One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors
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Not that she’d ever expected to stay the night. When she’d had as much of the tea and sandwiches as she could stomach, with her conscience making every mouthful an effort, she’d ventured downstairs with the tray, hoping to run into her host. But the only person she’d encountered was Sam Devlin, and he’d taken some pleasure in telling her that Mr Jameson was indisposed and wouldn’t be able to speak to her that afternoon after all.
Naturally, Rosa had blamed herself for Jameson’s condition, sure that her behaviour had contributed to his malaise. But when she’d asked how she could get back to the village, Devlin had reluctantly admitted that his employer didn’t want her to leave until he’d spoken to her again.
‘Mr Jameson suggests that you might like to spend a little time exploring the grounds of the castle,’ he’d said tersely. ‘I can come with you, if you like? Or, if not, you’re free to relax in the library. There are plenty of books to read, and Mrs Wilson can supply anything else you need.’
In the event, Rosa had agreed to go for a walk, though not with Sam Devlin. She’d a managed to convince the dour Scotsman that she wouldn’t get lost, and she’d spent a fairly pleasant hour wandering through gardens bright with late summer flowers, with only the dogs for company.
Back at the castle, and not knowing what else to do, she’d retreated to the library. Though not to read. She’d seen what manner of books were on the shelves, and, while she was sure Jameson only used them for research, she’d had no desire to give herself nightmares.
She’d been a little disturbed when Mrs Wilson had informed her that supper would be served at seven in the dining hall. She’d never expected to stay for supper and she hadn’t been wholly surprised when she’d ventured downstairs again, after washing her face and combing her hair, to find that she was eating alone.
‘Mr Jameson has suggested you spend the night,’ Mrs Wilson had explained gently, much less antagonistic than Sam Devlin had been. ‘He says he’ll see you in the morning. Will that be all right?’
Of course Rosa knew she should have refused, that accepting anything from Liam Jameson was putting herself in his debt. Which was definitely something she didn’t want to do. But she also knew that she owed him an apology, and much against her better judgment she’d agreed to stay.
She sighed now. Whether she’d wanted to or not, she’d accepted his hospitality, and sooner or later she was going to have to make her apologies and take her leave. So, was her reluctance just embarrassment, or was she, as she suspected, curiously unwilling to say goodbye?
She shivered. How ridiculous was that? Liam Jameson meant nothing to her, and she’d made sure he would be glad to see the back of her. And what a way to repay his kindness. Okay, he should have told her who he was right off—but would she have believed him as he’d said?
She considered. On the ferry, she’d told him very little about why she was coming to the island, and even after they’d disembarked she hadn’t exactly welcomed his help. By the time she’d confessed why she was really here, he’d already let her think he only knew Liam Jameson, not that that was who he really was.
The situation had definitely not been conducive to confidences, and she had to admit she’d been too anxious to get to her destination to listen to reason. Was that really why he’d kept his identity from her, as he’d said? It certainly made more sense than what she’d accused him of.
Not wanting to think about that scene in the library, Rosa finished her coffee and one of the warm rolls, and then went to get a shower. A glimpse of her tumbled hair convinced her that she couldn’t face Jameson in her present condition. She needed to have herself firmly under control before she encountered him again.
The bathroom was just as elegant as the bedroom where she’d slept, with a free-standing claw-footed tub and mirrored walls. The fluted glass shower could have accommodated at least three occupants, and the windows were made of clear glass.
The idea that anyone could look into the bathroom as she had her shower sent Rosa immediately to the windows. But there, on the second floor of the castle, there was no danger of being observed by anyone. Open spaces stretched in all directions, the nearest dwelling at least a mile away.
Stripping off the man-sized tee shirt she’d brought to sleep in, Rosa was caught for a moment by her reflection in the mirrored walls. Long legs, small breasts and a bony frame did not make for beauty, she decided ruefully. Okay, her complexion was fair, her eyes were dark and she didn’t suffer from freckles. But her mouth was too wide, her nose was too long and at present there were frown lines between her brows.
She sighed, losing patience with herself and stepping into the shower. What did it matter what she looked like? Liam Jameson was not going to be attracted to her. Goodness, she’d thought he was gorgeous when she’d believed he was Luther Killian. Now she knew who he really was, she would not have been surprised if Sophie had fallen for him.
