‘I don’t want to leave,’ he said, and she remembered he’d said the same thing the last time. If only she’d realised that he’d meant he hadn’t wanted to leaveher. This time would be different: he loved her, and they wouldn’t be apart for long. The thought of living in London, even in a posh area like Holland Park, didn’t fill her with joy, even if she would be living in a house five times the size of her little bothy. She’d miss the peace, the wide-open spaces, the loch, the hills… everything about Duncoorie. She’d imagined that she would live here for the rest of her life, get married here, bring up children here. But life, and love, had other ideas. It was going to be an enormous wrench for her to leave Skye.
As though he could read her mind, Rocco said, ‘If you kept the bothy, we could visit any time you wanted.’
The problem was, she’d want to stay. The thought of moving to London filled her with dread. If there was any way she and Rocco could remain on the island, she’d take it…
‘If I’d known you weren’t going to join me in a fish supper, I’d have asked Cook to rustle up some toast,’ Rocco grumbled as he licked his greasy, salty fingers.
‘I ate a couple of chips,’ Giselle protested. ‘You needed a decent meal; I’ve already had one. Izzy and I went out to lunch.’
‘That was ages ago.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘If you feel nibbly later, we can raid the castle’s kitchen,’ he suggested. He would have preferred to spend the night at the bothy, but Izzy was there. At least he’d moved Claire out of his suite and arranged for her to have one of the guest bedrooms, so he and Giselle would be nicely out of the way in the turret.
Giselle said, ‘Mhairi used to do that. I asked her once why she hadn’t had a little kitchenette installed in her sitting room and she said, “Where’s the fun in that?” She used to love sneaking downstairs and pinching bits and pieces from the kitchen. It used to drive Cook mad when she was in charge of it.’
‘I thought she still was,’ Rocco said.
He balled up the remains of his supper, popped the wrapper in a nearby bin, and took her hand in his for the walk back to the castle, metaphorically pinching himself. He still couldn’t believe she loved him. He’d been prepared for a long, draw-out battle of trying to win her over, and he’d even been prepared for out-and-out rejection. Not in a million years had he guessed that she felt the same way. Although he knew she liked him (obviously), he hadn’t dared hope her feelings went any deeper.
Saying goodbye tomorrow was going to be hell, and he was sorely tempted to stay another day. Which would morph into another, and another… Anyhow, he had lots to be going on with, to make sure his house was ready for Giselle’s arrival. There was a bedroom that needed converting into a makeshift workroom for a start.
Rocco wondered how Beverly would react to the news that Giselle would be moving in with him, and decided he didn’t care. He knew she wanted him to recreate her and Dad’s situation, where he and whatever woman he married would be partners in the business as well as in life, and he fully appreciated that with respect to the company, Claire would be an ideal choice. However, while he admired Claire in a business sense, he didn’t fancy her. And he certainly didn’t have any feelings for her.
His mother would just have to suck it up.
Sneaking into the hotel via a rear entrance, Rocco and Giselle crept up the back stairs to the turret, where he wasted no time in showing her just how much he loved her.
Tomorrow could wait. This night and the woman in his arms were all that mattered.
Chapter 27
Giselle kept the smile on her face and waved until Rocco’s car was out of sight. Then her smile faded, and her arm dropped to her side. She was exhausted; whether that was from lack of sleep or lack of food, she couldn’t say.
She’d been too upset to do more than pick at the breakfast Cook had sent up, which was silly really, since she’d be seeing Rocco again before too long. This wasn’t the same as the last time he’d left, when she thought the goodbye was final, but she felt emotional, nevertheless.
Needing to change into fresh clothes and not wanting to face the trek to the bothy, Giselle decided to ask Izzy to come fetch her, before realising she’d left her bag and her phone in Rocco’s room.
Wearily, she trudged inside and up the stairs.
Cook was in the sitting room, clearing away the remains of their breakfast.
‘Forgot my bag,’ she explained, reaching for it.
Cook’s face creased into a smile. ‘No worries, hen. Now, which of you didn’t eat your breakfast?’ She gestured to the plates, and when Giselle caught sight of a half-eaten congealed egg, she blanched.
Oh dear, she was going to be sick!
Scurrying to the bathroom, she made it just in time to lose what little she’d eaten.
Shaken, she emerged to find Cook waiting for her, a concerned look on her face.
‘Och, lovie, are you all right? Come sit down. You look ever so pale. Can I get you anything? A nice cup of tea, maybe?’
Giselle noticed that the breakfast things were no longer in evidence, and she was grateful to Cook for getting rid of them, as even the thought of them made her want to heave.
‘Tea would be nice, thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually such a wimp.’
