One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors

‘So you would.’ Sam regarded her consideringly as he closed the heavy door. ‘But, contrary to what you believe, Miss Chantry, I did tell Mr Jameson what you’d said.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ Rosa felt foolish now, and her face burned with sudden colour. ‘What you mean is, Mr Jameson didn’t want to speak to me, is that right?’ She swallowed her humiliation. ‘Well, that’s all right. I realise now I shouldn’t have bothered him.’ She turned back to the door. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘Wait!’ As she fumbled with the latch, Sam spoke again. ‘Look, Miss Chantry,’ he said, and now he sounded a little embarrassed, ‘I didn’t mean to imply that Liam had refused to speak to you. As a matter of fact I don’t know what he might have done if—if…’ He hesitated, as if he didn’t want to go on, but courtesy demanded it. ‘If he’d been able,’ he finished at last. Then, after another pause, ‘He—er—he hasn’t been too well since you left on Tuesday. And that’s the truth.’

Rosa was dismayed at the effect his words had on her. ‘Is it his leg?’ she asked, realising she was stepping onto unknown ground, but anxious enough to take the risk. She linked her cold fingers, pressing them at right angles to her chest. ‘Please—tell me.’

Sam frowned. ‘You know about his injuries?’ he asked warily, but Rosa wasn’t brave enough to claim that.

‘Just—just that he seems to be troubled at times,’ she admitted, shifting from one foot to the other. She stared at him. ‘Doesn’t he?’

‘Perhaps.’ Sam was noncommittal. ‘But as it happens he got soaked when he was out with the dogs on Tuesday afternoon, and since then he hasn’t felt very sociable.’

‘You mean he got a chill?’

Sam was evidently unhappy talking about his employer behind his back. ‘Something like that,’ he admitted at last. ‘As you’ve learned to your cost, the weather here can be unpredictable.’

‘You don’t mean it developed into pneumonia?’ exclaimed Rosa, aghast, and Sam gave a helpless shake of his head.

‘Och, no,’ he said half impatiently. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Just a—nasty cold, is all.’ He paused, and then added ruefully, ‘Liam’s no’ a good patient, Miss Chantry.’

‘Do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?’

The unexpected sound of Liam’s voice caused them both to start in alarm, and Sam instantly looked as guilty as hell. ‘God, man,’ he protested in a shaken voice. ‘Do you have to scare us half to death? I didn’t hear you.’

‘Obviously not.’ Liam left his position at the foot of the tower stairs and walked heavily towards them. He noticed that Rosa was looking as if he was the last person she’d expected to see, and that annoyed the hell out of him. This was his house, dammit. Who had she expected to see? ‘What’s happening?’

Rosa gazed at him in total confusion. After what Sam had been saying, she’d imagined Liam weak and vulnerable, worn out by coughing and sneezing and blowing his nose.

But the reality was much different. In his usual tight jeans, the fabric worn almost white in places she wasn’t supposed to look, and a long-sleeved silk shirt, the colour of which exactly matched his eyes, he looked darkly disturbing—and just as dangerous as Luther Killian, she was sure.

‘Miss Chantry—’ began Sam, but Rosa knew she couldn’t allow the older man to take the blame for her intrusion.

‘I came to see you,’ she broke in quickly, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. ‘Mr Devlin was just telling me that—that you hadn’t been well.’

‘I just told her you had a cold,’ exclaimed Sam swiftly, and Rosa wondered at the look that passed between the two men at that moment. ‘That’s all.’

‘Yeah.’ Liam accepted his explanation. Whatever faults he might have, Sam was excessively loyal. He wouldn’t talk about Liam’s private affairs with anyone.

He returned his gaze to Rosa, noticing that she was shivering now. But whether that was because she was only wearing a light jacket or because he’d frightened her, he couldn’t be sure. ‘Well, Miss Chantry,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You’d better come with me.’

Rosa’s eyes were wide and anxious. ‘All right,’ she said, giving Sam a grateful look. ‘Thanks for your help, Mr Devlin.’

Sam stiffened. ‘It was my pleasure, Miss Chantry,’ he insisted. Then, as she started after Liam, ‘Will you be wanting a lift later?’

‘Oh, no.’ Rosa gave him a tight smile. ‘I borrowed Mrs Ferguson’s car. But thanks, anyway.’

