In the Boss's Castle Read online

  Meet the parents. Not at all awkward. ‘Isn’t there someone else you’d rather take? An actual real date?’

  Kit stilled. ‘I don’t introduce my dates to my parents.’

  ‘Not ever?’ Obviously she never had but there were mitigating circumstances in her case. Kit’s mother sounded both sober and present, qualities Maddison’s mother had failed to possess.

  ‘Not since Euan died. No, not because I’m too heartbroken.’ Her face must have expressed her thoughts and Maddison flushed with embarrassment. ‘No. Introducing dates to parents raises hopes in bosoms on both sides and that’s something I’d rather not do.’

  His words on her birthday came back to her. ‘You really don’t want to fall in love again one day?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was uncompromising. ‘I don’t believe in love. It’s just getting carried away by infatuation and circumstance.’

  His views weren’t so far away from Maddison’s own but it was uncomfortable hearing them so baldly stated.

  ‘Look, Maddison, it’s a good opportunity for you to spend some time outside London. Besides, we can work on the way up. I’m quite happy to dictate and drive.’

  ‘You’re really selling it to me. A weekend of weddings and work.’

  ‘If you really hate the idea, then of course you don’t have to come. But I do know it will be much more fun if you’re there.’

  Fun? With her? Warmth stole through her at the casual words. Words of acceptance and liking. ‘Okay.’ Wow, she was easily bought, wasn’t she? But Kit was right. She should get out of London and see more while she was here. It had taken her twenty-six years to get to Europe; what if it was another twenty-six before she returned?

  And he thought she was fun...not competent or organized or reliable. Fun.

  ‘Great. I hope you brought some warm clothes. Scotland can be nippy even in early summer and I get the impression the atmosphere at Eleanor’s wedding will be positively frosty.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘ARE WE THERE YET?’ Kit looked over as Maddison stretched and yawned, noting that she looked more catlike than ever as she did so. Her hair was a little mussed up from sleeping in the car, her face make-up free. She looked younger, freer. His stomach tightened. If only they were on their way to somewhere where he could feel free. Instead every mile closer to the border the air closed in just a little bit more. Duty, responsibility, expectation all waiting to descend on him like an unwanted coronation mantle.

  He turned the radio down a little. ‘Not even close, I’m afraid. It would help if this section of the motorway wasn’t all roadworks—it feels like we’re permanently stuck at fifty miles per hour.’ It might have made more sense to fly or to get the train but Kit needed to know that he had an escape plan ready and active at all times—and that meant his own transport.

  ‘I don’t understand. We’ve been on the road for hours. England just can’t be that big. It’s meant to be all little and quaint.’ Maddison stared out of the window at the never-ending fields—and the never-ending drizzle—as if she were searching for thatched roofs and maypoles. She’d be searching for some time. The view from the M6 was many things but quaint wasn’t one of them.

  Besides, there was something she needed to be put right on. ‘England is nearly four hundred miles long and we’re driving about three quarters of the length of it, but, as you need to remember before you are thrown out of the country for disrespect, we’re not going to be in England, we’re going to Scotland. A whole different country.’ Despite himself, despite everything, Kit could hear the pride in his voice, feel the slight swell in his chest. Eleanor used to tease him that the further north they got the broader his accent got. Of course, now she rolled her r’s as if her home counties upbringing and Oxbridge education belonged to someone else, more Scottish than Edinburgh rock.

  ‘A whole different country,’ Maddison repeated. ‘Like Canada?’

  ‘But without border patrols and with the same currency.’

  ‘Got it.’ She slid him a sidelong glance. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Fine, why?’

  ‘It can’t be easy, watching your ex get married.’

  If only she knew the half of it. ‘I’ve had plenty of practice. This is her second wedding and she’s still in her twenties. I fully expect to watch Eleanor get married several more times before she’s through.’

  ‘It’s just...’ she hesitated ‘... Eleanor’s mother seemed concerned, as if she thinks you’re still in love with the bride.’

