Laurie had no idea about any of this. When she’d done the Internet search for Annick Castle, she’d only really looked at the pictures of the actual castle. She hadn’t read up on how big the estate was or what it contained.
They’d reached the wall again that looked out over the sea. She placed her hands on her hips and looked around her. ‘This place is just amazing.’ She sighed.
‘Yeah. It is.’ Callan had that look again, the one where he just drifted off and she couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his head.
She cleared her throat. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but parts of it look a little...run-down.’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘I know. You’re right. I tried to speak to Angus about it for the last few years. But I’ve got no control over what happens on the estate, and I had no right to order repairs—even though I was willing to pay for some of them myself.’
‘He didn’t want to maintain the castle?’ It sounded odd. And she couldn’t imagine why.
Callan leaned back against the wall. ‘He just grew old—and stubborn. And he wouldn’t let me help him with his finances.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I was worried he didn’t actually have any money left. He still had his faculties but his decision-making processes, well—they just seemed to disintegrate.’
‘And yet he still managed to make the strangest will in the world?’
‘There’s no cure for old age, Laurie.’ He gave a nod towards the next set of steps. ‘Come on. Let’s put those wellies to good use.’
He removed a thin piece of rope closing off the steps and started down them. Laurie made to follow and stopped dead. It wasn’t a traditional set of steps. They were precarious, cut into the cliff side with only a thread rope as a handhold. At places they looked almost vertical.
Callan moved down them easily, sure-footed without a second’s hesitation. He made it look easy.
Except it was far from easy.
‘Come on,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘If you fall you’ll only land on me.’
Part of his confidence annoyed her—which was silly. He’d lived here for a good part of his life. He could probably go down these steps with his eyes shut.
Venturing down them in a pair of somebody else’s ill-fitting wellies was an entirely different story. In some ways she might have taken great pleasure in landing squarely between his shoulders. In another, despite his bravado, it was likely they would both tumble down the cliff face and land in the rocks below. Quite frankly, she wasn’t that brave.
She took her time as she edged down the steps, shouting down to Callan in an attempt to appear casual, ‘You never told me, how did you end up going from pure mathematics to computers?’
He was so far beneath her now. The noise from the crashing waves below almost drowned out his reply. ‘Boredom, or luck, I guess.’
She took the next few steps a little quicker. She was becoming more sure-footed, the thin rope slipping easily through her fingers. She knew her brow was wrinkled as she took the last few steps towards him. ‘I don’t get it. Boredom? Whoops—’
The last few steps were slicked with moss and lichens, the thick soles of the wellies having hardly any grip at all. His hands planted firmly on her hip bones, stopping her from losing her balance completely.
She was one step above him, meaning they were almost face-to-face.
If the breath hadn’t exited her lungs so quickly she might have smiled. The view was good here.
Any woman would tell you that from first glance Callan McGregor was a fine figure of a man. But this close she could see everything—his slightly tanned, slightly weathered skin. The smattering of tiny freckles across his nose. Her hands had lifted to stop her falling and were now naturally placed on the breadth of his chest. After a few seconds she could feel the heat from his skin seeping through his cotton shirt onto the palms of her hands.
She should move them. She really should. But right now they felt superglued to his chest.
She caught her breath. ‘Boredom?’ she asked softly.
They were so close now the crashing waves were merely background noise. He hadn’t moved his hands; they were still firmly on her hips, steering her closer to him.
He blinked. If he’d been any closer those long eyelashes of his might have brushed her cheek. She shouldn’t feel so comfortable. Under normal circumstances she would have jumped back, hating her personal space being invaded without her say-so.
But nothing about this weekend had been normal. Why change anything now?
From this position she had a real clear view of his green eyes. Bright green eyes. Unlike any she’d seen before. There was nothing pale or wishy-washy about them. She’d seen an emerald this green once before on the jewellery shopping channel. Was it from Colombia? It had been three carats, with a single carat diamond on either side. Probably the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen and well out of her price range. Funny how the billionaire’s eyes reminded her of that.
He tilted his head to one side. ‘Just because I had a natural talent for maths didn’t mean I had to spend my life doing it.’
He said it as if it made perfect sense.
A gust of wind swept past her, pushing her even closer to him. Every hair on her arms stood on end. But it wasn’t the wind. It was him. His touch. And his words. Doing a whole host of strange things to her.
It was more than unsettling. She tried to pull her tongue down from its current position of sticking to the roof of her mouth. It wasn’t often in this life that Laurie found it difficult to talk.
‘But what did Angus say? Didn’t he tell you to find a career related to your degree?’ She’d already realised there was no point asking what his father thought. He hadn’t even mentioned his mother at all. And she couldn’t ask the question that was throbbing in her head right now: What would my father have thought if I’d walked away from law? Because neither Callan nor she would know the answer.
Callan smiled. A smile that reached right up into those green eyes. Little wrinkles appeared around them. Good wrinkles. He looked so much better when he smiled rather than the permanent frown that had been on his face since she’d met him.
‘Angus would never have told me to do something that made me unhappy. I’d completed my degree. It was up to me to find my place in life.’
He said the words so easily. As if it was the way it should be for everyone and she felt her stomach twist in tight knots.
Why couldn’t she have said something like that to her father? Only hers hadn’t been an ordinary kind of degree. What else could you do with a law degree if you didn’t practise law? Sure, there were some students in her class who hadn’t gone on to complete their professional qualifications after sitting their exams. They’d moved into other professions.
But she wasn’t exactly sure what. Truth was, she’d been too scared to pay too much attention to any other options. It had almost been easier to work on the assumption that there was none. She would never have disappointed her father. She just couldn’t have.
Horrible things were jumping around in her mind. What would have happened if she’d told her father that she didn’t like her degree? What would have happened if he’d still been alive and she’d told him she hated her job? She could feel tears prickling in the backs of her eyes. All of a sudden she felt cold. Really cold. Did this make her a coward?
‘Laurie?’ Callan’s voice was quiet; she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, see his eyes full of concern.
‘But what if you can’t find your place in life?’ she whispered. Or, you’re too scared to.
She was going to cry, any second now she was going to burst into tears, on the edge of the Scottish coastline with a virtual stranger.
Callan didn’t say a word. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side, and guided her
down the last few steps onto the thin line of shingle beach. Judging from the moss and lichen on the shingles, this part of the coastline must regularly be underwater.
The warmth from his body was comforting. The feel of the arm around her shoulder was reassuring—protective almost. He hadn’t asked her any questions. It was almost as if he knew she was upset and he sensed not to push her.
They walked a few hundred yards along the coastline and he stopped at the rock face. ‘Look,’ he said, his mouth brushing against her ear.
She lifted her head. Carved into the rocks in front of her were three arches—as if someone had tried to create a house out of one of the natural caves. The arches were on three levels, almost as if it had been someone’s home.
‘What on earth is this?’ It was a perfect distraction. So unusual, and so mysterious that she couldn’t help but ask the question and push the other heavy thoughts from her mind.
‘Welcome to the history of Annick Castle. This part of the coast was a notorious centre for smuggling and the fortified caves beneath the castle were ideal for hiding contraband from the Revenue Officers. For centuries the Annick Kennedys and others on the estate were either directly involved in smuggling, or turned a blind eye to it, in exchange for a share of the profits.’