Sam nodded, then, addressing himself to his employer, he added, ‘Will I ask Mrs Wilson to bring coffee?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ agreed Liam, and Sam gave her another searching look before disappearing through a door below the tapestries at the side of the hall.

‘You’ve made a conquest,’ remarked Liam drily, gesturing for her to precede him up the stairs, and she frowned.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I do. Sam’s not usually so talkative, believe me. Not with women, anyway.’

Rosa shook her head, starting up the stairs. Following her, Liam was intensely aware of the rounded curve of her bottom swaying with every step she climbed. She might be slim, but she was shapely, her legs long and graceful beneath the close-fitting woollen pants she was wearing.

He also noticed that she’d attempted to pile her glorious hair into a knot on top of her head this morning. But, as usual, the wind and rain had hampered her efforts. Already strands of dark red silk coiled seductively on the shoulders of her jacket, and he was tempted to pick one up and allow it to curl about his fingers.

But he refused to go there. The end result of such an action was not one he wanted to explore, however appealing his own satisfaction might be. Besides, although he was fairly sure she’d been a willing recipient of his attentions earlier in the week, once she’d seen the ugly scars that marred his body she’d probably run as fast as Kayla had done.

Rosa, meanwhile, hearing the sudden hoarseness of his breathing, decided that Sam hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her Liam had had a cold. He sounded as if he was struggling for breath, and she felt ashamed for doubting him.

They reached the top of the stairs at last, and Liam went ahead along the narrow landing. They passed several doors, including the library and the dining hall that Rosa remembered from her previous visit, and stopped before a door at the end of the hall.

It opened into a large living room. Because of the lowering skies, lamps had been lit on tables and cabinets, several tall uplighters adding illumination to a room that was both beautiful and homely.

A pair of plush suede sofas flanked the carved façade of the fireplace, and bookshelves filled with novels and magazines filled the space beneath the long windows. Raw silk curtains, in the same warm caramel colour as the sofas, were drawn back to display the fury of the storm outside, but Rosa guessed that in fine weather the view would be breathtaking.

Underfoot, a huge Turkish rug in shades of blue and green complemented the heavy-textured wall coverings, which reminded her they were in a castle, not a millionaire’s mansion. Though the distinction escaped her.

‘Go ahead,’ said Liam, stepping back to allow her to enter, and Rosa hesitated.

‘My shoes are damp,’ she murmured, glancing down, and Liam arched sardonic brows.

‘I can see that,’ he said with a shrug. ‘So take them off.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Why would I mind?’ Liam queried mockingly. ‘Take off anything you like.’ He paused, aware that she was looking at him warily now, before adding smoothly, ‘Your jacket? It’s wet, too.’

CHAPTER NINE

ROSA didn’t quite know how to take his flippancy, but she bent and removed her low-heeled shoes, placing them just outside the door. Her jacket she took off, but folded it over her arm. Then, with a strangely fatalistic feeling, she stepped into the room.

The carpet was soft and warm after her damp shoes. She hadn’t realised how cold her feet were until she felt the warmth of the room enveloping her from head to toe. She was aware of Liam following her, and when the door closed behind him she swung round with an almost guilty feeling of relief.

‘This is a beautiful room,’ she said, needing to say something, if only to show he didn’t intimidate her. ‘The whole castle is beautiful. You’re very lucky to live here.’

‘Am I?’ Liam lifted her coat from her arm and gestured towards the sofas. ‘Well, why don’t we sit down and talk about it?’

Rosa didn’t have an answer for that, but, after watching him drop her jacket onto a chair by the door, she decided she had nothing to lose. Moving round the end of one of the creamy sofas, she perched rather nervously on the edge of the seat.

Liam came to join her, and once again she couldn’t help noticing how he dragged his left leg. But she wasn’t here to ask personal questions, she reminded herself, though her desire to keep her cool took a bit of a tumble when he chose to sit beside her.

‘Okay,’ he said, and she was forced to turn in her seat to face him, which caused her to slip a little further back on the cushions. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’ve changed your mind?’

‘Changed my mind?’ Rosa was nonplussed.

‘About this place only being good enough for sheep and cattle,’ remarked Liam mildly, his green eyes intent on her confused face.

‘I didn’t say that.’ Rosa’s cheeks turned pink.

‘As good as. I seem to remember you asking me if it was even civilised.’

‘That was before I’d seen it,’ Rosa protested defensively. ‘Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.’

