Among the Heather (The Highlands, #2)

However, I had caught an episode of North Hunter’s TV show, King’s Valley, that had catapulted him to fame these past few years. He played a serial killer and won a Golden Globe for his performance last year. I’d been surprised by his acting chops when I saw King’s Valley. I hadn’t expected him to go from cocky, charming Scot to intensely charismatic and complex sociopath.

After I saw the show, I reached out to his management to see if he’d be interested in a membership. Part of my job was to bring fresh blood to the estate, and I wanted that fresh blood to be the cream of the crop. North had just bagged the lead role in what was sure to be the next big spy action movie franchise. Rumor had it filming started at the end of the year. It thrilled me when North paid for a membership without even coming to tour the estate. He’d apparently heard enough about Ardnoch through the grapevine and understood that membership here was gilding for credentials. Yes, that sounded elitist and pretentious, but it was the truth. There was a long waiting list for membership to Ardnoch. To bypass that waiting list meant you’d made it.

It was a five-minute drive through woodland to the castle, and I was one of the first to park my vehicle in the staff lot. I liked to be early to work. Hurrying into the castle’s cool interior, I nodded hello to the staff who had just arrived or were coming off the night shift, and greeted Wakefield, our head butler. He wore his formal black-and-white butler uniform of tailcoat and white gloves. In the year I’d been working at Ardnoch, I’d never beaten that man to work.

“Good morning, Wakefield.”

He gave me a small bow. “Ms. Howard. Mr. Hunter has arrived.”

I stumbled to a stop on the edges of the opulent reception hall, my heels squeaking on the parquet flooring. The room was empty. No sign of North Hunter. A grand staircase descended into the center, fitted with a red-and-gray tartan wool runner. It led to a landing where three floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows spilled sunlight. Then it branched off at either side, twin staircases leading to the floor above, which I could partially see from the galleried balconies at either end of the reception hall. It was too hot for a fire in the huge hearth on the wall adjacent to the entrance and opposite the staircase. Tiffany lamps scattered throughout on end tables gave the space a warm glow, as it wasn’t the most light-filled space.

Opposite the quiet hearth sat two matching suede-and-fabric buttoned sofas with a coffee table in between. This was usually where new members awaited my arrival.

“Already?” I asked, turning back to Wakefield. “Where is he?”

“I took the liberty of showing Mr. Hunter to the dining room. Chef has provided breakfast for him.”

“Good. Good. He’s very early.” We hadn’t expected North until this afternoon. I had a meeting this morning first thing with Jock McRory, our head of security. “Wakefield, can you tell Mr. McRory I have to postpone our meeting until nine thirty and have Mr. Hunter brought to my office as soon as he’s finished breakfast?”

“Of course, Ms. Howard.”

“Where is his luggage?” I asked.

“Mrs. Hutchinson recalled you wished to have Mr. Hunter stay in the Bruce Suite, so I had his luggage delivered to his room.”

My lips twitched at the thought of our head housekeeper. “I swear that woman has supernatural abilities.” Agnes Hutchinson seemed to know everything that went on at the castle and had my schedule memorized.

“Indeed.” Wakefield’s eyes glimmered with amusement.

“Thank you, Wakefield. I’ll be in my office.”

“Shall I have coffee brought to you?”

“Yes, please.”

Wakefield was the best.

My office was Lachlan’s “stage office,” as he’d called it. His real office was in the staff quarters and was a dismal, dreary little room next to Jock’s office. This stage office was where he took meetings with members. He’d insisted I take it as my own, and I did not argue. The room was like a smaller version of the estate library. Wall-to-wall dark oak bookshelves, an impressive open fireplace, and two comfortable armchairs situated in front of a captain’s pedestal desk. A floor-to-ceiling window adjacent to the desk let in light so it didn’t feel too dark. Tiffany lamps aided in chasing off the gloom too. Luxurious velvet curtains at the window pooled on the wooden floors, most of which were covered in expensive carpets.

I rounded the desk and took a seat in the ergonomic chair that was specially designed to fit in with the room’s traditional opulence. My small keyboard sat on the leather top of the pedestal desk, and I stared at it and the blank screen on my computer for a second.

No doubt a million emails awaited me as soon as I switched it on.

So I took a breath and let it out before I reached over and woke up the monitor.

Not a minute later, there was a knock at the door, and Wakefield arrived with hot coffee and a breakfast pastry.

“Mr. Hunter is just finishing up. Would you like me to ask him to wait in the reception hall for a few moments?”

“No, just bring him in.” Although he was early and it wasn’t my fault, he’d been waiting long enough.

As per usual, nerves threatened to take over. This happened anytime I was meeting someone new. But I’d learned to pour on self-assurance like it was a role I was playing. Glancing down to make sure I was presentable, I frowned at the sight of my bare arms and cursed my mother for bringing them to my attention. I suddenly wished I was wearing anything but the silk blouse. Truthfully, I was probably too busty for silk. Mamma always said silk was for elegant figures. My breasts wouldn’t know how to be elegant if they were strapped down with a mile’s worth of boob tape.

Stop it.

I straightened my shoulders just as the knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

Wakefield entered. “Mr. North Hunter, Ms. Howard.”

“Thank you, Wakefield.” I stood as the Scottish actor entered the room.

Our eyes locked and I was barely aware of Wakefield leaving the office as goose bumps suddenly prickled across my arms. Penetrating, beautiful gray eyes stared intensely into mine and awareness shivered down my spine.

The entire room seemed to shrink in North Hunter’s presence. He was tall, perhaps six feet two. Dressed in a black fitted T-shirt and dark blue jeans, I noted the broad shoulders, the hard, sculpted biceps, the long, lean, athletic physique. Dark blond hair cropped fairly short.

Angled jaw, thin, serious lips, and a strong, straight but sharp nose. High cheekbones.

My feet felt stuck as he held my stare, his expression changing from surprised to curious to smoldering in an instant.

North Hunter was a rugged, beautiful man.

I’d met many beautiful men, but I’d only been attracted to a few. Usually, it took more than several seconds in their presence for that tingle between my thighs to let itself be known.

Then North smiled. A wicked, boyish smile that made my belly flip like I was a freaking teenager.

Fear scored through me and I stiffened, dismay chasing away the fear.

My tone sounded brittle even to my ears as I rounded the desk and reluctantly held out my hand. “Mr. Hunter, welcome to Ardnoch. You’re early.”