“I feel that you hold her interests higher than mine.” William’s words are quiet, thankfully.
“Sometimes I do.”
“Then you’re not acting in the best interests on England. That’s treachery.”
I laugh, sip my Scotch whisky. “I think you rarely act in the interest of anyone but yourself. And if you’re not happy with my support for you, please feel free to fire me.”
“We both know I can’t do that.”
“You mean you’re too scared to step away from your father?”
There’s silence as he stands up and walks away, Elise following him like a lost puppy. I don’t watch. I make my way to Blair, who is speaking to her mother. She leans over to place a kiss on my jaw.
“You made her smile.”
The words are enough to fill me with something I haven’t had before and I feel sorry for William because I know he will never have this.
* * *
It’s late by the time I walk Blair to her suite. One day has blended into the next and we’re a few hours less away from the end of January. The corridors are quiet, guests have left either for their rooms or to go home or onto some place else, like William who has a private jet waiting to take him to Canada.
Our footsteps echo against the thick walls and we’re silent as we walk. Our hands are intertwined and I’m not sure whether she’ll ask me to stay or whether our night will end here.
There’s no answer to that, as Micky runs towards us, his eyes panicked, the limp from his accident less pronounced.
“We have intruders. Blair, go to the safe room. Keep your phone with you.” He carries on and Heath, her new bodyguard, is there, ushering us away from her suite towards a room on the way to the disused ballroom.
Heath is blindsided by a door opening and a masked man jumps out, using one fist to knock him out. The man doesn’t expect me, clearly having planned on it just being Blair and her guard, so when I raise my own fist and make contact with his temple, he’s stunned and drops to the floor.
Two kicks to the head later and he won’t be getting up for a while. It’s a move I haven’t used since Nate and I looked after the man who was making Ivy’s life hell and it hasn’t gone rusty.
Heath groans. I ignore him and fasten the man’s hands together with my tie, taking cuffs that Heath passes me to snap round his ankles. We leave him there, Heath stumbling up off the floor and following us.
A mumbled message comes across Heath’s radio. One wing of the castle has been evacuated, smoke bombs having been set off, and for a moment I feel fear. We get to the safe room, bolting the door behind us while Heath remains outside.
Blair phones Micky but there’s no answer, so we sit and wait, any ounce of alcohol or tiredness now away from my system. I want to go out there and find whoever has infiltrated the castle, to help make sure they can’t hurt her or her parents now or in the future.
I want to tear someone’s head from their neck.
There’s shouting and the sound of feet, then the pounding at the door. A language I don’t recognise is muffled as it comes through the door, Scandinavian or Russian maybe, but it’s volume and tone are universal.
There’s a bang and a scream, male and distressed and then there’s silence.
I know the history of the castle. Centuries old, it’s seen battles and wars and death. Another life ends there.
“Get him away.” The voice is Micky’s. “For fuck’s sake, shift it now. And then search it.” There is no dignity in death.
Blair isn’t in my arms. She’s standing at the door, one hand braced on it and looking down at the floor. Listening.
There’s no flinch, no sign that she’s horrified or distressed. No sign that she wants me to comfort her and I don’t know if it’s me who needs the comfort. I’ve never needed comfort.
“Is he dead?”
It’s almost a rhetorical question that she asks.
“I’d think so.” From what I know of Micky, he’ll have snapped his neck. Quickly, neatly and without ceremony.
“I wish I’d have done it.” She whispers the words. “I hate that people feel they have the right to target us and our lives just because we happen to be born in a certain skin.”
