Page 98 of Duke It Out
“What kind of mission?” I say cautiously.
He shifts on the little wooden chair. “I’ve got a favour to ask. The community project I’m working on. We’re doing an oral history thing – recording stories from the locals, turning into a podcast slash digital archive slash living museum sort of thing.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of slashes.”
Jamie grins. “I told them you’re the storytelling expert. Words are not exactly my strong point.”
My mouth opens then closes without any words coming out. I take a sip of coffee and look out at the harbour. The sea is flat calm, and in the distance, I can see a little white fishingboat heading out for the day. In the distance the islands are dark shapes on the horizon in a cloudless blue sky. It’s a perfect day.
“You want me to…?”
“Help shape the stories,” he says. “You’re good at hearing people. You make them feel like what they say matters.”
He spins his now-empty mug around on the table, adjusting it so the handle is at right angles to the groove of the wood, concentrating for a moment before he speaks again, but his voice is lower now, softer. “The castle isn’t the same without you, Ede. It’s quieter. Less alive.”
I look at him for a long moment.
Then I nod. “Okay.”
A huge grin spreads over his face. “It’s paid, of course. Decent money. Not that I’m saying you need?—”
I put a hand up to stop him.I don’t know if he knows. The second payment from the foundation arrived in my bank a week after I left. I haven’t touched it, just put it to one side in a virtual pot in my account. For the first time in my life, I’m actually doing okay financially, and even paying for editors and cover design art hasn’t made a dent in the savings I made while I was living at the castle.
“Thanks,” I say after a moment. “I’d love to help.”
38
RORY
“Ah, Rory.”
Brice Aaronson’s charity fundraiser is the last place on earth I want to be. It’s exactly as insufferable as I expect – crystal chandeliers, tech billionaires mingling with old money, champagne flowing like water.
“Brice.” I hold out my hand and force my face into an approximation of a smile. “Thanks again for the loan of the chopper.” I might as well get it out in the open before he does.
Brice bares his preternaturally white teeth in a grin as he shakes my hand, glancing around at the assortment of the great and the not-so-good who flock around him at these occasions in the hope that some of his billions might land their way. “Had to help Rory with an emergency not so long ago. But that’s what neighbours are for, isn’t it?”
I give a brief nod. If I hadn’t had to call on him, there’s no way in hell I’d have been at this fundraiser. As it is I’m counting the minutes until I can make my excuses and headback to Loch Morven. Even Theo’s spreadsheets would be preferable to this bullshit.
“Did she swoon appropriately when you arrived?” A tall, skinny woman with a face like a horse leans toward me and guffaws, her lips peeled back so her gums are showing. “Very Highland laird of you. You’re more like your father than you let on, isn’t he?”
“Quite the dramatic rescue, I gather,” says George Munro, sipping his champagne.
“It wasn’t like that at all,” I say tersely.
“The writer girl, yes?” George raises his eyebrows. “Funny little thing, according to Fenella. Although she did seem rather taken with you at the ball.”
I clamp my mouth shut and breathe very slowly through my nose. Before I can think of a response, there’s a tap on my shoulder and I turn to find Fenella herself, draped in an emerald silk confection that probably cost more than a small car.
“Rory, darling,” she purrs, air kissing me on both cheeks. “I was just telling Daddy how concerned we all are about these community housing projects you’re proposing. So… suburban.”
“Suburban?” I raise a brow and glare at her.
She puts a hand on my arm and looks up at me through lowered lashes. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Oh, come on,” she continues, lounging against a pillar. “Our parents always thought we’d join forces eventually. Imagine what we could accomplish withbothestates?—”
