Giselle’s eyebrows curved upwards. ‘Fraser?He’s got a first name, you know.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘Why don’t you use it? Or do you call everyone by their surnames?’
Fraser opened his mouth, but Rocco didn’t give him the opportunity to speak. ‘What’syoursurname?’ he asked her. He couldn’t believe he didn’t already know it, but back then they’d had other things on their minds.
‘Ellis.’ Her tone was defiant, and a light blush infused her cheeks.
‘OK, Ellis, let’s go. Fraser, where can we go?’
The man said, ‘How about Mhairi’s parlour?Yourparlour now, I suppose.’
Rocco took a step, but Giselle held her ground. ‘No,’ she said.
Fraser touched her lightly on the arm. ‘It’s all right, Giselle. ItisMr Moore’s parlour.’
‘It’s not that. Rocco, please call Cal by his first name and not Fraser.’
‘Giselle,’ Fraser warned, shaking his head slightly.
Giselle ignored him, not taking her eyes off Rocco. ‘We’re one big family here,’ she told him. ‘That’s what Mhairi used to say, and she was right.’
Rocco was tempted to retort that Mhairi was gone and as he already had a family, he didn’t need another, but he let it slide. There was no point in ruffling feathers; they would be ruffled enough when they found out that the happy family might well be disbanded when the estate was sold.
‘In that case,’ he said graciously, ‘Cal it is, but I may still call you Ellis, anyway.’ He smiled lightly to show he was teasing, then sobered as he abruptly remembered he was at a wake for his dead relative and was surrounded by the people who had known and loved her.
‘Do you mind if we don’t go to the parlour?’ Giselle asked.
Rocco didn’t mind at all. The castle was large enough to find a quiet corner, although at this precise moment, he had no idea where that might be. And he was also beginning to regret asking to speak to her alone. They could have caught up another time. But he’d made a point of it now and he didn’t want to backtrack, so he said, ‘Of course not. Where do you suggest?’
‘The loch has a jetty. We can go there.’
Rocco’s eyebrows shot up. Out of the blue, he had a vision of another jetty where they’d caught thevaporettofrom Murano Island back to Venice.
‘Let’s go.’ He gestured towards the open double doors with a jerk of his head. ‘I’ll be back later,’ he said to Fraser, ignoring the significant look that passed between Giselle and the receptionist.
Oh, well, he should expect gossip. He was an unknown quantity, even to Giselle. One night ten years ago didn’t count for anything.
He waited until they were outside before he attempted to speak, but she beat him to it.
‘It’s a glorious day,’ she said, leading him towards a narrow lane between the castle and a sizeable outbuilding.
Small talk? Really? OK, he could do small talk, if that’s what was needed to break the ice, but what he actually wanted to ask was whether she’d found her vocation and what she’d been doing with herself. But why he was so interested wasn’t a question he had the answer to.
‘It is,’ he agreed.
‘It doesn’t seem right to bury someone on a day like today.’
He supposed it didn’t. ‘Were you close?’ It suddenly occurred to him that he knew absolutely nothing about her.
‘I liked her a lot and respected her even more. She’ll be sorely missed.’
‘I’m sure she will be.’
Giselle’s face was pale in the bright sunlight, like bleached bone or fine porcelain. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Despite her grief, she was gorgeous, and he had an entirely inappropriate urge to kiss her.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said awkwardly.
