Читать книгу One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors - Пенни Джордан, Anne Mather - Страница 7

ROSA hesitated. ‘Um—is it far?’ she ventured, drawing a sigh of impatience from the man beside her.

‘Too far to walk, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ he said shortly. ‘There’s always old McAllister, of course. He runs a part-time taxi service, if it’s needed. I can’t vouch for the reliability of his vehicle, though.’

Rosa glanced down at her bag which, even looped over her shoulder, was heavier than she’d expected when she’d packed it the previous day. ‘Well, all right. Thanks,’ she said, not without some misgivings. ‘If it’s not out of your way.’

Don’t do me any favours, thought Liam irritably, reaching for her bag and opening the rear door of the car. He tossed it onto the seat and then gestured for her to get into the front. His leg was aching from standing too long and he couldn’t wait to get off his feet.

‘You didn’t say if it was far,’ she ventured, after he’d coiled his length behind the wheel, and Liam shrugged.

‘The island’s not that big,’ he said, which wasn’t really an answer. ‘Don’t worry. It won’t take long to get there.’

Rosa hoped not, but the island did seem far bigger than she’d imagined as the Audi mounted the hill out of the village. They emerged onto a kind of plateau that stretched away ahead of them, very green and verdant, with small lakes, or lochs, glinting in the intermittent rays of the sun.

Away to their left, the mountains she’d seen from the quayside looked big and imposing. Their shadowy peaks were bathed in cloud cover, but the lower slopes changed from grey to purple where the native heather flourished among the rocks. Here and there the scrubland was dotted with trees, sturdy firs that could withstand the sudden shifts in the weather.

‘This is Kilfoil Moor,’ said her companion, nodding towards the open land at either side of the road. ‘Don’t be fooled by its look of substance. It’s primitive bog in places. Even the sheep have more sense than to graze here.’

Rosa frowned. ‘Are you a farmer, Mr Killian?’

A farmer! Liam felt a wry smile tug at his mouth. ‘I own some land,’ he agreed, neither admitting nor denying it. Then, to divert her, ‘The island becomes much less hostile at the other side of the moor.’

‘And have people—like—walked onto the moor and been swallowed up by the bog?’ asked Rosa uneasily.

Liam cast her a mocking glance. ‘Only in Jameson’s books, I believe.’

Rosa grimaced. ‘He sounds weird. I suppose living up here he can do virtually as he likes.’

‘He’s an author,’ said Liam irritably, not appreciating her comments. ‘For God’s sake, he writes about monsters. That doesn’t mean he is one!’

‘I suppose.’

Rosa acknowledged that she was letting the isolation spook her. A curlew called, it wild cry sending a shiver down her spine. A covey of grouse, startled by the sound of the car, rose abruptly into the air, startling her. She made an incoherent sound and her companion turned to give her another curious look.

‘Something wrong?’

Rosa shrugged. ‘I was just thinking about what you said,’ she replied, not altogether truthfully. ‘I think I agree with you. Jameson wouldn’t have brought Sophie here.’

‘No?’ Liam spoke guardedly.

‘No. I mean—’ She gestured towards the moor. ‘I can’t imagine any man who lives here going to somewhere frantic like a pop festival.’ She paused. ‘Can you?’

Liam’s mouth compressed. ‘I seem to remember saying much the same thing about half an hour ago,’ he retorted.

‘Oh. Oh, yes, you did.’ Rosa pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry. I think I should have listened to you.’

Liam shook his head. He didn’t know what she expected him to say, what she expected him to do. But if she hoped that he’d turn the car around and drive her back to the village she was mistaken. He was tired, dammit. He’d just driven over five hundred miles, and there was no way she was going to add another twenty miles to his journey. If she wanted to go back, Sam would have to take her. Right now, he needed breakfast, a shower and his bed, not necessarily in that order.

