The Heir of the Castle

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 had measuring tapes and calculators out, deciding how much everything was worth and where they could sell it.

It made her blood run cold.

This castle was their heritage. How could people immediately think like that?

She walked over to her bag and shook out her clothes. She was only here for a few days and had travelled light. One dress for evenings, some clean underwear, another pair of Capri pants, some light T-shirts and another shirt. What else could she possibly need?

An envelope on the mantelpiece caught her attention. Ms Mary Laurie Jenkins was written in calligraphy. She opened it and slid the thick card invitation out from inside.

It was instructions for the Murder Mystery Weekend: where to report, who would be in charge and a list of rules for participation.

Under normal circumstances something like this would have made her stomach fizz with fun.

But how could she even think like that when there was so much more at stake?

The whole heritage of this castle was dependent on the winner. And the weight of the responsibility was pressing on her shoulders. She fingered the curtains next to her. She knew nothing about Annick Castle. She had no connection to this place. She wouldn’t even know where to begin with renovations or upkeep. Or the responsibility of having staff to manage.

Working as a solicitor was a world away from all this. Everything and everyone wasn’t entirely dependent on her. There was a whole range of other bodies to share the responsibility. Thank goodness. She couldn’t stand it otherwise.

All of a sudden she wanted to pick up her bag and make a run for it. She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have agreed to be any part of this.

This whole thing made her uncomfortable. She looked at the invitation again. Costumes supplied. What did that mean? There was another little envelope with a character profile included, telling her who she was, and what her actions should be.





1920s. Lucy Clark. Twenty-seven. Heiress to a fortune. Keen interest in pharmacy. In a relationship with Bartholomew Grant, but also seeing Philippe Deveraux on the side.





It was a sad day when the pretend character you had to portray had a more exciting love life than you had.

It could be worse. Her card could have told her she was the killer. But maybe that came later?

Then again what did ‘keen interest in pharmacy’ mean? Was she going to poison someone?

Under normal circumstances this might be fun.

But these weren’t normal circumstances, and now she was here, and had actually seen Annick Castle, the whole thing made her very uncomfortable.

She glanced at the clock. There was still time before dinner to freshen up and get organised.

Maybe once she’d eaten that horrible little gnawing sensation at the pit of her stomach would disappear?

Or maybe that would take swallowing her pride and apologising to Callan.

Maybe, just maybe.

* * *

Callan had finally calmed down. He’d had to. Marion, the housekeeper, had flipped when one of the ovens had packed in and she’d thought dinner wouldn’t be ready on time. It had taken him five minutes to sort out the fuse and replace it.

Dinner would be served on time.

Served to the twelve strangers who were roaming all over the castle.

Which was why he was currently standing in his favourite haunt—the bottom left-hand corner of the maze in the front garden.

Callan could find his way through this maze with his eyes shut—and he had done since he was a boy. It was one part of the garden that was kept in pristine condition with the hedges neatly trimmed.

Other things had kind of fallen by the wayside recently. Bert, the old gardener, couldn’t manage the upkeep of the gardens any more. The truth was he probably needed another four staff to do everything that was required. Twenty years ago there had been a staff of around six to look after the grounds alone, but gradually they’d all retired or left. And the recession had hit. And Bert had become very set in his ways—not wanting others to interfere with ‘his’ garden. In the meantime the maze, the front garden and the rose garden were almost in pristine condition. As for the rest...

He was thankful for the peace and quiet. All of a sudden his safe haven seemed like a noisy hotel. Everyone seemed to talk at the tops of their voices, constantly asking questions. He’d tried to hide out in the library for a while, but even there he’d been disturbed by some of the relatives wondering if there were any valuable first editions.

If he’d had his way he would have locked some of the rooms to stop their prying eyes, not to mention their prying fingers. He’d caught one relative in his room earlier and had nearly blown a gasket.

A flash of red caught his eye, along with the sound of laughter and heels clipping on the concrete path. He took a few steps forward, crashing straight into Laurie as she rounded the corner of the maze.


‘Oh, sorry.’ She was out of breath and her eyes wide. ‘Isn’t this just fabulous?’

As much as he hated to admit it her enthusiasm was clearly genuine.

‘How long has the maze been here? I had no idea something like this existed. It’s amazing.’

He narrowed his gaze. He could barely focus on the question because his eyes and brain were immediately struck by the sight in front of him. The 1920s-style flapper dress skimmed her figure, hiding it beneath shimmering red glass beads. A feather was slightly askew on her head and he automatically reached up to straighten it. ‘What on earth are you wearing?’ Damn. There it was again—as soon as his hand touched the soft hair—the mysterious spark from earlier.

‘This?’ Her eyes widened again and she gave a little spin, sending a cascade of sparkling red lights scattering around them. She wrinkled her nose as she came to a halt. ‘Well, I hardly brought it with me, did I? I got it from the costume room. Haven’t you got into character yet?’ She held out her black-satin-gloved hand to shake his hand. ‘I’m Lucy Clark. Apparently an heiress and up to all things naughty with two different men.’

