LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      ‘I don’t mean your gran.’

      Guinevere leaned down to pick a colourful pebble off the path. To buy time in which she didn’t have to look at Max. Did he mean what he said? Or was he just having a little fun with her?

      Memories came flooding back of the moments in theatre school where she had stood behind a curtain waiting for a call and had heard two classmates talking about her. One of them had been the boy she had been in love with. ‘Gwen is just a little awkward, you know,’ he had said. ‘She’s cute, but not girlfriend material.’

      Guinevere had never been able to figure out for herself what girlfriend material was. But she wasn’t it. That had been clear enough.

      Even though it was years ago, and it was probably silly to make a great deal out of a single remark, it had hurt, and it did come back to her every now and then. Made her insecure, reluctant to believe anyone could be interested in her. That way.

      For a few minutes they walked in silence. The easy atmosphere seemed to have been spoiled, and Guinevere blamed herself. She had to take Max’s compliments at face value and simply appreciate that he wanted to make friends with her. No wonder as Wadencourt was so cold to him and only considered him a sort of stage hand along for the job. Where the historian himself would of course be the centre of attention.

      As they reached the picturesque harbour area, Max started to snap shots of fishermen repairing their nets, the bobbing boats with their white sails, a house front with authentic woodwork, the details of elaborate ironwork on a gate. He saw a special shot in every little thing that was around him, whether a sprawling view or a super close-up, and seemed to have forgotten he was with someone.

      His camera clicked and clicked as he quickly moved around, one moment sitting on his haunches, then stretching up again to full length to reach to the top of a wall or hold the camera high for a better viewpoint.

      Guinevere studied the concentration in his posture and expression as he was at it. He obviously loved what he did. The assignment here was more to him than just work, even though he had said jokingly that he came cheap and one had to sacrifice for one’s career.

      With a playful bounce Dolly ran to him and jumped at him.

      Max looked down. ‘Not now, you stupid dog. I’m working.’

      Guinevere winced that he would talk to her dog like that. Working or not, he need not snap.

      She pulled Dolly along and looked into the window of the bakery to see what was on offer today. They had delicious buns and small breads. Holding a hand over her eyes, she peered into the dimness inside. There were quite a few tourists lining up to buy something. Summer seemed to bring in the bounty that small businesses on an island needed to survive.

      Someone came to stand beside her, and a warm hand landed on her arm. ‘I’m sorry. I get irritable when I’m snapped out of my focus. When I’m in the zone, the rest of the world just doesn’t exist to me. But I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you know.’

      Guinevere kept looking into the window, not sure if she should just forgive Max or stay angry a little longer. Dolly meant everything to her, and someone calling her stupid … Besides, Max’s tone had been curt enough to suggest he had barely controlled his urge to slap at the dog.

      Max said softly, ‘Look, I’m under a bit of pressure here.’

      She looked up at him. ‘Why? Wadencourt needs to find the goblet to save his career, not you.’

      ‘Maybe not, but … He told you that I’m popular because I get lots of likes and shares. And I do. But that’s not the same as assignments. I need actual paid jobs to live off. Working with Wadencourt can get my name out to people like him.’

      Guinevere hitched a brow. ‘You really want to do more jobs where the employer treats you like dirt?’

      Max’s expression softened with a smile. ‘Not really, but hey, I can’t afford to be choosy. There are so many photographers out there. People have their phones to snap sights and events and … Even news pics come from ordinary people these days, not from press photographers any more. The landscape has changed, and I have to change with it. A little talent isn’t enough. I need a portfolio full of serious assignments I can show off to potential new clients. So can you forgive me?’

      Max squeezed her arm and added, ‘I’ll make it up to you for the dog. Just wait.’

      ‘How?’ she asked.

      ‘Just wait.’ He winked at her. ‘Let’s go back up and see if Wadencourt and his lordship have already come to blows.’

      ‘Why do you say that?’

      Max shrugged. ‘It’s no secret Wadencourt likes the ladies. I heard he was kicked off Cornisea Island in the past because he was after his lordship’s wife.’

      ‘What?’ So that had been the reason they had fallen out. That had made Bolingbrooke so pensive and sad. His late wife … Oliver’s mother who had so far been an elusive shadow. Oliver never mentioned her. ‘And Wadencourt dares to show his face down here again?’

      ‘Well, it was a long time ago. He probably thinks it’s all forgiven and forgotten.’

      It sounded a bit grim, and Guinevere saw the tension in Max’s jawline. He turned away from her and took some more shots, of random objects it seemed. His earlier concentration was gone.

      She wondered why Max would care what Wadencourt had once done at the castle. Max didn’t know Bolingbrooke at all.

      Did he?

      ***

      ‘So what did you manage to find out about DeBurgh?’ Oliver asked. He had knocked at her bedroom door just as Guinevere had finished dressing for dinner. She had put on a light blue dress that fell all the way to the floor, combined with open shoes with silvery embroidery. She was studying her mirror image with a critical eye she had never applied before during her stay here.

      One part of her told her it was useless to think about curling her hair or putting on a necklace as she would never be ‘girlfriend material’ anyway. The other part told her it was time to put the past and that spiteful remark behind her. Max had said she was beautiful. He might mean it.

      Oliver leaned against the door he had closed behind him when he came in. He didn’t seem to see that she had changed or think she looked nice. He was absorbed in his own train of thought about Max. His need to find something about him that could underpin his distrust of him.

      Guinevere felt uncomfortable at relating what the photographer had told her. After all, it couldn’t have been easy for Max to admit that he needed more work and that he even worked for Wadencourt at half price. Oliver was blunt enough to let him know, sooner or later, that he knew about that, and Guinevere didn’t want Max to conclude she had betrayed his confidence. That way any chance for a friendship would be spoiled from the start.

      She tried to sound casual. ‘Not much. I think he’s harmless.’

      ‘Harmless?’ Oliver repeated. ‘What an odd choice of words.’

      ‘I mean, he came here simply to shoot some pictures and have a good time.’

      ‘What does he know about Wadencourt’s plans?’

      ‘Nothing, I think. He seems to have a mysterious notebook that holds all the clues and that he never lets out of his sight. That makes sense. Wadencourt can’t afford to let this big find slip through his fingers.’

      Guinevere straightened the dress’s thin belt and came to the door.

      Dolly followed her with a short bark, as if she was excited to get down and socialize.

      Oliver stopped her at the door and looked down at her. ‘Wadencourt needs a big find to cement his reputation and my father needs some big attraction for the castle to be able to draw in tourists without putting it in a trust. That could be a dangerous combination. Play a little Find

Скачать книгу