Or that was what he told himself. In fact, he was curiously loath to abandon her. He felt sorry for her, he thought. She’d been sent up here on a wild goose chase and she was going to feel pretty aggrieved when she found out he’d been deceiving her, too.

The awareness of what he was thinking astounded him, however. This had always been his retreat, his sanctuary. The one place where he could escape the rat race of his life in London. What the hell was he doing, bringing a stranger into his home? For God’s sake, she wasn’t a teenager. She was plenty old enough to look out for herself.

‘Anyway,’ she said suddenly, ‘I’m still going to ask him if he knows where she might be. I mean, if they are making a film up here, he will know about it. Where it’s being made, I mean. Don’t you think?’

Liam’s fingers tightened on the wheel. Why didn’t he just tell her who he was? he wondered impatiently. Why didn’t he admit that he’d kept his identity a secret to begin with because he’d been half afraid she had some ulterior motive for coming here? She might not believe him, but it would be better than feeling a complete fraud every time she mentioned his name.

‘Look, Miss—er—’

‘Chantry,’ she supplied equably. ‘Rosa Chantry.’

‘Yes. Miss Chantry.’ Liam hesitated now. ‘Look, I think there’s something I—’

But before he could finish, she interrupted him. ‘Oh, God!’ she exclaimed in dismay, and for a moment he thought she’d realised who he was for herself. But then she reached into the back of the car, hauled her pack forward and extracted a mobile phone. ‘I promised I’d ring my mother as soon as I reached the island,’ she explained ruefully. ‘Excuse me a minute. I’ve just got to tell her I’m all right before she begins to think she’s lost two daughters instead of just one.’

‘Yeah, but—’ he began, about to tell her that there were no transmitters for cellphones on the island when she gave a frustrated cry.

‘Dammit, the battery must be dead,’ she exclaimed, looking at the instrument as if it was to blame for its inactivity. Then she frowned. ‘That’s funny. There’s no signal at all.’

‘That’s because we don’t have any mobile phone masts on Kilfoil,’ said Liam mildly. ‘The place was deserted for years—apart from a few hardy sheep—and although things have changed a bit since then, we prefer not to litter the island with all the detritus of the twenty-first century.’

‘You mean I can’t ring my mother?’

‘No. There are landlines.’

‘So do you think Liam Jameson will let me make a call from the castle?’

‘I’m sure he will,’ muttered Liam, aware he was retreating back into the character he’d created. ‘Don’t run away with the idea that the island’s backwards. Since—since its modernisation, it’s become quite a desirable place to live.’

Rosa arched brows that were several shades darker than her hair. ‘Is that why you came here?’ she asked. ‘To escape the rat race?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘And you like living here? You don’t get—bored?’

‘I’m never bored,’ said Liam drily. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t get time to be bored,’ she replied ruefully. ‘I’m a schoolteacher. My work keeps me busy.’

‘Ah.’ Liam absorbed this. He thought it explained a lot. Like how she was able to come up here in the middle of August. Like why she seemed so prim and proper sometimes.

The moor was receding behind them now, and they’d started down a twisting road into the glen. He pointed ahead. ‘There’s the castle. What do you think?’

Rosa caught her breath. ‘It’s—beautiful,’ she said, and it was. Standing square and solid on a headland overlooking the sea, its grey walls warmed by the strengthening sun, it was magnificent. ‘It’s very impressive,’ she breathed. And not what she had expected at all. ‘But how can anyone live in such a place? It must have over a hundred rooms.’

‘Fifty-three, actually,’ said Liam unthinkingly. And then, with a grimace, ‘Or so I’ve heard.’

‘Fifty-three!’ Rosa shook her head. ‘He must be very rich.’

‘Some of them are just anterooms,’ said Liam, resenting the urge he had to defend himself, but doing it just the same. ‘I’m fairly sure he doesn’t use them all.’

‘I should think not.’ Rosa snorted. ‘Is he married?’

‘No.’ Liam had no hesitation about telling her that. It was in the potted biography that appeared on the back of all his books, after all.

