Kingdom of Shadows (65 page)

‘It didn’t look that way to me. Another ten minutes and you would have died of cold. It was freezing in here.’ He stared up at the fire, puzzled. The room with its radiator and electric fire seemed perfectly warm now.

‘Rubbish! I was dozing, that was all. I resent your intrusion. I hope you realise that you will have to make good the damage to the door!’ Clutching the towel to her she walked past him into the bedroom. ‘Now, please go. I have to get dressed.’ She stood with her back to him, trying desperately to regain her composure.

‘My God, you’re a hard bitch!’ Neil was stung by her haughty tone. ‘Are you sure you haven’t sold this place if you count your pennies that carefully? I probably saved your life in there!’

‘You did no such thing!’

‘You could have drowned, lady!’

‘I was well aware of where I was, Mr Forbes.’

‘And where were you?’ He stared at her as she turned to face him, her face white. ‘Because you sure as hell weren’t here!’

She swallowed. ‘Don’t be stupid. Of course I was here. I was sleepy, that was all …’

‘Were you?’ He walked to the door. ‘Dinner is served from 7.30. That is what I came to tell you.’

‘I don’t want any dinner.’

‘Don’t be stupid. You haven’t eaten all day.’ He was losing patience fast. ‘Shall I get Catriona to bring something up for you?’

‘Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.’ She had begun to shake again. Desperately she tried to control herself. ‘Please go.’

‘Shall I ask Jack to get you a doctor?’ For some reason he felt responsible for her now, when all he wanted was to get back to the bar and his drink. ‘I can’t leave you like this.’

‘You most certainly can!’ Her voice was suddenly dangerously sharp. ‘Please get out of my room.’

‘All right! I’m going.’ Neil strode to the door. Pulling it open he stopped abruptly to find Kathleen outside. She glanced into the room.

‘I did knock. Neither of you heard me.’

‘No. We didn’t.’ Neil was still holding the door.

‘You were distracted, no doubt.’ Kathleen stared past him towards Clare, noting her narrow tanned shoulders, and the swell of her breasts above the whiteness of the towel.

Neil pushed past her out into the long corridor and pulled the door shut behind him with a bang. His face was white with anger. ‘Clare Royland is a spoiled bitch!’ he said with feeling as he led the way downstairs. ‘The sooner she’s out of this hotel, the better.’

Kathleen smiled. ‘Do I gather she didn’t welcome your visit?’

‘Not exactly.’ He threw himself down in his chair and reached for his whisky.

‘Was she grateful that you got rid of her husband for her?’

Neil stared at her. Then suddenly he laughed. ‘I forgot to mention him,’ he said.

Paul reappeared exactly two hours later. He strode into the bar and stared round. Neil and Kathleen were drinking their coffee by the blazing fire. They were the only guests.

‘Clare didn’t go to Fraserburgh,’ he said curtly. ‘She only knows one person there and she hadn’t seen her. I think she’s here.’

Kathleen stared into the fire. She could feel his tension; anger and desperation flowed out of him in a tangible wave. She shivered.

‘Rubbish, man.’ Neil eyed him with dislike. ‘Why should she be here?’ For a moment he had been tempted to tell Paul exactly where she was but something had stopped him. Probably the fact that however much he disliked Clare Royland his hatred of her husband was ten times greater.

‘She’s here somewhere. She’s tied to this place. It haunts her. It’s got some kind of hold over her.’ Paul was staring round as though he expected to see her hiding behind one of the chairs.

‘This hotel?’ Neil smiled. ‘Why should this hotel haunt her?’

Paul shook his head. He eyed the other man with undisguised disdain. ‘The castle, not the hotel. The place obsesses her. It has sent her out of her mind.’

Kathleen looked at him sharply. ‘You mean your wife is mad?’

Paul looked her up and down. ‘Yes, I mean my wife is mad,’ he said at last. ‘And she is the only one who doesn’t know it.’

He turned abruptly on his heel and walked out of the bar. They watched in silence as he crossed the reception hall and let himself out into the sleet.

Kathleen and Neil looked at one another then Kathleen stood up and walked over to the window. She lifted the heavy tapestry curtain and peered out, screwing her eyes up to see into the darkness. She could just make out Paul’s dark figure walking past his car towards the trees.

‘He’s going back to the castle,’ she reported.

‘Perhaps he’ll walk over the cliff.’ Neil poured himself some more coffee.

‘Do you believe him?’ Kathleen let the curtain fall and walked back to the fire.

