Page 9 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Refusing to listen to the warning voice in my head, I found myself putting one dark loafer in front of the other. The guests around me continued to laugh and exchange pleasantries; their champagne glittered pale gold in their glasses and the food was being consumed with appreciative relish.

Before I had a chance to consider what I was doing, I found myself standing in front of him, still holding the tray of champagne. My knuckles were turning white with rage. He was still flanked on either side by his two associates, but all I could see was this braying character, holding court in the middle of them.

I swallowed and jutted out my chin. My voice sounded alien to my ears. It carried a hint of menace. ‘Excuse me? Sorry to interrupt. Actually, no, scrub that; I’m not sorry.’

Their conversation drew to a sharp halt.

I could feel three sets of bemused eyes resting on me.

Fox looked me up and down. ‘Pardon?’

My hard stare bored into him. My initial feeling of apprehension was gone as I surveyed him from head to toe in his herringbone suit.

‘I don’t know if you recognise me, but I’m the working-class quota you were just talking about.’

‘Sorry?’ His freckled brow frowned.

I didn’t even try to keep my voice on an even keel. My words were finding their momentum. ‘My name is Daisy Madden. I played Tammy in Sinister, remember?’

Fox’s thin brows jumped.

Adrenaline accelerated in my chest. ‘Do you have any idea the effect your poisonous words can have on someone? You write all this bile in that tawdry newspaper column of yours.’

A ghost of a smirk pulled at his mouth, which riled me even more.

‘Well, I can tell you that I’m proud to be working class. I’m also proud to be an actor.’

I tried not to recoil backwards as, still clutching his champagne flute, he took a few sudden steps towards me. ‘Looks like you’re not doing much acting at the moment, Miss.’ His cold, pale eyes raked over me. ‘Looks like you’re the hired help.’

One of his friends, a man with curly blond hair, grabbed the man’s arm. ‘Hey. Come on. That’s enough.’

But Fox ignored him. He waggled his champagne glass close to my face.

By now, some of the surrounding guests had picked up on the bubbling tension. A few heads turned in our direction.

But I didn’t care. I couldn’t just ignore what he’d been saying.

The freckle-faced critic dismissed his friend’s request to pipe down. Again, he waggled his glass from side to side. ‘Be a good girl and top this up for me, would you?’

I could feel curious stares behind me. I looked from the half-empty champagne glass to Fox’s sneering face and back again. He gave it another swish and tapped the side of it. ‘Refill?’

A slow, tight smile slid across my face. ‘Certainly, sir.’

The voice from his right, which belonged to his other friend, also sounded embarrassed. ‘Guy. Stop it. You’re behaving like an ignoramus.’

But I was too caught up in what I was about to do. Eying his chubby outstretched hand, I accepted his flute and set it down on my tray with a clatter. Temper was racing through me. Dismissing the ramifications of what I was about to do, I put the tray down on top of an occasional table beside me and grabbed one of the fresh glasses of champagne. I spun round, raised it in the air and was about to cascade its contents all over the top of that bullish, red head of his, when a hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my wrist. I stared down, incredulous. It was the morganite cufflinks again.

‘No. Don’t. He’s not worth it.’

The intervening man snatched the glass of champagne out of my hand.

‘Hey! What did you do that for?’

My voice died.

I was looking up into those deep, dark brown eyes again. But I didn’t have time to recover myself. I was aware that the owner of said eyes had thrust the glass back at Fox. He glowered at him. ‘Here’s your refill.’

Fox took it. ‘Thanks, friend.’