‘Well, does he live alone?’ Rosa was persistent. ‘Does he have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?’ she added, pulling a face. ‘These days you never know.’

‘He’s not gay,’ said Liam grimly. ‘And he has household staff who run the place for him, so he’s hardly alone.’

‘All the same…’ She was annoyingly resistant to his opinion. ‘I bet he has to pay his employees well to get them to stay here.’

Liam clamped his jaws together and didn’t answer her. He could have said that several of the people he employed were refugees from London, like himself. He did employ locals, where he could, but the islanders only wanted part-time work so they could pursue their own interests. The Highlanders were an independent lot and preferred fishing and farming to working indoors.

They approached the castle through open land dotted with sheep and cattle. Rosa saw shepherds’ crofts nestling on the hillside, and more substantial farm buildings with whitewashed walls and smoking chimneys. A stream, which evidently had its source in the mountains, tumbled over rocks on its way to the sea. And in the background the shoreline beckoned, the sand clean and unblemished and totally deserted.

Rosa knew that anyone who’d never seen this aspect of Scotland wouldn’t believe how incredibly beautiful it was. The sea was calm here, and in places as green as—as Luther Killian’s eyes. And just as intriguing. Though probably as cold as ice.

The castle itself looked just as splendid as they drew closer. Although obviously renovations had been made, they’d been accomplished in a way that didn’t detract from the building’s charm and history. Only the square windows, that had replaced the narrow lattices once used for firing on the enemy in ancient times, were out of character. But the heavy oak front doors looked just as solid a defence.

There were outbuildings set back from the main house, with a cobbled forecourt edging the stone steps in front. They approached over a wooden bridge spanning a dry ditch, which might once have been a moat, and parked on the forecourt to one side of the studded doors.

One of the doors opened immediately and a man and several dogs stepped out into the sunlight. The dogs—two golden retrievers and a spaniel—bounded down the steps to greet them, their tails wagging excitedly.

To the accompaniment of their barks of welcome, Liam swung open his door and hauled himself to his feet. Once again, his leg had stiffened up and he cursed its weakness for spoiling one of the true pleasures of his life. He had always enjoyed driving and had a handful of expensive cars in his possession. He preferred them to the helicopter that his agent had insisted was essential, and leased the aircraft to the local air ambulance service more often than he used it himself.

Steeling himself against the pain, he left the car and strode towards Sam Devlin, the man who ran Kilfoil for him with such consummate skill and efficiency. ‘Liam—’ began Sam, only to break off when his employer raised a warning finger to his lips. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ he amended, his grey brows drawing together in confusion. ‘Is something wrong?’

Liam glanced back significantly, and now Sam saw Rosa getting out of the car. ‘Do we have a visitor?’ he asked in surprise. He knew, better than anyone, that Liam never brought strangers to Kilfoil.

‘We do,’ said Liam in a low voice, after shaking hands with the older man. ‘She’s here because she wants to ask Liam Jameson where her sister is.’

‘What?’ Sam stared at him. ‘But you’re—’

‘She doesn’t know that.’ Liam sighed. ‘It’s long story, Sam, but now’s not the time to share it. Just play along, will you? I intend to tell her who I am, but—not yet.’

Sam grimaced. ‘But why bring her here—?’ he began, and then broke off when the young woman left the car and started towards them. She was slowed by the snuffling of the dogs, but she was too near now for them to continue their conversation. He collected himself with an effort. ‘Welcome to Kilfoil, miss.’

‘This is Sam Devlin, Liam Jameson’s second-incommand,’ said Liam smoothly. ‘Sam, this is Miss Chantry. Rosa Chantry, isn’t that right?’ He looked to her for confirmation. ‘Perhaps Mrs Wilson would be kind enough to provide Miss Chantry with lunch.’

‘I’m sure she’d try,’ Sam agreed drily, but Rosa couldn’t impose on her host in that way.

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘if I could just have a quick word with Mr Jameson—?’

