The Watcher

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

AVON

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First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsPublishers 2008

Copyright © Grace Monroe 2008

Grace Monroe asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9781847560421

Ebook Edition © NOVEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780007287628 Version: 2018-05-29

From Maria:

For my Mum and Dad who taught me what it is to be loved.

From Linda:

For Paul – who knows what matters.

CoverTitle PageCopyrightPrologueChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty-OneChapter Twenty-TwoChapter Twenty-ThreeChapter Twenty-FourChapter Twenty-FiveChapter Twenty-SixChapter Twenty-SevenChapter Twenty-EightChapter Twenty-NineChapter ThirtyChapter Thirty-OneChapter Thirty-TwoChapter Thirty-ThreeChapter Thirty-FourChapter Thirty-FiveChapter Thirty-SixChapter Thirty-SevenChapter Thirty-EightChapter Thirty-NineChapter FortyChapter Forty-OneChapter Forty-TwoChapter Forty-ThreeChapter Forty-FourChapter Forty-FiveChapter Forty-SixChapter Forty-SevenChapter Forty-EightChapter Forty-NineChapter FiftyChapter Fifty-OneChapter Fifty-TwoChapter Fifty-ThreeChapter Fifty-FourChapter Fifty-FiveChapter Fifty-SixChapter Fifty-SevenChapter Fifty-EightChapter Fifty-NineChapter SixtyChapter Sixty-OneChapter Sixty-TwoChapter Sixty-ThreeChapter Sixty-FourChapter Sixty-FiveChapter Sixty-SixChapter Sixty-SevenChapter Sixty-EightChapter Sixty-NineAcknowledgmentsAbout the AuthorBy the same authorAbout the Publisher

Edinburgh CastleFriday 21 December

When Katya Waleski stepped out of the Great Hall at Edinburgh Castle, she had less than fifteen minutes to live.

The castle ramparts were bitter but the chill went deeper than her bones. The north wind whipped and bit her bare shoulders; she shivered – not simply because of the temperature.

Her companion removed his custom-made evening jacket and placed it around her shoulders. Katya lengthened her spine like a cat and purred, more aware of the role she was playing than the man was of the performance he was receiving. Her wine glass was slippery with condensation; it almost fell out of her hand. Her usual poise had deserted her.

Katya gazed into his eyes, showing him white even teeth; for once the smile left her lips. The champagne bubbles tickled her nose, languorously she twirled her curls; it was not often she got paid to enjoy herself. Katya closed her eyes. For a few long seconds she held her breath as she savoured the champagne.

The biting north wind cut through her hair, a country girl. The stars shone in an almost cloudless black sky, the moonlight reflected off the snow, giving the castle battlements an eerie glow. It was difficult to walk on the cobbled stones; they were icy underfoot and the meltwater crept through her satin sandal. It was hard to keep her footing so she held on tightly to the arm of her escort.

She scanned the castle walls, peering into the shadows. Could she feel eyes upon her from somewhere in the distance? Katya was used to being ogled but this surely felt … different. A lone piper circled the half-moon battery, welcoming late comers to the ceilidh, serenading the lovers who sought intimacy in the ancient nooks and crannies of the castle.

Katya quivered at the caterwaul. You had to have the blood of the Celts in your veins to be stirred by such a noise. The lament merely made the fine hairs at the base of her neck stand on end.

The wind had picked up, and it blew a solitary cloud across the moon, the dense ground cover that hid his static body began to crackle and bend. Branches scratched his cheeks, his jaw tightened and his neck stiffened as the gale began to howl. He could see the clouds rolling in over the River Forth. It was going to snow. He rubbed his leg to ease the paralysing cramp.