‘I didn’t think so.’ Liam leaned back, resting his right ankle across his left knee. ‘Sam told me you’d wanted to speak to me before you left on Tuesday morning.’

Rosa stiffened. ‘But you didn’t consider it important enough to get in touch with me?’ she exclaimed impulsively. ‘Even though you’re evidently much better now.’

‘Oh, I am. Much better,’ agreed Liam drily.

Rosa regarded him warily. ‘So—were you going to get in touch with me or not?’

‘Not,’ he declared softly. ‘I thought it was for the best.’

Rosa swallowed. ‘Whose best? Yours, I suppose?’

‘Mine, yes. And yours.’ Liam watched her with unwilling interest. He didn’t need this, he told himself, even as he added, ‘I don’t think we have anything more to say to one another, do you?’

‘Well, obviously I do.’ Rosa knew it would probably be wiser if she got to her feet and got out of here before she said or did something unforgivable. ‘There’s something else I want to ask you about Sophie.’

Her sister!

Liam only just prevented himself from using a word that wasn’t acceptable in mixed company. But hadn’t they dealt with her sister’s disappearance to distraction already? He didn’t even know the girl, but he disliked her intensely.

Dropping his foot to the floor, he leant forward, allowing his hands to hang free between his spread thighs. Then, in a controlled voice, he said, ‘What about her?’

Rosa moistened dry lips. ‘I—forgot to ask you if it was possible that a film was being made in another part of the Highlands.’

Liam turned his head to give her an incredulous look. ‘Well, sure,’ he said. ‘People are always making films in this part of the world. So what? You think now that your sister might really have hooked up with a guy from a film production?’

‘It’s possible.’ Despite the disbelieving look in Liam’s eyes, Rosa knew a twinge of optimism. ‘And I think you might have told me about the probabilities of these other productions.’

‘Say what?’ Liam was indignant. ‘What the hell do they have to do with me?’

‘Well, they’re your books, aren’t—?’

‘Whoa!’ Liam halted her there. ‘You think I’m talking about an alternative production of one of my books?’

‘Well, aren’t you?’

‘Hell, no.’ Liam gave an exasperated snort. ‘I was talking about films generally. For God’s sake, if I’d thought they were making a film of one of mine elsewhere in the Highlands, don’t you think I’d have told you?’

Rosa’s shoulders sagged. ‘So they’re not?’

‘No.’

‘You’re sure?’

Liam gave a half-laugh. ‘Well, let’s put it this way, I’ve signed no contracts.’

‘You mean they haven’t paid you?’

‘If you want to put it like that.’

Rosa gave a heavy sigh. ‘What other way is there? I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.’

‘Hey, don’t say that.’ As suddenly as before, Liam changed his mind about her. ‘You’ve certainly provided a pleasant distraction on a particularly dull day.’

‘I’m glad I’ve amused you.’

Rosa’s voice was thick, but when she would have pushed to her feet Liam’s hand on her thigh prevented her from rising. ‘Don’t go,’ he said, his fingers registering the warmth of her flesh beneath the fine wool trousers. She was quivering, and when her eyes widened uncertainly, he added swiftly, ‘Mrs Wilson is bringing us some coffee.’

Rosa’s mouth was dry. But, in spite of everything, she knew that this was really why she’d come here. Oh, she’d wanted to ask him about Sophie, too. But she hadn’t held out much hope in that regard. What she’d needed to know was if the instant attraction she’d felt between them was just a figment of her imagination.

It didn’t feel like it at this moment. The fingers gripping her leg were both strong and oddly possessive. And when she lifted her head and looked into his eyes she saw a reflection of her own thwarted desires.

Dear heaven, she thought incredulously, he did want her. She just wished she had the first idea of what she was going to do about it.

The knock at the door was timely. Liam released Rosa at once, rising to his feet as the housekeeper obeyed his summons and came into the room carrying a tray.

‘Sam said you wanted coffee, Mr Jameson,’ Mrs Wilson murmured, her gaze flickering quickly over his guest’s bent head. ‘Where would you like it?’

Liam’s lips twitched a little at the woman’s unknowing innuendo, but he gestured towards the low table that was set between the two sofas. ‘Just here’s fine,’ he said, wondering if her interruption was fate, trying to bring him to his senses. Mrs Wilson set down the tray and straightened. ‘Thanks.’

