Julia Steals a Castle

By Sam Darling

A young Kiwi woman steals an identity -- and a castle -- in modern-day Scotland, but all without intending to steal it!
Will her discreet butler with explosive secrets of his own help her? Will he admit he has feelings for her?
Will her vegan diet save her from the repeated attempts on her life?

A modern and hilarious take on jilted heirs and murderous staff in the heady and romantic atmosphere of the Highlands.

A short and humorous book that will transport you to a quirky castle full of secrets and eccentric characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: sam darling
• Release date: Aug 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393807919

Sam Darling

Independent authors depend on the kindness of strangers. That's you! If you have a moment and the inclination, it would be tremendous of you to leave a review of this novel on your platform of choice. And if you really enjoyed it then you should go to subscribe.samdarling.com and get on my newsletter list. I'll email you a couple of times a month so you won't miss a new release or any special free offer exclusive to my darling subscribers. When you join my newsletter you'll also learn more about my unusual life. Born in France to a theater director and an opera diva and was raised by New York City before heading off to work as a celebrity assistant in Hollywood, by the age of 25 I'd worked as a reporter, screenwriter, textbook editor, and science communicator. I also spent extended periods traveling the world and living in silly places like Australia and New Zealand. I've settled down in North America and I never even leave the house as I'm too busy writing new stories for my fans. 🥰

Book preview

Chapter One

UNEMPLOYMENT TOGA

Michael badly needed a day off from the castle or he was liable to murder someone. He took himself to the pub to murder a beer instead. The small town was a refuge from the oppressive splendour and forced cheerfulness of his employment at Schytherbolle. It had been a good life up until the old man had died. Now the entire village ecosystem was in disarray as new loyalties and pecking order were decided among the locals and castle staff.

The warm atmosphere of the pub suffused him with calm as he entered, the sound of the football matches on the TV and the gentle hum of diners and beer swillers creating a soothing effect. Michael let himself relax, loosening his tie just a tiny bit. He liked to sit at the bar by the open window for the fresh breeze. Tonight a spring storm was blowing in and the breeze was foretelling rain.

A wave of giggles shot up behind him as he took his seat at the bar, a cold beer in his hand before he even had to ask for it. The look on his face must have made his need plain. The giggles made him slouch on the bar stool, trying to make himself smaller so they might not notice him. He wanted only to drink alone and watch the tele from his perch at the end of the bar. Maybe chat with the bartender. But the pub was sometimes less of a refuge than he might have liked. When a certain rowdy element decided to leave their usual spot at the disco and join the quieter crew holding stines and talking farming equipment.

He’d known these women for most of their lives and unfortunately he knew that their presence meant he wouldn’t be able to relax as he’d intended. Not really. He considered heading back out for a hike but he’d walked the moors all morning and frankly just wanted to sit and do a crossword puzzle and make small talk with tourists. The giggling flock of young women behind him were the last thing he wanted or needed. The back of his neck was getting hot already, knowing they were likely talking about him. They probably wanted him to overhear their conversation.

He needs breaking in like a wild horse, Emily said.

I think he’s already broken if you ask me. Isla went with him for a summer and she said he was like a wet noodle.

The roar of women laughing made Michael sigh and drink his beer too fast. He was sure he was the topic of conversation now. He’d been a wet noodle with Isla because she was a mean-spirited blatherskite who would spend most of their dates talking about her so-called best friends and saying horrid things about them. A pretty girl, they’d made a handsome couple that summer and the townspeople had pinned hopes on them as they always did with young lovers. Michael held on longer than he should have. They started to think of them as a couple but he’d had no intention of keeping her.

He’s a poof. Face it. No regular fella is that good looking and wound that tight, the unmistakable tone of Rachel’s husky alto.

Michael couldn’t help but smile as he listened to them. It was a sort of a compliment that the town was so invested in his lack of romantic escapades that he’d be a topic of local gossip. He didn’t mind that they thought he was gay. It probably meant that he was a natty dresser. Not a difficult achievement in a town full of blokes in faded rugby shirts and cargo shorts. He got an eyeful of the local lads in just such a uniform as a group of them cheered the game on the television. That made his smile, too. Even though he didn’t fit in with the local crowd they were still a part of his life and he was a part of their landscape. He thought of himself as an ambassador. A representative of castle life and the person who set the bar for tourists and locals alike about what it means to be aristocratic in bearing and gracious in hosting duties. He set a standard for what visitors would say about Scotland when they returned home.