‘Mr Jameson’s—tied up at present, Miss Chantry,’ said Sam, with a wry look at his employer. ‘If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you where you can wait.’

‘Oh, but—do you think he will see me?’

Rosa addressed her words to Sam now, even though Liam had assured her he’d arrange it himself.

Sam looked at his employer blankly. ‘I think it’s—possible,’ he said, gaining a nod of approval. ‘Um—why don’t you follow me?’

Rosa hesitated, turning to the man who’d driven her here with a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Mr Killian.’

Liam inclined his head, aware that Sam was staring at him, open-mouthed. ‘My pleasure,’ he replied, realising he meant it. He turned away as Sam pulled himself together and led her into the castle. She wasn’t going to be so pleased when she discovered who he really was.

Meanwhile, Rosa was experiencing an unwarranted feeling of regret that she wouldn’t be seeing Luther Killian again. He had been kind, in spite of her ingratitude. She wished she’d asked him where he lived now. After all, whatever happened later, she was going to be stuck on the island for at least another couple of days.

She followed Liam Jameson’s man into the castle with some reluctance. Despite her desire to speak to Jameson and get this over with, it was a little daunting being faced with such surroundings. Although the hall they entered via an anteroom was brightly lit by several wall sconces, and the huge fire that was burning in the grate, it was intimidating. With its lofty ceiling and tapestry-hung walls, it reminded her that the man she’d come to see made his living from scaring his readers.

‘We only use the hall as a reception room,’ Sam Devlin offered, as she hovered just inside the door. ‘The rest of the castle is much more cosy. It would be impossible to keep the place warm otherwise.’

Rosa could believe it. ‘Does Mr Jameson live here all the year round?’

Sam seemed to consider his words before replying. ‘Mostly,’ he said at last. ‘Except when he’s away on business or pleasure. Now, please come this way.’

To Rosa’s surprise, and trepidation, they crossed the hall to where a winding flight of stone stairs led to an upper floor. Although the stairs were carpeted, Rosa viewed them without enthusiasm. She’d assumed the man was going to show her into one of the rooms that opened off the hall.

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I just waited here for Mr Jameson?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid not.’ Sam was polite, but resolute. ‘This floor of the castle is given over to kitchens and storerooms, as well as providing living quarters for the full-time staff.’

‘I see.’ Rosa was reassured by the idea that there were other people living as well as working here. Luther Killian hadn’t told her that.

With no alternative, she followed the man up the stairs, realising as she did so that this must be one of the towers she’d seen from the road. She wasn’t good with spiral staircases, but happily it opened out onto a narrow landing, with windows in an outer wall that gave an uninterrupted view of the bay.

‘Oh, isn’t that wonderful!’ she exclaimed, pausing at a window embrasure and gazing out at the view. The windows overlooked the front of the castle, with the little bridge they’d driven over just below her. And she saw, with some surprise, that Luther Killian’s car was still parked in the same spot. Frowning, she glanced round at Sam Devlin. ‘Um—Mr Killian’s still here.’

‘Is he?’ Sam didn’t sound particularly interested, and then Rosa remembered Killian had said he’d speak to Liam Jameson himself. He might be explaining the situation. If so, that would be something else she had to thank him for. Maybe she’d ask Sam Devlin where Killian lived before she left.

But thinking about leaving reminded her that she still hadn’t phoned her mother. ‘Er—do you think I could make a phone call while I’m waiting?’ she ventured, and Sam shrugged.

‘There’s a phone in here,’ he said, opening a door into what appeared to be a library. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll ask Mrs Wilson to provide some refreshments.’

‘You will tell Mr Jameson I’m here?’ Rosa reminded him, wondering about the rather curious look that crossed his face at her words.

‘I’ll tell him,’ he agreed, remaining on the landing. ‘If you’ll excuse me…?’

Rosa nodded, trying not to feel apprehensive when he closed the door rather firmly behind him. Well, she was here. She’d reached her destination. And if the circumstances were not what she’d expected, it wasn’t her fault.

