The Island Legacy

by Ruth Saberton

  “I had no idea who you were,” he said now. “If I had done I wouldn’t have come near you, believe me. If you think I sought you out and concocted some elaborate plan to sleep with you in order to get my hands on the island, then you’re painfully deluded because that’s not how I do business. Please don’t flatter yourself, Nessa, or waste any more time being so incensed. You’ve totally misjudged the situation.”

  There was a taut silence during which they glowered at one another. Max didn’t break eye contact and finally Ness dropped her gaze.

  “Everyone saw us together,” she said in a quiet voice. “Val saw us on the beach. You can imagine what they all thought.”

  “Yes,” Max replied curtly. It was nice to know he was so highly regarded in the local community. So much for creating employment and encouraging tourists to visit St Pirran. As far as the townsfolk were concerned he was still the big bad wolf, buying up the houses of straw and twigs as investments and gobbling up any little pigs who got in his way. It didn’t matter that the little pigs had been only too happy to sell him their houses or that they earned their livings working for him; he was an incomer and as such he was hated and resented. It was profoundly depressing.

  “They thought I was planning to develop the castle,” Ness added. “Everyone thought I was making plans with you. You should have said what you did for a living. I thought you were an artist.”

  Max exhaled wearily. “I am an artist. That was me, Ness. I like to sketch.”

  “And you’re also one of the biggest property developers in the country, which seemed to slip your mind!” She looked up and there was still anger in her expression. It didn’t matter what he said; she wouldn’t believe him.

  “That too,” he agreed with a note of resignation. “Look, I’m sorry if our meeting made things difficult for you.” He could only imagine the reception Ness would have received from the likes of Annie and the other townspeople. They would have thought Armand Penwellyn’s bequest was a reprieve, and they’d have been incandescent with rage to imagine the new owner was planning to sell.

  Max had some sympathy with the likes of Annie Luckett, but he was also realistic enough to see that without a serious cash injection a great deal of Pirran Castle would be beyond repair in less than a decade. Adam, one of the most experienced stonemasons in his field, had already expressed grave concerns about the viability of the project, and unless something changed soon the place would be lost forever. It drove Max wild that people didn’t seem to be able to grasp this. They clung on to the past, fought change every step of the way, and refused to see that without people like him who were prepared to pump millions into a project the very thing they loved would be gone. Yes, he stood to make a lot of money and yes, he’d wanted to own the island since he’d first clapped eyes on it as a kid, but there was far more to this project than profit. Max wanted to safeguard the island and this way was the only way he knew how.

  He glanced across the motte to the ruined towers and crumbling walls. With the best will in the world, tea shops and boat trips weren’t really doing the job.

  “Difficult?” Ness was saying disbelievingly. “Try impossible! I thought Merryn was going to tip me overboard, and several times Fern looked as though she wanted to throttle me.”

  “So it wasn’t worth it then?” Max asked softly. He could still feel the heat of her body, the press of her breasts against his chest, the way she had fitted against him. No doubt about it, he’d enjoyed every minute. Even now he was trying his best to keep his thoughts from racing away to a place where he’d be able to lay her down gently, peel away the damp vest and dust kisses over every inch of that soft skin…

  Ness turned her head away and lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see into her eyes – but Max wasn’t fooled. He knew she felt it too. Whatever complications had followed, that moment on the beach had been worth every conflicted second. When she looked at him again she met his gaze boldly and there was no anger there, only mingled curiosity and defiance.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  There was no point labouring it. Max was well known in his world for being good to deal with because he cut to the chase and always kept his word. Ness would come around to his way of thinking; he was sure of it. If he kept business and pleasure strictly separate then she would be able to see that his plan was the best one for the island, for the castle and for her. Then, once the business was all concluded, they would be able to concentrate on the pleasure side of things. He already looked forward to kissing that delicious mouth again.

