I am,’ she told him. ‘Believe it or not, I did this for you—or for your inheritance, for the Duncairn legacy Eileen cared so much about. But if I can’t see you without wanting to hit out, then it’s over. No lies are worth it, no false vows, no inheritance, nothing. I’ve tried my best but it’s done.’
Done? The world stilled.
It was a perfect summer’s day, a day for soaking in every ounce of pleasure in preparation for the bleak winter that lay ahead. But there was no pleasure here. There was only a man and a woman, and a chasm between them a mile deep.
Done.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked at last.
‘I mean even if we managed to stay married for a year, I can’t inherit,’ she told him, in a dead, cold voice she scarcely recognised. ‘I’ve checked with two lawyers and they both tell me the same thing. Alan left me with massive debts. For the year after his death I tried every way I could to figure some way to repay them but in the end there was only one thing to do. I had myself declared bankrupt.’
‘Bankrupt?’ He sounded incredulous. Did he still think she was lying? She didn’t care, she decided. She was so tired she wanted to sink.
‘That was almost three years ago,’ she forced herself to continue. ‘But bankruptcy lasts for three years and the lawyers’ opinions are absolute. Because Eileen died within the three-year period, any inheritance I receive, no matter when I receive it, becomes part of my assets. It reverts to the bankruptcy trustees to be distributed between Alan’s creditors. The fact that most of those creditors are any form of low-life you care to name is irrelevant. So that’s it—the only one who stood to gain from this marriage was you. I agreed to marry you because I knew Eileen would hate the estate to be lost, but now... Alasdair, I should never have agreed in the first place. I’m sick of being judged. I’m tired to death of being a McBride, and if it’s driving me to hitting, then I need to call it quits. I did this for Eileen but the price is too high. Enough.’
She took off her shoes, then wheeled and started walking.
Where was a spacecraft when she needed one? ‘Beam me up, Scotty...’ What she’d give to say those words.
Her feet wouldn’t go fast enough.
‘Jeanie...’ he called at last but she didn’t even slow.
‘Take your car home,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘The agreement’s off. Everything’s off. I’ll see a lawyer and get the marriage annulled—I’ll do whatever I need to do. I’d agreed to look after the castle for the next few weeks but that’s off, too. So sue me. You can be part of my creditor list. I’ll camp in Maggie’s attic tonight and I’m on the first ferry out of here tomorrow.’
‘You can’t,’ he threw after her, sounding stunned, but she still didn’t turn. She didn’t dare.
‘Watch me. When I reach the stage where I hit out, I know enough is enough. I’ve been enough of a fool for one lifetime. Foolish stops now.’
THERE WAS ONE advantage to living on an island—there were only two ferries a day. Actually it was usually a disadvantage, but right now it played into Alasdair’s hands. Jeanie might be heading to Maggie’s attic tonight but she’d still be here in the morning. He had time.
He needed time. He needed to play catch up. Jeanie was right: if she’d been a business proposition, he would have researched before he invested.
An undischarged bankrupt? How had he not known? The complications made his head spin.
The whole situation made his head spin.
He tried to get her to ride home with him but she refused. Short of hauling her into the SUV by force he had to let her be, but he couldn’t let her walk all the way. He figured that was the way to fuel her fury and she was showing enough fury as it was. He therefore drove back to the castle, found her car keys hanging on a nail in the kitchen, drove her car back along the track until he reached her, soundlessly handed her the keys, then turned and walked back himself.
She must have spent a good hour trying to figure out how not to accept his help, or maybe she didn’t want to pass him on the track. Either way, he was back at the castle when her car finally nosed its way onto the castle sweep.
Maybe he should have talked to her then, but he didn’t have all the facts. He needed them.
Luckily he had help, a phone call away.
‘Find anything there is to find out about Jeanie Lochlan, born on Duncairn twenty-nine years ago,’ he told his secretary. Elspeth was his right-hand woman in Edinburgh. If anyone could unearth anything, it was her.
‘Haven’t you just married her?’ Elspeth ventured.
‘Don’t ask. Just look,’ he snapped and whatever Elspeth heard in his voice he didn’t care.
Jeanie was back in her rooms downstairs. He was in his sitting room right over hers. He could hear her footsteps going back and forth, back and forth. Packing?
Finally he heard her trudge towards the front door.
He met her at the foot of the castle stairs and tried to take an enormous suitcase from her.
‘I can manage.’ Her voice dripped ice. ‘I can cope by myself.’
And what was it about those few words that made him flinch?
She was shoving her case into the back of her battered car and he was feeling as if...feeling as if...
As if maybe he’d messed something up. Something really important.
Yes, he had. He’d messed up the entire Duncairn empire, but right now it felt much more personal.
She closed the lid of the boot on her car and returned. He stood and watched as she headed for the kitchen, grabbed crates and wads of newspaper and headed for the library.
He followed and stood at the door as she wrapped and stowed every whisky bottle that was more than a third full.
The B & B guests would come back tonight and be shattered, he thought. Half the appeal of this place on the web was the simple statement: ‘Genuine Scottish Castle, with every whisky of note that this grand country’s ever made free to taste.’
He’d seen the website and had congratulated his grandmother on such a great selling idea.
‘The whisky’s Jeanie’s idea,’ Eileen had told him. ‘I told her I thought the guests would drink themselves silly, but she went ahead and bought them anyway, out of her own salary. She lets me replenish it now, but the original outlay and idea were hers. So far no one’s abused it. The guests love it, and you’re right, it’s brilliant.’
And the guests were still here. They’d want their whisky.
‘And don’t even think about claiming it,’ she snapped as she wrapped and stowed. ‘I bought the first lot out of my wages so it’s mine. Be grateful I’m only taking what’s left.
