He watches me as I walk up the flight of stairs, the wide Victorian hallways dark apart from the dim lights of lamps.
I take the second flight and linger there, listening. Waiting for the footsteps that inevitably arrive a few minutes later.
Doors creak as he opens them. He’s looking for her room.
“Your room is on the ground floor, Mr Goldsmith.” Her voice flows through the empty corridors.
“I wanted to check that you were okay.”
I edge down the stairs, angling myself so I have a vantage point where I can just see them, wrapped in shadows.
“I’m absolutely fine and while I appreciate you were well acquainted with my brother, and the concern you’re showing me, I very much need my space and privacy right now.”
He puts a hand on her shoulder and I brace myself. Blair doesn’t flinch. She merely picks his hand up and moves it.
“I’d also rather you didn’t touch me. We’ve had this conversation before. My position hasn’t changed.”
I see Goldsmith shake his head. “You need me and what I can do for you far more than I need you, Princess.”
“Your father should’ve taught you that you catch more flies with sugar. I’m not to be threatened.”
His hand comes up to her throat. She doesn’t step back. As his hand touches her flesh, she moves to the side and I take that final step onto the landing.
“You have a call, Blair.” I hold my phone in my hand. “Your mother.”
“Thank you. Goodnight and have a good day tomorrow, Mr Goldsmith. I hope you resolve whatever difficulties you’re having.”
We both watch him go, flexing the hand that was touching her neck.
I snapped the neck of someone for less. I strangled someone else for the same.
A pin is removed from a grenade. One that’s deep inside me.
One that’s deadly.
Chapter Four
It isn’t Blair who takes the headlines for Lennox’s funeral, but Elise. She arrives at the castle too early given that no one apart from family has been staying over. The mourning period is a strict one; there have been a proper number of meals and dinners without music or ceremony; none of the family – even extended – have been seen at any public engagements and guests have been limited.
Elise does not wear black. She catwalks into the breakfast room wearing a light blue dress tied with a strip of the Stewart tartan. Her eyes blaze.
“Elise.” Maighread Stewart, Blair’s mother, stands up and leans over to kiss Blair’s best friend and Lennox’s lover. Fiancée.
“I wanted to come earlier but I wasn’t allowed.” She glares at Blair. “I didn’t realise the no family embargo applied to me.”
Maighread sits back down and casts her eyes to her husband who’s lying on the day bed in his kilt, trying to store up some energy. I’ve been in here too much these last few days, discussing theories and strategy. They’re grieving for their son who shouldn’t have died. Shouldn’t have put himself at risk. But they still need to carry on.
The country carries on.
“I’m sorry, Elise. With everything going on, we didn’t think. We’ve all been a bit stunned.” Her accent is thicker than normal, more Scottish.
“How did you get in?” Blair’s standing, looking gaunt and pale. The weight on her shoulders is huge at the moment and I know that she doesn’t need Elise’s neediness to drag her any further under.
“Someone had the kindness to let me through.”
“They shouldn’t have.” My words are low and quiet but she hears them. I have a meeting in five minutes. I’ve no intention of leaving her in there with Blair and her parents.
Her eyes land on me and my skin reacts.
