The Heir of the Castle. Scarlet Wilson

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      CHAPTER TWO

      JUST WHEN, FOR the tiniest second, he thought one of Angus’s relatives might not be quite as bad as the rest, she came out with something like that.

      Callan felt a chill course over his body as he swept past her and along the corridor. ‘You’re right. You didn’t know Angus. And you have absolutely no right to comment.’ His blood was boiling as he flung open the door to her room. ‘Here’s your room.’ He stopped as she stepped through the doorway. Her head was facing his chest, only inches away from his. All it would take was one little step to close the distance between them.

      It didn’t matter to him how attractive she was. It didn’t matter that he’d noticed her curves at the railway station, or the way she kept flicking back her long shiny brown curls. All that mattered to him was the fact she’d said something he didn’t like about the old man that he loved.

      But Laurie Jenkins was having none of it. She folded her arms across her chest again. ‘That’s just the thing, Callan. I do have a right to comment—because, apparently, I’m family.’ She let the words hang in the air as she walked past him into the room.

      Callan’s blood was about to reach the point of eruption.

      The very thing that knotted his stomach. Family. And the fact he wasn’t.

      He still hadn’t got over the fact Angus McLean had six children he’d never once mentioned. The reality was he was still hoping it wasn’t true—that someone would give him a nudge and he’d wake up from this nightmare.

      Nothing about this seemed right. Angus had been the perennial bachelor, even in old age. Why on earth would he have children and never acknowledge them? It seemed bizarre.

      Angus had had the biggest heart he’d ever known.

      But then, he’d only known Angus for the last twenty-five years. Maybe in his youth he’d been a completely different person?

      It bothered him. It bothered him so much he hadn’t slept the last few nights.

      And now that he’d met some of the relatives it bothered him a whole lot more.

      One of these money-grabbers was going to inherit Annick Castle. A place full of history and rich with antiques. A place full of memories that not a single one of them would care about.

      Why hadn’t Angus let him buy it? He’d known that Callan loved it every bit as much as he did. It just didn’t make sense.

      The family stuff. It enraged him more than he could ever have imagined.

      Laurie was standing looking out of the window across the sea. Some of these bedrooms had the most spectacular views. He knew—his was just above.

      And this complete stranger had just put him perfectly in his place.

      She was right—she was family. The one thing he wasn’t.

      He dumped her bag on the bed. ‘Dinner is at seven.’

      He didn’t even wait for a response. The sooner he got away from Ms Jenkins, the better.

      * * *

      Laurie breathed out slowly, releasing the tight feeling that had spread across her chest.

      What on earth was wrong with her? And why had she just offloaded to the one person who could actually tell her something about her grandfather?

      Common sense told her it wasn’t wise to alienate Callan McGregor. He could probably tell her everything she could ever want to know—and a whole lot more besides.

      She sagged down onto the bed. The bedroom was big, with panoramic views over the sea. How many people throughout the ages had stood at her window and looked out at this view? The sun had set rapidly leaving the sea looking dark, haunting and cold. Was it possible that the sea looked angry—just like Callan McGregor?

      The history of this place intrigued her. It would be fascinating. If only she could take the time to learn it.

      Her hand smoothed the coverings on the bed, taking in the carpet, curtains and other soft furnishings. At one time these must have been brand new and the height of fashion. But that time had clearly passed. How did you update a castle? She didn’t have a clue.

      It wasn’t that anything was shabby. It was just—tired. A little dated maybe. And obviously in need of some TLC.

      Angus had been ninety-seven when he’d died. How often had he looked around the castle to see what needed replacing and updating? And how much would all that cost?

      She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She’d heard some of the conversation of the other relatives downstairs. They’d virtually СКАЧАТЬ