Fairytale Beginnings

by Holly Martin

  He was clearly nervous, though she wasn’t sure why. He pulled at his collar, obviously not comfortable wearing a shirt and tie. Had he dressed up for her?

  She stepped through into a warm kitchen, with a large wooden table standing in the middle and wooden benches either side. The walls were painted a cosy terracotta. Delicious, tangy smells reached her and her stomach gurgled appreciatively. An Aga stood at one end of the room and something was bubbling away in a huge pot on top.

  ‘I’ll make us some lunch. Will your boss be joining us soon?’

  ‘My boss? I don’t really have one. Well, the board of directors at Castle Heritage are sort of my bosses, but I mainly work for myself.’

  Her heart sank a bit. He had been expecting someone older, too.

  ‘Oh, well, the science people, the historians, the ones who will do all the tests?’

  ‘That would be me.’

  He stared at her, disappointment registering on his face. He looked her up and down disdainfully. ‘They’ve sent me a child, is this someone’s idea of a joke? Your idea of history is probably what happened in EastEnders last week.’

  Milly felt her mouth fall open. She was used to getting some prejudice when she turned up at these historic places. With her long blonde hair, large blue eyes and Mary Poppins style rosy cheeks, no one thought she was capable of having any knowledge of history at all. She knew she didn’t help these first impressions by having pink tipped hair and sparkly clothes and shoes, but generally the comments she got were little jokes. That remark about her historical knowledge hurt. And she had never been called a child before. This man couldn’t be any more than five years older than she was, although, being so short, she knew she looked a lot younger than her actual age.

  She drew herself up to her full height, which did nothing to diminish the height difference between them.

  ‘I am not a child. I’m twenty-eight years old. You judgemental ass. You see the blonde hair and the pretty dress and automatically assume that I’m some kind of bimbo. I have a Doctorate in Archaeology and Historic Architecture. I have a Master of Science degree in Heritage Conservation and a Bachelor of Science degree in Medieval History. I have extensive experience in dendrochronological and geophysical surveying and my PhD studies required detailed research into archaeological remains, excavation and historic building construction. I guarantee I know more about this castle than you could possibly ever know but if that isn’t good enough for you, I will quite happily leave right now and take every chance of you ever working with Castle Heritage with me.’

  She stormed to the door but he beat her to it, slamming it closed before she’d only opened it an inch.

  ‘You can’t leave.’

  ‘Just watch me.’ She tugged at the door but he leaned against it, so it didn’t budge. She tried again.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She stopped tugging, but didn’t let go of the handle.

  ‘I really am.’

  She looked up at him and his eyes were honest and concerned.

  ‘I’ve hurt you and it really wasn’t my intention to do that. It’s been a really bad couple of weeks, well, a bad couple of months if I’m honest. Since my dad died and I inherited this place, it’s been one problem after another. He was in so much debt and that debt doesn’t appear to have died with him. There is no money in this estate, none at all, and he was still paying all the staff here right up till he died but I can’t see how or where the money came from. I’ve had to let them all go, which means everyone in the village hates me and I’ve been going through all his paperwork and keep uncovering more and more problems. Without the staff the place will fall into ruin. I have no money for any of the repairs or to pay any of his debts and quite frankly the idea of selling the place to Palace Hotels and making it into a five star resort is looking very appealing right now. You are my last hope. I looked at you and thought …’

  ‘You thought wrong.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, I had no right to judge you by your appearance. I’m a terrible judge of character, I really am. I should have learned my lesson by now, not to judge a book by its cover. The people I’ve trusted have sold me out and betrayed me. I’ve had my share of model girlfriends, the types that look good on your arm but with not a lot else going for them and … I … Well, I’m really sorry. Please stay, at least have some lunch whilst I beg your forgiveness some more.’

  Milly felt all the fight go out of her. She couldn’t hold a grudge for long. Besides, she was starving and the soup that was bubbling on top of the stove smelt amazing.

  ‘Ok. I’ll stay for lunch, but it depends how good the soup is whether I stay longer.’

  His mouth lifted up into small, cautious smile and he gestured for her to sit down.

  ‘There’s a hell of a lot riding on this soup then. If I’d known that perhaps I would have thought about the recipe a little more carefully instead of just throwing everything into the pot with a bit of seasoning.’

  She sat down on the bench and watched him fill two big bowls. There was nothing graceful about him. The soup splatted into the bowl and over the sides and he didn’t seem to care. There were big chunks of meat, large slices of potato, whole florets of cauliflower, all of which should have been blended or at least chopped smaller. He grabbed a large round loaf and tore it into chunks. He plonked the bowl down in front of her and left her half of the loaf on the table next to her bowl, not even on a plate. The man really had no finesse. He sat down opposite her and took a big bite of the bread. He was like a caveman and strangely she found his raw masculinity a bit of a turn on.

  ‘Do you normally have such gay abandon with your food?’

  He paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘It seems to work.’

  He gestured for her to try it and she took a small sip from her spoon. It was incredible, so thick and full of flavour. ‘It’s really good. Did you make the bread too?’