Sophie!
Rosa felt ashamed of herself. Here she was, thinking about Liam Jameson, when she still had no idea where her sister was. She would have to phone her mother again, she thought, knowing Mrs Chantry would be waiting for her call. Hopefully her mother would realise that Rosa wasn’t free to use Liam Jameson’s phone at random. Particularly when the call she needed to make was long distance.
Emerging from the shower a few moments later, she quickly grabbed one of the luxury towels from the rack and wrapped it about her. Then, after cleaning her teeth, she went back into the bedroom to dress.
To her surprise, and dismay, the tray had disappeared in her absence. Remembering that she hadn’t bothered closing the bathroom door, Rosa hoped she hadn’t been seen. But if she had it would only have been Mrs Wilson, she assured herself. There was no way Liam Jameson would have collected the tray himself.
And if he had, what of it? she asked herself bitterly. It wasn’t as if she was the kind of woman men spied on. Unlike Sophie, who, with her spiky hair and rounded figure, was always being pursued by one man or another. And it now seemed as if her involvement with Mark Campion was on the skids as well.
Thankfully, there was a hairdryer lying on the period dressing table in the bedroom. Like the bathroom, the bedroom was an attractive mix of ancient and modern. The cheval mirror was Victorian, and the chest of drawers was even older. But, although the bed was a four-poster, the mattress was reassuringly twenty-first century in design.
It took a little while to dry her mass of hair, and then even more time to secure it in a French braid. If the severe style and the high-necked navy sweater she chose to wear with her jeans owed anything to a desire to stifle any trace of femininity, she refused to acknowledge it. It was important to appear confident, however insecure she might feel.
She was quite familiar with the stairs that led down to the lower floor by this time. The dining hall was on the floor below, not far from the library. But the dining hall, with its mahogany-lined walls and long refectory table, was empty, the epergne of roses in the centre the only sign of life.
She wondered if it was worth going down into the reception hall, but she doubted she’d encounter her host there. If, indeed, he was up and about. But she remembered there had been a desk and a computer in the library. Perhaps that was where Jameson wrote his books.
She tapped at the library door first, before venturing inside. But, although she listened intently for any movement from within, the room seemed eerily quiet. Now, why had she used that adjective? she chided herself. She hadn’t felt any unusual presence in the castle. It was just her imagination working overtime because there was nobody about.
There was only one way to find out. Reaching for the handle, she turned the knob. She sensed she wasn’t alone only seconds before someone spoke behind her. ‘Looking for me?’ enquired Liam Jameson in a hollow voice, and she almost jumped out of her skin.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I—YES. YES,’ she said, dry-mouthed, her breathing quickening uncontrollably. She swung round to find him propped against the wall to one side of the heavy door. Then, seeing his mocking smile, she forgot all about the promises she’d made herself. ‘Did you do that on purpose?’ she demanded hotly.
‘Do what?’ Liam adopted an innocent expression, but he could tell from her face that she knew he had.
‘Try to frighten me,’ she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest, where her heart was beating wildly. ‘Honestly—’ she endeavoured to calm herself ‘—you almost gave me a heart attack.’
‘I’m sorry.’
But he didn’t sound particularly sorry, and Rosa recoiled instinctively when he leant past her and pushed open the door. ‘After you,’ he said, apparently unaware that his hand had brushed the side of her breast as he did so. Her breast tingled, and Rosa stiffened, but he seemed indifferent to her response.
However, Liam wasn’t indifferent, and he was glad when she turned and went ahead of him into the room. For God’s sake, he thought, annoyed with himself as much as her. She was behaving like an outraged virgin and he was experiencing the kind of reaction that would have been pathetic when he was a teenager.
What was wrong with him, for pity’s sake? He had no interest in repressed spinsters. Women who knew little about sex, and what they did know scared them rigid. When he needed a woman, he preferred one who knew the score.
All the same, a little voice inside him taunted, it might be amusing to see how she’d react if he came on to her. It was years since he’d used sex as anything more than an infrequent necessity, with good reason. And just because Rosa Chantry intrigued him, it was no reason to think anything had changed. She’d be just as horrified as Kayla had been when she’d seen his injuries. But it would have been so nice to pull the pins out of her hair and feel all that fiery silk spilling into his hands…
Once again he steeled himself against that kind of madness. Despite the ache between his legs, he was determined not to give her another reason to accuse him of upsetting her. Hell, he didn’t need that kind of aggravation, but if that childish plait and masculine outfit were intended to deter any thoughts of a sexual nature they were having quite the opposite effect.
