When she opened her eyes again, her tear-fractured view of the coffin was obscured by the heads of the people in front. All she could see was the vicar.
As the hymns were sung and the vicar gave the eulogy, Giselle kept her head lowered. She was glad she was paying her respects, yet she couldn’t wait for the service to end. Calan, bless him, struggled to hold his emotions in check as he said a few words on behalf of everyone who worked at the castle, which set Giselle off again. She wasn’t the only one who was crying. Mhairi had been well loved and highly respected. Cal had spoken the truth when he said she’d be sorely missed by everyone.
Dabbing at her damp cheeks with a scrap of soggy tissue, Giselle was relieved when the funeral director indicated that the service was at an end. As he led the pallbearers carrying the casket down the aisle, the congregation, starting with the front rows, fell in behind. Somewhere, bagpipes started playing as the funeral procession slowly made its way out of the church.
Giselle’s attention was on the polished coffin with its elegant wreath of white lilies, and it wasn’t until it drew level with the pew she was standing in did her sad gaze fall on the man walking behind it, and she gasped.
She’d seen that handsome face before.Ten years and a lifetime ago.
Chapter 4
Stunned, Giselle gripped Freya’s arm. ‘Did you see that man?’ she demanded.
‘What man?’
‘The guy walking behind the coffin.’ She must have been mistaken. It was someone who looked like him, that’s all. It couldn’t possibly have been Rocco. Giselle rose onto her tiptoes to peer over black-clad shoulders. ‘Do you know who he is?’
Freya said, ‘One of the funeral directors, maybe? I didn’t really notice.’ She turned her attention to Mack. ‘Poor Cal. He’s devastated. Try to get him to talk about it, if you can – it might help.’
Mack, his wild sun-streaked blonde hair tied back with a black band and his beard neatly trimmed, said, ‘I’ll try, but I’m not holding my breath. He was closer to her than anyone except for Cook. Are you OK?’ he asked Giselle.
Giselle gave a vague nod and shuffled impatiently, desperate to squeeze past Freya and Mack and into the aisle, but she refrained, not wanting to draw attention to herself, so she waited until everyone else had exited the pew.
Emerging into the sunlight, she blinked and shaded her eyes with her hand, but all she could see was a vastly reduced funeral party, headed by the vicar, making its way towards a mound of bright-green fake grass under which undoubtedly lay a pile of freshly dug earth.
When she made to follow, a softly spoken woman wearing a top hat and a regretful expression prevented her. ‘I’m sorry, it’s family members only at the graveside.’
Giselle looked past her, but the man she wanted to see was partially obscured by a large stone angel on a plinth.
The top-hatted woman continued, ‘If we could give the family some privacy at this most distressing time, it would be much appreciated.’
Giselle felt a hand on her arm, and she jumped.
It was Freya. ‘Are you coming to the wake?’
‘I hadn’t been planning to, but I think I will.’ She could do with the company. The service had been even sadder than she’d expected, and she didn’t want to be on her own right now.
‘It was a beautiful service,’ Freya said, as she fell into step beside her. Mack slung an arm around Freya’s shoulders as she added, ‘I think the whole village has turned out for it.’
‘I’m going to miss her.’ A lump formed in Giselle’s throat. ‘The castle won’t be the same without Mhairi.’
She spied Avril, her friend’s face tear blotched as she waited for Giselle to catch up, and when she got close enough, Avril linked an arm through hers. ‘I looked for you earlier, but I didn’t see you.’
Giselle glanced over her shoulder at the small, intimate service taking place amongst the lopsided headstones and moss-covered monuments. ‘I was at the back.’
Avril said, ‘I’ve got some news. The castle’s new owner arrived last night. I don’t know anything about him – no one does. I know his name, but I only know that because I saw it on the register this morning. He’s the castle’s only guest at the moment, although I don’t suppose he reallyisa guest, since he owns it.’
Just then, the man in question glanced around and Giselle’s mouth dropped open. His gaze locked onto hers, his eyes widened and time stopped for several interminable seconds as memories swept through her.
Itwashim! The man who she’d spent one glorious night with in Venice.
What the hell washedoing here? Then suddenly it fell into place, even as Avril said his name.
Roccowas Coorie Castle’s new owner.
Surely not? Rocco’s eyes narrowed as he peered across the graveyard, wishing he was wearing his sunglasses, the light too bright to see clearly. It couldn’t be the girl he’d met in Venice, could it?
Then she was gone, and he reluctantly dragged his attention back to the vicar as he said some final words. An elderly woman, stout and with short, curly grey hair, was glaring at him accusingly. He gave her a tight-lipped smile.
