Chapter 4 #2
‘In that case,’ he said graciously, ‘Cal it is, but I may still call you Ellis, anyway.’ He smiled lightly to show he was teasing, then sobered as he abruptly remembered he was at a wake for his dead relative and was surrounded by the people who had known and loved her.
‘Do you mind if we don’t go to the parlour?’ Giselle asked.
Rocco didn’t mind at all. The castle was large enough to find a quiet corner, although at this precise moment, he had no idea where that might be.
And he was also beginning to regret asking to speak to her alone.
They could have caught up another time. But he’d made a point of it now and he didn’t want to backtrack, so he said, ‘Of course not. Where do you suggest?’
‘The loch has a jetty. We can go there.’
Rocco’s eyebrows shot up. Out of the blue, he had a vision of another jetty where they’d caught the vaporetto from Murano Island back to Venice.
‘Let’s go.’ He gestured towards the open double doors with a jerk of his head. ‘I’ll be back later,’ he said to Fraser, ignoring the significant look that passed between Giselle and the receptionist.
Oh, well, he should expect gossip. He was an unknown quantity, even to Giselle. One night ten years ago didn’t count for anything.
He waited until they were outside before he attempted to speak, but she beat him to it.
‘It’s a glorious day,’ she said, leading him towards a narrow lane between the castle and a sizeable outbuilding.
Small talk? Really? OK, he could do small talk, if that’s what was needed to break the ice, but what he actually wanted to ask was whether she’d found her vocation and what she’d been doing with herself. But why he was so interested wasn’t a question he had the answer to.
‘It is,’ he agreed.
‘It doesn’t seem right to bury someone on a day like today.’
He supposed it didn’t. ‘Were you close?’ It suddenly occurred to him that he knew absolutely nothing about her.
‘I liked her a lot and respected her even more. She’ll be sorely missed.’
‘I’m sure she will be.’
Giselle’s face was pale in the bright sunlight, like bleached bone or fine porcelain. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Despite her grief, she was gorgeous, and he had an entirely inappropriate urge to kiss her.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said awkwardly.
‘It was a heart attack.’
‘I know.’ The solicitor had informed him of this.
The tears spilt over to trickle silently down her cheeks. It was like watching an elf or a fairy cry. Should he try to comfort her? The thought of holding her made his heart leap. He really needed to get a grip on his emotions. Desire had no place here.
‘It was my fault,’ she announced miserably.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I was late. If I’d been on time, I might have been able to—’ She broke off, pressing her lips together, and didn’t say anything further until they rounded a corner and the loch came into view between the trees.
A small cottage lay directly ahead, and beyond it a sliver of beach and a wooden jetty. He could smell the tang of salt and seaweed. The midday sun was bright through the dappled leaves, and he could hear the cries of gulls along with the tweets and chirps of smaller birds in the branches overhead.
Then they left the trees behind and were walking on coarse sand, and he felt incongruous in his suit and tie as his polished black shoes sank into the golden grains beneath his feet.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ he asked.
In another life he might have removed his jacket and tie and slipped out of his shoes.
But not in this one. He wasn’t here to play in the sand.
Actually, why was he here, on this beach with Giselle?
Why had he wanted to speak to her alone?
Was it to ask her to be discreet about their prior relationship?
If so, from the look Avril the receptionist had given him, that boat had already sailed.
And what did it matter if they’d known each other briefly a decade ago?
He’d been young, they both had, little more than teenagers on holiday. Who would care?
He should go back. He had work to do. No doubt there was a slew of emails in his inbox, and a plethora of messages on his phone, not to mention a report he really should have completed yesterday.
His hand crept to his trouser pocket, then dropped to his side without taking his phone out, and he followed Giselle onto the rickety wooden jetty instead.
She was in profile, staring out over the water, the sun turning her hair to platinum, the braid lying over her shoulder like thick rope, and he remembered digging his fingers into the silken strands.
Rocco inhaled deeply and let his breath out in a slow trickle. He could do without such memories invading his thoughts.
Woodenly, she said, ‘I was supposed to be having coffee with her, but I was late. Too engrossed in my work. I lost track of time. Only for ten minutes. But those ten minutes could have made the difference. Between life and—’ She spoke in disjointed sentences, and he could hear the pain in her voice.
Without meaning to, he found himself saying, ‘My father died. Eight years ago. Car crash.’ The words came out, bald and abrupt. They made her pause.
‘I’m sorry. That must have been rough.’
He shrugged. It had been. Extremely.
Not wanting to talk about it, he changed the subject. ‘It was a surprise seeing you at the church. I thought you were from… East Kilbride, was it?’ Near Glasgow, he remembered her saying.
‘I’m from Skye originally, born and bred. But we moved to East Kilbride when I was in my late teens. I live here now.’
‘When you say here, do you mean Skye in general or Duncoorie in particular? Surely you don’t live at the castle?’ Might she be a member of staff and, as a consequence, live on site?
His time with Fraser – sorry, Cal – had been limited this morning and it hadn’t been a question he’d thought to ask. He would ask it soon, though, because he wasn’t sure where he stood when it came to property, tenants and eviction notices. That would be one for his lawyer.
She said, ‘Technically, I live in Duncoorie, but my bothy is nearer to the castle than the village.’
‘Bothy?’
‘Cottage.’
Ah. Another Scottishism, along with ‘kirk’. It was like a foreign language, one he had no intention of learning. ‘Why did you return to Skye?’
‘I never wanted to leave, but my dad got a job in Glasgow. I doubt you’ll remember, but I have a twin sister. She was happy about the move – she enjoyed being able to travel into Glasgow – but I wasn’t so keen. When I got the chance to come back, I took it.’
Rocco remembered her telling him she had a sister. There was nothing about Giselle and those days in Venice that he’d forgotten. Saying that, he forgot very little. His memory was one of his strengths, especially when it came to business.
‘What do you do, jobwise?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got a studio at the craft centre. Didn’t you know?’
‘There’s a great deal about Mhairi’s affairs that I don’t know.’
‘I expect it’s a lot to take in, but don’t worry, Cal knows what he’s doing. He’ll keep the place going until you’re ready to take up the reins.’
‘I’m not here to take up the reins. I’m here to assess the estate with a view to putting it on the market.’
‘You’re selling it?’
‘What else am I supposed to do with it? I have no use for a castle in the backend of nowhere, no matter how pretty the scenery. But someone will. There’ll be an American or two who’ll fancy themselves the lord of their very own Scottish estate.’
Giselle inhaled sharply and her navy eyes widened in dismay. ‘But… but… what about the craft centre?’ she stuttered.
‘I’ll have to have a good look over the books with my accountant, but I highly doubt the estate will be sold as a going concern. I mean, if you were buying this as a Scottish holiday home, your own slice of Highland heaven, you wouldn’t want a bunch of tourists traipsing over it, would you?’
She was shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said. ‘It makes perfect sense to sell it.’
‘To you maybe. But not to me.’ And with that, she whirled around and darted up the jetty.
Then she was gone, leaving him to find his own way back.
He stared after her, irritably, and it took him a while to realise that his ire had been joined by an equal measure of desire and intrigue.
His brief stay here could well be an interesting one.