Turning, she surveyed the room with determined confidence. One wall curved, as if it was part of the tower she’d just climbed, but all the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was a granite-topped desk, strewn with papers and a laptop computer, and several leather chairs.

Rosa wondered if these were Liam Jameson’s books, but there were obviously too many for that to be so. Approaching one of the shelves, she drew out a bulky tome, hand-carved in leather. But the title, Vampire Myths of the Fifteenth Century, made her hastily push it back again.

But she was wasting time, she thought, noticing the neat black instrument set at one end of the desk. She had to call her mother. Mrs Chantry would probably be biting her nails by this time. Particularly if she’d tried to ring Rosa herself.

As she waited for the connection, Rosa perched on the edge of the window seat. The walls were thick and the sills were broad, plenty broad enough to provide a comfortable seat. Glancing down, she saw that from this angle she could see the gardens at the back of the castle, and a couple of huge glasshouses, set into the lee of the tower.

Obviously the place was self-sufficient, she thought. And, despite her initial reaction, Rosa quite envied Jameson for living here. It was peaceful in a way very few places were these days.

Then, her mother answered. ‘Rosa? Rosa, is that you? Have you found Sophie? Is she all right?’

‘I haven’t found her.’ Rosa decided there was no point in prevaricating. ‘There isn’t a film crew on the island, Mum. Sophie must have been making it up.’

‘Oh, she wouldn’t do that.’ Mrs Chantry was so gullible where her younger daughter was concerned. ‘If she’s not there, then Mark must have made a mistake. Scotland’s a big place. They must be filming somewhere else.’

‘But where?’

‘I don’t know, do I? That’s for you to find out.’

‘Perhaps.’ Rosa was non-committal. ‘I may know more after I’ve spoken to Liam Jameson himself.’

‘You mean you haven’t spoken to him personally?’

‘How could I?’

‘Well, for heaven’s sake, Rosa, what have you been doing?’

‘Getting here,’ retorted Rosa indignantly. ‘It was a long journey, you know.’

‘So where are you now? Sitting in some bar in Mallaig, I suppose. And who told you there’s no film being made on the island?’

‘As a matter of fact, I’m on the island at this moment. I’m at Kilfoil Castle. And I’m pretty sure that nothing’s going on here.’

Her mother snorted. ‘So if Jameson’s not there—’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Rosa interrupted. ‘Haven’t I just said I’ll know more after I’ve spoken to him?’

‘So he’s not with the production?’

If he ever was. ‘It would appear not,’ said Rosa trying to be patient. She heard the sound of someone opening the library door. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, Mum. I’ll ring you later. As soon as I have some news.’

She rang off before Mrs Chantry could issue any more instructions. Then, getting up from the window seat, she turned to find Luther Killian standing just inside the door. He’d evidently changed. The crumpled shirt and jeans he’d worn to travel in had been replaced by a long-sleeved purple knit shirt and drawstring cotton trousers. Judging by the drops of water sparkling on his dark hair, he’d had a shower as well.

Rosa knew her jaw had dropped, and she quickly rescued it. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, a little nonplussed. ‘I thought you’d gone.’

Well, she’d thought he would have by now.

Liam’s smile was guarded. ‘Is everything all right at home?’ he asked, guessing what had been going on. He pushed the tips of his fingers into the back pockets of his pants. ‘You look—surprised to see me.’

‘I am.’ Rosa didn’t think there was any point in lying about it. ‘Have you spoken to Liam Jameson? Has he agreed to see me?’

‘He has,’ said Liam drily, finding this harder than he’d expected. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Rosa, but I’m Liam Jameson.’

Rosa stared at him aghast. ‘You’re kidding!’

‘No.’ Liam pulled a face, and then, abandoning his awkward stance, he crossed to the desk and went to stand behind it. ‘I didn’t intend to deceive you. Not initially. It just worked out that way.’