And the Bride Wore Prada (7 page)

‘I think the better question,’ he said grimly as he took her by the arm and drew her aside, ‘is to ask what the hell it is
you’re
doing, Ms Thomas.’

Helen met Colm’s narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she snapped, and shook his arm off. ‘Why are you here, anyway, skulking around like a – a ghost? Shouldn’t you be outside, seeing as you’re the bloody groundskeeper?’

‘You were giving out information to someone, information about a Campbell houseguest. Who were you giving it to, I wonder? And why?’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said scornfully. ‘You have a very active – and a very misguided ‒ imagination.’

‘Don’t lie, Ms Thomas.’ He clipped off her name like something distasteful. ‘I know what I heard.’ He leant his face closer, inches from hers. ‘And I know who you really are.’

As she stared into those hard hazel eyes, she suddenly understood how a snake must feel when the snake charmer mesmerized it. She was powerless to move or speak.

‘Helen! There you are. We’re just about to go in to dinner.’

Guiltily, Helen turned around. Wren and Tarquin stood in the drawing room doorway; their expressions were polite, but curious.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, flustered. ‘I was...I was just—’

‘I was just telling Ms Thomas that we’ve more bad weather coming in,’ Colm said. ‘It’s started up snowing again. I’ve stacked extra wood outside the kitchen door.’

‘Good. Thank you.’ Tarquin hesitated. ‘Listen, Colm, about my remark earlier, I owe you an apology—’

‘Dinnae know what you’re on about,’ Colm said, his words short. ‘I’ve brought wood enough inside to keep the fires lit through the night. G’night to you both.’

He didn’t wait for a reply, but thrust a flat cap on his head and left as abruptly as he’d come.

‘Aren’t you hungry, Helen? You’ve scarcely touched your dinner.’ Natalie’s voice was low and concerned.

Startled, Helen looked up from her plate of roast mutton and turnips. ‘No. I think perhaps I ate too many cucumber sandwiches with tea,’ she admitted, and smiled.

‘More wine?’ the butler offered.

She nodded. As he poured a deep red Syrah into her wine glass, Helen wondered how much – if anything – Colm had overheard. Damn the man, he was as silent as a wraith, for all his size. She scowled. He seemed to take pleasure in creeping up on her unexpectedly and scaring the bejeesus out of her.

‘I know what you mean,’ Natalie agreed, and laid her fork aside. ‘I’m not very hungry, either. I feel...’ she paused ‘...I feel a little sick to my stomach.’

‘You
do
look a bit green,’ Helen observed, her face creased with concern. ‘Here, let’s go and sit down.’

As the men stood and adjourned to the billiards room for port and cigars, Helen, Wren and Gemma assured Rhys that his wife would be well looked after, and led Natalie into the drawing room, to one of the sofas by the fire.

‘I do hope you’re not coming down with the flu,’ Wren murmured, and insisted on calling the local doctor. ‘You really do look awfully pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ Natalie assured her. ‘I only need to sit down for a bit.’

Still, she didn’t object as Wren picked up the telephone receiver and rang Dr McTavish’s surgery.

After speaking to the doctor for a few minutes, she rang off. ‘Well, he can’t make it out tonight; the roads are already impassible. He said it sounds as though you’ve either got a bad case of indigestion, or flu. Although he says you’d have a fever, if it’s flu. Let me just go and fetch a thermometer so we can be sure,’ she decided.

‘Don’t be silly!’ Natalie protested, and straightened. ‘I’m fine, really.’

Just then, there was a commotion at the front door. A blast of cold air, followed by stamping feet and the dogs erupting into a frenzy of barking, signalled that someone had come into the great hall.

Colm
, Helen thought, her heart sinking.
He’s come back to tell the family who I really am.

‘Hellooo,’ a young woman’s voice trilled. ‘Tarkie? Where are you? Is this any kind of a welcome home for your long-lost sister?’

Chapter 11

‘Oh, dear,’ Wren murmured, and went nearly as pale as Natalie. ‘Not that
dreadful
girl again... She’ll soon have the entire household at sixes and sevens!’

Without another word, she abandoned her guests and hurried out to the entrance hall.

‘Well,’ Helen mused as she raised a brow and set her drink aside, ‘what do you suppose
that
was all about?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gemma replied, and raised her brow, ‘but I say we go and see what’s going on. Are you with me, ladies?’

