‘I’m willing and able,’ he said with a hard stare that made her smile.
‘Well, you’re all very noble,’ said Xanthe. ‘Some of us need our beauty sleep and I’m not sure I want to be messing about with water in the middle of the night.’
‘I’m not sure any of us do,’ said Izzy, a trifle tartly.
‘Don’t be like that, darling. You know that once I’m asleep I’m out for the count.’ Which was true. Even if Xanthe had offered to help, Izzy wouldn’t have been able to rely on her mother to get up or remember what she was supposed to be doing. ‘Why don’t I do the washing up?’ she asked with a magnanimous air, as if that was some sort of compromise.
‘Done and you can clean up the pan that got burned.’
‘Right, I think I’ll turn in now so I’m rested for the midnight check,’ said Ross.
‘Thank you so much, Ross,’ said Izzy. ‘I appreciate your help.’
‘Not a problem. Better than having the ceiling come down on me in the middle of the night.’ He smiled at her.
‘God, don’t even joke. I hope it stops raining soon.’
He looked out of the window where the rain lashed the glass panes like hail stones. ‘Not much chance of that, I’m afraid.’
‘I know.’ She sighed heavily. She hated not being able to do anything more practical.
‘Hey.’ He gave her a quick, kind smile that softened his already too handsome face and she found herself praying that she wasn’t giving away how lovely she found him. ‘Try not to worry; you’ve done all you can for now. I’ll see you all in the morning. Night, McBride.’ He leaned in and to her utter surprise kissed her on the cheek. To be fair it was a casual, matey goodnight sort of kiss, but a zing of awareness shot through her and as their eyes met he froze as if he’d walked into the wrong room and needed to leave immediately. Without another word he turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Izzy stood staring after him for a moment, her skin tingling where his lips had brushed so softly. It might have been the barest, almost there, kiss but it felt as if she’d been burned.
‘Well, that was interesting,’ said Xanthe with a cat-like grin while Duncan’s gaze was glued to his feet.
‘He was just being friendly and offering a bit of solidarity, unlike some,’ snapped Izzy.
Xanthe merely raised her eyebrows and sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving Izzy trying not to press her hand to her cheek.
Chapter Six
When her alarm went off at three o’clock in the morning, Izzy clawed her way back to consciousness, shivering in the cold night at the sound of the rain hurling itself against the window. Still raining then. She bundled herself into joggers and a sweatshirt over her PJs and plodded up to the attic.
Despite hoping for some sort of miracle, the bathtub was almost full. And by the time she’d wrestled it to the bathroom to empty it, water slopping everywhere, she was soaked through, and wide awake. She might as well change into dry clothes, go downstairs and make herself a cup of tea.
Outside the gale howled, battering at the building with quick, punching gusts, making her grateful for the thick walls of the castle that protected her as she warmed her hands in the latent heat of the Rayburn. Through the window she could see the kitchen light reflected on the slick of water on the ground outside and the fierce slashing lines of the rain cutting down through the sky. She sat in the rocking chair by the big oven nursing her tea, her chin tucked into the thick wool of a polo neck jumper.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Having dozed off, she jerked awake, her heart pounding in tandem with the hammering on the door. The heavy rapping came again and she jumped to her feet. Was it Duncan? At this time of night? Who else would be out there?
When she opened the door, she was barely able to hang on to the handle against the gust of icy wind that burst its way into the kitchen. It quickly scurried into every nook and cranny, making the crockery on the dresser rattle and the old light fixture swing, sending light and shadow helter-skeltering around the room. She peered out, the inside light spotlighting two bedraggled figures in cagoules slick with rain, hoods up, the drawstring puckered around pinched, pale faces.
‘Please can we come in? Our tent has blown away,’ pleaded a tearful voice and Izzy realised they were the wild campers, Jeanette and Jim.
‘Oh my goodness, of course, come in.’ She widened the opening and the two of them stumbled inside, each clutching a soggy sleeping bag that trailed over their arms like drowned caterpillars. ‘Oh, you poor things. You’re soaking.’
She quickly closed the door, firmly shutting out the raging wind and rain.
‘Thank you. Thank you,’ said the girl with a sob, dropping her things to the floor. ‘I’m so cold.’ She held out blue hands.
‘Come over to the Rayburn. Let me make you a hot drink.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jim in a gruff voice as he eased a rucksack off his back.
‘Everything’s wet,’ sniffled Jeanette, dropping hers with a defeated thud.
