One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors

But no. He was standing right in front of her again. ‘Oh—um—you shouldn’t have,’ she mumbled awkwardly, but she took the cup anyway. ‘Thanks.’ She levered off the plastic lid and tasted it. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

Liam hesitated now. This wasn’t his usual practice, buying strange women cups of coffee, letting them share his space. But she looked so out of place here he couldn’t abandon her. She might be a journalist, he reflected, eager to get a story. But, if so, she’d been very offhand with him.

Nevertheless, she seemed far too vulnerable to be alone, and much against his better judgement he dropped down into the empty seat beside her. Opening his own coffee, he cast a sideways glance in her direction. Then he saw her watching him and said hastily, ‘At least it’s hot.’

‘It’s very nice,’ Rosa assured him, not altogether truthfully. The coffee was bitter. ‘It was kind of you to get it for me.’

Liam shrugged. ‘Scottish hospitality,’ he said wryly. ‘We’re well known for it.’

She gave him a sideways look. ‘So you are Scottish?’ she said. ‘You must know this area very well.’ She paused. ‘What’s Kilfoil like? Is it very uncivilised?’

Liam caught his breath, almost choking on a mouthful of coffee. ‘Where do you think you are?’ he exclaimed, when he could speak again. ‘The wilds of Outer Mongolia?’

‘No.’ Despite herself, her cheeks burned. ‘So tell me about the island. Are there houses, shops, hotels?’

Liam hesitated, torn between the desire to describe his home in glowing detail and the urge not to appear too familiar with his surroundings. ‘It’s like a lot of the other islands,’ he said at last. ‘There’s a village, and you can buy most of the staple things you need there. The post and luxury items come in on the ferry. As do the tourists, who stay at the local guesthouses.’

Rosa felt relieved. ‘So it’s not, like—desolate or anything?’

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Liam, thinking how relieved he’d be to be back again. ‘All these islands are beautiful. I wouldn’t live anywhere else.’

Rosa’s brows arched. ‘Where do you live?’

He was cornered. ‘On Kilfoil,’ he said reluctantly. And then, deciding he’d said quite enough, he got to his feet again. ‘Excuse me. I need to go and check on my car.’

When he’d gone, Rosa finished her coffee thoughtfully. She wasn’t totally surprised by his answer, but she couldn’t help wondering what a man like him found to do there. Could he be a fisherman, as she’d speculated? Somehow that didn’t seem very likely. A thought occurred to her. Perhaps he worked for Liam Jameson. Or the film crew, if they were making a film on the island.

She should have asked if there was a film crew on the island, she chided herself. But then, if she had, she’d have had to explain why she was really here. No, it was wiser to wait until she got there before she started asking those questions. She didn’t want to alert Jameson as to who she was.

She couldn’t help the shudder that passed over her at the thought of what she had to do. Her mission, she thought wryly. Goodness, what was she letting herself in for? But surely if there was a film crew on the island the people in the village would know about it. Whether they’d tell her where Liam Jameson lived was another matter.

The journey seemed endless, even worse than the three train journeys she’d had to make to get to Mallaig. Then at least she’d had some scenery to look at. Apart from a handful of mist-strewn islands, all she could see now was the choppy water lapping at the sides of the ferry.

She sighed and glanced at her watch. If what the man had said was true, it shouldn’t be long now. Glancing towards the front of the vessel, she glimpsed a solid mass of land immediately ahead of them. Was that Kilfoil? She hoped so. She’d call her mother as soon as she stepped onto dry land.

Lucia Chantry would be desperate for news. Sophie was her baby, and although she knew as well as anyone that her daughter could be selfish and willful at times, Rosa had never been left in any doubt as to who was her mother’s favourite. Sophie could do no wrong, whereas Rosa was constantly making mistakes. Not least when she’d married Colin Vincent. Her mother had never liked him, and she hadn’t hesitated to say I told you so when Colin turned out to be such a jerk.

The ferry was slowing now, cutting back on its engines, preparing for its arrival at Kilfoil. As it eased into its berth, Rosa got to her feet, eager for her first glimpse of her destination. It was certainly unprepossessing, she thought, just a handful of cottages climbing up the hillside from the ferry terminal. But the overcast sky didn’t help. She was sure it would look much more appealing in sunlight.

Fifteen minutes later she was standing on the quay, watching as the few cars heading for the island rolled off the ferry. Glancing about her, she saw the road that wound up out of the village and the dark slopes of a mountain range behind.

