Page 22 of Duke It Out
And Rory Kinnaird is not the prize.
It’seight o’clock and I’m standing in the dining hall alone. Upstairs there are five different outfits discarded on the bed and even now I’m not sure I’m in the right clothes. I have this vague memory from a TV show about the Royal Family dressing in black tie for dinner every night, and I’ve no idea what I wasmeant to wear. I’ve settled on the dress I wore to Annabel’s launch and a pair of suede boots. And tights, as a psychological passion killer, just in case I end up sitting opposite Rory and my subconscious gets any ideas. Not that appears to be a problem, because I’m the only person here, the table isn’t set, and the only sound besides the ticking of an enormous grandfather clock by the door is my stomach growling with hunger. If I go looking for someone now and they all walk in I’m going to look like an idiot, but if I stay here much longer… I don’t know what to do. I’ll give it until five past then take a peek into the hall.
The second hand inches towards twelve when a door opens at the far end of the dining hall.
“You must be the writer.”
I turn to the unfamiliar voice to see a tall man with untidy dark hair and a grin on his face. He strides towards me, hand extended. There’s no doubt he’s related to Rory, but where he’s ramrod straight and measured, this man gives off a completely laid-back vibe.
“Jamie Kinnaird. You’re in the wrong place. I had a feeling I’d find you in here.”
“Edie Jones.”
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he says with an easy charm. “My brother didn’t mention that part.”
“The name?” I can’t help smiling in relief.
“Not just the name.” His brow quirks for a moment and he turns to open the door. “After you, ma’am.”
Back in the entrance hall, I catch a whiff of something delicious and my stomach growls again.
“I’m ravenous too. Let’s get to dinner before Rory wolfs it all down.”
He leads me into a smaller dining room which is vaguelyfamiliar from the house tour earlier. “Sorry, I got my rooms muddled up.”
“Easily done in this place. Where the hell is Rory now?”
“I’m here,” says a clipped, low voice. I turn to see him standing behind the door with his hands behind his back and an unreadable expression on his face. My face flushes pink with mortification as I have a sudden vision of him having some sort of control room with video cameras into every bedroom and bathroom. I look to the floor to try and reorient myself before looking back up to see him regarding me with his green eyes, which look somehow darker. I guess it’s the fury.
A bearded man appears with a tray, setting out an arrangement of dishes on the table as we sit down.
He stands back for a moment before Rory gives him a brief nod.
“You get off, we’ll sort this. Give Shona our love.”
“And good luck,” Jamie adds, just before the door closes. “His wife’s going in for an op tomorrow,” he explains, buttering a piece of bread.
So he’s not completely devoid of humanity, I think, as Rory offers me the dish. It’s some sort of lamb tagine, with a heaped pile of couscous studded with jewel-pink pomegranate seeds on the side, and a salad garnished with fresh mint leaves. It smells unbelievable.
“Well, this is nice,” Jamie says. “Have you seenYellowstone? Sitting around the table here feels a bit like that, only we’re missing a Beth to storm off halfway through dinner.”
Rory raises a brow and looks at Jamie, who smirks briefly.
“Alright, we do have a Beth.”
“I’m not sure Finn would appreciate the comparison,” says Rory.
“Is Finn your brother?” I venture a question. I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to survive three months of awkwardly polite conversation and trying not to make a weird noise when I swallow.
Jamie nods. “He’s the difficult middle child. It’s a long story.”
“There’s no story,” says Rory. His hand tightens on the wine glass.
“Does he live here on the estate?”
“Nope. He’s on Benruar making whisky and taming seals.”
“Oh.”