He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it, struggling to gain control of his sudden need. Rosa had hurried across the room, meanwhile, obviously wanting to put a safe distance between them. Then, when she felt she’d achieved her objective, she turned to face him.
‘I—was looking for you,’ she said, linking her hands together at her waist, unaware that it was a particularly protective stance. ‘I wanted to thank you.’
‘To thank me?’ Liam couldn’t think of anything she’d want to thank him for, but Rosa’s lips had tightened.
‘For allowing me to stay the night,’ she informed him primly. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘Ah.’ Liam was relieved to feel the restriction in his trousers easing, and he straightened away from the door. ‘No problem.’ He waited a beat. ‘Were you comfortable?’
‘Very comfortable, thank you.’
‘Good.’ Liam came further into the room. ‘I’m sorry I had to leave you on your own all evening. I’m afraid I fell asleep, and didn’t wake until after midnight.’
Rosa was tempted to say, How appropriate bearing in mind his occupation, but she didn’t. She was still intensely aware of him, and inviting that kind of intimacy wasn’t sensible. ‘It’s all right,’ she said instead. ‘Your housekeeper looked after me. I slept really well.’
‘You weren’t afraid I might turn into a vampire in the night and ravish you?’ Liam couldn’t resist the urge to tease her and she flushed.
‘Only briefly,’ she retorted, surprising him again. ‘But I’m fairly sure vampires don’t ride ferries or drive cars in broad daylight.’
‘Luther Killian does,’ he said at once, and Rosa gave him an old-fashioned look.
‘Luther Killian doesn’t exist,’ she said. ‘Or only in your imagination, anyway.’
‘You think?’
Rosa shook her head. ‘You’re not telling me you believe in vampires, Mr Jameson?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded. ‘There have been too many reports of sightings, both here and in Eastern Europe. And if you went to New Orleans—’
‘Which I’m not likely to do,’ she said tightly, realising she was letting him distract her from her purpose. She ought to be asking him if she could use his phone again, instead of indulging in a discussion about mythical monsters. Shrugging, she made a face. ‘I know very little about such things, Mr Jameson. But I imagine it makes good publicity for your books.’
Liam caught his breath. ‘You think that’s all it is?’ He was indignant.
‘Well, I don’t know, do I? I know nothing about vampires.’
‘You know they don’t normally go out in sunlight,’ he reminded her, and she sighed.
‘Everyone knows that.’ And then, unable to resist it, ‘Except Luther Killian, apparently.’
‘Ah, but Luther is only half inhuman. His mother was a witch before she met Luther’s dad.’
Rosa couldn’t help smiling. ‘And he converted her, I suppose?’
‘Vampires always convert their victims,’ agreed Liam, closing the space between them. ‘D’you want me to show you how?’
Rosa backed up. ‘I know how, Mr Jameson,’ she mumbled, not sure if he was teasing her now or not. ‘Please—’ She held out her hand in front of her. ‘I’m not a character in one of your books.’
‘No,’ he conceded flatly, aware that he was in danger of allowing their relationship to develop into something it was not. He turned back towards his desk, hearing her sudden relieved intake of breath as he did so. ‘You’re obviously not a believer.’
Rosa sighed now. She didn’t want to offend him, for heaven’s sake. ‘A believer in what?’ she asked, much against her better judgement, and he turned to rest his hips against the granite surface.
‘In the supernatural,’ he said carelessly, folding his arms. ‘What was it you said on the way here? Ghosts and werewolves—we call them shapechangers, by the way—and things that go bump in the night.’
Rosa shrugged. ‘And you are?’
‘Oh, sure. Anyone who has encountered evil in its purest form has to be.’
Rosa frowned. ‘Are you saying you’ve encountered evil?’
Oh, yes.
For a moment Liam thought he’d said the words out loud, but the expectant look on her face assured him he hadn’t. Thank God!
‘I suppose we all encounter evil in one form or another,’ he prevaricated, having no intention of discussing his experiences with her. He’d already stepped too far over the mark, and he backtracked into the only avenue open to him. ‘Luther certainly has.’
