Anne Mather - Stay Through The Night

‘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.’

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