When she’d walked as far as she could, Giselle perched on a rock, drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She had some serious thinking to do, and where better to do it? But not yet. For a while, she simply needed to be.
Giselle didn’t know how long she sat there, letting her mind drift like a strand of seaweed on the current, but when she came back to herself, she knew what she had to do.
There was no baby. Not for her. Not yet. But hopefully one day there would be, and she wanted to raise that baby with Rocco, on Skye.
The fear she might be pregnant had convinced her that she didn’t want to live anywhere else, and now her thoughts had become focused, lancet sharp, because there was something she’d read, something in the back of her mind… It would come to her…
If Rocco was content to live in London and carry on working in the firm his father had built, Giselle vowed to live there with him, because she wouldn’t want to live anywherewithouthim. Not even Skye. But if he had been serious about wanting to move to Duncoorie, she was determined to find a way for him to stay here and help him keep his castle.
Inheritance tax wasn’t something she had any experience of. However, she did have a tiny bit of knowledge of historical buildings, and Avril’s dad worked for Historic Environment Scotland.
Then it came to her.
She remembered what she’d read…
Rocco was utterly exhausted already, and he was only four hours into the thirteen-hour journey back. He hadn’t wanted to leave Giselle this morning, but the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to go, and since his plan of living at the castle and continuing to run it the way Mhairi had was now scuppered, he couldn’t afford any more time off.
His mother was right: he was needed in London. The last time he’d taken an unplanned absence things had started to slide, and both Beverly and Claire had been forced to step up to the mark. However, his anger continued to simmer, and it would take him a while to forgive his mother. He didn’t appreciate her meddling. It could have cost him Giselle, since both Beverly and Claire had done their utmost to warn her off.
This last hour or so he’d been fighting fatigue, and he couldn’t think straight. As well as the physical weariness, he was also mentally worn out. What a roller coaster of emotions these past two days had been.
He was still having difficulty processing everything that had happened.
He’d left London in the early hours of yesterday morning hell-bent on making a go of his castle and winning the heart of the woman he loved, then he’d discovered he’d have to sell the castle anyway, and then he’d found out that he’d had no need to fight for Giselle’s love because she’d loved him all along.
Seeing a sign for the next services, Rocco pulled off the motorway. He’d take a break, stretch his legs and get as much caffeine into his system as possible, which would hopefully keep him going for a few more miles.
Unclipping his seatbelt, he reached for his phone.
He’d better call Beverly. No doubt Claire would have informed her of his arrival at the castle yesterday and filled her in on what had taken place. His mother was probably sitting at her desk this very minute, fuming. Plotting. Manipulating… But she’d also be feeling pleased that his plans to live on Skye had been scuppered.
He wondered whether she’d continue to be pleased when he informed her that far from ensuring that he and Giselle would never get together, Giselle was going to come and live with him in London.
When his mother answered the phone on the second ring, he didn’t manage to say a single word before she demanded, ‘When were you going to tell me she’s pregnant?’
‘Who’s pregnant?’ Claire? Nora? Nah, not Nora – his PA was at least fifty.
‘Giselle, obviously. Claire overheard her talking to your cook. You’d better sort this out, Rocco,’ she hissed.
It wasn’t obvious tohim. He said, ‘Don’t you think she would have told me if she were?’
‘Not necessarily. She can’t be that far along. Unless it’s not yours.That’s it!’ she crowed. ‘The girl is taking you for a ride!’
Rocco lost his temper. ‘Enough! I get that you want me to settle down with someone who can help me run the business the way you helped Dad, but you can’t recreate what you and Dad had through me. And you’ve really got to back off about Giselle. I love her, pure and simple, and if you keep trying to split us up, me and you are done. She’s coming to London and moving in with me, so you’d better get used to it.’ He was rigid with fury, his jaw tense, his palms damp with sweat. ‘Actually, do you know what?’ he said. ‘We’re done anyway. I quit. I’m going back to Duncoorie.’
He’d go ahead and sell his house as planned; he’d sell his stocks and shares and cash in his investments. Along with the sale of the castle, he’d have enough to live on for a while, even after paying the sodding inheritance tax. He’d get a job in a bar, on a boat, driving a taxi… It didn’t matter what he did, as long as he and Giselle were together.
He’d given the last ten years to his father’s business, and the last eight to helping his mother run it, but his heart was no longer in it. His heart was in Skye, with the woman he loved.
‘I’m coming back,’ was all Rocco had said when he’d phoned, and the words played in Giselle’s head, over and over, as she waited impatiently for his return.
And now here he was, the car bumping up the pot-holed lane leading to the bothy, and her heart was so full of love she thought it might burst.
She flew towards him as he climbed out, and he caught her in his arms, kissing her deeply as they clung together, and the rest of the world ceased to exist for several wonderful minutes.
‘Why are you back? What’s happened?’ she asked when they came up for air. He looked tired and tense, his eyes shadowed. ‘Let’s go inside and you can sit down before you fall down.’
‘Are you pregnant?’ he asked as soon as he stepped through the door. He sank onto the sofa.
