1. Alistair #2
“Look,” she said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry for breaking in, honestly.
I was desperate. My van’s out of commission, and there’s literally nowhere else for me to take shelter.
I swear, I don’t make a habit of crawling through doggy doors.
I haven’t done it since I was twelve, and the only reason I did it that time was because a friend’s little brother had gone in first, and I was trying to stop him from—You know what?
That’s totally not relevant, so let’s just strike that from the record and start over.
” She flashed me a big smile that only looked a little tight around the edges and said, “My name is Madison. I don’t work for a newspaper or online anything.
I’m very normal and not dangerous, and I just need a place to stay until the weather clears, so that’s cool with you, right? ”
She looked at me as if she couldn’t imagine me giving any answer but “yes.” That made it more than a little satisfying when I flatly stated, “No.”
She blinked. “Wait, what?”
“No,” I repeated. When she just stood there, jaw slack, I added, “I know you Americans struggle with the accent, it can’t be that hard to understand. I said no. Do I need to spell it?”
She huffed. “You’re seriously telling me no?”
“I’m absolutely serious, and I’m absolutely telling you no. You’re not welcome in my home. Do you think I chose to live all the way out here because I wanted random people stopping by?”
She huffed. “Trust me, I’d love to leave your creepy murder castle behind. If you can give me a lift back to civilization, I will gladly get out of your hair.”
I grimaced at her.
She cupped her ear. “Was that an offer to drive me? I couldn’t hear you over all that grumbling.”
Frustration coiled inside me, but finally, I admitted the truth. “My car won’t handle the roads in these conditions.”
She sighed. “Can you at least call me a tow truck or something? My phone doesn’t have signal right now.”
I pulled out my phone. “Keep that thing quiet,” I said through my teeth, glaring at the dog—that had yet to stop barking—as I pressed the phone to my ear.
Madison scooped the Yorkie into her arms, her lips pursed. The dog got slightly quieter.
A quick call to Weston scored me the number for the local mechanic, Lyle McGregor. I called, wondering if he’d even pick up tonight. Thank Christ, I thought when the call connected.
“Lyle, this is Alistair Shaw, in Dunhope Castle. I’ve got a woman here that ended up in a ditch and needs a tow into town. Any chance of making that happen tonight?”
What I really wanted to say was Any chance of getting this nightmare out of my hair?
He barked a sharp laugh. “Not bloody likely. No one with any sense is going to be driving out to Dunhope until the storm stops. And maybe not even then, depending on how much snow piles up on the road. If you’ve got a visitor, you’ll just have to put up with her for the night.”
That was the worst thing he could have said.
Madison’s gaze held mine. My hand tightened around the phone, my teeth clenched so hard my molars ached. “Right, thanks anyway.”
I hung up. Madison’s eyebrow arched up her forehead. “Guess we’re staying?”
Bloody hell! I pinched the bridge of my nose.
After hearing it from Lyle, my brain was catching up to how bad it was out there.
In good conscience, I knew I couldn’t send the woman back outside—but I still didn’t fully believe she wasn’t after a story.
I’d learned the hard way not to let my guard down.
“Don’t think this means you’re going to get an interview,” I warned.
If her bosses thought they could just send some gorgeous woman playing up the “damsel in distress” angle to get me to spill my guts—
“Why on earth would I want an interview?” she cried. “Do you think the world is really clamoring to know what some random Scottish shut-in has to say? All I want is to not die outside in the freezing cold. And not die inside a creepy house either, for that matter!”
I scoffed. “So I’m a murderer now? That’s a new one.” I’d been accused of plenty of outlandish things, but not outright homicide.
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “How should I know? I’m putting my life in your hands!”
“Excuse me, you broke into my house. Through the dog door. If anyone is the threat here, it’s you.” I shook my head. “Who even does that?”
“Um, people who can’t get you to answer the freaking door?
” Madison tucked the dog under one arm and gestured aggressively.
“I spent a full ten minutes banging on the door and ringing the bell until my fingers were ready to snap off.” She shoved them in my face.
“Do you see that? They’re practically icicles. So thanks for ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” I said. I just wasn’t anywhere near the front of the house. Not to mention, I’d had the bell disabled when I’d moved in. “I genuinely didn’t hear you.”
“Too much posh stuffed in those ears, Lord Shut-In?”
I scowled at her. “You should be grateful I didn’t nail that dog door closed.”
“You should be grateful I didn’t just smash a window, because that was my next plan.”
“Breaking and entering and destruction of property? Were you raised by wolves?”
“No, but I didn’t really fancy dying in snowmageddon,” she said. “If it weren’t for the storm, the last place I’d want to be is your horror movie slasher castle.”
“Well, then we’re in agreement. Because the last thing I want is strangers in my house.” My temple throbbed. I needed to get this irritating woman out of my face. And her little dog too.
“So, to be clear, since you didn’t actually say the words.
Are you going to let me stay, or do I have to beg?
” Madison said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Oh, Lord Shut-In, keeper of creepy castles in the middle of nowhere, please take mercy on me. I swear I’m not a journalist. I don’t even like to read the papers. ”
“Be quiet so I can think.” I pinched the bridge of my nose again, massaging my eyes.
As tempting as it was, there was no way I would turn her out into the storm.
She and that wee menace of a dog wouldn’t make it.
And the last thing I needed was more media descending because some woman was discovered frozen in her car outside Dunhope Castle.
“What is there to think about?” Madison said, inching toward me. I became sharply aware of how close we were standing—and I noticed her shivering.
Fuck.
“Come away from the door,” I said, waving her further into the kitchen.
She stropped over to the island, looking around with curiosity.
But…she didn’t seem to be scoping things out the way a reporter would.
She made eye contact with me when we spoke, but she didn’t scan me the way journalists did, as if they were already mentally framing how they’d describe me to their readers.
My tablet was on the table nearby, along with some paperwork I’d been reviewing earlier, but she showed zero interest in them.
As I watched her, I realized that most of her glances were toward the cupboards, the fridge, the oven.
She was scoping them out like someone whose primary interest was less in getting an interview and more in getting a snack and maybe a hot cup of tea.
Was it possible she really had no idea who I was?
Could she actually be just a tourist who’d gotten lost?
I could feel myself coming around to the idea, in spite of myself.
Besides, what kind of journalist traveled with a tiny, yappy dog while on assignment?
I still wasn’t completely ruling out that this was some sort of scheme—I’d still have to keep my guard up—but for tonight, at least, I was going to have to put my reservations aside and let her stay.
“Fine,” I bit out. “You can wait out the storm tonight. I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms.”
“Oh, thank you, my liege.” Madison grabbed her duffle and made a poor attempt at a curtsy. “We are ever so grateful for your hospitality.”
“Gratitude suits you. You should try it more often.” I turned and led her upstairs to one of the guest rooms in the east wing.
The bedroom was sparsely decorated but clean.
Florence, my housekeeper, kept a few guest rooms dusted and maintained with fresh sheets in case Weston or Locke ever needed a place to crash.
I didn’t want people around, but for my two best friends, I’d always make an exception.
“You can stay here. But you’re forbidden to wander. ”
“Forbidden?” Madison scoffed. “Are you serious?”
“Very,” I said. “In the morning, we’ll figure out how to get you to town. But until then, stay out of my hair. And stay out of the west wing.”