Newlyweds Of Convenience. Jessica Hart
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to Kincaillie with me, in that case.’
Mallory whitened. ‘You’re not taking Charlie from me! That’s blackmail!’
‘It’s not blackmail,’ said Torr with an impatient gesture. ‘It’s telling it like it is. The choice is yours. Stay here on your own, or keep Charlie and come to Kincaillie with me. We can make a fresh start,’ he said. ‘God knows, we both need it.’
There was no way she would let Charlie go without her. It wasn’t much of a fresh start, Mallory reflected. She was trapped, and Torr knew it.
‘All right,’ she said heavily, ‘I’ll come.’
CHAPTER TWO
THE car had been bumping slowly along a rough and pot-holed track for what seemed like hours. Angry gusts of wind buffeted the vehicle, and the windscreen wipers swept frantically backwards and forwards against the sleeting rain that blurred the powerful beam of the headlights. They had been driving for over eleven hours, the last few through utter darkness, unbroken by lights or any sign of human habitation, and Mallory was so tired that it took her some time to register that they had actually stopped at last.
Peering through the horizontal rain, Mallory could just make out a massive stone doorway.
The wind screamed round them, shaking the car like a terrier with a rat, and Torr had to raise his voice above the noise.
‘Welcome to Kincaillie,’ he said.
Mallory didn’t answer. Her hand crept to the diamond around her neck, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pretending that this was just a nightmare, and that when she opened them she would find herself lying next to Steve, warm and loved and happy, with the sun pouring golden over the bed.
But when she forced herself to open her eyes again, it was to the sickening realisation that this was all too real. The rain was still splattering against the windscreen; the wind was still raging and howling. The blackness and emptiness were still pressing frighteningly around them, the way they had since they’d left the nearest village behind some twenty miles before, and instead of Steve there was only Torr, who had been silent and grim-faced the whole way.
At her feet, Charlie stirred and whimpered. The car was packed so tightly that he had had to spend the entire journey in the cramped seat well. Mallory rested her hand on his bristly head, unsure whether she was giving reassurance or drawing it from the warm comfort of his presence.
Torr turned off the engine and reached into the back for a torch. ‘I’ll show you inside first, and then we’ll unpack.’
Mallory couldn’t move. Pinned into her seat by a combination of exhaustion and fear, she clutched at her diamond once more. But it was as if the sunny, happy world she had lived in with Steve had vanished completely, and now there was only darkness and cold and loneliness.
And Torr.
Her husband. A stranger.
He switched off the headlights, plunging them into pitch-darkness, and Mallory was unable to prevent a gasp of fright before he clicked on the torch.
‘Come on,’ he said, and then, when Mallory still didn’t move, ‘Unless you want to sit here all night?’
No, she didn’t want that, but she didn’t want to get out into the wild night either. Mallory hesitated, but when Torr opened his door she reached for the handle. There was no way she was staying here alone. If she could have a hot bath, a stiff drink and a comfortable bed to fall into and sleep for a week, she could start putting this hellish journey behind her. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any of those in the car.
Which meant she would have to get out too.
The wind was so strong that she had to force open the door until it was wide enough to get out, and then stand braced against it while Charlie leapt down, delighted to stretch his legs at last. Oblivious to the cold and wet, he ran around in circles, sniffing vigorously.
Mallory wished she could ignore the conditions that easily. The wind tore at her hair and the sleet stung her eyes and cheeks as she toiled after Torr, then stood shivering and clutching her jacket around her while he reached for the door.
‘This is the point where you realise that you’ve lost your key and we have to drive all the way home,’ she shouted over noise of the wind, not sure if she were joking or wishing that it was true.
Joking, she decided. After eleven hours, there was no way she was getting back into that car for a while, even if it did mean heading back to civilisation.
Illuminated by the headlights, Torr turned the great handle and shouldered open the door with a creak that would have won an Oscar for best sound effect in a horror movie.
‘This is home,’ he pointed out sardonically. ‘And there aren’t any keys.’
As soon as she stepped inside, Mallory could see why security wasn’t a major issue. Although ‘inside’ was a generous description, she realised with dismay as Torr played the torch around a cavernous hall. It wasn’t only the creaks that belonged in a film.
The whole place could have been a set for a House of Horror. Weeds were growing through the flagstones, and there didn’t appear to be a roof, judging by the icy rain that continued to drip down her neck. They were sheltered from the worst of the wind, but that was about as inside as it got. Who needed a key, anyway, when there was nothing to steal?
Aghast, Mallory followed the powerful beam of the torch as it touched on gaping rafters, a massive fireplace filled with soot and rubble, a magnificent but rotting staircase, birds’ nests tucked into strange nooks and crannies, piles of unidentifiable debris and—yes!—that really was a coat of armour, propped in one corner and liberally festooned with cobwebs. All that was needed was for a corpse to pop open the visor, or for a swarm of bats to swoop down on them, and the scene would be complete.
Mallory had the nasty feeling that she was teetering on the edge of hysteria. She was so tired and so cold and so miserable, and this awful place was so much worse than she had even imagined, that she didn’t know whether she was going to burst into tears or manic laughter.
But she hadn’t cried at all since Steve had left, and now was not the time to start.
‘This is cosy,’ she said as she huddled into her jacket and the wind and rain swirled down through the hole in the roof.
‘I’m glad you like it.’ Rather to her surprise, Mallory detected an undercurrent of amusement in Torr’s voice. It was too dark to read his expression, but he sounded as if he appreciated her sarcasm. But then, she thought bitterly, he might just have been enjoying how appalled she was by the conditions.
‘The kitchen is in rather better condition,’ he promised.
Mallory sighed. ‘I can’t wait.’
‘It’s down here.’ Torr set off towards a doorway in the far corner of the hall, and Mallory whistled nervously for Charlie. This was no time to get separated.
Charlie came bounding in to join them, and followed, happily sniffing, as Torr led the way down a dank passageway with a low, vaulted ceiling and all sorts of turns and unexpected steps that made Mallory stumble, although Torr never did.
He strode on for what seemed like miles, bending his head occasionally when the ceiling dipped but otherwise apparently oblivious to the potential horrors that might lurk around every twist in the passage.
Mallory’s earlier bravado had disappeared the moment Torr headed into the passageway, and her heart was thumping. Charlie was unperturbed by the darkness or fear of the unknown, and she wished passionately that she had his lack of imagination. As it was, she had to hurry to keep up with Torr, and when he paused briefly at a fork in the passageway, she threw pride to the winds and took hold of his jacket.
Torr glanced down at her. ‘Frightened?’
‘Of course I’m frightened!’ she snapped. ‘I’m stuck in a haunted castle in the pitch-dark,