Пэнни Джордан – One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors (страница 22)
He frowned. Then, deciding the only thing he could do was knock at number 24 and ask for directions again, he opened the front gate and walked up the path. That was when he saw the intercom pinned to the wall beside the door. It had been too dark for him to see it before. Evidently 24b was an apartment; likewise 24a.
He cast a glance at the windows. There were lights upstairs, so someone was home. But was that apartment 24a or 24b? He wouldn’t know until he rang the bell.
‘Yes?’
The voice that answered his summons was unmistakable. Liam disliked the way it danced along his nerves and curled its way around his heart. For God’s sake, what was the matter with him? Even Kayla had never made him feel like this.
‘Rosa?’ His voice was a little hoarse suddenly. ‘It’s me, Liam Jameson. May I come up?’
Silence. Liam wondered what he’d do if she refused to speak to him. Break down the door? Walk away? He hoped he didn’t have to make that decision.
‘Push the door,’ she said at last, and with a feeling of relief he heard the sound of the buzzer that released the latch.
Inside it was dark. He could just make out a hallway, leading to the back of the house, and a flight of stairs to the first floor.
As if she thought he might have some doubts about which apartment was hers, a light suddenly shone down from the top of the stairs. Rosa was standing on the landing above, looking down at him, and with a deep intake of air he closed the door and started up.
She looked different, he thought, and then realised she’d had her hair cut. Now it swung about her shoulders, still a fiery mass of curls, but softer, more feminine. She was wearing loose-fitting black trousers and a green blouse of some silky material that tipped off one shoulder as she moved. She looked good, he thought grimly. Too good to be spending the evening watching the television. Alone.
His leg stiffened as he mounted the stairs, and for a moment he couldn’t move. Hoping she wouldn’t notice, he said tightly, ‘Sorry if I’m intruding.’
Rosa frowned, and he was almost sure she was going to comment on his momentary paralysis. But then he was able to move his leg again, and she stepped back into the lighted doorway behind her. ‘You’re not intruding. Come in.’
‘THANKS.’
Liam was very relieved to reach the landing. He didn’t think he could have climbed another step, and he was already wondering how the hell he was going to get back to where he’d left his car. Perhaps he could call a cab? One thing was for sure: he didn’t think he could walk all that way again tonight.
Meanwhile, Rosa was wondering what he was doing here. She tried to tell herself it could have nothing to do with what had happened before she left the castle, yet what else could it be?
He must have got her address from Mrs Ferguson. She could imagine that lady’s surprise at such a request. She must have wondered why he hadn’t contacted his publisher. Unless, for some reason, he’d told her the truth.
Her eyes darted about the room as he entered, trying to see it through his eyes. It was a comfortable room, a through dining and sitting room combined. But it was shabby, and nothing like the luxurious apartments he was used to.
She snatched up a discarded pair of tights she’d left draped over one of the dining chairs, and removed a magazine from the chenille couch. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she invited, aware of the laboured way he’d climbed the stairs. ‘You look—tired.’
‘Don’t you mean beat?’ suggested Liam drily, but he did subside onto the couch with some relief. ‘I’m a bit stiff, that’s all. I’ve been driving since early this morning.’
Rosa’s eyes widened. ‘But it’s Tuesday!’
‘So?’
‘I thought the ferry only ran on Mondays and Thursdays.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, of course. You probably used your helicopter?’
Liam slanted a glance up at her. ‘How did you know I had a helicopter?’
Rosa straightened. ‘Mrs Ferguson told me.’ She paused. ‘When—when I was stranded on the island, she suggested asking you if you could help.’
‘Ah.’ Liam nodded. ‘The kindly Mrs Ferguson.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I spent last night at Jack Macleod’s.’
‘Who?’ Rosa had never heard of Jack Macleod.
‘The man you saw me talking to that morning we took the ferry to Kilfoil,’ he reminded her, resting back against the cushions and pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat. ‘Or am I the only one who remembers that?’
