by Cara Colter
But nothing he’d said had exactly been an answer, and now she’d finally met someone who knew Angus McLean her brain was just bursting with questions. It was her duty to her dad to find out as much as she possibly could. She followed him inside and tried to stifle the gasp in her throat.
It was the biggest entrance hall she’d ever seen, with a huge curved staircase running up either side around the oval-shaped room. These were the kind of stairs a little girl would dream of in her imaginary castle. Dream that she was walking down to meet her Prince Charming. If only.
Callan dropped his car keys into a wooden dish with a clatter.
Fat chance of that happening here.
She shook hands with a grey-haired woman with a forehead knotted in a permanent frown just like Callan’s. Maybe they were related?
‘This is Marion. She’s the housekeeper. If you need anything you’ll generally find her around the kitchen area.’
Laurie couldn’t imagine a single occasion she’d want to seek out the fearful Marion but she nodded dutifully and followed him up the stairs.
There was an old full-length portrait at the top of the stairs of a young woman in a long red dress. Something about it seemed a little odd and she stopped mid-step. Callan gave her a few seconds, then finally smiled in amusement. It was the first time today he’d looked even remotely friendly.
‘You’re the first person that’s noticed,’ he said quietly.
‘But that’s just it. I know I’ve noticed something—’ she shook her head ‘—but I don’t know what it is.’
He pointed at the portrait’s serious face. ‘It’s an optical illusion. She’s an optical illusion.’
‘But, what...how?’ She was even more confused now.
Callum pointed to the stairs. ‘It doesn’t matter which side you walk up. It always seems as if she’s looking at you.’
‘Impossible!’ She couldn’t even make sense of the words.
He folded his arms across his chest and nodded to the other flight of stairs. His face had softened slightly. He was much more handsome without the permanent frown. ‘Go on, then, I’ll wait.’
She hesitated for a second but the temptation was just too great. She could only pray he wasn’t playing some kind of joke on her. She raced down one side and halfway up the other.
Her arm rested on the ornate banister, her eyes widening. The serene young woman was staring right at her—just as she’d been on the other staircase. She lifted up her hands in exasperation. ‘But that’s impossible. How old is that painting? Did optical illusions even exist back then?’
A cheeky grin flashed across his face. ‘Did rainbows?’
She felt the colour flood into her cheeks and a flare of annoyance. Of course. Nature’s greatest optical illusion. Now she felt like a prize idiot. Something tightened in her stomach.
She hated anyone thinking she was dumb. The only real joy in being a lawyer was the recognition that most people assumed you had to be smart to do the job in the first place.
But Callan didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment. He was looking at the painting again. ‘Angus liked to have fun. Once he discovered the painting he was determined to own it. It’s nearly two hundred years old. He put it there as a talking point.’ There was obvious affection in his voice and it irritated her even more.
Who was this guy? He’d already told her he’d spent some time living here. But why?
Why would Angus McLean take in a stranger, but ignore the six children that he had? It didn’t make sense.
All of a sudden she was tired and hungry. The long hours of work and travelling had caught up with her and all she wanted to do was lie down—preferably in her bed in London, not in some strange castle in Scotland.
‘Nice to know he had a sense of humour,’ she muttered under her breath as she brushed past him.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ snapped Callan.
She took a deep breath and turned to face him. ‘It means I’m tired, Callan. I’ve been travelling for hours.’ She lifted her hands in exasperation. ‘And it also means I’ve just found out about a family that’s apparently mine.’ She cringed as some of the relatives walked past downstairs, talking at the tops of their voices about the value of the antiques.
She looked Callan square in the eye. If she weren’t so tired she might have been unnerved. Up close, Callan’s eyes were even more mesmerising than she’d first suspected and she could see the tiny lines around the corners. He was tired too.
She took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t know Angus McLean, but, just so you know, you might have him up on some sort of pedestal—but I don’t. I’m not impressed by a man who lived in this—’ she spun around ‘—and spent his life ignoring his six children.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Nice to see he got his priorities in order.’
Copyright © 2014 by Scarlet Wilson
ISBN-13: 9781460331521
THE MILLIONAIRE’S HOMECOMING
Copyright © 2014 by Cara Colter
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
