Chapter 3
Chapter Three
My indignation spiked. Who the hell did he think he was?
I didn’t even know his name. I didn’t know anything about him. Yet he was asking to tag along with me on the drive to Scotland?
Ok, I thought with a stab of irritation. He was a treat for the eyes.
But to just invite himself along on my journey back to Strath Ross? The damned cheek!
Part of me did appreciate his intervention earlier, but the other part – the petty part – wished he’d let me chuck that drink over Fox.
I stared up, struggling to comprehend the boldness of this man. ‘You’re not backwards in coming forwards, are you?’
‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get.’
From the front of the manor, I could hear gaiety and the slamming of taxi cab doors.
Strobes of sunlight sifted through his dark hair, illuminating shoots of blue.
‘But I don’t know you,’ I blustered. ‘You could be anyone.’
‘Evan Lord,’ he replied, extending a hand.
I shook hands with him. ‘I’m Daisy Madden.’ He had elegant long fingers. I withdrew my hand as fast as I could under his intense gaze.
He fished his wallet out of the lining of his fancy suit jacket, produced a business card and handed it to me. His name, email address and other contact details were on it. It also said he was a freelance journalist.
I gave it a flap. Today wasn’t working out as I’d planned. All I wanted was to jump into Marlene and head back to Scotland, enjoying my own company and brooding over where my acting career was going or not going.
I realised I was studying him a little too long.
I snapped my attention back to his business card and mentally scurried around, latching onto any excuse I could so as not to agree to him becoming my passenger.
‘You could’ve stolen this,’ I insisted. ‘There’s no proof this is yours. I’ve only got your word for it.’
Evan Lord’s mouth twitched. ‘Have you actually seen who was at this shindig? If I was a thief, you really think I’d be ignoring the bling being flashed around in favour of a business card?’
I scowled up at him. Was he laughing at me?
He sighed. ‘You’re still not convinced, are you?’ His eyes widened. ‘Wait! I’ve got my passport with me. It’s in my case in the cloak room. Come with me.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but I found myself being steered around, back through the kitchen door and along the great hall, to the mobile cloak room.
There was an attractive young woman with a long, dark plait handing stragglers their jackets. When she saw Evan smiling at her, her face lit up. It looked like he had that effect on a lot of women. Probably one of those shallow charmers. Another Leon, I concluded.
‘Excuse me. Could I have my case, please?’ he asked.
‘Of course, sir. Do you have your cloakroom ticket handy?’
Evan retrieved his wallet and pulled from it a pink ticket with the number fifty-eight printed on it.
The cloakroom attendant moved to the left, bent over and fetched Evan’s case. It was a plush, leather effort.
Evan thanked her and moved it over the desk. Around us, the final partygoers were saying long goodbyes to friends and associates.
Evan deposited his case on the grand hall tiled floor, unzipped the front pocket and slid out his passport. ‘There you go.’
He handed it to me. I stared down at the shiny navy-blue leather document in my hand. Who did he think I was? Passport Control?!
Feeling self-conscious under his burning gaze, I concentrated my attention on his passport and flipped through the pages.
I located his photograph and personal details.
Evan’s chiselled features stared up at me.
I noticed that his full name was Evan Nathaniel Lord, he was thirty-seven and that he’d been born in Forrest Bank…
I drew up in surprise. ‘Forrest Bank?!’ I blurted.
‘Yes.’
’As in Forrest Bank in the Scottish Highlands?’
‘No. Forrest Bank in the .’
I pulled in my lips at his sarcasm. He didn’t sound like he came from that part of the world. His accent was all privately educated sounding vowels.
‘I was supposed to be flying to Inverness Airport this evening and then picking up a hire car for the short drive home to visit my family who still live there.’ He scrutinised me. ‘And then I overheard you say you’re from Strath Ross. We’re practically neighbours.’