They rose and made their way out to the hall to find Tarquin already there. A young woman in tartan trews and a jaunty red duffle coat stood inside the door, her feet surrounded by luggage and Vuitton trunks. A tiny, biscuit-coloured dog regarded the Campbell wolfhounds from the safety of the girl’s arms; its expression could only be called smug. A young man stood next to her.

‘Caitlin!’ Tarquin exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’ He glanced at her companion. ‘And who is this?’

‘Oh, sorry.’ She turned to the silent young man beside her. ‘This is Jeremy MacDougal. He drove us up from Edinburgh. We had a bit of a hair-raising trip; thank God he’s got a Land Rover, or we’d never have made it through the snow. Jeremy, this is my brother, Tark.’

The two men exchanged wary glances and shook hands.

Tarquin returned his attention to his sister. ‘I thought you were still at school.’

‘Classes are over for the holidays,’ she said airily, and shrugged out of her coat. Natalie caught sight of the Pringle label before the girl tossed it aside as though it were made of cheap nylon and not costly Scottish wool. She removed her cap and shook a length of red-gold hair loose.

‘I also thought you were going to Ibiza with your friends for Christmas.’ Tarquin eyed the stack of luggage and Jeremy in turn, his expression unreadable.

‘Well, I
was
,’ Caitlin agreed, ‘but then I thought, with Mam and Dad gone off to Corfu, why not come home and enjoy the peace and quiet? Besides, I broke it off with Robert. I came home to nurse my broken heart.’

‘You don’t seem especially heartbroken to me,’ Tark observed.

‘I’m not,’ she said, and shrugged. ‘I’m only sorry I didn’t dump him sooner.’ She glanced at the women regarding her with undisguised curiosity from the drawing room doorway. ‘Where are your manners, Tarkie-poo?’ she scolded him. ‘You haven’t introduced me to your guests.’

After breakfast the next morning, Natalie felt much better. After howling all night, the winds abated and the snow had stopped; now the sun was out, sparkling on the windswept breast of the newly fallen snow.

‘Rhys, it’s a gorgeous day,’ she said as she knelt on the window seat in the drawing room and pressed her nose to the glass. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

‘A walk?’ he echoed. ‘Natalie, in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s two foot of snow out there.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘but Colm’s cleared the drive.’

Rhys leant next to her and peered out. Sure enough, the groundskeeper had cleared the snow from the length of the drive, as far as he could see – a not inconsiderable amount of work, even with the help of a snow plough.

‘He must’ve been up since the early hours,’ Rhys observed, impressed. ‘All right, then – let’s go. I wouldn’t mind a bit of fresh air and a leg stretch.’

‘Where are you off to?’ Caitlin enquired as she wandered in, coffee mug in hand and Jeremy trailing in her wake.

‘We’re going outside for a walk,’ Natalie answered. ‘Would you two like to come along?’

‘I’ve a better idea. Let’s go sledding!’ Caitlin exclaimed as she set her cup aside. ‘There’s a huge hill on one side of the castle; Tark and I slid down it all winter long when we were kids. I’m sure our old sleds are still around here somewhere. I’ll have Cook pack us up a lovely picnic feast.’

‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ Wren enthused as she and Tarquin joined them in the drawing room. ‘Don’t you think so, Gemma?’

Gemma, her face set in concentration as her fingers flew over her mobile phone, was far too busy with social media status updates to do more than give them a cursory shake of her head. ‘I’m planning my wedding,’ she said grimly, ‘and you wouldn’t
believe
what a nightmare of frustration and dashed hopes it is!’

‘“A nightmare of frustration and dashed hopes”?’ Dominic echoed as he entered the drawing room. ‘Sounds like my first marriage.’

‘This is
serious
, Dom!’ Gemma snapped. ‘I can’t get our wedding favour bags made up in tartan, only in primary colours! Have you ever heard of anything so bloody ridiculous? I can’t
bear
it if the favour bags clash with the bridesmaids’ gowns. Yellow netting and red plaid just do
not
go together! It’s doing my head in.’

‘Not as much as it’s doing mine in,’ Dominic muttered.

‘And the cake,’ she went on, outraged. ‘That’s the third baker who’s told me a wedding cake shaped like a giant Louboutin shoe can’t be done.’

‘I should think it entirely possible,’ Wren observed, and clucked in sympathy. ‘Why can’t they do it?’

‘Because they’re unreasonable bastards! And because it needs to feed 250 people,’ Gemma added with a scowl, ‘and it needs to be gluten free. And vegan.’

‘Oh, my,’ Wren murmured. ‘There’s your problem, dear. Perhaps your expectations are just a wee bit unreasonable—’

‘Unreasonable?’ Gemma shrilled. ‘Not giving a bride-to-be what she asks for,
that’s
unreasonable!’