  “I want to buy the island,” he said bluntly. “That’s no surprise to you, so I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise. Regardless of what passed between us, I’ve been preparing to purchase Pirran Island for a while now and I’ve already got a fantastic team assembled to work on it. Until recently I’d been under the impression that Jamie owned the place but, to be frank, who owns it is immaterial. I’m ready to push the button as soon as you are.”

  “You’re assuming I want to sell.”

  “I don’t think you have much choice. The castle’s falling into disrepair. You must see that?”

  Her silence told him that she saw it very well indeed.

  “Then there’s the upkeep, the insurances, the repairs to the pier and the landing area,” Max continued. “Unless your uncle left you a huge amount of money, which according to Jamie certainly isn’t the case, then there’s no way you’ll be able to keep the place running, let alone from falling down.”

  Ness raised her chin. “I’ll find a way.”

  Max admired her determination, however misplaced. Quite what Armand had been playing at was anyone’s guess, but he’d certainly picked a worthier recipient for his legacy than the sneering Jamie.

  “The only way to save the castle is to sell it,” he said. He knew it sounded harsh, but it was the truth of the matter. “Without money it will fall down and you’ll end up selling anyway. I’m prepared to offer you five million for the island and the castle. I’ll make certain that all the work done is sympathetic – you’ll have my word on that – and I’ll even give you an apartment too as part of the deal.”

  “Five million?” Her voice was faint.

  Max felt a flicker of disappointment. He’d expected a protest, even just as part of the dance, but it seemed that what he’d offered was enough to quell her conscience. So Nessa Penwellyn was no different from any other woman then. Money, jewellery, shoes… He should have learned by now that these things bought them easily enough. It was the reason why he was still single.

  “Tempted?” he asked.

  Ness pushed her hair behind her ears. She looked stunned. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t.”

  “The plans are already drawn up and you can go through them with me,” Max said. “I’ve also hired a master builder who’ll take charge of the renovations – and I have a wildlife expert on side too, who’ll be advising the project team every step of the way.”

  “And what about everyone else who lives here? Fred? Lucy? Merryn? Fern? And the visitors?”

  “I can’t keep them on, because the island will be a private residence,” Max explained. “You have to understand that any clients wishing to purchase an apartment in the castle will be very wealthy people who value their privacy.”

  “You already have a list of people who want to live here?”

  “As I said, this development has been in the planning for a long time.”

  Ness shot him a disgusted look. “Since way before my uncle even died, by the sound of it. I can imagine you and Jamie could hardly wait for him to die. No wonder he left the place to me. Well, bad luck, Max. Pirran Island isn’t for sale.”

  This was more like it.

  “Seven million,” said Max calmly. He’d been set to offer Jamie ten, so this way was going to prove much more lucrative for Reynards. He’d push to nine if he had to. She’d bite. They always did when they sensed a fortune was within their grasp.

 
; “You could offer me seven billion. I still won’t sell. This was my father’s home and my mother’s too. It doesn’t just belong to me. It belongs to everyone. Fern, Lucy, the town, the visitors; it’s theirs just as much as it’s mine.” Ness’s voice was low and charged with emotion. “You can take your money and get off my island because it isn’t for sale. It never will be. I’m going to make it pay. You just watch.”

  “Everything’s for sale, Ness,” Max said mildly. “And if not now, then at some point it will be. You should save yourself all the heartache and work, and sell to me now. My next offer might not be as high.”

  “I don’t care what your next offer is! The answer’s no!” Her chest was rising and falling again, and Max forced himself to concentrate on her glittering green eyes. God, he’d love to paint her; sitting there opposite him and spitting with rage she was as elemental as the harsh granite cliffs and spiky clifftop grasses. The wildness in her made him feel alive.

  “Fine,” he said. “Now, how about having dinner with me?”

  “What?”

  “Dinner? We can go anywhere you like. Stein’s? Fifteen? Or there’s a great seafood shack in Falmouth I know that does the best mussels. You like seafood, right?”

  “Yes, I love it, but what on earth are you going on about? I just told you: I’m not selling.”

