10. Rory
RORY
“Darling, how’s it going?”
I should have let it go to voicemail. I’m dialled in waiting for Theo to come online from Palo Alto when Annabel purrs down the line from London. Jamie’s headed back to the cottage to do God knows what or who, more likely, and thank fuck Edie Jones is out of the picture until tomorrow morning.
“Good, thanks.” I scroll through emails, deleting mercilessly.
Hattie, my PA, is supposed to filter out the dross, but there’s still a never-ending stream of unread crap piling up the moment my back is turned as it has been today.
I’d kill for an espresso to kick my brain into gear for this meeting, but I grudgingly acknowledge that’s a bad idea, especially as I’ll have to be up and at the stables first thing.
Working across three time zones is a killer.
“Just wanted to check Edie was settling in okay.” My godmother sounds chirpy as ever.
She’s like the Duracell bunny – probably all those drugs she took in the eighties when she was modelling still working their way round her system.
Whatever it is, she’s outlived both my parents, so maybe she’s onto something.
“Sorry to leave you today, but I’ll be back in a couple of weeks to check up on how it’s all going. ”
“How what’s going?”
“The book, Rory, darling. Poor Edie has a hell of a job ahead of her.”
I suppress a groan. “I have everything under control.”
She chuckles. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“What are you talking about?”
My phone buzzes – Theo apologising for running behind but he’s just grabbing a juice and he’ll be right with me. Of course he bloody is. He’s gone full LA since he went over there to oversee the school and library project we’re working on.
“You can be a little bit intimidating, and Edie’s a sweet girl.”
I tap my pen against my chin and think about the look on her face when she walked into the study earlier today, an image I’ve been trying my best to suppress. I need to keep myself focused on the task in hand.
“She’s here to do a job.”
“And I wouldn’t have recommended her if I didn’t think she was more than capable of making some sense of Dickie’s ramblings.
But you seemed a little on edge earlier, which is why I’m calling.
She’s here to work, not to be eaten alive.
You know what you’re like, darling, when you get defensive.
And Edie’s not the enemy. I don’t want you making things hard for her. ”
If only she fucking knew. The only thing that’s hard for Edie right now is my dick, and that’s despite the fact she turned up this afternoon dressed like she was interviewing for a middle management role in Marks and Spencer.
Despite the ugly boots and terrible woollen suit, all I’ve been able to think about since the moment she walked in the door was the image of her, naked and tangled in a sheet at 3 a.m. when I walked out of the hotel room that night.
No name, no pack drill. That’s been my MO for years.
It’s easier that way – I’ve seen the mess my parents made of their relationship, and my priority is the estate.
I have to be single-minded, keep my eye on the overarching goal.
I do not need to be thinking about pretty redheads arching their back as they ride my?—
“—don’t you agree? Rory?”
“Absolutely.” God knows what she’s been talking about. The screen flashes – Theo’s online.
“Speak soon,” I say, cutting Annabel off mid-sentence. “I’ve got a meeting.”
“At this time?”
“It’s three o’clock in San Francisco.”
“Rory, hello.” The COO of the Loch Morven Foundation looks tanned and relaxed. “How’s it going over there?”
He’s sipping on some revolting green juice concoction.
He’s gone full Californian in the six months he’s been over there overseeing the project.
It means a lot to all of us – turning the land bought by my great grandparents into a school and community centre.
It’s exactly what the foundation is all about – giving something back.
Using what we’ve inherited to do some good, not just use it as some kind of cash cow.
Assuming I was ever meant to inherit it at all, but that’s a thought for another night.
“Marginally less sunny than it is with you, by the looks of things.” It’s dark outside, and there’s a chill in the air which the library fire isn’t quite taking the edge off.
It doesn’t matter how much money we pour into the heating bills here at Loch Morven – it doesn’t matter how imposing it might look on the outside, the reality is that two hundred and fifty years of history does not make for a hermetically sealed hothouse, despite the millions my father shelled out on redecoration.
There’s a reason everyone gravitates to the morning kitchen, where the Aga stove radiates heat and the dogs lie on their beds getting under our feet.
Bramble leans her chin on my knee, and I reach down to stroke her ears.
I hear Tilly’s tail beating out a lazy half-hearted wag under the desk.
Sometimes I think these two are the only thing keeping me sane – the worry that’s been turning over in my mind for the last three months almost clears when I get them out on the moors for a walk.
“You’re on the wrong side of the Atlantic.” Theo grins. “We need you over here pressing the flesh.”
“Would that I were.” I sit back and survey my desk in the library. It’s as neat and ordered as my father’s study is chaotic and badly managed. “I’m going to be here for the next couple of months, at least.”
“Rather you than me.”
By the time I’m done with projections and project plans, it’s past eleven and the house is silent.
I head upstairs, the dogs at my heels, pausing for a moment outside Edie’s room.
She’s a complication I could do without, at a time when I’ve got more than enough on my mind.
So why the hell did I stamp on Jamie’s offer to take her around the estate on the horses in the morning?
Because I don’t trust her and I don’t trust myself.