‘Oh, Luther!’ She was disparaging. ‘Who’s only a character in your books.’
‘The main character,’ he corrected her. ‘He’s what you’d call an anti-hero. He kills, but his intentions are always good.’
‘Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?’ she exclaimed at once. ‘How can anyone—or anything—that makes a living killing people be regarded as good?’
Liam shrugged, and as he did so Rosa caught a glimpse of something silvery against his neck. It was either a birthmark or a scar of some sort, and her mouth went dry. It occurred to her that it might have been made by someone’s—or something’s—teeth.
Oh, God!
‘I suppose that depends on your definition of good and evil,’ he replied, diverting her. ‘Isn’t ridding the world of genuinely wicked individuals worthy of some respect?’
Rosa struggled to regain her objectivity. ‘And that’s what your books are about? Some—some vampire bounty-hunter working to make the world a better place?’
‘A safer place, anyway,’ agreed Liam drily. ‘Don’t knock it. You never know what you’d do if you were faced with primal evil.’
‘And you do?’ She sounded sceptical, and Liam had to bite his tongue not to tell her exactly what had happened to him. ‘Come on, Mr Jameson. We both know you’ve lived a charmed life.’
Liam had to tuck his fingers beneath his arms to prevent himself from tearing his clothes aside to show her the kind of evil he’d encountered. ‘Maybe,’ he managed tersely. ‘But I haven’t always lived in Scotland, Miss Chantry.’
‘I know.’ She’d relaxed a little now. ‘I read about you on the Internet. Didn’t you used to work at the Stock Exchange, or somewhere?’
‘It was a merchant bank, actually.’
‘Whatever.’ Rosa shrugged, glad of the return to reality. ‘I imagine you had a fairly good salary. Then you made a lot of money with your first book and bought your own castle. How difficult was that?’
Liam pushed himself to his feet. ‘If that’s what you want to think,’ he said, turning to shuffle the papers on his desk. ‘Which reminds me, I have work to do.’
Rosa felt ashamed now. It wasn’t anything to do with her how he lived his life. ‘Look,’ she said, taking a step towards him, ‘I’ll admit I know nothing about you, really.
And—and if you say you know how it feels to face real evil, then I believe you. But—’
‘But you don’t believe me,’ said Liam sharply, swinging around again, and Rosa was uneasily aware that there was barely a hand’s breadth between them now. ‘You’re humouring me, Miss Chantry, and I don’t like it. I don’t need your endorsement.’
Rosa licked her dry lips. ‘I was only being polite,’ she protested. ‘It’s not my fault if you’re touchy about the veracity of your books.’
‘Touchy about the veracity—’ Liam gazed at her angrily. ‘You haven’t the first idea what you’re talking about.’ He dragged a calming breath into his lungs and tried to speak naturally. ‘Let’s just say I have had some firsthand knowledge of evil. But I’d rather not discuss it. Okay?’
Rosa lifted her shoulders. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Why should you?’ Liam wasn’t at all sure he liked the look of sympathy in her eyes any better than the disbelief he’d seen before. ‘Forget it. I have.’
Though he doubted he ever would.
Rosa hesitated. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest your books weren’t believable,’ she persisted, laying a reckless hand on his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.’
Offended me?
Liam expelled a strangled breath. Although he was wearing a warm sweatshirt, he could feel the touch of her fingers clear through to his skin. The muscles in his arm tightened almost instinctively, the tendons heating and expanding much like those other muscles between his legs.
‘It’s not important,’ he muttered harshly, concentrating on anything but the feminine scent of her skin. But then he lifted his lids and encountered those anxious brown eyes, and he felt as if he was drowning in their soft depths.
Hardly aware of what he was doing, he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across her parted lips. Moisture that had gathered there clung to the pad, and he didn’t think before bringing his thumb to his mouth to taste her.
For her part, Rosa was almost paralysed by his actions. She’d never dreamt that an innocent attempt to comfort him might have such a disturbing result. Her whole body felt hot and trembly now, and she was aware of him in a way that she hadn’t been before. Or was she only kidding herself? She’d been aware of him right from the start.
