Free And the Bride Wore Prada by Katie Oliver

university?’ When Wren nodded, she went on, ‘She’ll meet someone and fall madly in love eventually, mark my words. Then you won’t have to worry. It’ll be
her
turn to try and fit in with a whole new family – who’ll probably dislike her as much as you do.’
    With a laugh, Wren stood and threw her arms around Natalie and hugged her fiercely. ‘It’s no wonder Tark counts you among his very best friends, Nat,’ she said as she drew back. ‘What would either of us do without you?’

Chapter 13
    The sound of raised voices caught Helen’s attention. She uncurled herself from the window seat in the library and got to her feet. What in the world was going on? Putting her book aside –
A History of Yellow Journalism
– she left the library to investigate.
    Halfway across the entrance hall, she ran straight into a solid, immovable wall...
    ‘Colm!’ she exclaimed, disconcerted.
    He put his hands on her upper arms to steady her, then dropped them away like he’d been scalded. ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’
    ‘I heard shouting from the drawing room. I’ve been in the library, reading. What are
you
doing here?’
    If he noticed the challenge in her words, he gave no sign. ‘One of the dogs got loose outside. I came to let laird Campbell know.’
    They fell silent as the sound of Tarquin’s raised voice, uncharacteristically tight with anger, rang across the hall.
    ‘Perhaps it’s best if you go,’ Helen suggested in a low voice. ‘I’ll let Tark know what happened.’
    He nodded. ‘The dog’s run off before; he’s a wanderer, but I reckon he’ll be back when he gets hungry enough.’
    ‘Like most strays.’ Helen smiled briefly and turned to go.
    Colm caught her arm. ‘Wait. We didn’t finish our conversation last time, as I recall.’
    Her heart quickened from a canter to a gallop. ‘No, we didn’t,’ she said tightly, and pulled away, ‘because there was nothing more to say.’
    ‘Aye, there’s plenty left to say. And plenty more explaining for you to do.’
    ‘Is that right? And if I remember correctly,’ Helen retorted, ‘the last time we spoke, you threatened me.’
    ‘
Threatened
you?’ His laugh was incredulous. ‘And how d’ye figure that?’
    ‘You said you knew who I was. That’s a threat, of a kind, isn’t it?’
    ‘Only if you’ve something to hide.’
    ‘I’ve nothing to hide. And how do you even know who I am? You went through my wallet, didn’t you?’ she said suddenly, answering her own question. ‘You went through it when you fetched my handbag and laptop from the car, that first night I spent at the gatehouse.’
    He eyed her, his gaze unrepentant. ‘Your wallet was on the floor. It must’ve come out of your purse when you went down the embankment. I picked it up, and your photo ID fell out. I had a quick look afore I put it back.’
    ‘How
dare
you,’ Helen breathed, furious. ‘You’d no right to go through my bloody things!’
    ‘You’re a reporter, Ms Thomas, for that London rag, the
Probe
. Yet you’ve not told anyone. Why is that, I wonder?’
    Helen opened her mouth to deny it. But what was the point? He already knew who she was; he’d seen her press ID. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘I work for the
Probe
. I’m after an exclusive story on Dominic and Gemma’s wedding.’
    ‘You’re writing a story on that twit of a rock star?’ he repeated, unconvinced. ‘And is that
all
you’re after?’
    ‘What else would I be looking for?’ she retorted.
    He didn’t answer. But the guarded expression on his face, and the fact that he’d asked the question in the first place, piqued her curiosity.
    Was
there another story at Draemar Castle – a bigger story, perhaps? – one that she should be investigating?
    Oh, well, it didn’t really matter, Helen reminded herself. Her hire car would be towed back to the village tomorrow, and she’d have to leave the castle. Unless, she mused, she could think of a good reason to stay...
    ‘What