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Cal stood at the top of the stone steps, scowling at the woman climbing out of Lengroth’s only taxi down by the castle gates. She wasn’t even fully on the premises yet and already he found himself hoping that Daisy might throw something at Anna the journalist.
Except no. Because that would look bad in the magazine.
Cal rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, squinted in the early-morning sunshine and tried one last time to think of a way out of this. Or at least to shake his foul mood.
He failed on both counts.
It was even more annoying because he’d been in such a good mood yesterday. Even waking up without Heather had been okay, because he’d known he’d have her back in his bed that night. Back in his arms, where she belonged.
Except then he’d remembered about the cursed Anna and her stupid magazine, and realised that he now wouldn’t get to touch Heather again until the castle was journalist-free—a week from now.
A whole week.
He wasn’t going to make it.
He knew it had been a bad idea to give in to the temptation of Heather’s lips, her hands, her body. Because the problem with temptation was that once you’d given in the first time, the second was so much easier...
Cal was so lost in thought, remembering that one perfect night with Heather, that he almost failed to notice that the smart brunette was making her way up the castle steps.
She was dressed in a suit that was worlds away from Heather’s sundress and woolly cardigan wardrobe choices, and he couldn’t help but think that Anna Jenkins was all wrong for this castle. Maybe she’d have fitted right in when Ross had been the Earl—he’d always been smartly dressed himself, and Janey had had exquisite fashion sense—but now that Ryan was in charge—and by extension Cal—standards had definitely slipped.
Hell, if it was hot enough they were lucky if they got Ryan into more than a pair of boxers some days—especially in the playroom, where the sun streamed through the large windows onto the window seat.
He’d have to remind Heather to try and keep him fully dressed...
‘Lord Bryce.’ Anna smiled brightly as she made her way up the seventeen stone steps, one tentative high-heeled foot at a time.
‘Just Cal, please,’ he said, reaching out a hand to her—partly for shaking, partly to make sure she didn’t fall into the moat. ‘My nephew is the Earl, not me.’
‘So what does that make you, exactly?’
Anna’s smile was shark-white, with every bit as much bite, as she took his hand. Her palm felt cool and dry, despite the morning sun, and it slid away from his almost as soon as they touched.
‘It makes me Ryan’s uncle.’ Cal stepped back into the castle, holding the door open for her.
Already she was angling for the story she wanted to write, he realised. She must have been thrilled when Ross had died. An ordinary earl giving a magazine this kind of access was opportunity enough. But a child aristocrat with only an uncle for support, until recently absent? That was far more interesting.
Well, if she was hoping for resentment and jealousy on his part she was out of luck. He’d never wanted to be the Earl of Lengroth for a moment. He just hoped she didn’t find anything more interesting to write about.
‘Come on in,’ he said, as pleasantly as he could. ‘I’ll introduce you to our housekeeper, Mrs Peterson. She’ll show you around the castle and get you settled in your room.’
At the far end of the castle, away from the children and Heather by design, even if it put her rather closer to his office than Cal would have liked.
‘The housekeeper?’ Anna’s perfectly curved eyebrows arched just a little higher. ‘Really, I’d love it if you could show me around yourself, Cal.’
‘Unfortunately I have work to be getting on with. But here’s Mrs Peterson now.’
Right on cue, the housekeeper arrived, resplendent in her best blue suit and pearls.
‘And she’ll introduce me to your niece and nephew?’ Anna pressed.
Cal shook his head. ‘I’m afraid the children are out on a day trip with their nanny. You’ll meet them at dinner.’
A look of annoyance flashed across Anna’s face.