  He nodded, before biting off another huge chunk from his loaf. ‘It’s potato bread.’

  She took a small piece and bit into it. It tasted delicious. ‘You’re actually really good at this “throw it all into the pot and see if it works” method.’

  He shrugged shyly. ‘It’s kind of how I write my books, too.’

  ‘What kind of books do you write?’

  ‘Children’s books, with magical forests and super powers and fantasy adventures. But I never plan anything or follow any set rules. A lot of my author friends will have post it notes and charts and character interviews or CVs but I never do any of that, I just sit down and write. People seem to like it. I mean, I have enough to live off and pay the bills but I’m not going to be buying an island in the Caribbean any time soon.’

  ‘Well if you have enough money to write full time, you must be doing something right.’

  He shrugged again, obviously not keen to admit that he was any good.

  ‘I’d like to read them.’

  He shook his head. ‘They’re just kids’ stuff, not your thing at all, I’m sure.’

  ‘As we’ve already established, my thing is very different to what you think my thing is.’

  ‘Right, of course.’ He swallowed a big lump of bread and didn’t look up at all after that.

  She sighed. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her. She already regretted her little outburst earlier, she was normally much more professional than that.

  ‘Thank you for letting me stay, there was nowhere else anywhere near here apart from the tiny B&B I booked and when their pipes burst and flooded the house, I was at a bit of a loss for what to do.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Cameron said, in a way that said it really wasn’t fine.

  ‘Don’t feel that you have to cook for me or anything. This is lovely,’ she gestured to the soup. ‘But I can look after myself. I presume the village has a shop. I can buy some food and make my own meals. You don’t have to worry about that.’

  ‘I have food here, it’s silly for both of us to be cooki
ng separate meals, unless you’re on some weird diet,’ he glanced briefly at her slender frame. People always assumed she ate really healthily when the truth was miles apart.

  ‘I eat anything.’

  ‘Then we might as well eat together.’

  ‘I don’t want to be in your way.’

  ‘You won’t. I have work to do and you’ll have tests and measurements to do so I hope … I mean I guess we won’t be getting in each other’s hair too much.’

  He didn’t want her there and her heart sank even more at this. Well, if he didn’t want her to stay and she probably couldn’t help him anyway, maybe she would only stay one night after all.

  ‘Tell me about the castle.’

  He looked across the table at her. ‘I don’t know a lot. I used to live here when I was very young, but my mum took me away when I was about six. I never saw my dad after that and I never came back here either. They were always arguing, mainly about the lack of money, even back then. Mum wanted to sell the place and move, my dad refused, so she left. I know it’s been in the family for hundreds of years, hence the rather obnoxious title of Lord that I’ve been bequeathed.’

  Milly sat up straighter. The castle she had seen from the outside was not hundreds of years old, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been some recent modifications to the original structure. Perhaps the Cinderella façade was hiding something far more exciting and mysterious.

  Chapter Three

  ‘So, do I get the grand tour?’ Milly asked as she finished off the last of the soup.

  Cameron nodded and stood up.

  ‘Oh, let me wash these things up first, it’s only fair as you did all the cooking,’ Milly said, reaching for his bowl.

  He moved it out of her reach. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’ll just stick it all in the dishwasher later. Well, these are the servants’ quarters, which have been heavily adapted and modernised since they were originally built. Through here is my lounge.’ He opened the door on a cosy looking room with squishy red sofas round an open fireplace and a TV. ‘And my bedroom is just off there.’

  ‘Is my bedroom down here too?’

  He stared down at her in an intense way, as if he was trying to fathom her out. It made her gut clench with desire and she hated that he had this effect on her. She had a good reputation amongst her colleagues and the people she worked with. She was efficient, highly organised and worked damned hard at her job, yet the mere mention of his bedroom and the sleeping arrangements had her insides quivering like jelly like some silly girl. Rather bizarrely, she could already imagine herself living here, swanning around in beautiful medieval style gowns as she linked arms with her husband, the Lord. The image made her grind her teeth in annoyance. Fairy tales didn’t happen in real life, she knew that better than anyone. That was why she loved her Disney films so much, it was the closest thing to a happy ending she was ever going to get.

  ‘Your bedroom is up in one of the towers, I thought …’ He hastily backtracked. ‘No, of course not. You can sleep in my guest room if you like.’ He indicated the door opposite his own bedroom.

  ‘You thought what?’ she said, staring up at him.

  ‘That you might appreciate staying in one of the original rooms of the castle, rather than a normal modern bedroom. The tower room has a four poster bed with a curtained canopy. I believe the bed was part of the original castle too, although of course the mattress has been changed. The views are quite spectacular and it has an open fireplace, so I can build you a fire if you are cold. It’s erm … quite beautiful.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But to be honest, since I didn’t know how many of you were coming, I made five bedrooms up, most of them along the ground floor, so you can take your pick where you sleep, you don’t have to sleep in the tower.’

  ‘I’d like to.’

