Rocco was lost for words.
Unfortunately, Giselle wasn’t. ‘Is everything OK, Rocco?’ she called.
‘Who’s that?’ Beverly demanded.
‘No one important.’ Not toherat least; if it wasn’t business, Beverly wasn’t interested. He put a finger to his lips and shook his head at Giselle. His instinct, whether or not it was right, was to keep his mother as far away from Giselle as possible. Beverly would eat her alive. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ he said to his mother. ‘Can you put Cal back on?’
‘Sorry,’ Cal muttered. ‘She grabbed it out of my hand.’
Rocco said, ‘Not your fault. Could you arrange for some refreshments for her? I’ll be there as quick as I can.’
‘Problems?’ Giselle asked.
She was standing at the foot of the ladder wrapped in a silky satin robe, her hair tousled, her lips full and pink, her alabaster legs bare. The robe left little to the imagination and Rocco wanted nothing more than to take her to bed again.
‘Beverly is here.’
‘By “here” you mean…?’
‘At the castle. I’d better go.’ He ran a hand through his hair.
‘Were you expecting her?’
‘No.’
Giselle bit her lip. Rocco felt like doing the same. Why was his mother here? What was going on?
‘Do you mind giving me a lift to the studio?’ Giselle asked. Her tone was formal, and when he opened his arms, she hesitated before stepping into them.
Rocco held her close, revelling in the feel of her body pressed against his, even if there was a layer of green satin between them.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into her hair.
‘So am I.’ She pulled back. ‘Have I got time for a shower?’
‘Only if I can join you in it,’ he murmured huskily. ‘My mother can wait five more minutes.’
‘Five minutes won’t be long enough.’
‘No,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘I doubt it will be.’
Thirty-five minutes later, Rocco’s car pulled into one of thecastle’s reserved parking spaces, and he cut the engine with a resignedsigh. He couldn’t put this off any longer. It was time to find out whyhis mother was here, then pack her off back to London.
‘I’ll speak to you later,’ he promised Giselle, and as she leant across to kiss him, he hesitated, but only for a fraction. Beverly was unlikely to be watching, especially if Cal had secreted her in the lounge.
Giselle’s mouth was warm and soft, and he had to drag himself away.
‘Hope everything’s OK,’ she said, getting out of the car.
So did he. Rocco knew Beverly had expected him home before now, but surely he was entitled to a few days of R&R.
Resolutely, he entered the castle, smiled a greeting to Avril, who was staring at him with wide eyes (his mother often had that effect on people), and straightened his shoulders as he walked into the lounge.
Beverly was seated near one of the windows with a view over the loch, but either she’d had her fill of the scenery or it didn’t impress her, because she had a slim electronic notebook open on her lap and was staring at the screen. He was pleased to see she’d had a coffee, but the presence of a second cup was a silent admonishment that he’d kept her waiting long enough for her to have drunk another.
As he headed towards her, he signalled to one of the staff to bring a couple more coffees, although he had a feeling he’d need something stronger than Jamaica’s finest Blue Mountain blend.
‘Beverly, hi.’ He sat opposite on one of the low-slung leather sofas and cocked an ankle across his knee, the epitome of relaxed despite feeling distinctlyunrelaxed.
