Jules Bennett - One Summer At The Castle

Sophie!

Rosa felt ashamed of herself. Here she was, thinking about Liam Jameson, when she still had no idea where her sister was. She would have to phone her mother again, she thought, knowing Mrs Chantry would be waiting for her call. Hopefully her mother would realise that Rosa wasn’t free to use Liam Jameson’s phone at random. Particularly when the call she needed to make was long distance.

Emerging from the shower a few moments later, she quickly grabbed one of the luxury towels from the rack and wrapped it about her. Then, after cleaning her teeth, she went back into the bedroom to dress.

To her surprise, and dismay, the tray had disappeared in her absence. Remembering that she hadn’t bothered closing the bathroom door, Rosa hoped she hadn’t been seen. But if she had it would only have been Mrs Wilson, she assured herself. There was no way Liam Jameson would have collected the tray himself.

And if he had, what of it? she asked herself bitterly. It wasn’t as if she was the kind of woman men spied on. Unlike Sophie, who, with her spiky hair and rounded figure, was always being pursued by one man or another. And it now seemed as if her involvement with Mark Campion was on the skids as well.

Thankfully, there was a hairdryer lying on the period dressing table in the bedroom. Like the bathroom, the bedroom was an attractive mix of ancient and modern. The cheval mirror was Victorian, and the chest of drawers was even older. But, although the bed was a four-poster, the mattress was reassuringly twenty-first century in design.

It took a little while to dry her mass of hair, and then even more time to secure it in a French braid. If the severe style and the high-necked navy sweater she chose to wear with her jeans owed anything to a desire to stifle any trace of femininity, she refused to acknowledge it. It was important to appear confident, however insecure she might feel.

She was quite familiar with the stairs that led down to the lower floor by this time. The dining hall was on the floor below, not far from the library. But the dining hall, with its mahogany-lined walls and long refectory table, was empty, the epergne of roses in the centre the only sign of life.

She wondered if it was worth going down into the reception hall, but she doubted she’d encounter her host there. If, indeed, he was up and about. But she remembered there had been a desk and a computer in the library. Perhaps that was where Jameson wrote his books.

She tapped at the library door first, before venturing inside. But, although she listened intently for any movement from within, the room seemed eerily quiet. Now, why had she used that adjective? she chided herself. She hadn’t felt any unusual presence in the castle. It was just her imagination working overtime because there was nobody about.

There was only one way to find out. Reaching for the handle, she turned the knob. She sensed she wasn’t alone only seconds before someone spoke behind her. ‘Looking for me?’ enquired Liam Jameson in a hollow voice, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

‘I—YES. YES,’ she said, dry-mouthed, her breathing quickening uncontrollably. She swung round to find him propped against the wall to one side of the heavy door. Then, seeing his mocking smile, she forgot all about the promises she’d made herself. ‘Did you do that on purpose?’ she demanded hotly.

‘Do what?’ Liam adopted an innocent expression, but he could tell from her face that she knew he had.

‘Try to frighten me,’ she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest, where her heart was beating wildly. ‘Honestly—’ she endeavoured to calm herself ‘—you almost gave me a heart attack.’

‘I’m sorry.’

But he didn’t sound particularly sorry, and Rosa recoiled instinctively when he leant past her and pushed open the door. ‘After you,’ he said, apparently unaware that his hand had brushed the side of her breast as he did so. Her breast tingled, and Rosa stiffened, but he seemed indifferent to her response.

However, Liam wasn’t indifferent, and he was glad when she turned and went ahead of him into the room. For God’s sake, he thought, annoyed with himself as much as her. She was behaving like an outraged virgin and he was experiencing the kind of reaction that would have been pathetic when he was a teenager.

What was wrong with him, for pity’s sake? He had no interest in repressed spinsters. Women who knew little about sex, and what they did know scared them rigid. When he needed a woman, he preferred one who knew the score.

All the same, a little voice inside him taunted, it might be amusing to see how she’d react if he came on to her. It was years since he’d used sex as anything more than an infrequent necessity, with good reason. And just because Rosa Chantry intrigued him, it was no reason to think anything had changed. She’d be just as horrified as Kayla had been when she’d seen his injuries. But it would have been so nice to pull the pins out of her hair and feel all that fiery silk spilling into his hands…

Once again he steeled himself against that kind of madness. Despite the ache between his legs, he was determined not to give her another reason to accuse him of upsetting her. Hell, he didn’t need that kind of aggravation, but if that childish plait and masculine outfit were intended to deter any thoughts of a sexual nature they were having quite the opposite effect.

He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it, struggling to gain control of his sudden need. Rosa had hurried across the room, meanwhile, obviously wanting to put a safe distance between them. Then, when she felt she’d achieved her objective, she turned to face him.

‘I—was looking for you,’ she said, linking her hands together at her waist, unaware that it was a particularly protective stance. ‘I wanted to thank you.’

‘To thank me?’ Liam couldn’t think of anything she’d want to thank him for, but Rosa’s lips had tightened.

‘For allowing me to stay the night,’ she informed him primly. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘Ah.’ Liam was relieved to feel the restriction in his trousers easing, and he straightened away from the door. ‘No problem.’ He waited a beat. ‘Were you comfortable?’

‘Very comfortable, thank you.’

‘Good.’ Liam came further into the room. ‘I’m sorry I had to leave you on your own all evening. I’m afraid I fell asleep, and didn’t wake until after midnight.’

Rosa was tempted to say, How appropriate bearing in mind his occupation, but she didn’t. She was still intensely aware of him, and inviting that kind of intimacy wasn’t sensible. ‘It’s all right,’ she said instead. ‘Your housekeeper looked after me. I slept really well.’

‘You weren’t afraid I might turn into a vampire in the night and ravish you?’ Liam couldn’t resist the urge to tease her and she flushed.

‘Only briefly,’ she retorted, surprising him again. ‘But I’m fairly sure vampires don’t ride ferries or drive cars in broad daylight.’

‘Luther Killian does,’ he said at once, and Rosa gave him an old-fashioned look.

‘Luther Killian doesn’t exist,’ she said. ‘Or only in your imagination, anyway.’

‘You think?’

Rosa shook her head. ‘You’re not telling me you believe in vampires, Mr Jameson?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded. ‘There have been too many reports of sightings, both here and in Eastern Europe. And if you went to New Orleans—’

‘Which I’m not likely to do,’ she said tightly, realising she was letting him distract her from her purpose. She ought to be asking him if she could use his phone again, instead of indulging in a discussion about mythical monsters. Shrugging, she made a face. ‘I know very little about such things, Mr Jameson. But I imagine it makes good publicity for your books.’