The door closed behind the housekeeper with a definite click, and, because anything else would have looked strange, Liam subsided again onto the sofa beside Rosa. But he avoided looking at her, saying instead, ‘Help yourself.’

Rosa made no move to do so. She merely stared at the tray as if it might provide the answers she sought. A steaming jug of coffee, two porcelain cups, a cream jug and a sugar basin. Such ordinary items, yet they represented the difference between an increasing awareness and the coolness she now felt from Liam.

‘I’m not thirsty,’ she said at last. ‘And I think I’d better go, after all.’

Liam’s jaw clenched, and before he could prevent himself he asked, ‘Do you want to?’

No!

Rosa turned her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said weakly.

Liam groaned, and, forgetting what he’d told himself since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, reached out and slipped his hand behind her nape. Then, before he could change his mind, he pulled her towards him.

And she came, seemingly willingly, her lips parting beneath his with a sensuality he hadn’t expected. He’d intended to keep this light, inconsequential, but when her mouth opened he plunged his tongue into that wet, heated cavern without giving himself time to think.

She tasted hot and sweet and immensely desirable. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand had slid from her neck to the sensitive hollow of her spine. She arched towards him and he felt her taut breasts nudging his chest. And, God help him, his hand slipped lower, cupping the provocative curve of her bottom.

She jerked uncontrollably, but she didn’t draw away, and he urged her back against the cushions behind her. He was kissing her now with a wild abandon that he hadn’t felt since who knew when. If he’d ever felt this way, he conceded with unwilling honesty, as he ravaged her mouth again and again.

But this was not what he’d intended, he thought, in a rare moment of coherency. Not what he’d intended at all. He didn’t indulge in one-night-stands with needy divorcees who were looking for no-strings sex. Besides, he hardly knew her. And she knew nothing of the monstrous scars that lurked beneath the expensive civility of his clothes. Hadn’t he learned to his cost that women were not to be trusted? If he didn’t want to scare her half to death, he should stop this. Now.

Rosa, however, knew nothing of his private misgivings. And, while she doubted anything lasting could come of it, she was ready and willing to take whatever Liam had to give. Her marriage to Colin, the pain she’d suffered when she’d discovered he’d been cheating on her, seemed a distant memory. Colin had never made her feel like this. Their relationship had been one of convenience, she realised, not passion.

She moved, slipping her hands about his neck, letting her fingers curl in the hair at his nape. His hair was only lightly tinged with grey, but thick, and virile. Like the rest of him, she thought a little breathlessly, feeling the unmistakable pressure of his arousal against her stomach.

The fight Liam was waging against his own needs was rapidly fading. When her tongue came to twine with his, he felt the blood thundering through his veins. He sucked on her lips, bit her tongue, felt his head spinning with the gnawing hunger inside him. He wanted her, he thought savagely. He wanted to bury his aching shaft in her wet heat.

His hand stroked her jawline, and when he lifted his mouth to take a breath his thumb brushed sensuously across her swollen lips. Her tongue appeared, laving his thumb as he bent to bite her earlobe, and he felt his arousal straining at his zip.

Her hair had come loose during their lovemaking, and he couldn’t resist twining the fiery strands around his fingers. He brought them to her lips and kissed her through the silky curtain, heard her give a moan of ecstasy as he did so.

God, this was getting heavy, he thought, dragging his hand away—but only as far as her chest. He couldn’t resist cupping her breast through her sweater, but when he bent to take one hard nipple into his mouth she shook her head and guided his hand to the hem of the jersey.

Beneath the woollen garment her skin was smooth and unblemished. Unlike his own, he thought bitterly. When he peeled the sweater up to her chin, he found pert breasts, almost bursting out of her half-bra. The sight of all that creamy flesh was a harsh reminder of his own scarred torso, and with a groan of anguish he buried his face between her breasts and said hoarsely, ‘I can’t do this!’

Rosa was breathing rapidly, her chest rising and falling swiftly, matching the sexual cravings he was inspiring in her. There was a wetness between her legs, and a pain stirring deep in her belly. As well as electric shocks that sparked along her nerves and left her aching, restive and wanting.

‘You want me,’ she protested, not knowing where she found the courage to say such a thing to him. God, only a few days ago she’d been convinced he could never be attracted to her. Yet here she was, telling him he wanted her, when he might easily be playing her along.

However, he didn’t deny it. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ Liam declared grimly, but when he put his hands on the cushions at either side of her head to lever himself away from her she wouldn’t let him go.