  “I know, I heard that loud and clear,” Max replied patiently. “This is dinner. Something very different.”

  “Why on earth would I want to have dinner with you?”

  “Because you like me? Because we both know there’s unfinished business between us? Because it might be fun to conclude that unfinished business?”

  Ness started to laugh, a bubbling, joyous sound that made him want to laugh too. Those lips, now that they weren’t pursed in disapproval, were simply crying out to be kissed. He found himself wanting to find more ways to make her smile rather than scowl.

  Christ, he needed to get a grip. What was going on in his head? He wasn’t here to make Nessa Penwellyn smile. He was here to buy her castle and with any luck enjoy a no-strings fling too. Wasn’t that how these things went? Then he could get back to normal.

  “No thanks,” Ness answered, once she’d got her breath back. “And that’s to both offers, by the way.”

  “You’ll change your mind,” Max said.

  A smile was still playing on her lips. “About the castle?”

  “About both.”

  They stared at one another for a moment, during which the world seemed to stop turning, the clouds hung still in the sky and even the gulls were quiet. Then Ness stood up.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “This discussion’s over. I’ll never sell to you. And as for dinner? I think I’d choke. Have a nice afternoon on your powerboat, Max.”

  And then she was striding away across the grass, every sinew of her slender body taut as she focused on ignoring him.

  Max watched her go with a mixture of amusement and regret. She’d be back. Of course she would. She would take him up on his offer.

  But which one? And more to the point, which of his two offers did he most want her to accept? He was no longer able to say.

  Chapter 16

  The little piano was dwarfed in the medieval hall where it now stood, but Lucy found she enjoyed having it there. It had only been gathering dust when it had been tucked out of sight in Armand’s bedroom, whereas now it was coming back to life here in the centre of the castle. Everyone walked through the Small Hall at some point during the day and it was unusual not to hear a faltering tune being picked out by Ness or a flurry of notes when Josh came to visit. Lucy herself often took a minute or two to sit down and run her fingers over the familiar ivory keys. Once again music was at the heart of castle life.

  At the moment Josh was the one playing the piano, and as she began to prepare supper in the kitchen Lucy smiled to hear the music drifting through the ancient rooms. He was such a talented boy and teaching him had quickly become one of her greatest joys. There was nothing better than sharing your love of a certain composer and seeing delight dawn in another, especially one whose ability far outshone that of his teacher. Already Josh was playing scores Lucy struggled with. His confidence was growing too, and in just the few weeks since he’d begun visiting the castle his face had lost the pinched and unhappy look it had had when they’d first met. Admittedly his father was still working flat out by all accounts, and Lucy imagined that the kids at school were still vile to Josh when they thought there were no adult eyes upon them, but he had another life now at the castle and had quickly become a part of the island family. Belonging somewhere and feeling safe could make all the difference, as Lucy knew well from personal experience.

  As Josh played today’s choice, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, Lucy lay down her knife and abandoned chopping vegetables to lean against the Aga, close her eyes and let the music sweep her away. This had been one of Armand’s favourite pieces and on the rare occasions when her uncle had played the piano it had been one of his choices. She could picture him now, seated at the Steinway with his fingers moving across the keys. He’d be immersed in the music, his eagle-like profile trained on something far away that she couldn’t see. Was it a place or a person he was searching for? Beethoven had famously dedicated the fourteenth sonata to his beloved. Had her uncle been thinking of someone he’d loved and lost? She’d never know now. A lump rose into her throat.

  Every few bars the same key jammed, jolting the fluid beauty of the music, and Josh tutted loudly. When it happened for the fifth time the music stopped abruptly; instead there was an ugly crashing of notes as the little boy brought his hands down on the keys in frustration. Oh dear, thought Lucy as she opened her eyes and headed to the Small Hall, not again. Josh certainly had the artistic temperament that accompanied talent, and that troublesome key had been driving him crazy. She really must call a piano tuner out to look at it. This job was on her long list of things to do but she’d been putting it off, dreading to think what piano tuners must cost these days.

