Free The Heir of the Castle (Harlequin Romance) by Scarlet Wilson Page A

the wall again that looked out over the sea. She placed her hands on her hips and looked around her. ‘This place is just amazing.’ She sighed.
    ‘Yeah. It is.’ Callan had that look again, the one where he just drifted off and she couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his head.
    She cleared her throat. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but parts of it look a little...run-down.’
    He didn’t hesitate. ‘I know. You’re right. I tried to speak to Angus about it for the last few years. But I’ve got no control over what happens on the estate, and I had no right to order repairs—even though I was willing to pay for some of them myself.’
    ‘He didn’t want to maintain the castle?’ It sounded odd. And she couldn’t imagine why.
    Callan leaned back against the wall. ‘He just grew old—and stubborn. And he wouldn’t let me help him with his finances.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I was worried he didn’t actually have any money left. He still had his faculties but his decision-making processes, well—they just seemed to disintegrate.’
    ‘And yet he still managed to make the strangest will in the world?’
    ‘There’s no cure for old age, Laurie.’ He gave a nod towards the next set of steps. ‘Come on. Let’s put those wellies to good use.’
    He removed a thin piece of rope closing off the steps and started down them. Laurie made to follow and stopped dead. It wasn’t a traditional set of steps. They were precarious, cut into the cliff side with only a thread rope as a handhold. At places they looked almost vertical.
    Callan moved down them easily, sure-footed without a second’s hesitation. He made it look easy.
    Except it was far from easy.
    ‘Come on,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘If you fall you’ll only land on me.’
    Part of his confidence annoyed her—which was silly. He’d lived here for a good part of his life. He could probably go down these steps with his eyes shut.
    Venturing down them in a pair of somebody else’s ill-fitting wellies was an entirely different story. In some ways she might have taken great pleasure in landing squarely between his shoulders. In another, despite his bravado, it was likely they would both tumble down the cliff face and land in the rocks below. Quite frankly, she wasn’t that brave.
    She took her time as she edged down the steps, shouting down to Callan in an attempt to appear casual, ‘You never told me, how did you end up going from pure mathematics to computers?’
    He was so far beneath her now. The noise from the crashing waves below almost drowned out his reply. ‘Boredom, or luck, I guess.’
    She took the next few steps a little quicker. She was becoming more sure-footed, the thin rope slipping easily through her fingers. She knew her brow was wrinkled as she took the last few steps towards him. ‘I don’t get it. Boredom? Whoops—’
    The last few steps were slicked with moss and lichens, the thick soles of the wellies having hardly any grip at all. His hands planted firmly on her hip bones, stopping her from losing her balance completely.
    She was one step above him, meaning they were almost face-to-face.
    If the breath hadn’t exited her lungs so quickly she might have smiled. The view was good here.
    Any woman would tell you that from first glance Callan McGregor was a fine figure of a man. But this close she could see everything—his slightly tanned, slightly weathered skin. The smattering of tiny freckles across his nose. Her hands had lifted to stop her falling and were now naturally placed on the breadth of his chest. After a few seconds she could feel the heat from his skin seeping through his cotton shirt onto the palms of her hands.
    She should move them. She really should. But right now they felt superglued to his chest.
    She caught her breath. ‘Boredom?’ she asked softly.
    They were so close now the crashing waves were merely background noise. He hadn’t moved his hands; they were still firmly