‘It does matter,’ she insisted, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. ‘I’m not expecting a lifelong commitment here. I just want to—be with you. Is that so wrong?’

Liam groaned. ‘It’s not wrong—’

‘Well, then?’

‘You don’t understand,’ he muttered, and this time he succeeded in pulling away from her. He drew her sweater down again, hiding those luscious breasts from his hungry gaze. ‘I’m not what you think.’

Rosa gazed at him, narrow-eyed. ‘If you’re going to tell me you’re not normal, then—’

‘I’m not a vampire,’ Liam assured her harshly. ‘But just take my word for it. This would never work.’

‘It doesn’t have to work.’ Rosa struggled into a sitting position and stared at him appealingly. ‘I like you, Liam. I have ever since you spoke to me on the ferry. I know I’m not sophisticated or glamorous, but I thought—I really thought you liked me, too.’

‘I do like you,’ muttered Liam savagely. ‘This has nothing to do with liking or disliking you. It has to do with me. Only me!’

Rosa knew when she was beaten. She’d given it her best and Liam had shot her down in flames. She didn’t know what was going on here, but she didn’t believe half of what he was saying. For some reason he’d changed his mind about her.

Was he afraid she might expect something he couldn’t give? Even now? Hurting, she had to deliver one final taunt—if only to salvage something from the wreck of her self-respect. ‘It’s always about you, isn’t it, Mr Jameson?’ she demanded, wrapping her arms about her suddenly chilled body. ‘You’re completely self-motivated, aren’t you? Self first, self last, self everything!’

The injustice of that statement almost choked him. He’d been thinking of her, for God’s sake! And of himself, too, he admitted, and how he’d feel when she saw him and turned away. But mostly of her, mostly to spare her the ugly patchwork his attacker had made of his body. It wouldn’t occur to her that the reason he wore long-sleeved shirts and sweaters was because the man had almost chopped his arms to shreds.

Realising he would regret this, he got to his feet and faced her. Then, as she gazed up at him in sudden alarm, he tore his shirt open. Buttons popped and danced across the floor, and he realised he’d probably torn them off. But he didn’t care. In that moment all he wanted to do was show her the proof of what he’d been saying.

Rosa got to her feet as he dragged the shirt off his shoulders, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the scars on his arms and chest. Someone had attacked him—with a knife, she guessed—and he’d raised his arms to defend himself.

So this was what he’d been hiding, she thought, wondering if he thought they detracted from him as a man. The scars were old, and in many cases fading. But the memories they’d left with him were still strong enough to tear him apart.

Oh, Lord, she fretted, ashamed that she’d made him do this. Not to mention accusing him of having lived a charmed life. But did he really think she’d be repulsed by his appearance? For heaven’s sake, she was ashamed of herself, not him.

‘I—I didn’t know,’ she began, wanting to reassure him. ‘I’m sorry, Liam, I—’

‘Not half as sorry as I am, believe me,’ he snarled harshly. ‘But, as you say, you didn’t know. I suppose that’s some excuse.’ He snatched up his shirt and shoved his arms into the sleeves. ‘But now you do, and I want you to go. I’ll get Sam to show you out.’

‘But, Liam—’

‘Don’t,’ he said, limping heavily to the door. ‘Believe me, I’ve had all the sympathy I can take.’

Rosa fretted about what had happened all the way back to the guesthouse. She didn’t think about the rain, or the fact that the roads were slippy and she had to be careful she didn’t skid into a bog. Her own safety meant nothing to her at that moment. She didn’t even notice the stiffness of the steering wheel. All she could think about was Liam’s face when he’d wrenched off his shirt and shown her those awful scars. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the torment in his eyes.

It was only when she pulled up outside the guesthouse that she realised it had actually stopped raining. Even the wind seemed to have eased a little, and she could actually walk up the path to the door without getting blown off her feet.

Conversely, the knowledge that the storm was waning didn’t cheer her up. The ferry would come and she’d leave the island. She’d never see Liam again.

‘Is everything all right?’ Mrs Ferguson met her in the hallway of the guesthouse, her brow creasing when she saw how drawn Rosa looked.

‘Yes. Yes, everything’s fine,’ lied Rosa, knowing she couldn’t discuss what had happened with anyone. ‘Thank you for the use of your car. I must pay for the petrol, though.’