Jules Bennett - One Summer At The Castle

‘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.’