Next time my cousin comes for a visit I’ll try and put them together. He’s not as good looking as our Michael but they might get on.

They might not with that rod up his arse. He’s not likely to make space for anything else! The girls shrieked with laughter and mercifully changed topics. Michael smiled to himself, knowing the truth of the situation. He knocked back the rest of the pint and slid the glass down for a refill, which was handled by Pam the barkeeper with deftness.

Don’t mind them, she whispered to him, a wink in his direction.

Ay, I never do, Michael smiled as he sipped his beer and loosened his tie a little more. He never let himself get too drunk. Didn’t want any of his secrets spilling out. The real reason a butler was well paid was to be a keeper of the family secrets and he knew he was a bit too loose when he got four beers deep. If he wanted to get really drunk he had to drink alone in his rooms at the castle like a sad sack. Crying about his strange life and complete lack of girlfriend. How he lived in ancient wealth but owned almost nothing of his own. How he couldn’t let himself get close to anyone or he might spill his guts. He focused on completing a crossword puzzle instead, absorbed in the diverting task for one whole beer.

Michael took the third beer to the TV room to enjoy that jovial atmosphere. The men were used to his quiet presence in the back of the room, often pulling him into bear hugs and singalongs as the night wore on. A few hours later he could be counted on to drop a few of them at home on his way back up the hill, their loud laughter and singing as they hung out of his car a welcome relief from his normal staid silent existence. Michael would laugh and sing along and for a few hours feel like a regular bloke even though he was anything but.

SOME PEOPLE LIVE A colorful life full of cinematic twists and dips into unexpected mystery and intrigue. Vivian was one of those people, and Julia was grateful that she’d been able to tag along with her best friend on many of her adventures. Julia’s own life was far more boring by comparison. A sweet girl from New Zealand, scrubbed good looks and clean living made her seem fresh off the farm. Despite working in a posh office tower in central London and trying to blend in with city drab gray suits and smart shoes, she didn’t quite fit into her corporate surroundings. Her manner seemed like someone far more comfortable hiking a misty trail in Titirangi than taking coffee orders for power brokers and real estate tycoons. In fact, were it not for ability to make a decent flat white, Donald, her boss, might have canned her weeks ago, but he also happened to be best friends with her late gran and she was obviously really trying her best. He winced as she entered the conference room carrying the tray of coffee orders for this meeting, remembering how frequently she managed to spill a drink on his colleagues. Would she manage to make it around to the back of the large table without making a mess of herself this time?

Excuse me. Pardon me. She squeezed in between the wall and the large leather chairs. The men listened intently to the project manager as he droned on about their latest acquisition. They barely noticed her presence. Only Donald was keenly attuned to her every micro expression, wincing when she winced, frowning when she frowned. She placed the tray in front of him and started to hand out the cups. It was late in the night and they’d decided they needed the caffeine to sort out the details of this deal if they were to win the inevitable bidding war.

We might get slammed on the zoning on the third property, Donald managed to offer to the conversation.

His colleague sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, It’s so hard to find a good place to park money these days.

The others agreed, I’m sick of being accused of gentrifying. What is that? Because we’re making the neighborhood nicer?

Don’t get me started, a chuckle rippled through the room.

Donald turned to Julia, Where’s the Voss?

I didn’t order the Voss.

Donald addressed the men, My assistant thinks bottled water is wasteful.

I don’t think it. It’s a fact. Bottled water is wasteful.

Environmentalists. Don’t get me started on that either.

Maybe if people wouldn’t build second homes they never even live in, Julia said slightly to herself but mostly to everyone. Donald winced.

Excuse us a moment, Donald rose but Julia was already headed out the door.

Together they headed into the dark hallway, Donald pinched the bridge of his nose under his tortoiseshell glasses. Julia, he began.

He doesn’t even have children! Why does he need a rumpus room?

He spends a lot of money and we help him spend his money and everyone is happy. Except you, apparently. You’ve never happy.

He’s a jerk.

Listen, I let you switch to the recycled paper towels and toilet paper. You convinced about using the non-petroleum-based soap.

And your skin has never looked better, Julia quickly interjected.

Donald’s volume rose a bit, We use the unbleached coffee filters now. We bought those mugs made from recycled car windshields. I am honestly doing my best to make you happy, but nothing is working!

There’s a lot more we could do.

Is this about the fair-trade coffee issue again?

"Fairness