‘I should say not!’
Over the ripple of laughter that followed this pronouncement, they looked up to see the groundskeeper standing in the doorway, a grim expression on his face.
Helen stood up guiltily. ‘Colm!’
He strode across the drawing room and thrust something at her. ‘This is yours.’
She looked down as she took the object into her hands. ‘It’s...it’s my mobile phone! You found it!’
‘Aye. It was on the floorboard of your hire car. I went to see if I could pull it out with the tractor, but it’s too far down the embankment.’ He turned to go.
‘Colm – wait.’
He paused. ‘Aye?’
Helen suppressed a wave of irritation. Damn the man! Why did he always make everything so bloody difficult? ‘The towing service can’t come out for another day or two. I’ll be staying here tonight, and possibly tomorrow night, as well. I just...wanted to let you know.’
He shrugged. ‘Good, then.’ He dipped his head at the others. ‘I’ll be off now.’ And he left.
‘Well,’ Natalie said tentatively when he’d gone, ‘that was awkward.’
‘I really put my foot in, didn’t I?’ Tark sighed. ‘Poor chap. I’d no idea he was standing there.’
‘Oh, not to worry,’ Wren assured him, ‘Colm’s got a hide like leather. You could fling spears and arrows at him, and like a rhinoceros, they’d just bounce off.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Helen murmured. ‘I don’t know him very well, of course, but he strikes me as a man who feels things very deeply and holds a grudge for ever.’
‘How long has he worked here?’ Rhys wondered as he reached for another egg and cress sandwich. ‘Has he been with the family a long time?’
Tark shook his head. ‘He turned up three months ago, looking for work. Our groundskeeper, Mr Finney, had just retired, so the position was open. It was the most amazing good luck on our part. His too, I imagine.’
‘Yes,’ Helen murmured thoughtfully, and took a sip of her tea. ‘Wasn’t it just?’
Late in the day, as she stepped into a beige silk chemise to dress for dinner, Natalie went pale.
‘Oh,’ she breathed, and sat down suddenly.
Rhys, knotting his tie in front of the mirror, paused. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, concerned. ‘You’ve gone as white as the bedspread.’
‘It’s a duvet,’ she corrected him faintly, ‘and, yes, I’m fine. I just felt a bit...dizzy, for a moment.’
‘Shall I fetch a doctor?’
‘No, don’t be silly.’ Natalie pushed herself to her feet. ‘It’s probably low blood sugar, or all that walking I did this morning. And I didn’t eat much at lunch.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ he accused. ‘And why didn’t you? You’re not on another one of those ridiculous diets, I hope?’
‘I simply wasn’t hungry, Rhys, that’s all,’ she said with a trace of irritation. ‘And I ate a huge breakfast.’
‘You did rather pack it away this morning.’ He came to stand behind her and slid his arms around her waist. ‘Are you nearly ready to go downstairs for dinner, darling?’
‘Almost.’ And as he nibbled her earlobe, Natalie’s irritation melted away, and she closed her eyes, and smiled, and forgot all about her momentary dizziness.
As she rummaged through her suitcase in search of an outfit to wear to dinner, Helen despaired. She hadn’t anything remotely suitable for dining in a castle. Hell, she didn’t even have a properly pressed pair of trousers.
Natalie, she thought suddenly. They were roughly the same size, although Helen was a bit shorter. Perhaps she’ll have something I can borrow...
Then she remembered the sheath she’d bought at Heathrow in one of the duty-free shops. She found it and pulled it out. The black wool hadn’t wrinkled, amazingly enough; and although it was plain, she could dress it up with a bit of jewellery and some heels. But she had to hurry, it was nearly seven...
Ten minutes later, Helen surveyed herself in the cheval mirror with satisfaction. Not bad, she decided, and raised a brow at her reflection. She’d do.
She grabbed her mobile and headed downstairs.
In the great hall, she paused at the foot of the stairs. The sound of voices echoed from the drawing room where everyone had gathered for a drink before dinner. They wouldn’t miss her for a few minutes more.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she took out her mobile and scrolled to Tom’s number. No time like the present...
‘Bennett here.’
‘It’s me,’ Helen said in a low voice.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Scotland,’ she retorted, ‘as you very well know. It’s been snowing almost nonstop, and my hire car went down a bloody embankment last night.’
‘Shit! You’re all right, I hope?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said dryly, ‘not that you care.’
‘Not true.’ He paused. ‘Where are you, exactly?’
‘You’ll never believe it, but I’ve landed at Draemar Castle, where the celebrity lovebirds are staying with the Campbell family even as we speak.’
He let out a soft whistle. ‘And how did you manage that?’
‘The embankment I hove over just happened to be on the castle property,’ she told him, and cast another wary glance around her. ‘I’d no idea Dominic and Gemma were even here until this morning. I’ve been invited to stay until my hire car’s repaired...which might be a few days.’
‘Perfect. So...have you got anything for me?’
‘Not much. The wedding’s to be in four weeks. Gemma’s demanding a horse-drawn sleigh, and kilts, and masses of white roses, and all manner of ludicrous, romantic fol-de-rol.’ Scorn undercut her words.
‘Where’s it to be, then? At the castle?’
‘No. Northton Grange. It’s a tiny village in the highlands—’
‘Yeah, where Dominic’s got that estate he never goes to,’ Tom finished. ‘So when are they going on to Northton G? Soon?’
‘Oh, I imagine they’ll leave just as soon as this bloody snow stops falling.’ She glanced around her with a shudder. All those medieval instruments of war and knights in armour unnerved her. ‘And you can bet your arse that when Dominic and Gemma leave this pile of mouldering Scottish stone, I’ll be right behind them—’
At the sound of a footstep nearby, Helen broke off. She whirled around to see Colm standing there.
‘I’ll call you later,’ she murmured, and rang off. She glared at him. ‘What are you doing? How dare you creep up on me like that! You startled me.’
‘I think the better question,’ he said grimly as he took her by the arm and drew her aside, ‘is to ask what the hell it is you’re doing, Ms Thomas.’
Helen met Colm’s narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she snapped, and shook his arm off. ‘Why are