The Heir of the Castle (Harlequin Romance) (2 page)

Alice put her pencil to good use and started scribbling. ‘You’re going to go? Really? When do you want to leave?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Several heads poked up at the surprise in Alice’s voice from the pods around them.

Laurie nodded. ‘I’m supposed to be there Friday through to Monday evening.’

Laurie Jenkins taking a holiday. It was unheard of.

Maybe it was time for change.

* * *

Callan stared at his watch for the twentieth time. This was his last pickup of the day.

Thank goodness. So far, there had been the loud Canadians, the over-excited Americans, the bad-tempered Irishman with the very sweet Irishwoman, and several others from around Scotland. Once the hoity-toity lawyer arrived from London he was all done.

He must have been mad. Why on earth was he agreeing to be part of this ridiculous debacle?

He sighed. What was the bet that Ms Lawyer was extra tired and extra crabbit? By his estimations she’d have travelled four and a half hours from London to Glasgow, another four hours from Glasgow to Fort William, and the last part of the journey on the steam locomotive.

He leaned back against the stone wall of the old station. He could see the steam in the distance. She could have stayed on the train from Glasgow—it did come on to Mallaig—but like any good tourist she must have preferred to take the
Harry Potter
train and cross the viaduct.

It wasn’t really a problem. He couldn’t blame her desire to see the stunning Scottish countryside. It just meant she was a later arrival than everyone else.

The train pulled into the station and the tourists piled out. Most of them would be staying overnight in Mallaig—a coach was parked outside the station to transport them to their accommodation.

It took a few moments for the steam and chattering crowds to completely clear.

Wow! That was Mary Jenkins? So, not what he was expecting.

Instead of an iron-faced middle-aged woman the smoke cleared around a long-haired brunette, with slim pink Capri pants, a white loose tunic and a simple holdall in one hand. Far from looking tired, she was fresh-faced and brimming with excitement.

Callan was used to beautiful women—he’d dated enough of them—but this was a shock to the system. Her clothes highlighted her curves, the swell of her breasts beneath the thin tunic and her Capri pants showing a hint of lightly tanned skin.

She walked over quickly. ‘Callan McGregor? Thank you so much for meeting me.’ She reached over and grasped his hand firmly between both of hers.

Zing
.
What was that? A wave of tiny electric shocks shot up his arm.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ She waved her hands around. ‘What an absolutely gorgeous setting. I’ve had an absolute ball on that train.’ She pointed to the camera around her neck, nestled next to a gold locket. ‘I must have taken around a hundred pictures.’

He was trying to remain calm. He was trying not to let the corners of his mouth turn upwards in surprise. It wasn’t just that she was pretty—she was gorgeous. Warm brown eyes, clear skin, curls bouncing around her shoulders and full pink lips. ‘Mary Jenkins?’ he queried. The name just didn’t suit her at all.

She let out a laugh. Nothing quiet and polite, but a deep, hearty laugh that came all the way up from her painted pink toes. ‘What? No one has ever called me that! It’s Laurie. Laurie Jenkins. My father called me after his elderly aunt Mary, but I’ve always been known by my middle name Laurie.’

He nodded. The Mary Jenkins he’d pictured in his head had looked nothing like the Laurie Jenkins standing on the platform before him. Around twenty years of nothing.

Was she really old enough to be a lawyer?

She shuffled some papers in the front pocket of her holdall. ‘Let me take that for you,’ he said as he reached down and swung it up onto his shoulder. It was light. It was surprisingly light. Maybe Laurie Jenkins wasn’t planning on staying long? Unlike the Canadians, who appeared to have brought the entire contents of their house with them.

He ushered her along the platform towards his car, trying not to watch the swing of her hips and shape of her curved backside.
Focus.
That zing was still bothering him. Callan McGregor didn’t do ‘zings’.

He waited for the comment—there weren’t many people with a pristine James Bond DB5 in this world. One of the few over-the-top purchases since he’d made his fortune. But she just happily climbed in the front seat and pulled on her seat belt. ‘Do you know much about Angus McLean?’