  ‘She hopes I’m still in love with the bride,’ Kit said drily. ‘I bet right now she’s instructing the vicar to leave a good long pause after the true impediment part so that I can stand up and claim Eleanor for my own.’

  ‘Leaving me weeping in the aisles?’ There was an appreciative gurgle in Maddison’s voice as she outlined the scenario. ‘If only I had a hat, one with a little veil. Oh! And gloves.’

  ‘There’s no need to sound like you want it to happen.’

  ‘I’m just saying if it were to happen I’d want to be appropriately dressed. What’s the groom like?’

  ‘Loaded, huge estate in Argyll, another one much further up in the Highlands—rich folk pay a fortune for the hunting and fishing. Plus various concerns in the city, a town house in Edinburgh. He’s a catch...’

  ‘I can tell there’s an if or a but coming up.’

  To hell with it, he needed to be honest with someone. ‘If you like your life partner to be the other side of forty-five, red-faced, balding and a pontificating know-it-all.’

  ‘He sounds gorgeous.’ She hesitated. ‘So why?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I kind of got the impression that Eleanor’s parents were all about the money and the image. Aren’t they glad she’s marrying someone who can keep her in style? An estate sounds pretty grand.’

  ‘The Forsyths all about the money? Whatever gave you that idea?’

  ‘So don’t take this the wrong way, you’re a nice guy when you want to be and easy enough on the eye, but why does socially ambitious mama want her darling daughter to run off with you? Especially as she already jilted you once?’

  ‘She didn’t jilt me. We were never engaged.’ Thank goodness.

  ‘You know what I mean. It doesn’t make any sense. Unless she’s thinking about her grandkids and the gene pool. No male-pattern baldness in your family.’ She looked at his hair as if assessing the thickness.

  Kit suppressed a sigh; this persistence was useful in his assistant, completely necessary if she was road-testing a treasure hunt. It was a little less comfortable when she was probing into his past. His hands gripped the steering wheel tight, his eyes fixed on the grey lines of the motorway as he eased his way past a lorry. ‘As the youngest son I wasn’t much of a catch. I was a student with his own eccentric business. I didn’t plan on going into the City or doing any of the respectable money-making jobs a suitable partner for the Forsyths’ beautiful only daughter would do.’

  ‘A girl’s gotta eat.’ There was something oddly constrained in her voice despite the light words.

  ‘She does. The right food at the right tables in the right households.’ Kit hesitated. He liked that as far as Maddison was concerned he was her boss, nothing less, nothing more. But she was going to find out exactly what the future held for him in approximately four hours’ time anyway and he would rather she heard it from him. Warts, title and all. Kit took a long drink of water, handing the bottle back to Maddison and focusing on the road ahead as he chose his words carefully. ‘Euan was the eldest son and that made him a much better prospect than me. The Buchanans aren’t as rich, not nearly as rich, as Angus Campbell, the lucky groom. But our name is older, we have a title, an ancient one, not an honorary one, and the castle has been in our family for generations. For new money like the Forsyths, that’s worth mo
re than a second estate. Now Euan’s gone...’

  He could hear Maddison’s breath quicken. What was it with the predatory urge that overtook formerly sane women at the mention of a title and a castle? Kit didn’t want to turn and look at her, to see if her eyes were gleaming covetously.

  She shifted. ‘You’re no longer the second son. What does that mean?’

  ‘Mean? It means that I’m the heir. To the title, the estate and the family name.’ He laughed but there was no humour in the sound, just the bitter twist of fate. ‘Turns out Eleanor bet on the wrong brother all those years ago and she’s been kicking herself about it ever since we buried Euan.’ Kit was trying to sound matter-of-fact but there was a rawness he couldn’t cover. It was a long, long time since Eleanor had had the ability to hurt him. It turned out Kit was completely capable of destroying his own life—and the lives of everyone around him—without her help.

