If Giselle could have afforded to replace her phone, she would have thrown it at the damned wall. Anger was still at the forefront of her mind, but desolation was hot on its heels. She was frantically trying to stoke the fires of her temper to keep the deluge of her grief at bay, but she could already feel heartache lapping at her feet, and if she let it in, she feared she might drown.
Instead of throwing the phone, she placed it firmly screen-side down on the workbench. Then picked it up again and turned it off, before returning to the Highland cow she was working on. Anything with a shaggy ginger and brown cow on it did well in the gift shop, and they rarely took her long to do. However, she’d been working on this one since before Avril had arrived with the news that Rocco was a sneaky, two-timing ratbag, and she hadn’t managed to do much more on it.
Horns. It needed horns. And a nose. Maybe even a hint of a black eye peeping out from behind a shaggy fringe.
Giselle opened the drawer of white sea glass and sifted through some of the longer pieces, searching for two of a similar length and colour. Of course, they weren’t bright white: they were milky shades of bone, stone, linen and alabaster.
She’d already arranged the cow’s hair, using various shades of brown, which was one of the most common colours. It came mostly from old beer and whisky bottles, and in terms of findability was abundant on Scottish beaches, compared to the rarer colours such as teal and amethyst.
What was Rocco doing now, she wondered, as she searched through the drawer for a second time, without really noticing what was in it. Getting ready for dinner? And would that involve some more shower sex? Her stomach churned at the thought, and she felt sick. Physically sick andheartsick.
She only had herself to blame; she should never have become involved with him again. They were from different worlds, and she’d known it couldn’t last. What she hadn’t known was that she would fall in love with him.
‘Stupid,’ she muttered, picking up a fragment of sea glass at random, then putting it back again immediately.
It was no good; she couldn’t concentrate. She had to get out of here, get as far away from the castle as she could.
Grabbing her phone and her bag, she locked the studio and headed out, determined to go home and expunge all trace of Rocco from the bothy. And if that meant burning the bedsheets, then that’s what she’d do.
In the end, she didn’t burn them – she washed them. Twice. But although the scent of him had gone, replaced by lavender and patchouli, she could still feel his hands on her body, his breath on her face, and he was hiding behind her eyes every time she closed them.
Ridding Rocco Moore from her heart and her mind was going to be considerably harder than a rinse and spin.
‘It’s very old fashioned,’ had been Beverly’s reaction when Rocco had shown her into the suite in the turret.
‘I thought that was its charm,’ he retorted when she repeated the comment again, this time for Claire’s benefit.
They were having dinner in the dining room and Claire’s face was wooden, her lips pressed into a straight line.
‘How is your room?’ he asked her, sounding like a concierge.
‘Fine.’
‘Shall we order?’ He flicked open the napkin and draped it across his lap. ‘I expect you’re hungry after such a long journey. You really needn’t have come all this way, either of you.’
Beverly’s gaze was piercing. ‘I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.’
‘What fuss? There isn’t any fuss.’
‘There’s something, otherwise you’d be home. Is there a problem?’
‘No.’
‘Have you spoken to Jermyns yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘What’s the holdup? I thought you wanted to get rid of this place ASAP?’
‘It’s got to go through probate first.’
‘And that’s where I come in,’ Claire interjected smoothly. ‘Beverly thought my expertise would come in handy. After all, figures are my speciality. I’ll take a look at the books for you.’
‘I already have.’
‘Aproperlook. I’m a qualified accountant, remember?’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’ Rocco couldn’t work out why he was being so reticent. Claire was the ideal person to go over the accounts and prepare a valuation for probate. He was planning on using her anyway, so…
