a mixture of understanding and curiosity. Which meant it was her cue to step away.
‘Anyway,’ she said brightly, shuffling backwards, ‘I’m sure there’s something you could do here that wouldn’t cost the earth and would generate some income.’
Marcus gave her another one of his dry half-smiles. ‘As long as it doesn’t involve putting a light-up Santa and sleigh on the castle roof I’ll keep an open mind.’
She nodded. ‘Good. Now, where do you think is the best place to start sorting through this junk?’
‘Please, Faith,’ he said, but the smile didn’t fade completely, making her feel like a co-conspirator rather than an adversary, ‘this isn’t all junk—some of it is history.’
He’d called her Faith instead of Miss McKinnon. Wonders would never cease.
She smiled. ‘Okay…Which bits of this history do you think we should put in a garbage sack first?’
Marcus started to open his mouth.
‘Kidding!’ she added quickly. ‘Really, you are too easy sometimes.’
Marcus shook his head and turned away to investigate a pile of tattered copies of Punch! Even though his back was turned she could sense he was closer to smiling instead of scowling—which made things more comfortable on quite a few fronts—and they worked side by side for the next half an hour in something approaching comfortable silence.
Then Marcus checked his watch and showed her the time. ‘Not long until dinner,’ he said.
They both straightened, dusted themselves off and looked at each other.
Clunk. It happened again. That feeling of coming to rest, slotting in. Faith held her breath.
‘And we’ll carry on tomorrow?’ she asked, letting the air out in one go.
He nodded. ‘It depends what the weather does, but I can’t see those supplies you ordered getting through for another couple of days at least.’
‘In that case I have one request,’ she said.
Marcus’s brows drew together. He didn’t much like being told what to do, did he? Didn’t like being indebted to anyone in any way. The humour drained from his face, and once again she was reminded of a sleek hunting animal.
The easy banter they’d shared for a few minutes had lulled her into a sense of false security—made her think she could make him less of a threat. She’d been wrong. Just ask its prey how tame the hound was; it knew the wildness that lay underneath the groomed and elegant coat. It didn’t attempt to befriend it; it took one look and ran. A lesson she should not forget.
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘The badger stays,’ she said, doing her best to appear composed and in control under his gaze. It would be a good reminder for her every time she was tempted to do something dumb. A stuffed and glassy-eyed chaperone. One that obviously hadn’t run when it should have done.
The intensity of his gaze didn’t waver, but his lips curved into a grudging smile and he nodded.
Unfortunately his change of expression didn’t help matters one bit. Faith felt that smile down to her toes. Nope. Not safe at all, that smile.
As he opened the filing cabinet drawer and lifted the badger out she drew in a shaky breath.
She needed help. Big time. Because if he kept looking at her like that the woman in Bertie’s window wouldn’t be the only one on her knees asking for heavenly assistance. Faith would be right there beside her.
CHAPTER FIVE
ONCE again Faith was following Marcus across the castle lawn and off the island. This time, however, their footsteps left six-inch deep impressions in the flawless snow. Here, near the lake, it wasn’t that deep, but Marcus had told her it had drifted quite high in some of the dips and dells on the estate.
Out on the road to the main gate a tractor was spreading grit, and up near the old stables a team of men with snow shovels were clearing the paths.
Faith peeked from under the brim of her knitted hat and cast her eyes upwards as her breath made little icy clouds. The sky was the most amazing blend of the palest pastels, from rose-petal pink at the horizon through lilac and lavender to crisp blue high above.
As she walked along a wide path that led away from the castle she could see that the water from the lake flowed underneath their feet and filled a second lake, longer and thinner. On the far side were fields and pockets of woodland, but she couldn’t see the nearest bank as it curved round the low hill where the stable block was situated.
In front of the stables the path forked. Faith prepared to leave Marcus, who was on his way to the estate office, and continue her journey to the chapel, but he stopped where the paths divided. ‘I’d like to show you something.’
Not exactly a request, but it wasn’t an order either. Yesterday she would have said no way, suspecting he had a pair of stocks waiting for the interloper, but she couldn’t quite wipe the memory of his unguarded laughter from the evening before, so she nodded and followed him under the arch of the redbrick building and into the yard beyond. Single-storey buildings framed the edges of a large cobbled square. Marcus led her to one on the right, unlocked the door and ushered her inside into a large bright space.
‘My mother had a fixation with watercolour painting for a while,’ he said. ‘We had this converted for her.’
Faith took a few steps into the airy studio and stopped.
Wow. What a view.
The wall opposite the door was all glass, with a stupendous view of the lake. Just outside was a small decked area, and then the land fell away. Beautifully kept terraced gardens, the shape now muffled with great dollops of snow, had been cut into the side of the hill as it dipped towards the lake. Geese floated aimlessly on the water and she watched silently as a low-flying swan made a rather inelegant landing, carving a wake on the lake’s surface and causing the other birds to flutter and scurry.
‘Will this do for a workspace?’
She looked back at him. Some people would have described his face as blank, but Faith knew better. She could see a difference in his eyes, in the set of his mouth. She knew instantly what this meant. This was his way of calling a truce.
Nothing as simple as a laying down of arms, though. Marcus was like those medieval castles that had rings and rings of walls and defences, and she understood that all he’d done was let her inside the first gate.
And she was quite happy to camp for the remainder of her time at Hadsborough. One notch down from frosty resentment suited her just fine. She’d be safe from those sizzling glares, but not close enough to be tempted by what she saw inside. This would be good. She could handle cordial but distant Marcus.
‘So this space will work for you?’ he said.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied, giving her best impression of calm and professional. Fake it, she told herself. Pretty soon the rest of you will catch up and it’ll become real.
If only she’d
