agency, gift people their own land, do some good. But not before that. Martin had spelled it out.
‘The Trust’s in the hands of a firm of conservative lawyers in Milan. It’ll provide you with a sweet income but there’s nothing more to be done for years. Stay home and wait.’
‘How…?’ she said now, in a small voice because speaking of such a thing seemed so immense, so impossible that even saying it aloud was ludicrous. ‘How could I turn the castle into a hospital? How could I possibly fit that around the terms of the Trust?’
And it seemed Leo had an answer.
‘The same way Victoir’s proposing converting the place into apartments,’ he told her. ‘The way he’s proposing getting around the Trust is that you’d nominally have one set aside for your personal use, and the others would be deemed as being built for your guests. Your guests would pay a hefty price for the privilege but that wouldn’t matter. They’d be here for your pleasure. So a hospital…’
‘You’re saying I could use a hospital? Have the hospital for my own personal use? I’d need to bump my head once a day. More.’
He didn’t smile. The intent look didn’t fade.
‘That wouldn’t work. There’s no way that’d fit the terms of the Trust. What could work…’ Once again, a deep breath, as if what he was about to say was so huge he could scarcely believe he was saying it. And when he finally said it, she could understand why.
‘The only way it could work was if this hospital itself was your life,’ he said. ‘You’d need to live here—really live here—and the hospital would need to be as important to you as the over-the-top sports cars your cousin used to collect. They’re gathering dust in the massive garages he had built for them. He could hardly use them because the roads here are so bad. With a little gumption he could have had the roads repaired so he could use them—that would have helped the islanders and been within the terms of the Trust—but that would have taken sense he didn’t have. But, Anna, if your passion, your life was a medical centre, to serve not only you but this whole island, then the lawyers in Milan must surely agree. But you would need to live here. Make Tovahna your home. Be the first Castlavaran in generations to make a difference to your people.’
‘My people.’
‘They are your people.’
‘I’m not a Castlavaran.’ How many times did she have to say it?
‘Don’t quibble, Anna,’ he said roughly, and she thought she detected emotion underlying the tone. How? Because she knew this man. She knew him so well…
Yet she didn’t know him at all. He was a stranger, and he was suggesting the preposterous.
What was he asking? He wanted her to stay here, by herself, with the beastly Victoir. He wanted her to forget everything that had happened between the pair of them. He wanted…the impossible.
‘I want to go home.’ It was a childish thing to say but it was what came out when she opened her mouth. And Leo looked at her as if it was what he’d expected all along.
‘Of course you do. Run back to England with your inheritance and forget about us. Well, at least I’ve tried.’
‘You call that trying?’ The words were out before she could stop them as anger surged, a swift and unexpected response to his look of disgust.
‘What do you mean?’ His voice was cold and that made her angrier.
Her legs were dangling over the edge of the stupid over-the-top bed. Her feet were bare. Despite her pink and purple, she felt exposed. Vulnerable.
And still angry.
‘I mean I’ve just been hit on the head,’ she managed. ‘I’m still tired and headachy. I’m also coming to terms with an inheritance that’s made me feel like I’ve been hit by a sledgehammer. A golden sledgehammer, agreed, but a sledgehammer regardless. Add to that I’m confronted by an ex-fiancé who hurt me. I’m stuck in a thousand-year-old castle that feels like the set of a gothic movie. Plus I have a creepy administrator who comes in here with his indecipherable documents and who takes me underground without a hard hat and almost kills me, just to prove it’s dangerous so I’ll sign his documents fast. Yeah, I get that, I’m not stupid. And he doesn’t even knock when he comes into my bedroom. So now you say I should turn the castle into a hospital and I say I want to go home and you act like what else could be expected of a rich, indolent, money-grubbing Castlavaran? Well, I’m not even a Castlavaran and, Leo Aretino, you can take your castle and your hospital and you can stick it!’
And she picked up one of her massive down-filled pillows and hurled it at him.
It hit him on the chest and slid harmlessly to his knees.
He placed it aside as if it was nothing and she glared and wanted the floor to open and swallow her.
Or Leo.
He was in her bedroom. In her chair.
He was far, far too close.
‘Get out,’ she said.
‘I may just have put my case badly.’
‘I don’t care. Get out.’
The door opened.
Victoir.
‘Get out,’ she said again, only this time it was said in unison—with Leo—and it was the break they needed. Or she needed.
Nothing like a common enemy.
‘I just…’ Victoir started, and she decided it was about time she stopped being Victoir’s doormat. Wasn’t he her employee? Whatever, at least she could direct some of her pent-up frustration at him.
‘You didn’t knock. Basic rules, Victoir. Please leave.’
‘If the doctor’s finished…’
‘He hasn’t finished. He’s explaining something to me that I wish to have explained. He’ll see himself out when he’s done. Please close the door behind you, and if you walk into my bedroom again without knocking I’ll ask the lawyers in Milan to have you removed by yesterday.’
He stared at her and she faced him down.
He left. Fast.
‘Wow,’ Leo said, as Victoir disappeared and the heavy door was tugged closed. ‘Well done. Hey, you really are a Castlavaran.’
‘Don’t. You’ll get me started again.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed. ‘But you’re right. You have far too much on your plate for me to be loading you with more.’
‘Is that all you’re sorry for?’
‘You must know it’s not,’ he said gently. ‘Anna, I’ve been sorry for a very long time.’
And that pretty much silenced her.
The silence stretched on. She was looking at him, seeing strain. She was waiting, but she didn’t know what she was waiting for. What she was hoping?
‘I’m sorry for not explaining,’ he said at last.
‘Explaining your hospital scheme? There’s still time.’
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘For not explaining ten years ago. For being nineteen and being hopelessly in love and then being dumbstruck by learning who your mother was. For not being able to explain it to you then. For being young and stupid and even cruel. For not being able to control my own hurt to ease yours. I still believe that I had no choice, but most of all, Anna, I’m deeply, deeply sorry that I had to walk away.’
The words left her winded.
After all these years…to have him finally say it.