When the funeral director had said, ‘Close family and friends only, for the committal,’ Cal had quickly introduced him to the woman as Coorie Castle’s new owner. She hadn’t been pleased.
Rocco didn’t care. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to pay his respects to a woman he’d never met but who nevertheless had left him a substantial amount of money – albeit in the form of a castle – and to find out all he could about said castle in order to sell it. Part one was complete, so now it was time for part two. Maybe he should have arrived a day earlier, so he could have met Mhairi’s employees. Being introduced to them at the graveside wasn’t ideal, but he was already taking enough time out of his busy schedule, and he hadn’t wanted to take any more. However, if he’d arrived on Saturday evening instead of Sunday, he might have found out who the blonde woman was.
As he sat in the back seat of the funeral car for the brief journey back to the castle, his thoughts were on Giselle. He was convinced the woman he’d just seen was her.
Eager to discover if he was right, Rocco exited the car with unseemly haste for the recently bereaved and hurried inside. A guy on reception checked out his suit and black tie, assumed Rocco to be a mourner and directed him towards the great hall.
The hall was the size of a ballroom, reached via a series of interconnected rooms, and was thronging with people, most of whom had drinks in their hands. A long table along one end bore platters of finger food. Rocco would have flinched at the sight if he’d been footing the bill, but Mhairi had set aside a sum of money to cover her funeral expenses and the subsequent wake, so it wasn’t coming out of his pocket, thankfully.
As he wove through the crowd, he scanned the room for familiar faces, looking for one in particular. Even though he hadn’t seen Giselle for a decade, her face was indelibly imprinted on his mind.
He didn’t see her, but he did spy Fraser. Conscious of more than a few curious glances in his direction, Rocco made his way over to him.
The man looked surprised. ‘I thought you were giving the wake a miss?’
Rocco ignored the comment. ‘Do you know a woman of around thirty years old with long, white-blonde hair? She attended the funeral.’
Fraser blinked. ‘That sounds like Giselle.’
Bingo! Rocco nodded to himself. ‘Is she here?’
Fraser’s gaze roved around the room, curiosity rolling off him in waves. ‘I can’t see her. Avril might know; she’s one of our reception staff.’ He caught her eye and beckoned her over. From her cautious expression, Rocco assumed she knew who he was.
She said politely, ‘Hi, Cal,’ but her gaze was on him, her expression curious.
Fraser glanced at him, and Rocco gave a small nod. It was time people knew about him.
Fraser said, ‘Avril, this is Rocco Moore, Mhairi’s relative and Coorie Castle’s new owner.’
A professional smile appeared on her face. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Moore.’
Fraser said, ‘Do you know where Giselle is?’
‘Um…’ Avril’s eyes flickered. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Is she at the wake?’
‘She is. Would you like me to find her?’
Rocco broke in. ‘No need.’ He’d spotted a bright head of silver hair, a beacon amongst the sea of funereal clothes. Giselle scanned the room, then their eyes locked for a second time and he faltered.
He’d only caught a glimpse of her in the churchyard, but now that he could see her properly he realised she hadn’t changed a bit. And along with the realisation came a stirring which was entirely inappropriate, given the time and the place.
For a second, Rocco was transported back to a time when he’d been young, carefree, without responsibilities. A time when he’d met a shining elvish woman in a magical faraway land.
Real life, in the form of Fraser clearing his throat, brought Rocco back to earth.
Giselle hadn’t moved. She looked like a startled deer ready to flee. Then she seemed to shake herself, and he realised Fraser had gestured for her to join them.
‘Hi, Cal,’ she said, but like Avril, her attention was on him, not Fraser.
Fraser said, ‘Giselle, this is Rocco Moore. He’s the castle’s new owner.’
‘We’ve met, many years ago. How are you, Rocco?’
Her lips were as full as he remembered, pink and luscious, without the slightest hint of lipstick, and his gaze was drawn to them. She was even more gorgeous now, and desire stirred.
He turned to the estate manager. ‘Would you give us a moment? Actually, Fraser, is there somewhere Giselle and I can talk?’ He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to talk to her about, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to say it in front of this pair.
