Chapter 15 #2
Everyone laughs.
The tension eases.
A little.
Though Maggie keeps watching us.
Dinner continues.
Jamison serves the main course—a roast that smells heavenly.
Conversations become lighter.
Callum recounts stories from their trip to the United States.
Jane explains how Charlie discovered a passion for pulling hair during the flight.
Keira and Alistair discuss a new whisky they’re testing.
And little by little, I relax.
Until Isobel turns toward me.
“Do you cook, Clementine?”
“Yes. Every day.”
“Cameron told me you made an extraordinary stew recently.”
I turn toward Cameron.
“You talked about my stew?”
He blushes slightly.
“It was... really good.”
Connor snorts.
“Cameron never compliments food. He just inhales it.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is true,” Maggie says with amusement. “So if Cameron mentioned your stew, you must be an excellent cook.”
“Or he was just extremely hungry,” Connor mutters.
Cameron throws a piece of bread at him.
Connor catches it and immediately eats it.
“Boys,” Maggie scolds gently.
“Sorry, Grandma,” they answer in perfect unison.
I can’t stop smiling.
It’s adorable.
Chaotic.
But adorable.
“How long are you staying in Glenfield?” Finn asks.
“Two weeks. My grandmother... insisted.”
“Catriona is a formidable woman,” Maggie observes with respect.
“That’s a polite way of saying terrifying,” I clarify.
Maggie smiles.
“The best women usually are, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.”
Dessert arrives.
An apple pie that looks like a dream.
Jamison cuts it with mathematical precision.
“So,” Connor says, staring directly at me, “you and Cameron. Is it serious?”
I nearly choke on my pie.
Beside me, Cameron goes rigid.
“Connor...”
“What? It’s a fair question. You spend a lot of time together. Alone. At the manor.”
“We’re working,” Cameron says sharply.
“On what exactly?”
“The property evaluation.”
“That takes that much time?”
“When the property has a reputation as a haunted manor, yes.”
Connor smiles.
He knows exactly how uncomfortable he’s making us, and he loves every second of it.
“I think it’s romantic,” Jane says. “A manor haunted by a pair of lovers. The two of you trying to uncover what’s true and what isn’t...”
“It’s just work,” Cameron repeats.
But then his hand finds mine beneath the table.
I jump slightly.
His fingers close around mine.
Emergency signal?
Comfort?
Both?
Maggie misses nothing.
Her gaze drops briefly to our joined hands before returning to our faces.
Then she smiles.
A smile that says:
I know exactly what’s happening here.
And the worst part?
She’s probably right.
Because Cameron’s hand holding mine feels far too natural for something that’s supposed to be acting.
Dinner finally comes to an end.
Maggie suggests moving back to the drawing room for a digestif.
Everyone agrees except Jane, who slips away to put Charlie to bed.
Cameron and I end up trapped together on the sofa while his family talks, laughs, and bickers affectionately around us.
Keira and Alistair eventually announce they need to leave.
Mary and Finn follow shortly after.
Only a handful of McGregors remain.
And me.
“You should stay the night,” Maggie suddenly suggests. “It’s late. The manor is a long drive. Cameron can take you back tomorrow morning.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose. And the manor really isn’t that far...”
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Isobel assures me. “We have plenty of rooms.”
Cameron shoots me a panicked look.
“Grandma, I can drive her home now—”
“It’s nearly midnight,” Maggie interrupts. “And you’ve had whisky.”
“One glass.”
“One glass too many. Clementine is staying.”
The tone leaves absolutely no room for argument.
I look at Cameron.
He looks at me.
We’re trapped.
“All right,” I finally say. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Maggie smiles, pleased with her victory.
Jamison appears as though summoned by the mere thought of the lady of the house.
“I’ll prepare the Pink Room for Miss Fraser.”
Then he vanishes.
Connor rises with a yawn.
“Well, I’m going to bed. Good night, everyone. Good night, Clementine. Good night, Cameron.”
He puts particular emphasis on his brother’s name.
Cameron throws a cushion at him.
Connor catches it and tosses it back before disappearing upstairs laughing.
One by one, the others head off to bed.
Isobel wishes us goodnight with a warm smile.
And finally Maggie rises.
“Sleep well, both of you. Cameron, show Clementine to her room.”
“Of course, Grandma.”
She leaves.
Now we’re alone.
Silence settles over the drawing room.
“I’m really sorry,” Cameron says. “She trapped you.”
“She trapped us,” I correct. “We’re in the same boat, remember?”
He laughs softly.
“What do you think of my family?”
“Terrifying. Adorable. But mostly terrifying.”
“That’s a fair summary.”
We remain seated beside each other on the sofa.
Neither of us moves.
“We didn’t reveal anything tonight,” I point out. “No ghost possession. No performance. None of the plan.”
“I know.”
“And yet I feel like Maggie knows exactly what’s going on.”
“Maggie always knows everything.”
I look at him.
“What exactly is going on, Cameron?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
His eyes search mine.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “But I think we’re in trouble.”
I can’t help laughing.
“Yeah. We’re definitely in trouble.”
He stands and offers me his hand.
“Come on. Let me show you your room before Maggie decides to kidnap you permanently.”
I take his hand.
He pulls me to my feet.
We climb the staircase side by side through the silence of the sleeping castle.
And I realize something terrifying.
I haven’t thought about my life in Paris all evening.
I haven’t thought about leaving.
I’ve only thought about Cameron.
And that...
That’s a problem.
A very big problem.