  But she’d duped Euan and he would never forgive her for that.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Maddison argued. ‘She might have really fallen in love with your brother. Hard on you, sure, but just because he was the eldest, just because he was going to inherit stuff, it doesn’t mean she used you.’

  He swallowed, his mouth dry despite the water he’d just consumed. ‘Ah, but you see she told me. A month after we buried Euan. A month after she stood weeping by his grave and shooting me sympathetic glances as I had to come to terms with the knowledge that my brother had died...’ The guilt that never really left him pressed down, heavier than ever. Such a stupid death. Such an unnecessary death. And he was to blame... ‘She came to me and said she’d made a terrible mistake all those years ago. That she had never stopped loving me. That she knew it was too soon but maybe one day...’

  Maddison was staring at him open-mouthed. ‘She said all that?’

  ‘Of course, I had just sold that quirky little start-up for a few million quid and a nice, well-paid and respectable job. Add the title and the castle to that and suddenly her old lover was looking all shiny and new. She still had her sights on being the Lady of Kilcanon.’

  ‘I’ll bet. What did you say?’

  ‘I said not on her life. And then I got very, very drunk.’ His hands tightened on the wheel. All those years of bitterness, the loss of his brother, all because of some princess who thought she was entitled to have it all—and damn anyone who got in her way.

  But in the end he couldn’t blame Eleanor for Euan’s death. No. The only person to blame was Kit. And he could never, ever atone. God knew he had tried.

  * * *

  Maddison watched the scenery flash by but if someone quizzed her about what she had seen she would have definitely flunked the test. It was starting to add up: Kit’s lack of interest in anything but the most perfunctory of relationships, his reluctance to go back to Scotland. He must have loved Eleanor very much once. Until she betrayed him.

  Betrayal was such a strong word. After all, what had Eleanor done, exactly? Married strategically? Could Maddison blame her for that? After all, wasn’t that her goal?

  But she wasn’t prepared to trample over sibling relationships and break hearts to do it. Her case was totally different. Wasn’t it?

  But the moral high ground didn’t feel all that high.

  ‘This must all come as a shock to you.’

  She started. ‘Sorry? The castle? Yeah, that’s unexpected. Is there a moat and dungeons? A talking candlestick? A butler?’

  ‘No to all the above and no, I didn’t mean the castle. I meant the unhappily ever after. You believe in love at first sight, don’t you?’

  She almost laughed. As if. Nothing could be further from the truth; she wasn’t even sure she believed in love. Lust, sure, although she tried to ignore it. It could take a girl horribly off track. Affection, definitely. Compatibility. They were the foundations of a good, solid relationship. Shared goals another. But true love? That was for fairy tales. If Maddison had sat in her trailer waiting to be rescued she’d still be sitting there now. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Mr Grow Old on a Porch Swing. What happened when you first saw him? Cupid’s arrow straight to your heart?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ The mocking tone in his voice hit her harder than any arrow could.

  ‘So what was it? What attracted you to him? How did you know he was the one if you weren’t instantly smitten?’

  Maddison thought back to the party where she and Bart had first met. It had been thrown by one of her college friends who had just bought, with family money, a fabulous loft apartment on the Upper East Side. Bart had been lounging against one of the carefully distressed brick walls, deep in conversation with a couple of friends. He had just looked so solid: tall, broad, blonde, clean-cut with that indefinable privileged air that Maddison worked so hard to cultivate but feared she never could. He wasn’t handsome, not exactly, but he was nice to look at—and she could instantly see a future with him. A safe future. She had had no idea who he was at the time—her ambitions were high but not that high. But she could tell by his clothes, his stance, his air that he had the background she looked for, the future she needed. He had obviously felt her staring because he had broken off the conversation to look over at her—and then he had smiled and she had been lost in a world of infinite possibilities. A world where she was safe. For a time at least.

  ‘I...’ She stopped, unable to go on, and twisted her fingers in her lap, trying to find the right words. But what words were right? She didn’t want to lie to him—she who lied to everyone—but there was no truth palatable enough to be served up.

