The Witch's Stone by Dawn Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

to."
    "It was important to me that I pay you back."
    “Aye, that’s fine, but I still dinnae understand why you insisted on taking a loan to do it. Why you didnae just pay me when you could.”
    “So we are going to have this discussion again.”
    “Stubbornness, Caid, plain and simple.”
    Exasperated, Caid dragged his fingers through his hair. “And why should you be out of pocket because you’ve a brother who’s a complete fuck-up?”
    “Ye’re no’.”
    “Aye, no’ now, but I was.”
    Alex grinned. “Maybe you were. The point I’m trying to make is dinnae give the house away. Even if you sold it as it is, you’d have enough to pay the bank. Might take a while, though. Depending on how long, you may have to pay property taxes and some of the other basic maintenance expenses.”
    “Oh well, ye’re doing a fine job convincing me to no’ give the bloody thing away.”
    Ignoring him, Alex continued. “But if you took some time, cleaned the place, added some fresh paint and sorted any of the obvious repairs, you’d sell the house for much more and faster. You could finally travel like you wantae.”
    Alex had certainly known which buttons to push. All Caid had ever wanted was to get out and see the world. But even a tin of paint cost money, and while he was able to get by on what he made writing, he was by no means a rich man.
    Caid set his fork down and drummed his fingers on the table. Each digit made a dull thud on the tablecloth.
    "Are you finished, then?"
    Caid looked up for a moment. He'd nearly forgotten Joan was there. He nodded and she took his plate.
    "Well, I'm glad to see you've the sense to feel guilty," Joan said. "Poor girl, she only tried to talk to you, and you behaved terribly."
    Actually, he hadn't really thought of Hillary since he’d sat down.
    "She wants a look at the journals. Before this evening, she couldnae say a kind word to me."
    "And how, might I ask, would she know that you’ve inherited the house with her out all afternoon?"
    "Didnae you tell her?"
    "I hadnae spoken to her until she politely refused dinner. And I think we can safely assume why she did that."
    He ignored Joan's not so gentle admonishment. "So she really didnae know?"
    "Aye."
    The apology had been genuine, and he’d acted like an ass.
    "You really are foolish," Joan continued, pouring more salt in the wound. "Agnes had a financial arrangement with the girl."
    "Hillary was going to pay her to see the journals?"
    "And to stay at Glendon House. But, from what I understand, Agnes had overcharged her. Since staying here, she might wantae renegotiate."
    Damn, damn, double damn. He'd truly made a mess of the situation. Could he convince Hillary to stay at Glendon House?
    Whatever money she paid him he could use for the repairs. It wouldn't be much, but maybe enough to fix some of the more glaring problems and clean the house up a little.
    Why had he kissed her?
    His stomach pulled tight at the memory, and he did his best to ignore it. That kiss would be his biggest stumbling block when he tried to make up with her. She'd probably accuse him of being a pervert again.
    Aye, well, no more than he deserved.
    "Dinner was lovely, Joan."
    "Thank you. Now, dinnae you have some groveling to do?"
    "Aye, I’ll be on my way.”
     
     
    Hillary lay on the bed, head propped on the pillows, legs stretched out over the spread and crossed at the ankles. Next to her, the lamp glowed softly, illuminating the small words on the page of the battered paperback Joan had given her.
    She nibbled her lip, drawn into the story despite her almost desperate need to hate the book Caid had written.
    After Joan had left, Hillary had still been furious. There was no way she could have sat across the table from Caid without shoving the plate of food in his face.
    He'd kissed her--worse, she'd liked it.
    She harbored no illusions as to his feelings for her. He'd only done it to see if he could. He seemed to think her some kind of journal slut.
    How