When her tongue emerged to circle her lips it was because they’d suddenly gone dry, not to absorb any lingering trace of his scent. Although she did. She heard him suck in a breath and wondered what he was thinking. Dear God, this wasn’t meant to happen. But she knew that Colin had never made her feel anything like this.
When he spoke, however, his tone was harsh. ‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m sorry.’
Now it was Rosa’s turn to take a gulp of much-needed oxygen. ‘It—doesn’t matter,’ she said, glancing behind him at the telephone. ‘Um—’ She had to calm down, she told herself. ‘I was wondering if—’
But that was as far as she got. ‘It does matter,’ he said, raking back his dark hair with a frustrated hand. ‘For God’s sake, you must think I’m desperate for a woman!’
Liam saw the way his words affected her almost before he’d finished speaking. The fact that he’d been trying to reassure himself that his emotions weren’t involved here was no excuse. He realised, belatedly, that what he’d said could be taken two ways, and he wasn’t at all surprised when she turned on him.
‘I’m sure you’re not,’ she retorted stiffly, wrapping her arms tightly across her slim body so that her small breasts were pushed upward in an unknowingly provocative way. ‘And I’m not that desperate for a man, either.’
Liam suppressed a groan. Didn’t she realise he hadn’t intended to offend her? Evidently not. He scowled. Now it was up to him to defuse the situation he’d created, and one look at her face convinced him that it wouldn’t be easy.
‘Look,’ he said persuasively, ‘that wasn’t intended as an insult. On the contrary. I wouldn’t like you to think I expected any payment for my hospitality, that’s all.’
Rosa gave him a disbelieving look. ‘We both know what you meant, Mr Jameson,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m not a fool. You don’t have to tell me I’m not the type of woman someone like you would find appealing.’
Liam felt a twinge of indignation. Despite the warning voice of his conscience, which was telling him not to continue with this, he resented the contempt he’d heard in her voice. Who the hell did she think she was, making uninformed judgements about him? She didn’t know him. She knew nothing about him or his tastes in women. Yet she was implying he was some moron who could only think with his sex.
The fact that that was what he had been doing was not something Liam chose to consider at that moment. ‘Be careful, Miss Chantry,’ he said unpleasantly. ‘I’ll begin to think you were disappointed that I stopped when I did.’
‘How dare you?’
Rosa didn’t think she had ever felt so furious. Her hand balled into a fist almost automatically, connecting with the hard muscles of his stomach before she had time to reconsider. She suspected she’d hurt herself more than she hurt him, but it didn’t matter. He had no right to ridicule her. Not when, for a heart-stopping moment, he’d made her feel so good.
Liam was surprised at the fierceness of her attack. ‘You need to control that temper of yours, Miss Chantry,’ he panted, annoyed at his shortness of breath. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you? What did I say to warrant that response?’
‘You know what you said, Mr Jameson.’ Rosa was trembling, but she refused to back down.
‘Yeah?’ Some evil demon was urging him on. ‘And wasn’t it true?’
Rosa stared at him, wondering how she could ever have been attracted to this man. ‘You have a much inflated opinion of yourself, Mr Jameson,’ she said icily, keeping her voice down with an effort. It would have been so much more satisfying to shout at him. ‘If I allowed myself, just for a moment, to give in to you, it was simply because I felt sorry for you. I mean, it can’t be much fun living here on your own, with only your female staff for diversion.’
The outrage Liam felt at being unknowingly but callously reminded of Kayla’s defection brought a crippling wave of anger sweeping over him. Forgetting that he’d been in the wrong here, that her insults were just a counterattack to his sarcasm, he grasped her wrists and twisted them behind her back. ‘You’re just a mine of bitterness, aren’t you, Miss Chantry?’ he chided scathingly. ‘It’s no wonder you’ve never been married. No decent man would put up with a spiteful bitch like you.’
Rosa gulped, the instinct to correct his bald assumption overwhelmed by the alarm she felt at finding herself locked in his savage embrace. She tried to break free, but with his hot breath almost stifling her, and his thigh wedged aggressively between her legs, she was helpless. They were both breathing rapidly, and for several seconds a silent battle ensued.
But it wasn’t really a battle, Rosa acknowledged weakly. She was at his mercy and he knew it. Though, strangely, he didn’t appear to appreciate his good fortune. On the contrary, when his eyes encountered hers, she saw they were filled with a mixture of confusion and regret.