  Kit winced. ‘I’m sorry, Maddison, it’s not been that long, has it? I’m forgetting that not everyone weeps crocodile tears. For what it’s worth, anyone who needs a break from you is an absolute idiot. He’s not going to meet anyone better.’

  No? He might meet someone genuine, someone who wanted Bart for his conversation and body, for his passions and interests, not for their vision of a perfect future. Could she really have done it? Married someone for convenience? Oh, she hadn’t used that word before, had she? But that was what it came down to. She had deceived Bart—and she had deceived herself. ‘He should. He deserves to. He’s a really nice guy. Maybe he was right to call a halt to things.’

  ‘Oh?’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  Maddison hadn’t told anyone the truth for so long there were times she wasn’t sure exactly what the truth was any more. Not the teachers at school when they had asked about her mom, not her friends, not herself. Especially not herself. And Kit would judge her, he more than most. Maybe that was what she deserved.

  Before she could weigh up the consequences of carrying on she spoke, the words almost tumbling out in the rush to unburden herself at long last. ‘Bart’s full name is Bartholomew J Van De Grierson III.’

  But of course that meant nothing to him. ‘Poor guy. I thought Christopher Alexander Campbell Buchanan was bad enough.’

  She ignored him. ‘His family have lived in New York going back to colonial times. They’re as close as we have to aristocracy, or to royalty. Bart works in the family business, and by business I mean global, multimillion, fingers in pies you’ve never heard of and plenty that you will have. He owns this incredible brownstone and the family have an estate in the Hamptons, right by the sea. It’s as big as a small village.’

  ‘Right. You found out all the important things, then?’

  She had—and they had terrified her and seduced her in equal measure. She’d been in well over her head but how could she turn her back on the possibility of a future so glittering it obliterated her more modest dreams? She stared at her hands. ‘Have you ever been hungry, Kit? Have you ever woken up to find out that the electricity was turned off and there’s no hot water for a shower? Have you ever had to work out which clothes were the least dirty and turn up for school in them?’

&nb
sp; He shot her a quick look but she wouldn’t, couldn’t meet his eye. ‘I wasn’t prom queen and I didn’t have a credit card on Daddy’s account. I didn’t have a daddy. And my mom wasn’t around much.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want a family of my own, Kit. I want security. I want to know that I’m not just a pay cheque away from eviction, that there is always, always money in the bank. I want kids.’

  ‘Four of them. I remember.’

  She swallowed. How had he remembered that? ‘Four children who will have the safest, happiest, most perfect childhood ever. And I know that people say money doesn’t buy happiness—but I bet you anything those people have never gone to bed hungry. Or been really, really cold. So cold they can’t sleep and their bones ache.’

  ‘No, they probably haven’t. So Bart wanted four kids too? He was happy to be your secure happy ever after?’

  She laughed. ‘People like Bart don’t marry people like me, Kit. You must know that. Money calls to money. Sure, he might date a girl like me, walk on the wrong side of the tracks for a little bit, but he wouldn’t bring her home to meet the parents, wouldn’t take her away with his friends. Wouldn’t marry her. I grew up in a small town by the ocean and I saw it all the time—the wealthy summer visitors only mixed with people like them. And I knew that if I wanted to be one of them then I had to transform.’ She couldn’t stop now she’d started, the words spilling out. It was cathartic; this must be what confession was like, handing over your sins for someone else to absolve or punish.

  ‘Transform?’

  ‘Into one of them. Normal, a little spoiled, entitled. I got to college and created a whole new identity—a prom-queen, cheerleading, hayride, ice-carnival princess identity. Not too detailed, not too fancy, not privileged enough to raise alarm bells but privileged enough for the right groups to let me in. The college I went to was full of prep-school graduates with the right kind of background. It was almost too easy in the end to infiltrate them. By the time I graduated and moved to New York I knew the right kind of people with the right kind of connections to take me to the Upper East Side and from there...’