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Except she was his employee, and she was carrying his brother’s child, so this was the most inappropriate line of thought ever.
Oh, who was he kidding? He was thinking it anyway.
‘I’m not screaming any more,’ Heather said, sounding far more calm and rational than he felt, with her copper curls tickling his neck and the scent of her filling his lungs.
Cal let go. Quickly.
‘Sorry,’ he said, stepping away. ‘I just didn’t want you to wake the kids again.’
‘I kind of got that.’
Why was she looking at him that way? She couldn’t know all the things he’d been thinking about doing to her as her body touched his, right? At least she’d brought him to his senses before his lower body had really started to react to the situation.
Cal thought many calming thoughts and hoped the corridor was dark enough to hide his blushes. And other things.
‘So...uh... Daisy had another nightmare?’ he asked redundantly.
Heather nodded. ‘Ryan says she has them a lot. Sorry, I probably should have waited for you to go in—’
‘No!’ Cal said, sharply. ‘No. You’re the nanny—it’s your place.’
Her expression turned curious, and then disapproving in turn, with the pale, wan light from the lamp on the wall highlighting the planes and shadows of her face.
‘You’re their uncle,’ she said. ‘It’s more your place than mine.’
Cal shook his head. ‘I tried once. She threw pillows at me and screeched even louder than she did when she was dreaming. Trust me, it’s better for everyone that you do it.’
Heather was still staring at him. Assessing him. He didn’t like it. Even if her scrutiny had finally got his body back on board with their strictly professional relationship terms.
‘You want the children to be ready to go to boarding school in six weeks?’ she said slowly, as if she were just catching up to how difficult that would be.
‘That’s the idea.’
‘Then you’re going to have to show them that it’s safe for them to leave. And come back again.’
Cal frowned. ‘Is this something to do with the ghost? Have you been having some sort of séance when I wasn’t looking?’
Maybe he should get an exorcist in, or something. Did they come for atheists? He wasn’t sure.
‘It’s not the damn ghost they’re afraid of,’ Heather snapped. ‘I told you—I don’t even believe in them.’
‘Then what is it?’
Heather’s smile was small and sad. ‘Everything else.’
‘That makes no sense. They’re rich, privileged kids.’ Or they would be, once Cal had sorted out the castle’s precarious financial situation. ‘What do they have to be scared of?’
‘They’ve lost their parents, Cal,’ Heather snapped, clearly at the end of her patience with his lack of understanding. ‘Their whole world has shifted, and nothing they placed their trust in before has held true. They don’t know what or who to believe in, and they don’t know what’s going to happen next. Of course they’re terrified.’
‘Well, when you put it like that...’ Cal rubbed the back of his neck tiredly, wishing he could go back to bed. No, wishing he could go back in time to when none of this had been his problem. When Ross had still been the perfect older brother who could be relied on to take care of all the family stuff.
But that had all been lies anyway.
‘Did you honestly not think about how their parents’ deaths must have affected them?’ Heather asked, more softly now.
‘No, I did. I just...’
How could he explain that when his own parents had died he’d felt nothing. That, growing up, he’d sometimes daydreamed about what would happen if his father did die. Would their mother suddenly realise she loved them after all? Realise that they were more than just an heir and a spare?
Even in his daydreams he hadn’t really believed it.
But Ross and Janey had been different—or so he’d believed. He’d hoped they really did love their children, the way he and Ross had always wanted to be loved.
Now, with everything he’d learned about Ross and his marriage since their death, Cal realised he’d begun to see them as just like his parents.
