One Summer At The Castle. Jules Bennett

was growing increasingly hard to be patient. ‘There is no film production. Or, if there is, Liam Jameson doesn’t know about it.’

      ‘Have you asked him?’

      ‘I—er—’

      Belatedly, Rosa acknowledged that that was something that they hadn’t discussed. When she’d found out Sophie wasn’t on the island, that there was no film crew working there, she hadn’t thought to ask if he’d given permission for a film to be made elsewhere.

      But wouldn’t he have told her?

      Yet he hadn’t told her who he was until he’d had to.

      She’d been silent for too long, and her mother said sharply, ‘You have spoken to him, haven’t you?’

      Spoken?

      Rosa stifled the hysterical sob that rose in her throat at her mother’s words. Yes, she’d spoken to him all right, she thought. Though that was a poor description of what had happened between them.

      ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice a little hoarse. ‘I’ve spoken to him, Mum. He was very—nice, actually.’ And that had to be the understatement of the year!

      ‘And he insisted he’d never seen Sophie?’ Mrs Chantry sounded anxious now, and Ross wished she hadn’t been so brutal. ‘Oh, I wish she’d taken her phone with her to Glastonbury. But Mark was taking his, and I was so afraid she’d lose it.’

      ‘I—I don’t think Jameson’s seen her,’ Rosa murmured weakly, hating the thought that her mother was going to start worrying all over again. ‘I—I’ll ask him again.’

      ‘Oh, you’re a good girl, Rosa.’ Now that she thought her daughter was softening, Mrs Chantry was prepared to be generous. ‘I knew I could rely on you. And don’t forget to find out where the film is being made.’

      Rosa put the phone down with a feeling of utter bewilderment. Speaking to her mother was like butting her head against a brick wall. Mrs Chantry only heard what she wanted to hear, and now that Rosa had agreed to speak to Liam Jameson again she was prepared to wait for developments.

      Rosa swore—something she rarely did, but right now she felt it was justified. Wait until she got her hands on her younger sister, she thought. Sophie would regret putting them through all this trauma.

      Yet if Sophie hadn’t disappeared Rosa wouldn’t have come here, wouldn’t have met Liam Jameson for herself. And, while that was something she might live to regret, right now the prospect of seeing him again was causing her heart to beat so madly it felt as if it was in danger of forcing its way right out of her chest.

      But where had he gone?

      She crossed to the door and pulled it open, only to fall back in surprise when she found Sam Devlin just outside. Had he been listening in to her conversation?

      But, no. Something told her that the burly Scotsman wouldn’t be interested in anything she had to say, and this was confirmed when he said brusquely, ‘Yon McAllister’s on his way from the village. He should be here in about half an hour. Would you like me to carry your bag down for you?’

      ‘Oh—no.’ Rosa was taken aback. But she should have known that Sam would waste no time in sending her on her way. ‘That won’t be necessary.’ She paused. ‘Actually, I wanted to have a word with Mr Jameson before I go.’

      ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss Chantry. Mr Jameson is working, and it’s more than my job’s worth to disturb him.’

      Rosa doubted that very much. From what she’d seen, the two men had a good working relationship, and it was extremely unlikely that Liam Jameson would risk that by threatening to sack Devlin if he was disturbed.

      ‘It would only take a minute,’ she said persuasively. ‘I want to ask him something.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      Sam wasn’t budging, and Rosa stared at him in frustration. If only she knew where Liam’s office—den?—was. Evidently he didn’t work in the library, as she’d thought at first. But in a place of this size he could be anywhere.

      ‘Tell me what you want to ask him and I’ll deliver your message when he’s free,’ Sam suggested, but Rosa had no intention of trusting him.

      ‘It’s personal,’ she said, but although she held the man’s gaze for a long while, hoping to shame him into helping her, ultimately it was she who looked away.

      Then another thought occurred to her. ‘You could give me his phone number,’ she said with inspiration. ‘I’ll ring him later.’

      ‘I couldn’t do that, Miss Chantry.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Mr Jameson doesn’t give his private number to anyone.’

      ‘Then give me yours,’ mumbled Rosa ungraciously. ‘I’ll let you know where I’m staying, and Mr Jameson can ring me.’

      Sam looked as if he wanted to refuse, but perhaps he realised that that would seem unnecessarily anal. Besides, he couldn’t really know that Liam wouldn’t speak to her if he went and asked him.

      However, when he spoke it wasn’t what Rosa had expected. ‘Mr Jameson knows where you’re staying, Miss Chantry,’ he said, and now Rosa noticed the scrap of paper in his hand. ‘He asked me to give you this address.’

      ‘Oh!’ That stumped her. ‘Thanks.’ She took the paper from his outstretched hand and looked at it almost resentfully. ‘Does Mr McAllister know where this is?’

      ‘Everyone knows where Katie Ferguson’s guesthouse is,’ declared Sam scornfully. ‘This isn’t London, Miss Chantry.’

      ‘I don’t live in London,’ retorted Rosa hotly. ‘I come from a small town in North Yorkshire, Mr Devlin. Not some teeming metropolis, as you seem to think.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’ Rosa was sure he didn’t mean it. ‘I naturally assumed—’

      ‘You shouldn’t assume anything,’ said Rosa, enjoying having him on the defensive for a change. She glanced down at the paper again. ‘Thanks for this.’

      Sam gave her a polite nod of acknowledgement. ‘I’ll let you know when the car arrives.’

      ‘Thanks,’ said Rosa again, and without another word Sam closed the door on her.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘HAS SHE GONE?’

      It was later that morning, and Liam had just emerged from his study having spent a rather fruitless couple of hours trying to concentrate on characters who suddenly seemed as unconvincing as cardboard cut-outs.

      He’d found Sam and Mrs Wilson in the kitchen on the ground floor of the castle, enjoying a coffee break, and he’d accepted a cup from the housekeeper with some gratitude.

      He wasn’t in the best of moods, however, and his temper wasn’t improved when Sam said cheerfully, ‘Aye, she’s gone, Liam. Not but what she didn’t ask to speak to you again before she left.’ He gave his employer a knowing look. ‘I told her you were working and couldn’t be disturbed, but I don’t think she was suited.’

      Liam scowled. He’d just burned his mouth on the hot coffee, and Sam’s announcement was the last straw. ‘You did what?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Why did you tell her that?’

      ‘Well, because you never like to be disturbed when you’re working,’ said Sam defensively. ‘Don’t tell me you expected me to come along to your office and break your concentration just because some lassie with more bluff than sense asked to see you?’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’