  He smiled down at her, his eyes were like pools of melted chocolate when he wasn’t guarded or angry. ‘You would? It’s not too cliché? I wouldn’t want to assume anything.’

  He was playing with her and she liked it.

  ‘Some clichés never get old. What woman wouldn’t want to sleep in a four poster bed in a tower overlooking the sea? It sounds very romantic.’

  He stared at her again and then he frowned, the shutters came down and he took a deliberate step away from her. ‘Well, there’s lots to see. Let’s start with the banquet hall.’

  He strode ahead through a large door, leaving her behind. She stared after him in confusion.

  It seemed that it wasn’t just the castle that might hold secrets, Lord Heartstone had some secrets of his own.

  Cameron walked quickly away from her, determined to just have a few moments to clear his head. This was turning into a disaster.

  He’d grabbed her breasts. That was probably the worst crime he’d committed today. What on earth was he thinking? He had never particularly been a gentleman around women, but he’d never been such a Neanderthal either. He had been so nervous about this meeting and so desperate for it to go well. He’d prepared a speech which had completely disappeared from his brain when he had this beautiful blonde woman pressed against his chest. And then he’d become a bumbling idiot and accidentally groped her. What would she think of him? His stupid dog had knocked her over, ruining her dress. He’d accused her of being a child, immediately judging her on her pink tipped hair and pink sparkly Converse. And to top it all, with the whole discussion about bedrooms, there had been only one place he had wanted her to sleep and that was in his bed with him.

  What was wrong with him? He’d been swayed by a pretty face before, hell, who hadn’t? But he’d sworn he wasn’t going to go down that road again. She’d recognised him too, that much was very clear. When she’d first looked at him, she’d stared at him in shock. He didn’t need another gold digger fawning all over him. He would not be led by lust anymore and he certainly wasn’t going to have a fling with the one woman that could save his ass and save the castle. He had to keep this on a professional level and he absolutely had to stop thinking about what it felt like to have her pressed against him.

  He’d show her the castle and then keep out of her way over the next few days while she conducted any tests or surveys she needed to do.

  He just had to hope that she was ok with ghosts.

  ‘So that’s the grand tour,’ Cameron said, as he showed her the bedroom she would be sleeping in for the next few nights.

  He had kept his distance as he had taken her round the castle, answering all her questions professionally but she never saw him smile again. Any warmth that had started to materialize over lunch had completely vanished, making Milly wonder if she had imagined it in the first place.

  The castle was causing him a lot of worries, she knew that. She was determined to do something to help him.

  As she’d wandered around, she had seen furniture and parts of the castle that were definitely a lot older than she had first thought. Some of the rooms had been built hundreds of years before, maybe mid to late sixteenth century, judging by the material used and the way they had been built. The room she was in now was quite a bit younger, probably early nineteenth century, despite Cameron’s claims that the towers were part of the original structure, it seemed that the towers were added about two hundred and fifty years later, suggesting that the building probably hadn’t started life as a castle at all. Another reason Castle Heritage probably wouldn’t touch it.

  It was a hodgepodge of historic periods, the banqueting hall especially seemed to be a right mixture, with the intricate patterned plastered ceilings of the late eighteenth century and the square oak panelled walls of the sixteenth century. It had clearly seen lots of renovations over the years. The bottom of the main staircase was definitely Jacobean with its carved and painted bannister, balusters and newel posts which set it in the early seventeenth century, while the carved staircases further up the towers were definitely more Georgian, as were the bedrooms on the first floor. The furniture dated from a range of periods, with some beautiful unique pieces th
at the museums of the world would be desperate to get their hands on.

  She moved to the window. Out on the slopes behind the castle was a huge maze that looked very wild and overgrown at the moment. The castle seemed so much bigger on the outside than it was on the inside. Although she had seen lots of beautiful, dusty rooms on her tour, it felt like there were parts she hadn’t seen at all.

  She stared at the external wall that dropped below her and tried to map out everything she had seen and where it was in relation to where she was now.

  ‘Have I seen everything?’

  She felt Cameron standing behind her; the heat of him seemed to sizzle against her skin. Her body erupted in goosebumps at his proximity and she tried to quietly breathe through her mouth instead of her nose so she wouldn’t smell his amazing scent. It didn’t work. She hated that he made her feel this way. She had long ago accepted that she was never going to get a happy ending and decided that relationships simply weren’t for her. For over four years she had barely even glanced at a man and that had worked out great for her as being single meant there was never a risk of getting hurt, but now Cameron was pushing at the barriers she had built without even trying and she didn’t like it one bit.

  He leaned round her and pointed to the external wall and the battlements below that stretched towards the other tower. ‘The banqueting hall is down at the bottom and the portrait gallery that overlooks it is where those windows are, on the second floor. The library and study are on the floor above that.’ He pointed to the smaller windows. ‘The eight bedrooms, including this one, are on the two top floors in the four towers, two in each tower. The only other rooms are the servants’ quarters which are all the modern rooms at the back of the banquet hall, near my kitchen and bedroom.’