‘Where’re you lot headed off to?’ Dominic asked Natalie in a low voice, a look of panic blooming on his face. ‘Mind if I come along?’

‘We’re going sledding, Dominic,’ Natalie answered as she moved past him to follow Rhys, Caitlin, and Jeremy out the door. ‘Since you’re not the outdoorsy type, you probably wouldn’t like it.’

He grabbed her arm and hissed, ‘I’ll like anything that gets me away from that wedding-obsessed harpy! Please, Nat ‒ I can’t listen to another word about Prada gowns or monogrammed silver bottle-openers or custom-dyed shoes!’

She nodded in sympathy, having been through the very same thing with her sister, Caro, not so long ago. ‘All right, Dom. You’re welcome to come along.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But you’re going sledding, mind, you’re not standing round texting Max on your mobile the entire time.’

‘All right, all right,’ he grumbled, having planned to do just that. ‘But you’d better hope I don’t break my bloody arm. I need it to play guitar, you know.’

‘In that case,’ Rhys said dourly, ‘I hope you break
both
your arms.’

Chapter 12

Helen returned to her room after breakfast. She was far too preoccupied with thoughts of Colm – and how much he actually
knew
– to accompany the others on the sledding expedition.

She glanced out of her bedroom window, smiling momentarily at the sight of Natalie and Rhys, Caitlin and Wren, even Dominic, careening down the snow-covered slope, laughing and shouting like schoolchildren.

‘I know who you are.’

As she heard Colm’s words echoing in her head, Helen’s smile faded.

He’d overheard her call to Tom. What exactly had she said on the phone, just before Colm accosted her? Tarquin’s sister had arrived, thankfully saving Helen from further questions.

But she knew that the canny groundskeeper would bring the matter up again at the first opportunity.

Frowning, she tried to recall what she’d told Tom.

‘Oh, I imagine they’ll tie the knot within the next few weeks. Just as soon as this bloody snow stops falling. And you can bet your arse that when Dominic and Gemma leave this pile of mouldering Scottish stone, I’ll be right behind them.’

Oh well
, Helen sighed as she turned away from the window, there was nothing to be done about it now. She’d do her best to stay out of the Scotsman’s way.

And if I make any more calls to Tom
, she resolved grimly as she went downstairs in search of the library,
I’ll make certain to do it in the privacy of my own bloody room
.

Late that afternoon, the sledding party returned to the castle, red-cheeked and half-frozen.

‘How was the sledding expedition?’ Tark enquired as they shed their coats and hats and scarves and collapsed on the nearest sofas and chairs in the drawing room.

‘Brilliant,’ Caitlin declared, and grinned over at Dominic, ‘except for Mr Rock Star over there, who twisted his ankle and had to be pulled the whole way back on a sled, complaining like a wee girl all the while.’

‘It bloody hurts,’ Dom said through gritted teeth as he flung himself into a wing chair by the fire.

‘What’ve you done, Dominic?’ Gemma demanded as she strode into the room and came to a stop, a clipboard and a stack of bridal magazines in her arms. ‘Why is your face all screwed up like that?’

Rhys snorted. ‘His face is always screwed up, if you ask me.’

‘No one did,’ Dominic snapped. ‘So kindly shut it. I turned my ankle, Gem, that’s all.’

‘Wren’s gone to fetch some Epsom salts so you can soak your foot,’ Natalie told him.

‘And his head, while he’s at it,’ Rhys added.

‘I’m warning you, Gordon,’ Dominic snarled, ‘if you don’t shut your gob, I’ll—’

Caitlin’s dog Coco trotted into the drawing room just then and leapt up into her lap. The wolfhounds, incensed by this invasion of their territory by the tiny interloper, set up a chorus of barking.

With a sigh, Tarquin stood and led the dogs, still growling their displeasure, outside.

‘Really, Caitlin,’ Wren said mildly, ‘you know we have dogs here at Draemar. You might have thought to board Coco in a kennel for a couple of weeks.’

‘Why should I do that?’ Caitlin shot back. ‘I’m perfectly aware that there are dogs here, Wren. I grew up at Draemar, after all. It was my home long before it was yours. So why should I be required to board Coco in a kennel, when she belongs here, just as much as I do?’

The two women regarded each other in silent – and mutual – dislike. ‘I’m only saying,’ Wren said in measured tones, ‘that it might have been easier on all concerned if you hadn’t brought the dog along when you came home, that’s all.’