If he’d been anywhere else, at any other time, he would have acted on the current of electricity that was sizzling between them. He thought he might have imagined it, but his palm was tingling. He rubbed it fiercely against his thigh.

The Murder Mystery Weekend. The last thing on his mind right now. He hadn’t even opened the envelope that had been sitting above the fireplace in his room. And he had no idea what room in the castle had been deemed the ‘costume’ room. His fingers burrowed into his jacket pocket and he pulled out the crumpled envelope. ‘Oops.’ He shrugged.

She shook her head. ‘Come on, Callan, get into the spirit of things.’ She reached out to grab his envelope, then pulled her hand back. ‘I better not.’ She leaned forward and whispered, ‘I don’t want to find out you’re secretly a mass murderer.’

He shook his head and pulled the card from the envelope. He must have been out of his crazy mind to have agreed to be part of this.

Then again, he hadn’t really agreed. Frank, the solicitor, had informed him that Angus had expected Callan to make his guests feel welcome and help oversee the weekend’s activities. He’d had half a mind to walk away.

But his loyalty to Angus ran deep. Too deep.

If he walked away then he’d never find out who inherited the castle, or their plans for it. A tiny seed started to sprout in his brain.

Maybe being here wasn’t so crazy after all. Sure, inheriting a castle sounded good on paper, but once Angus’s relatives realised the implications, the upkeep, the financial commitments, he was pretty sure they would all run screaming for the hills. Maybe he could make them an offer? He’d always been prepared to pay a fair price, and if Angus wouldn’t accept it, maybe one of his children would?

His eyes fixed on Laurie. She was young. She was a lawyer in London. She wouldn’t want to be landed with a castle in the Highlands.

For the first time this weekend he actually paused to think. Maybe he should play nice?

He squinted at the name on his card. He hadn’t paid attention to any of the instructions about the Murder Mystery Weekend. ‘It appears I’m Bartholomew Grant, thirty-three, a stock-market trader.’

A cheeky smile appeared on her face along with the tiniest flush of red. ‘Hmm...Bartholomew Grant. Well, whaddya know? I believe you’re one of my two adoring men.’ She gave a little wave of her hand. ‘Here’s hoping you can play the part, Callan.’

The feather was bobbing in the wind. The shimmering red glass beads picking up the soft lights from the open doors of the drawing room. She hadn’t donned a short bob wig in keeping with the time; instead she’d left her long brown curls snaking around her shoulders.

She was watching him through her dark lashes with her big brown eyes. His eyes dropped automatically to her left hand. He couldn’t see anything through the satin gloves. No telltale lumps with giant diamonds. Surely a successful woman like Laurie must be attached?

She leaned forward again, this time the round neck of her dress gaping and giving a little glimpse of cleavage.

He blinked. What was he doing? Why was his brain even going there? He had far too much to think about this weekend. The last thing he needed was to get distracted by someone he’d never see again.

‘Do you think you can play the part, Callan? Or is it all just too much for you?’ Her voice was low and husky. She tilted her head to one side. ‘Do you even know how to play nice?’

The words made him start. In another world Laurie Jenkins could be quite mesmerising. But he wasn’t the kind of guy to fall for a coy smile and the flutter of some eyelashes.

‘Maybe I just like to pick my play friends carefully,’ he shot back.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Well, that’s a shame. You’re the only person around here who looked as if they might be capable of holding a normal conversation. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways with the Americans, the Canadians were too busy Googling antiques, and—’ she flung her hands up ‘—the two people that I think are my aunt and uncle from other parts of England have spent the last hour dozing on one of the sofas in the drawing room.’

He couldn’t help but smile. He’d already figured out she wanted to meet her family, but it seemed nothing was going to plan. He reached out his hand and grabbed hers, leading her over to a bench near the entrance to the maze and pulling her down next to him.

‘What did you think was going to happen this weekend, Laurie?’

He could see her take a deep breath as she glanced around them. The splendour of the castle was behind them and even though the grounds weren’t officially lit, the smooth front lawn, maze and rose garden were impressive to say the least. And she had no idea that just beyond that copse of trees lay a swan pond with slightly untrimmed foliage. She really had no idea about this place at all. She shrugged her shoulders, ‘I thought this would be a chance to meet some family. There’s only me and my mum now, and she lives in Portugal.’ She gave a little shake of her head. ‘She really couldn’t cope when my dad died.’ Her eyes had lowered and he resisted the temptation to reach over and squeeze her hand. But her fingers had already moved, automatically going to her throat and catching the gold locket around her neck.

He might not know her, but the pain on her face was real. She’d clearly adored her father.

She lifted her head, turned and stared up at the castle. ‘I have no idea what my dad would have made of all this.’ Her eyes were shimmering now with unshed tears. ‘He so wanted to know about his father. His mum just wouldn’t tell him anything.’ She lifted her hand and held it out. ‘This would have fascinated him, and the thought that he had other brothers and sisters scattered around the world...’ She let out a sigh and shook her head. ‘That would have blown his mind.’

Callan shifted uncomfortably on the seat. All of a sudden his reaction earlier seemed a bit snappy.

