Jules Bennett - One Summer At The Castle

‘You’re very kind.’ Rosa forced a smile. ‘It—er—it seems to be brightening up.’

‘Yes, I thought so myself,’ agreed the landlady, glancing out of the door. ‘But you’re looking a little peaked, Miss Chantry, if you don’t mind my saying so. Are you sure you didn’t find the journey too tiring?’

Tiring!

Rosa stifled the sob that rose in the back of her throat. ‘Just—a bit,’ she said, hoping that would satisfy the woman. ‘I’m used to power steering, you see.’

‘Power steering?’ Mrs Ferguson sounded impressed. ‘And what would that be when it’s at home?’

‘Oh—’ Rosa wished she hadn’t said anything. ‘It just makes it easier to steer,’ she explained, without elaborating, and with that she headed towards the stairs that led to her room.

THE REST OF THE DAY was an anticlimax.

After refusing Mrs Ferguson’s offer of lunch, Rosa holed up in her room, wondering if she’d ever feel normal again. The events of the morning seemed unbelievable in retrospect. Had she really almost been seduced by a man against his will?

She simply wasn’t the kind of woman things like that happened to. Her marriage to Colin Vincent and his subsequent betrayal had left her distinctly suspicious where men were concerned. Yet from the beginning she’d not had that feeling with Liam. Perhaps because she’d never expected that he might be attracted to her.

Even now, she hardly knew what he felt about her. Not enough to trust her, she acknowledged, wishing she’d had a chance to convince him she didn’t care about his scars. Were they the reason he lived here, miles from any of the people he worked with? She wished she knew him better, wished she could show him that she—

She—what?

Rosa shivered. What was she thinking? She wasn’t in love with him, for heaven’s sake. In lust, maybe, and she very much regretted the way she’d had to leave the castle. But she hardly knew the man. Certainly not enough to trust him with her love.

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop her from regretting what had happened. She still didn’t know what he thought of her—if he imagined she was used to doing that sort of thing.

She wasn’t.

Rosa quivered. She couldn’t ever remember behaving so shamelessly before, even with Colin. But then, the feelings she’d had for Colin had been nothing like this, and that was something else she regretted.

But had she really asked Liam to have sex with her? Had she really promised him there need be no commitment on his part, other than to take her to bed and make mad, passionate love to her?

Her face burned at the memory. Burned, too, at the realisation that she’d meant it. That she meant it still. She wanted him. Wanted to be with him. And something told her it would have been an experience she would never forget.

But it wasn’t going to happen. Liam had made sure of that. In one devastating move he’d shown her exactly how damaged he was. Not just physically. His physical scars had healed. It was the other scars he carried beneath the surface that worried Rosa.

Because it was that sensitivity, which seemed to be as raw now as when the attack had happened, that had caused him to turn away from her. She was no psychologist, but she’d gamble that someone else was responsible for the protective shell he’d built around himself. Someone had hurt him, and she didn’t believe it was his attacker.

So who? It had to be a woman, she decided painfully. A special woman. A woman he’d been in love with. Someone he’d been relying on to support him through his ordeal…

The phone rang downstairs and Rosa tensed. Not that she expected it to be for her. Liam wasn’t likely to try and get in touch with her again.

Nevertheless, her heart leapt when Mrs Ferguson called, ‘It’s for you, Miss Chantry.’ And then sank again when she added, ‘It’s your mother.’

What now?

Rosa felt the weight of her own inadequacy descend on her as she hurried down the stairs to take the call. Yes, she’d asked Liam about the film, she rehearsed silently. But, no, she had no further news to give her mother.

‘Hello, Mum,’ she said, picking up the receiver, injecting a note of optimism into her voice. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear the storm’s over at last. I’ll be leaving the island on Monday at the latest.’

‘Will you, dear?’ Mrs Chantry sounded strangely agitated. ‘Well, that’s good.’ She paused. ‘Will you come straight home?’

Rosa frowned. ‘I thought I might contact an information centre on the mainland and find out if they know—’

‘Sophie’s not in Scotland,’ broke in her mother swiftly. And then, before Rosa could object, she added, ‘She’s been in London, but she’s home now.’

Rosa was stunned. ‘In London?’ she echoed, blankly.

‘Yes.’ Her mother didn’t sound as if she was enjoying this. ‘She’s been with some man she met at the pop festival. Some musician, I believe.’

‘You’re not serious!’

‘I am.’ Mrs Chantry sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Rosa.’

‘But why did she tell Mark she was going to Scotland?’

‘I don’t know.’ Clearly her mother would have preferred not to go on with this. ‘To put us off the scent, I suppose. She knew I’d have worried if I’d known she was with some guitarist with a pop group. What with all the drug-taking that goes on and—’

‘But you were worried, Mum,’ Rosa reminded her. ‘My God, when you rang me last Saturday night you were practically hysterical.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t, Rosa. You’re exaggerating. Good heavens, we all know what Sophie’s like. She’s so impetuous!’

‘So irresponsible,’ muttered Rosa darkly. ‘Is she there? Put her on. I want to speak to her.’

‘You can’t.’ Before Rosa could argue, Mrs Chantry explained her reasons. ‘Mark called a little while ago, and she’s gone round to his house to try and patch things up with him.’

‘Well, he’s a fool if he believes anything she tells him,’ said Rosa irritably. For heaven’s sake, was she the only one in the family with a lick of sense? ‘I can’t believe you’re letting her get away with this. If it had been me at her age, I’d have been grounded for a month!’

‘Well, it’s no good me going on at her, Rosa,’ declared Mrs Chantry unhappily. ‘She’s going away to university soon enough, and if I play the heavy she’s not going to want to come home at all.’

‘Oh, Mum!’ Rosa groaned. ‘You can’t let her blackmail you. She ran off with a musician, a man she’d only just met, who she knew nothing about. He could have been a—a white slaver for all she knew.’

‘Oh, Rosa.’ Mrs Chantry gave a little laugh now. ‘White slaver, indeed!’ She waited a beat, and when Rosa didn’t say anything she added firmly, ‘Anyway, she’s learned her lesson. She says he dumped her when she refused to go to bed with him.’

And believe that if you will, thought Rosa cynically. But all she said was, ‘Did she tell you why she went with him in the first place?’

‘Oh, apparently he said he could introduce her to some people he knew in television,’ said her mother, relaxing a little now that she’d delivered her news. ‘She shouldn’t have believed him. I told her that.’

‘And where did Liam Jameson come in?’ asked Rosa shortly. ‘Or hasn’t she told you that?’

Her mother hesitated. ‘Oh—well, that might have been my fault.’

‘Your fault?’ Rosa was confused. ‘How could it be your fault?’

‘Well…’ Mrs Chantry was obviously searching for words. ‘I evidently jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No.’ Her mother sighed. ‘No, you wouldn’t.’ There was another pause, and then she said reluctantly, ‘Well, you know how much Sophie likes Liam Jameson’s books?’