  Money worries were starting to wake Lucy up in the small hours; she’d found herself rooting through her possessions at three o’clock this morning, wondering what on earth she could sell to free up some funds. She had her mother’s engagement ring and pearls, but Lucy treasured these. It would break her heart to part with them. On the other hand, what choice did she have? Armand had left all of his shares to Jamie, and whatever royalties she might receive from his music weren’t due in until the autumn. In the meantime, her own bank account was dipping a toe into the red and poised to dive in properly. The thought of being in debt made her feel quite giddy with terror because there was no way she could ever pay it back. Lucy didn’t dare ask Ness to help. Her cousin was already starting to look a little wild-eyed when it came to any discussion of finances, and Lucy was loath to put Ness under any more pressure – especially for something that was a luxury, like the piano. Having already used her savings to buy food and pay the last electricity bill, Lucy knew the pearls would have to go. She’d take them into Truro next week and get them valued. Her mother would have understood.

  “That stupid key’s stuck,” Josh complained when she joined him. “It’s happening all the time.”

  “I know it’s annoying but please don’t take it out on the piano, sweetheart,” Lucy said gently. “It’s very old and tired.”

  A bit like me, she wanted to add – except that the piano could be tuned or restrung, whereas there wasn’t much hope for weary, penniless spinsters without careers. If Ness couldn’t hold onto the castle and Max Reynard had his way, Lucy dreaded to think what her future held. Did workhouses still exist?

  Josh’s bottom lip stuck out mutinously. “I want the old piano back.”

  Lucy sighed. “We all do but it’s not coming back, Josh, and we have to accept that. It’s Jamie’s piano now and he’s taken it to his house.”

  The little boy shot her a pitying look. “No he hasn’t. He’s sold it. He said so yesterda
y when he came to get more of his stuff, remember? He said this one was good enough for oiks to play so we could keep it.”

  Not for the first time lately, Lucy could have throttled Jamie. He’d turned up the day before (luckily missing Ness, who’d gone off somewhere with Merryn) and helped himself to anything he felt entitled to. Lucy had trailed after him – partly to make sure he didn’t take anything he shouldn’t and partly because she was trying to find out if he and Max Reynard were still in cahoots – but, apart from gloating over the piano, Jamie had barely had a word to say to her. In the end she’d beaten a retreat to the tea room. She’d hoped that Josh hadn’t heard any of her brother’s unkind comments but, like most children, he didn’t miss a trick.

  “He’s a bit upset,” she began, but Josh shook his blond head and pulled a face.

  “No he isn’t! He’s mean and nasty. No wonder your uncle gave the island to Ness! Anyway, you didn’t get the island either and you’re not horrible like him.”

  Oh dear, thought Lucy. Even a child could see she was making excuses for her brother. Perhaps it was time she stopped. Even as Jamie had sped across the causeway, cutting it fine as always and with his tyres sending spray flying, she’d tried to tell herself that he was hurting deep down. Very, very deep down. Behaving like an arse was just an act to cover his pain; there was still a decent man in there somewhere.

  The trouble was, even she no longer believed this. Annie had told her that Max Reynard had come looking for Ness – and the fact that Max had been skulking around at the same time as Jamie was a coincidence too far. They were in league together to get their greedy hands on the island, and it made Lucy wild. If Max Reynard dared to cross her path he’d wish he hadn’t, she promised. Who did he think he was, rolling up here and playing Mephistopheles? Fury took her breath away.

  “Are you all right, Lucy?” Josh asked. “You’ve gone a really funny colour.”

  Lucy put her hand on her heart and felt it leaping beneath her ribs. She’d need anger management at this rate, or beta blockers. She needed to calm down. Getting incensed like this wasn’t going to help. To outwit the likes of Max Reynard and her brother, Lucy would need to use her brains rather than her temper. Planning revenge ought to be like writing poetry or composing a melody: “emotion recollected in tranquillity” and all that.