Now he understood a little of what she’d said. It seemed odd to him that Angus had never acknowledged the fact he had children. How must it seem to the newly acquired relatives? To know that Angus had provided for them in his will, but never acknowledged their existence?


He’d been so wound up with how he was feeling he hadn’t given much thought to anyone else.

‘I had no idea that Angus had children. He never mentioned it. Never mentioned it at all.’ He pressed his lips together. ‘It just doesn’t seem like him at all. The Angus McLean I knew had the biggest heart in the world.’

‘How did you know Angus? You seem a bit young to have been friends.’ Her brow was furrowed, as if she was trying to sort out in her head where Callan fitted into all this.

He chose his words carefully. Her question wasn’t unexpected. ‘Angus helped me out when I was younger. And friends—that’s exactly what we were. He was one of the best friends I had.’

‘And you stay here—in the castle?’ He could almost see the questions spinning around in her head.

‘Not exactly. I live in Edinburgh most of the time. I have a house there. But I’ve always had a room here with Angus. He needed a bit more help in the last few years.’

There was so much more she clearly wanted to ask. He could almost sense her biting her tongue. Instead her eyes fixed on the maze and gardens in front of them.

‘Do you know much about the estate?’

The words sent his hackles up. He tried not to let it show, but every question he’d more or less been asked by the relatives in the last twelve hours had revolved around money. He found it impossible not to grit his teeth. ‘I know every field, every tree, every fence and every stream. I’ve been in and around Annick Castle since I was a young boy.’

But Laurie hadn’t noticed his tension; she was lost in a world of her own. ‘Lucky you.’ There was a wistful tone in her voice as she leaned back on the bench and looked up at the elegant fa?ade of the castle. She sighed. ‘This would have been my dream when I was a little girl, living in a place like this.’ She held out her hand. ‘I can only imagine what it must be like to play in a maze like this every day or to run up and down those fairy-princess stairs.’ She gave him a mischievous smile. ‘Go on, tell me. Did you ever slide down those banisters?’

He could feel his natural protective instincts kick in. Did he really want to tell her that he and Angus had regularly had competitions to see who was the fastest sliding down either side?

All of a sudden this was personal. These were his personal memories of his time here with Angus McLean. And he didn’t want to share them.

He didn’t want any of these people staying here. He really just wanted them all to leave. The piece of paper in his hand crumpled under his grip.

She was puzzling him. She wasn’t talking about money. She was talking about people and family. But maybe she was just cleverer than the rest? And what was more she was persistent. ‘Or did Angus forbid you from doing things like that?’

The words jolted him. Jolted him from a whole host of memories that flooded his brain. Diving in the swan pond, trying to build a raft to sail across it, swinging from the rope swings that he’d made amongst the trees. Angus wasn’t the kind to forbid him anything. He lifted his heavy eyelids and caught her staring at him with those big brown eyes. ‘Only if he caught me,’ he said quietly.

The moment passed just as quickly as it appeared. ‘Shouldn’t we be going?’ He stood up. ‘You’ve got a Murder Mystery to solve.’

‘Oh, that.’ She stood up, her dress catching the light again. ‘I’d almost forgotten about that.’

How could she forget about that? It was the key to owning this castle. Surely it should be the first thing on her mind.

He led her towards the open doors to the drawing room. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ She sighed, then turned around. Her hand reached up and rested on his chest. ‘Callan, tomorrow, will you show me around the grounds of Annick Castle? I’m only here for the weekend and I’d like to see as much as I can.’

His immediate response caught in his throat, because his immediate response was to say no.

The last thing he wanted was to be the genial host, showing everyone around the castle he considered a home.

But Laurie seemed a little more measured than the rest. A little more interested in the history of the castle as a whole.

Her hand was still resting on his chest, almost burning a hole through the thin cotton of his shirt. She bit her lip. ‘I was also wondering if I could see some pictures of Angus. See what he looked like.’ Her eyes drifted off... ‘I kind of wonder if my dad looked like him at all...’ then came back to meet his ‘...or if I do.’

The hairs were standing up at the back of his neck—and it wasn’t the cool evening breeze. It was her. And the effect she was having on him.

Had anyone else asked to see pictures of Angus? He couldn’t remember, but they must have—surely? If someone told him he’d a long-lost relative the first thing he’d want to do would be see what they looked like.

He gave a little nod. ‘I know where some of the family pictures are kept. Leave it with me. I’ll let you see them tomorrow.’

She gave a nervous kind of smile. ‘Thank you, Callan. That will be nice. And the tour?’

Her big brown eyes were fixed right on him. She obviously wasn’t going to let this go.

He wanted to say no. He really did. But how could he?

He could almost hear Angus’s voice in his ear. Show them around, make them fall in love with the place as much as we did.

‘Fine. I’ll meet you just after breakfast.’

She gave a little nod of her head. ‘Thanks.’

He gestured towards the dining room. ‘You better go on. I’ll be a few minutes getting changed.’ He turned and walked off along the corridor.

Dinner with the twelve potential inheritors of Annick Castle.

He really couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less.