He was thrown. He was totally thrown.

Not only had every other single person made a passing comment on the car, every other single person’s first question had been about the castle—leaving him in no doubt why they were there. They could recognise money at a glance.

He should have walked away. After the reading of the will he should have left the solicitor’s office and just kept on walking. Walked away from the madness of all this.

But something deep inside wouldn’t let him. Whether it was a burning curiosity of what would happen next. Whether it was some bizarre desire to actually meet some of Angus McLean’s relatives. Or whether it was some deep-rooted loyalty to the old guy, and some misplaced desire to try and maintain the integrity of the castle.

He waited until she was settled and then he pulled out of the car park.

‘Well?’ She was obviously determined to find out a little more. Her fingers were clenched tightly in her lap, her index fingers rotating around each other over and over. It was the first sign she wasn’t quite as relaxed as she seemed.

‘Angus was a good friend.’

She raised her eyebrows. The sixty-five-year age difference was completely apparent and must be sparking questions in her brain.

‘So, you’re not one of his relatives?’ She hesitated. ‘I mean, you’re not one of...my relatives?’ Her voice tailed off and she shook her head with a little half-smile. ‘I can’t get used to the thought of any of this. It was only ever me, my mum and my dad. My dad died ten years ago. I never imagined anything like this would happen. It all seems so unreal—like I’m caught in a dream.’

‘Oh, it’s real all right,’ he muttered under his breath. Then he shook his head and gave a woeful smile. This woman really didn’t have a clue how he felt about any of this. ‘I guess the
Harry Potter
train will do that to you.’

Her face broke into a wide, dreamy grin. ‘It was fantastic. My secretary booked it for me. I haven’t had a holiday in a while and she obviously knew I would like it.’

He tried not to let his ears prick straight up. She hadn’t had a holiday in a while. What did that mean? Did she work for some hotshot company that made their employees work one hundred hours a week? Or did she just not have anyone to go home to? His eyes went automatically to her hand, but she’d moved it, jamming her left hand under her thigh and out of his sight.

‘How did you meet?’ Her voice cut through his thoughts. Boy, she was persistent. She still hadn’t even mentioned the castle.

A shadow passed across his face and his lips tightened. ‘I met Angus when I was a small boy. I spent quite a bit of time at Annick Castle.’

Something flickered across her face—doubtless another question—but something obviously told her to change tack and she let it go.

‘So, what’s going to happen this weekend? Are you organising things?’ Did she think he was an employee? Even though he was offended, it was a reasonable assumption. After all, he had picked her up from the station.

He signalled and turned off the main road, passing some stone columns and an extravagant set of entry gates, and heading down a long, sweeping driveway.

He shook his head and his words were spoken through gritted teeth. ‘The Murder Mystery Weekend is nothing to do with me. It’s being organised by some outside company.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard. Is it even legal? Inheritance law isn’t my field of expertise, but I’ve never heard of anything like this in my life.’

‘Neither have I.’ The words almost fell out of his mouth. He wasn’t embarrassed to say he’d spent the last week locked in a bitter war of words with Frank. But the solicitor had been unrepentant. He’d tried to talk Angus out of it. He’d talked him through all the legal implications, the challenges that might be brought against the decision. They’d even brought a doctor in to give a statement that Angus was of sound mind as he wrote the will.

But Angus McLean had been as determined as he always was in life. This was the way he wanted to do things, and nothing, and no one, could change his mind.

Callan could see Laurie looking around, taking in the impossibly long sweeping road to the castle, and the huge gardens. The car followed the bend in the road and she let out a little gasp, her hand going to her face.

‘Oh. Wow.’ Annick Castle was now clearly visible. Rebuilt in the seventeen-hundreds, the impressive building had over sixty rooms and a large drum tower at either side. It was clear the first glimpse of the castle took her breath away.

But instead of feeling secretly happy and proud, Callan could barely disguise his displeasure. Was she thinking that the castle might be hers after the weekend? The last guests from Canada had immediately asked what rooms were the best and whipped out a portfolio with extensive notes on the property. He’d almost ejected them from the car on the spot.

