Page 65 of Highland Games
She worked for a couple of hours on the website, until she couldn’t hold her yawns in. It was lunchtime, but rather than visit Morag and Fiona, she wanted to get back to the cabin and to Rory. She packed up and left the library to drive home.
Walking across the car park towards her was a striking woman, her gaze fixed on her, and a brittle smile on her face. Confused, Zoe glanced behind her, in case she was looking at someone else, but they were the only people there. It was starting to rain, so she quickly unlocked the truck door and threw in her bag. She was about to jump in when she heard her name.
‘Zoe?’
She turned to see the woman standing in front of her. She was smaller than Zoe, older, and incredibly beautiful, with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was holding an umbrella over her head. Zoe stared blankly at her, wondering who she was, how she knew who she was, and whether she could get into her car to avoid the rain without seeming rude.
‘So, you are the famous Zoe I’ve been hearing so much about,’ she said, her face neutral. The woman’s voice was soft and melodious, high cultured Scottish.
Unease crawled across her skin. The woman didn’t sound particularly pleased to have finally met her. ‘Er, hi?’
‘I knew your mother when I was growing up. Such a high-spirited woman, just like you, and so popular with the men. I haven’t seen her since she ran off with your father. How is she? Are they still together?’
A drop of icy rain slipped inside the collar of Zoe’s coat and down her neck. Who was this woman, and what the hell did she want? She thought of her mother managing the local charity shop, her father working as a cashier at the bank in the next town, the love they had for each other and for her, and the sacrifices they had made.
‘My parents are simply wonderful thank you,’ she said artlessly, with the poshest voice she could muster. ‘My father is in banking and my mother does a lot of work for charity.’
The woman looked a tiny bit put out but covered it well. ‘How splendid. I’m so pleased to hear that,’ she said, whilst appearing anything but. ‘I’ve heard about your plans for the castle. The earl is very taken with the changes you’ve proposed,’ she continued.
‘Oh?’ replied Zoe. How the hell did she know?
‘I’m Countess Kinloch,’ she explained.
Oh god.The countess?Why was she here and not in London?
‘That’s great,’ said Zoe. ‘I hope it will make a big difference.’
The woman ignored her. ‘And now the estate is going to be all over social media. How very modern. Still, if Lord Kinloch agrees with such a course then there’s no swaying him.’
Zoe’s veneer of politeness was wearing thin. What was going on? She didn’t know this woman. She wanted to get out of the rain and back to the cabin and Rory.
‘Okay,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you, but I need to be getting home now.’
She made a move to go but the woman laid a cool hand on her arm. ‘A little word of advice, my dear, leave the earl alone.’
Zoe was confused. ‘I’ve never met the man.’
The woman gave a tinkling laugh that sounded like a crystal bauble being dropped onto a stone floor. Her umbrella shook droplets of frigid water onto Zoe. ‘How ridiculous. You haven’t been able to keep your grubby mitts off him since you arrived.’
‘The earl? Lord Kinloch? The one who lives in London?’
Her grip on Zoe’s arm intensified, her fingers digging like sharp talons into her flesh. ‘He doesn’t live in London, he lives here. And he’s my son, Stuart.’
Was the woman mad? ‘I don’t know anyone called Stuart.’
Her face stiffened. ‘He likes to call himself Rory.’
‘But, Rory’s not the earl. He’s just a scruffy bloke with a dog.’
The woman wrinkled her nose. ‘Bandit?’
Zoe couldn’t breathe. ‘Rory can’t be the earl, he just works for Lord Kinloch,’ she stammered.
‘My husband passed on two years ago and the title went to our son. He most certainly is the earl, and his future will never contain someone like you. You’ve outstayed your welcome and need to leave.’ She dropped Zoe’s arm and walked off, the rain parting before her.
Zoe bent forward, clutching at her belly, a low keening sound issuing from her lips. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. Rory worked for the estate, that was all. He wasn’t an upper-class tosspot who did what they liked with no fear of repercussions. He wasn’t the son of the man who had treated her great-uncle so badly. He hadn’t stolen her lease and her heart. He hadn’t lied to her, all the time laughing at her behind her back as if she was some sort of stupid peasant. He wasn’t the earl. He couldn’t be.
The icy rain battered her. It cut like knives through her body, the truth slicing with clinical clarity through the fog of her delusions. Everything had been a lie. Her dreams had been twisted into a sick nightmare by the man she had fallen in love with.