Rosa moistened her lips. ‘No. No, I remember,’ she said defensively. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘A good friend,’ agreed Liam. ‘He lives in Mallaig, and when I first bought the island he offered to put me in touch with the people I needed to renovate the castle and the cottages. His grandparents used to live on Kilfoil, and he was a great help. We’ve remained friends ever since.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Rosa absorbed this. Then, ‘I suppose Mrs Ferguson gave you my address?’
‘She did.’ Liam regarded her from beneath lashes any woman would have died for. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Why should I mind?’ Rosa realised she was still holding the magazine and the tights she’d picked up when he arrived. With an absent gesture, she crossed the room to dispose of them into a drawer before turning down the gas fire. The room seemed overly hot suddenly, and with her back to him she added, ‘Can I get you anything? A drink?’
‘A beer would be good,’ he said, not really wanting anything at this moment. The pain in his leg was just beginning to subside, and the last thing he wanted was to have to walk on it again. ‘Um—did you find your sister?’
Rosa straightened and turned to him, the blouse sliding off her shoulder again to reveal the black strap of her bra. ‘She was here when I got back,’ she confessed wryly. ‘She’d been in London all along.’
‘London?’ Liam was briefly diverted. ‘What the hell was she doing in London?’
‘Making out with a musician she met at the pop festival,’ replied Rosa, with a grimace. ‘He apparently dumped her when she refused to sleep with him.’
Liam looked doubtful at this, and Rosa had to continue. ‘I know. Incredible, isn’t it? But my mother believes everything she says.’ She sighed. ‘Sophie can wrap her round her little finger.’
Liam stared at her. ‘So where did I come in?’
‘Oh—’ Rosa’s cheeks reddened. ‘That was my mother’s fault. When Mark—he’s Sophie’s boyfriend—phoned her to tell her Sophie had gone to Scotland with some man who was going to help her get into the movies, she immediately thought of you.’
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘Well, like I told you, Sophie’s always been such a fan of yours. I suppose she needed something to focus on, and you were it.’
‘So it was your mother who sent you to Kilfoil?’
‘Mmm.’ Rosa nodded. ‘But Sophie had said she was going to Scotland. That part was true.’
Liam shook his head in disbelief. ‘Dare I ask why?’
‘To put us off the scent?’ Rosa shrugged. ‘Looking back, I must have been a fool to believe anything my mother said. But she is half Italian, and she was practically hysterical when she phoned me.’ She pulled a rueful face. ‘Now—a beer.’ She started towards the kitchen. ‘Is that all?’
Not nearly, thought Liam, but he assured her that it was, watching as she went into the adjoining room. She walked quickly, and he realised she was nervous. He wondered why. Was she expecting someone else. A man, maybe?
That thought irritated him beyond reason. God, he couldn’t believe how much he’d wanted to see her again. It added to the sense of impatience he was feeling at his own weakness. Dammit, he hadn’t come here for her sympathy. He’d wanted to test her, but not in this way.
Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself to his feet again and made his way across the floor to the open doorway. Then, propping his shoulder against the jamb, he said, ‘Do you live alone?’
Rosa jumped. Having acknowledged how tired he was, she’d expected him to stay on the couch. She’d already extracted a bottle of beer from the fridge, and had been about to decant it into a glass, but his appearance had startled her.
‘Um—yes,’ she said, concentrating on unscrewing the cap. However, when she would have poured it into the tumbler she’d taken from the cupboard, Liam stopped her.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll drink it from the bottle.’
Rosa looked doubtful. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, holding out his hand, and with a shrug she passed the bottle to him.
He didn’t move from the doorway, however, and she found herself watching as he carried the bottle to his lips and took a hearty swallow.
The muscles in his throat moved as he drank, the mark she’d seen when she was at the castle the only pale scar on flesh that was both brown and supple. And, just watching him, she felt again the flicker of desire—of awareness—that had been so unfamiliar to her until she’d met him.
Liam lowered the bottle suddenly, and turned to look at her. And, just like that, her limbs turned to jelly. It took an actual physical effort to look away from those jade-green eyes and say, albeit a little breathlessly, ‘Why don’t you go and sit down again? You can’t enjoy anything standing up.’