But Laurie wasn’t quite so brazen. Or maybe she was just better at hiding it?

She shook her head, her eyes open in wonder. ‘I just didn’t expect it to be so big.’ She pointed over at the sea wall. ‘I knew it was supposed to be on a cliff top. I guess I just hadn’t really realised how impressive it would be.’ She fumbled in her bag and produced a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. ‘My dad wouldn’t have believed this. He would have thought he was in a dream.’

For the tiniest second Callan almost felt sorry for her. He knew that three of Angus’s children had died: Laurie’s father, another woman from England and a son who’d lived in Canada. Laurie was an only child, but the son in Canada had three sons and two daughters, and the woman in England had had three children. It took the total number of possible inheritors to twelve. All of whom were now here.

They pulled up outside the main entrance and Laurie jumped out automatically. ‘I’ll show you to your room and introduce you to the staff,’ Callan said gruffly.

‘My room?’ She looked shocked, and then shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I’m not staying here.’ She started to fumble in her bag for her paperwork. ‘My secretary will have booked me in somewhere.’

Callan was starting to run out of patience. ‘She has—here.’

Laurie’s chin practically bounced off the driveway. ‘But I thought you’d just brought me here to show me where the castle was.’

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s part of the stipulation of the weekend.’ Nothing he had any control over.

He waited until she’d extricated the crumpled paperwork from her bag and stared at it a few times as if she was still taking all of this in.

‘Like I said, come and I’ll introduce you to the staff.’

Her eyes widened. ‘There’s staff?’

He frowned. ‘Of course there’s staff. A place like this doesn’t look after itself.’

That was the trouble with all these people. None of them knew or understood a thing about Annick Castle. None of them appreciated the people who’d spent their life working here. It didn’t matter most of the staff had been left bequests, it was the actual castle that mattered to them—just as it mattered to Callan.

Laurie was still standing in amazement outside. The sun was starting to set over the horizon, leaving her bathed in a warm glow of pink, orange and lilac. With the beautiful sea in the background she could have been starring in a movie. With her dark eyes, long chestnut curls about her shoulders and her curves highlighted in her white tunic, Laurie Jenkins could prove quite a distraction.

She was the youngest relative here by far. And for a second he almost forgot that: the fact she was a relative—a potential inheritor. A complete stranger who would probably sell Annick Castle to the highest bidder as soon as she could.

It made the hackles rise at the back of his neck.

All day he’d picked people up and dropped them off. And there was no getting away from it. Some of them he already hated. They’d asked the value of the property, its potential price on the open market and how soon the inheritance would take to sort out.

So it didn’t matter how Laurie looked, or how she acted.

The truth was—she was the same as all the rest.

* * *

What was wrong with this guy? Ever since he’d picked her up at the train station he’d acted as if she’d jabbed him with a hot poker.

She had no idea what his role was here. It was a shame, because if he could actually wipe the permanent frown off his face, he would be attractive. And not just a little attractive. The kind of guy you spotted at the other side of a room and made your heart beat faster kind of attractive.

When she’d spotted him at the station she’d almost turned around to look for the film camera. Were they shooting a new film, and he’d been brought in as the resident hunk?

She smiled to herself. His hands had been firm. Was the rest of him? It certainly looked that way—his shirt did nothing to hide the wide planes of his chest.

Mr Silent and Brooding was obviously not planning on telling her much. She was trying to push aside the fact he was impossibly tall, dark and handsome. And she was especially trying to push away the fact he’d fixed on her face with the most incredible pair of green eyes she’d ever seen. Ones that sent a little shiver down her spine.

But nothing he’d said had exactly been an answer, and now she’d finally met someone who knew Angus McLean her brain was just bursting with questions. It was her duty to her dad to find out as much as she possibly could. She followed him inside and tried to stifle the gasp in her throat.

It was the biggest entrance hall she’d ever seen, with a huge curved staircase running up either side around the oval-shaped room. These were the kind of stairs a little girl would dream of in her imaginary castle. Dream that she was walking down to meet her Prince Charming. If only.