The island suddenly seemed much bigger than she’d anticipated. But what had she been expecting? Something the size of Holy Island, off the coast of Northumberland, perhaps? And if she did find Sophie here, if she hadn’t been lying, how was she supposed to get her to come home? If her sister was starstruck, she wouldn’t be influenced by anything Rosa said.

Rosa had just located a sign that said ‘Post Office’ when she saw a dusty grey Audi coming up the ramp towards her. The man who’d bought her coffee was at the wheel and she turned abruptly away. She didn’t want him to think—even for a moment—that she was looking for him.

To her relief, the big car swept past her, but then it braked hard, just a dozen yards up the road, and she saw its reversing lights appear. It stopped beside her and a door was pushed open. The man thrust his legs out, got to his feet with an obvious effort and turned towards her.

She noticed he was favouring his left leg, something she hadn’t observed on the ferry. But then, the rolling of the vessel would have precluded any observation of that kind. She’d been decidedly unsteady on her own feet.

Liam, meanwhile, was cursing himself for being all kinds of an idiot for stopping the car. But, dammit, she still looked as if a puff of wind would blow her away. And she certainly wasn’t interested in him. He’d noticed the way she’d deliberately turned her back on him. So what was he doing playing the knight errant again?

‘Got a problem?’ he asked, forcing her to turn and face him.

‘I hope not,’ she said tightly, wishing he would just go away. But, on the off-chance that he might be able to help her, she ought to be more grateful. ‘Um—I was looking for the Post Office, that’s all. I wanted to ask where Kilfoil Castle was.’

‘Kilfoil Castle?’ Liam was wary now. ‘Why do you want to know where Kilfoil Castle is? It’s not open to the public, you know.’

‘I know that.’ Rosa sighed. Then, giving in to the urge to trust him, she added, ‘Do you happen to know if there’s a film crew working there?’

‘A film crew?’ Now Liam was genuinely concerned. Had he been wrong about this woman all along?

‘Yes, a film crew,’ repeated Rosa. ‘I understand they’re making a film of one of the Liam Jameson’s books on the island.’

Like hell!

Liam stared at her, trying to decide if she was as naïve as she looked. ‘Why would you imagine Liam Jameson would allow a film crew to desecrate his home?’ he demanded bleakly. ‘Movies have been made of his books, I know, but they’re not filmed here.’

Was it just his imagination or did her shoulders sag at this news? What was going on, for God’s sake? Had she expected to find her sister on the set? ‘I think you’ve made a mistake,’ he said gently. ‘Someone’s given you the wrong information. I can assure you there’s no production team at Kilfoil Castle or anywhere else on the island.’

Rosa shook her head. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘You’re not just trying to put me off?’

‘Hell, no!’ Liam gazed at her compassionately. ‘I realise it must be a blow, but I don’t think your sister’s here.’

Rosa’s brows drew together. ‘I don’t remember saying that I thought my sister was with the film crew,’ she retorted defensively.

‘No, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to put two and two together.’

Rosa bit her lip. ‘All right. Perhaps I did think Sophie might be with them. But if she’s not, then perhaps she’s somewhere else.’

Liam gazed at her. ‘On the island?’

‘Yes.’ Rosa held up her head. ‘So perhaps you could direct me to Kilfoil Castle, as I asked before. Is there a taxi or something I could hire if it’s too far to walk?’

Liam blinked. ‘Why on earth would you think your sister might be at Kilfoil Castle?’ he asked, trying not to sound outraged at the suggestion, and his companion sighed.

‘Because she apparently met Liam Jameson a few days ago, at the pop festival in Glastonbury. He told her they were making a film of his latest book in Scotland and he offered her a screen test.’

To say Liam was stunned would have been a vast understatement. It was as if she’d suddenly started talking in a foreign language and he couldn’t make head or tail of what she was saying. For goodness’ sake, until Sunday morning he’d been in a London clinic having muscle therapy to try and ease the spasms he still suffered in his leg. Besides which, he’d never been to a pop festival in his life.

Realising she was waiting for him to say something, Liam tried to concentrate. It was obvious she believed what she’d just told him. Her look of uncertainty and expectation was too convincing to fake. But, dammit, if her sister had fed her this story, why had she believed it? Anyone who knew Liam Jameson would know it was untrue.

But perhaps she didn’t. Certainly she hadn’t recognised him. And, taken at face value, it wasn’t so outrageous. Two of his books had been filmed in Scotland. But not on Kilfoil. He’d made damn sure of that.

‘Liam Jameson does live here, doesn’t he?’