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“What can I do for you, Professor Murdoch?” Elspeth demanded, her annoyance visible. “I’m trying to give our guest a quick rundown on the local facilities.”
He grinned. He had no intention of leaving the shop until the visitor did. “I’ll take a first-class stamp, please, Miss McGraw.”
Elspeth put down the keys she held in her hand, pulled open the drawer in the counter and slapped a single stamp onto the countertop.
He handed over the coins.
“I’ve left you a welcome package.” Elspeth spoke again to the visitor. “Milk, coffee, some fresh bread. There’s butter, bacon and eggs in the fridge, all local produce.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
Grayson took the chance to observe the visitor, Zoë. That rising sensuality he’d witnessed when he first met her was close to the surface and had an almost magnetic effect on him. Why? She was pretty, but it was something else, a lush, womanly quality that made him hanker for a taste of her. He wanted to see her on her back and watch her face while he made her come.
She had a subtle way about her that he liked. Blushed easily. Late twenties, and seemed to be traveling alone—a vulnerable target. No wedding ring, he’d checked that up at the lay-by. Independent woman? The car she drove suggested something a bit more high-powered than the way she was currently dressed, in a casual T-shirt and low-slung jeans. She was out of her usual circumstances, no surprise there, and it could partly account for the slight hesitation.
“You might like to try the local restaurant, the Tide Inn, if you don’t feel like cooking,” Elspeth continued. “It’s at the opposite end of the bay to the cottage, on the cliff top. You can’t miss it.”
“That does sound good, I’ll try it.” Zoë looked his way, a smile lingering in her expression.
“The chef is excellent,” Elspeth added. “People travel all the way out from Edinburgh to eat here. In fact, being from London yourself, you’ve probably heard of him, Cain Davot.”
“The name does sound familiar.”
Elspeth shot Grayson another glance. “Was there something else?”
“No. I intend to walk our visitor to her cottage.” He faced Elspeth off with a smile.
The visitor blushed, obviously pleased with his comment about escorting her. She lifted the key from the counter where Elspeth had left it, and made a move to follow him out.
Grayson tensed his shoulders to combat the rush of hatred Elspeth sent his way as they exited.
“Was that a squabble?” the visitor asked, when the door jangled shut behind them.
He couldn’t withhold a laugh. “Not quite. Let’s just say she hasn’t warmed to me since I first came here.”
“The nature of doing research on the locals, perhaps?”
“You’re probably right,” Grayson replied, noticing the intelligent, humorous glow in her eyes. Interesting, he thought to himself.
As soon as they’d gone, Elspeth picked up her phone and punched in the speed dial number for Cain Davot. When his recorded message kicked in, she remembered he’d gone to Edinburgh that afternoon. She walked over to the door as she listened to his seductive tones on the recorded message, and flicked the sign on the door from “open” to “closed.” She peered through the window to see if she could catch sight of Crawford. He was already on his way over. She smiled. He was a loyal and instinctive friend. They had known each other since childhood and she could always rely on him to be by her side when she needed him.
After the tone, she left her message.
“Cain, Elspeth here. The new tenant has arrived for Her Haven. You won’t believe it, she’s the perfect host. Hurry back. I suggested she visit the restaurant. I’m going to put a binding spell on her so that she can’t wander far from Carbrey, and then I’ll continue the rousing rituals.”
She flipped the phone shut, and smirked at Crawford as he entered the shop. “Lock the door behind you.”
Crawford did as he was told. “What do you think? Is she the one?”
Elspeth stepped closer to him and ran one finger down the length of his breastbone through his shirt, smiling. “Our time has come, Crawford. I’ve left a message for Cain. Come on.” Her hand closed on his belt buckle, which she tugged suggestively. “It’s time to push on with the rituals, now that we’re sure. And the quicker we get on with this, the less chance there is of that bastard Murdoch sticking his nose in and scaring her off.”
3
ZOË WATCHED AS GRAYSON SLID HER SUITCASE into the hallway, constantly aware of how close he was, and how good it would feel to be even closer. The biker jacket he wore was open now. The skintight black T-shirt underneath made her want to run her hand inside, to measure his body by touching it and having it respond. The idea of it made her shiver.
He noticed, pausing a moment, and then glanced around the interior of the cottage as he chatted on. He seemed keen to prove he was more charming and friendly than the postmistress wanted her to believe. But he’d already shown her that when he stopped to check on her at the top of the hill.
“As I said, I’m just next door. Feel free to give me a shout if you need anything. I’m pleased to help out. A bang on the wall should do it.”