‘Believe him?’

‘That she’s mad.’

Neil stared down into his cup. ‘God knows.’

‘Do you think we should warn her that he’s back?’

Neil sighed. ‘I suppose so.’ He stood up reluctantly. ‘I’ll go. If he comes back you go and dazzle him with that Irish charm and tell him she mentioned another friend. In Sussex!’ He gave a short laugh, then he headed for the stairs.

Clare had been in bed when Catriona brought up her tray. She stared at the soup and the light salad, realising suddenly how desperately hungry she was. ‘Who ordered this?’ she asked with a wan smile at the girl.

‘Mr Forbes. He said you were too tired to come down.’ Catriona smiled shyly as she laid the tray across Clare’s knees. ‘Will there be anything else you’d be wanting?’

Clare shook her head. ‘No thank you. This will be lovely.’

‘There is a candle there on the side with matches if the lights go,’ Catriona went on shyly. ‘The electricity is quite likely to fail in this gale and the generator’s playing up today. Now, just you phone down if you want anything else.’ She glanced round the room, pretending not to notice the dog lying quietly thumping her tail by the window.

Clare smiled at Casta as the door closed. ‘She disapproves of dogs in the bedrooms, like her mother,’ she said. ‘Poor darling. It’s not been much of a day for you. I’ll get dressed after I’ve had this and we’ll go down and I’ll get them to find something for your supper then we’ll walk over to the castle and give you a bit of a run.’ She picked up the spoon and began to sip the soup.

Outside, the hail clattered against the window. She could hear the rhythm of the sea crashing in below the cliffs. She shivered. So, Neil Forbes had ordered her supper in spite of her refusal. She had to admit she was glad he had. With every mouthful she felt stronger.

She lay back against the pillows thinking about him. She hadn’t met anyone like Neil before. He was an intense man, consumed with passion for his cause, ruthless, of that she had no doubt, bigoted, strong. A good man to have on your side, a bad enemy. And which was he? She wasn’t sure she knew. She thought he had believed her when she said she wasn’t selling; but he still despised her. She was still the enemy – rich, landed and probably still English in his eyes. She pictured him with his beautiful girlfriend, the sleek predatory woman who had found him in her bedroom and she smiled in spite of herself. The lady had probably given him hell, imagining – imagining what? She shivered. He had seen her naked; dragged her out of the bath, touched her; held her. The only man, save Paul, ever to have done that and, almost worse, he had seen her in a dream. Even though she was alone she found she was blushing suddenly, and her anger returned. No doubt he and Kathleen were even now sniggering together at what had happened.

The food finished, she pushed the tray to the bottom of the bed and picked up the glass that had come with it. Cautiously she sniffed it. Neat malt whisky. She smiled. ‘Well, thanks for that, at least, Mr Forbes,’ she murmured out loud and she raised her glass in a toast towards the door.

The lights of the hotel flickered and went off for a moment, then they came on again. Clare noticed a movement in the corner of the room. ‘Five minutes, Casta.’ She lay back on the pillows, sipping the whisky. It was warm in the bed, beneath the old-fashioned eiderdown, warm and safe. The light flicked on and off again, and then it dimmed. In another minute it would probably go off altogether and then it would be too dark to find the matches, and she didn’t want to be alone in the dark. Forcing herself out of the bed she ran to the candle and brought it back to the bedside table. Lighting it she slid back under the eiderdown. The flame had scarcely steadied when the lights dimmed and died. At once she heard the chuntering of the generator from the cellar in the distance. It coughed twice, and then it fell silent. Somewhere a door banged as Jack Grant, torch in hand, set out to do battle with the alternative fount of power. Clare lay back on the pillows and stared round a room which was changed and softened by the candlelight, and filled with shadows. She picked up her whisky and she sipped it, suddenly uneasy. Again the slight movement, a shadow no more, against the curtain. It wasn’t Casta. She stared, her fingers tightening on the glass.

With a howl of fear Casta dived under the bed and lay there trembling, pressed against the wall.

‘Isobel?’

She didn’t realise that she had breathed the name out loud.

Clare caught her breath. First in the bath, and now here, uninvited; not wanted. ‘No, please. Not again,’ she whispered. ‘What is it you want with me? Why do you keep coming back?’ She strained her eyes against the shadows.

There was nothing there. Nothing but a deeper shadow in the fold of the curtain.

‘Oh God, I’m going mad!’ She finished the whisky with a gulp. ‘Casta? Casta, where are you?’