True enough, Forrest Bank wasn’t far from Strath Ross; around half an hour. It was a pretty little place too, bursting with forestry and gorgeous woodland walks, with Loch Crawe sandwiched in between us.
Bugger! Typical, that he was heading in the same direction as me.
I thrust his passport back at him.
The grand hall was almost empty now, except for the cloakroom attendant and an older man in overalls, who’d appeared and was helping her dismantle everything and pack it away.
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter and started to head back down towards the kitchen.
Evan trundled his designer case behind him as he followed me.
I could hear the squeaking of the wheels on the tiles.
This wasn’t looking good. It was appearing more and more likely that I’d have to drive him to Scotland.
‘Don’t you drive?’ I scrambled, hoping I could still come up with an alternative travel suggestion for him. ‘Didn’t you bring your car?’
‘No, I caught a taxi here.’
We both exited the kitchen again, which was back to its pristine, sparkling glory. Another couple of cabs scrunched away over the gravel. ‘And even if I had been foolish enough to bring my car, I wouldn’t have been able to drive the thing. I’ve been drinking.’
Bloody hell, seethed my inner voice. He’s got an answer for everything! Forget about being a journalist, he’d make a wonderful politician.
I drew up beside Marlene and slid my car keys from my bag. I didn’t want this man beside me for the five-hundred-mile journey. Why? whispered a voice. I ignored it. ‘Look, Mr Lord, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I had planned to have a quiet, relaxed journey back to Scotland—’
His deep voice interrupted. ‘It’s Evan. And I’ll pay you.’
‘Pardon?’
He adjusted the handle of his case and made it stand to attention beside him. The warm breeze made his silky, ice blue tie flutter. ‘I said I’ll pay you for the cost of your petrol and also for the inconvenience. Is five hundred pounds acceptable?’
My eyeballs popped in my head. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ll pay you five hundred pounds for taking me.’
I wrapped my arms around myself for something to do. This was ridiculous! But boy would that amount of money come in handy. My cheeks stung. ‘But that’s too much.’
He shrugged. ‘I need to get home and you’re holding all the cards.’
Oh God. I didn’t want to be cocooned in a car until tomorrow beside this man. He made me feel all fingers and thumbs. But the amount of money he said he’d pay me would more than cover the petrol costs and meant I could be a bit choosier about where I stopped overnight tonight.
Evan flexed a brow at me. ‘Do we have a deal?’
He stuck out his hand.
I eyed it. From under his suit jacket sleeves, I got another glimpse of his glittering cuff links.
I sighed inwardly. What could I do? He had stopped me from getting sacked, I supposed, and it wasn’t his fault that the UK airports had grounded all the flights. Then there was the generous amount of money he’d offered me to get him there.
God, I hated being beholden to people. If I could just get over this acting slump!
Glossing over the reluctance flickering in my chest, I took his hand and gave it another shake. His skin was warm as his fingers brushed mine. I pulled my hand away first, as though I’d received an electric shock.
I cleared my throat. ‘Alright. Deal.’
Relief flooded his features. ‘Thank you, Miss Madden.’
‘Daisy.’
He seemed to relax a little under his pinstriped suit jacket. ‘Excellent. Thank you, Daisy.’
He nodded down at my bright, daffodil-yellow car, looking bemused. ‘And this is yours?’
‘Yep. Why?’
‘You won’t misplace her in the car park.’
I halted at my driver side door, the afternoon sun glancing off the window. ‘If you don’t like my car…’
Evan let go of the handle of his case and raised both his hands in a mock act of surrender. ‘Not at all. She’s … she’s funky.’ His mouth flickered.
I momentarily closed my eyes. Could I do this for the next twenty-four hours?
I glanced over the car roof at him. Evan was preparing to open the passenger side. ‘Well, are you driving then, Miss Daisy?’ His face was deadpan, but there was a glimmer of teasing.
I prickled. Very funny, Captain Smirk.
This was going to be one long journey back to Scotland.