shrugged. ‘It’s just as much a mystery to me as it is to you, Laurie.’

She couldn’t help it. Talking about Angus McLean just made her frustrated. ‘But how? How could he have six children and not bother with them?’

Callan slumped down into the chaise longue and put his head in his hands. She was staring out at the gardens thinking what a beautiful environment this would have been to be raised as a child. ‘I’ve got some boxes of paperwork—old things, to go through. Maybe I’ll find something there that will shed some light on all of this.’

‘Should you be doing that?’ Her lawyer head was instantly slotting into place. Callan wasn’t related to Angus.

He looked up at her. His brow was wrinkled again and the green of his eyes seemed to make her want to step closer. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. ‘That’s just it, Laurie. I might not be family, but I was named as Angus’s next of kin. So, until all this is sorted, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to sort things out. At least that’s what Frank tells me.’

‘Wow.’ She sat down next to him and automatically put her hand on his leg. It was meant to be friendly. It was meant to be reassuring—or supportive. But it was none of those things.

It was her fine fingers feeling his thick, muscular thighs. How did a guy with a desk job get thighs like that? And what did they look like when he wasn’t fully dressed?

The wayward thoughts made her blush and her instant reaction was to pull her hand away. But Callan stopped that. He put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.

She could swear that right now a thousand butterflies were fluttering over the skin on her hand. She couldn’t stop staring at him. Even though she wanted to.

She must look like some star-struck teenager, hardly appealing.

‘Didn’t you know he’d named you as his next of kin?’ Great. Her voice had turned into an unintelligible squeak.

He shook his head. ‘Maybe I should have guessed. As far as I knew, Angus didn’t really have anyone else to name as next of kin. But we’d never talked about it. I found out as he became really unwell. Frank told me.’

‘But he didn’t tell you the rest?’

Callan raised his eyebrows. ‘That he had six mystery children? Oh, no. Frank didn’t mention that.’

‘Have you asked him about it?’

‘That’s just it. I’m not entirely sure how much Frank knows. He said he’s checked back and Angus’s family have dealt with Ferguson and Dalglish solicitors for years. As far as he can see, Angus was contacted at various points in his life and made payments.’

‘What kind of payments?’

‘I guess it must have been some sort of child support. All of this happened before I was even born.’

Laurie shook her head. ‘Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?’

He lifted one hand and held it up. ‘Like who? Angus was ninety-seven. All his friends and acquaintances are long since gone.’

It made sense. Whether she liked it or not.

But here was the thing. She wasn’t really concentrating on why Angus McLean had only acknowledged his children financially. She was far too interested in the fact that their fingers were still intertwined on his thigh. Her ability to concentrate on anything else was fading fast.

Laurie pointed at one of the photos. Anything to try and keep herself distracted. ‘I have to say, I can’t really see any family resemblance between Angus and my dad. I can definitely see a resemblance with some of the other relatives. I notice lots of subtle similarities between Mary from Ireland and my dad. They’re half-siblings. It’s only natural. But it just feels really strange. It’s almost like having a little part of him back.’

Her eyes instantly filled with tears. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She didn’t want to get emotional in front of Callan.

But Callan didn’t hesitate. He stood up in front of her and pulled her up, enveloping her in his arms.

She’d never been the kind of girl to act like a shrinking violet. She’d never been the kind of girl that needed rescuing by some dashing guy.

But just that act of kindness—that feeling of someone putting their arms around her—made her breath hitch in her throat. How long had it been since this had happened?

It was so nice to feel the warmth of someone’s body next to hers. It was so nice to be comforted—to not feel alone any more—that for a few seconds she went with her natural responses and just buried her head against his chest. She could hear his heart thudding in her ear through the thin cotton of his shirt. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest next to her skin.

It was warm. It was comforting. It was something else entirely.

What would it be like if this could be the sound she woke up to every morning?

Her brain was doing crazy things to her today. If he’d hovered around the edges of her dream the night before, then there was no denying that he’d had the starring role last night. It was funny the things an unexpected kiss could cause to pop up in a dream.

He pulled back a little. ‘Are you okay?’ Before she had a chance to speak, his hand came down and tilted her chin up towards him. ‘I’m sorry, Laurie. I don’t mean to be a bear. I’ve been so caught up in the fact that Annick Castle will soon be gone that I’ve not really thought about how all this might be affecting others—affecting you.’

There was real sincerity in his words, real concern in his eyes. She should feel comforted. She should feel reassured. But all she could feel was the blood currently buzzing around her body.

‘Angus’s funeral was only a month ago. And all this has come as a bolt out of the blue. I still wake up in the morning and it takes me a few seconds to remember that he’s not here any more. It takes me a few seconds to realise I’m in the middle of all this. I feel as if I haven’t really had a chance to say goodbye to him yet.’

His words stopped her blood buzzing. Stopped it dead.

She could relate. She could totally relate. Grieving was a completely individual process, but Callan’s sounded similar to how she’d felt.

This time she reached out to him. And it was the most natural thing in the world for her. Her hand reached up and cradled the side of his cheek.

‘I hated that. That few perfect seconds where everything was all right—just as you woke up. Then, that horrible sicky feeling you got as soon as you remembered. It was like that when my dad died. It took months for it to go away, Callan—and even now, ten years later, tiny little things—a headline in a paper, a picture of something, or someone saying something totally random to me—can bring it all flooding back. It doesn’t go away. It never goes away.’

He hadn’t moved. He was just watching her with his steady green eyes. He probably didn’t realise it, but she could see the myriad emotions flitting behind his eyes.

She was starting to see a clearer picture now. She’d been making assumptions. But it was clear to her now that, in Callan’s head, Angus had been his father figure. The person he’d relied on, the person he’d looked up to. How would she feel if she were in his shoes?

His arms were still around her waist. Her hand was still on his cheek. She almost felt frozen in time. She could stay like this for ever.

For the first time, in a long time, she felt as if she was home. Home in Callan McGregor’s arms. The realisation was startling. It didn’t matter how she felt about Angus McLean. She had to respect the fact that, for Callan, he’d been family.

‘What happened to your own mum and dad, Callan?’

It was an intrusive question and she felt him bristle under her touch. But it was just the two of them, with no interruptions. If she wanted to understand Callan McGregor better, she had to ask.

His eyes fixed on hers and she could almost see his mind jumble around trying to decide what to say. ‘My mother was never really around. I’m not entirely sure what happened in their marriage. It was only me and my dad since I was a young boy. My dad would never talk about her.’