There was complete silence in the room now, save for the sounds of the sea and the wind which were part of the fabric of the stones with which the hotel had been built – stones which had once been part of the castle itself.

She never noticed when she dropped the glass. It smashed on the thin rug and the shards of splintered glass lay glittering in the candlelight.

Isobel was alone with Robert at last. His men liked her; she was popular for her beauty and her courage and because the king loved her. And because he loved her they helped her to be with him. Elizabeth was cold; she was open in her disparagement of her husband’s efforts and she was haughty with his followers.

By tacit agreement time and space was found for the lovers to be together.

She massaged his neck gently, her cool fingers kneading the flesh where his mail had rubbed. ‘The people love you. They will follow you wherever you lead.’

‘And will you follow wherever I lead, my Isobel?’ He reached up and caught a handful of her hair, pulling her face down to his.

‘You know I will,’ she whispered. She gave him a lingering kiss.

He pulled her towards him on the bed. ‘I have to fight the main English army soon. I don’t like the idea of Marjorie and my sisters and you being here, so close to the danger.’

‘None of us would be anywhere else. Surely you have no doubts, my lord?’ Her grey eyes mocked him.

‘None.’ For a moment his face sobered. ‘Scotland depends on me for her freedom. I will make her a nation again.’

‘And your women will applaud you from the edge of the battlefield. Even her grace, your queen, in spite of her daily doubts.’ Isobel rolled away from him. ‘She is only here because I am, you know. She doesn’t trust you with me.’

‘She is here because she is my wife.’ His lips tightened. ‘And you will not speak against her.’ He caught her wrist and pulled her back to face him. ‘She is a good and faithful wife to me.’

‘And you, your highness, are a bad and unfaithful husband!’ She reached up and put her arms around his neck. ‘But I saw you first.’

‘Cat!’ He kissed her again but she pushed him away.

‘Robert, are you never afraid?’

‘When Isobel of Fife has put the crown of Scotland on my head? How could I be afraid?’

She frowned. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’ She sat up suddenly, her long hair covering her breasts. ‘King Edward is a vengeful, vindictive man.’ She shivered. ‘And he is a powerful king.’

‘And he is an invader, Isobel.’ He frowned. ‘What he did to Sir William Wallace still haunts you, doesn’t it?’

She drew up her knees, hugging them thoughtfully beneath the sheet. ‘Doesn’t it you?’

Robert shrugged. ‘He was a brave man, and Scotland will revere him always, but he was a soldier, Isobel. He knew what would happen if he was caught after he refused to come into Edward’s peace.’

‘Does that make it all right?’ She buried her face in her knees, refusing to recognise the terror which crept up on her sometimes, swamping her without warning, as she thought of what could happen to the man she loved.

‘Edward would say he was following the law.’ Robert groped for her hand and squeezed it, recognising her fear, and admiring her for the way she controlled it. ‘He is above all else a lawyer. Nevertheless, I believe he was being vindictive and vicious. He could have tempered his judgment with mercy and he chose not to.’

‘Because Sir William defied him.’ She swallowed. ‘As you are defying him now.’

Robert gave a dry laugh. ‘It is a slightly different circumstance, my love. Sir William was a soldier, albeit a good one. I am a king.’

‘A month or so ago you were Edward’s man.’ She looked at him, her clear grey eyes holding his steadily.

‘Things were different then.’ He smiled grimly. ‘You had not yet made me king.’

She shivered. ‘I hope I never see King Edward again. I don’t suppose he would approve of what I did.’

Robert glanced at her sharply, then he pulled her to him again. ‘You never will see him again, my love. I shall see to that.’

There had been no time for a parliament after the coronation, no time for talk. Scotland had to be mobilised and fast. Robert marched south-west back to his own lands where support for him was strongest and with him went his family and supporters. Isobel entered passionately into the campaign. She was delirious with excitement, revelling in her freedom, severed at last from her union with the Earl of Buchan, and irrevocably so, knowing that she would never see him again. There could be no going back.

Inevitably she was one of the queen’s household, but she was able to avoid Elizabeth much of the time. She grew very fond of Robert’s sister, Christian, the widow of the last Earl of Mar who was her great grandmother’s son, and so had been her kinsman. Christian was now the wife of Robert’s friend, Sir Christopher Seton and she found she liked her enormously, as she did Robert’s other sister Mary, and his little daughter, Marjorie. For the first time in her life she would have been completely happy had it not been for the situation in which they now found themselves.