
"You came." He moved toward her.
Devin backed away from his advance. The delicate teacup she held hit the silver serving tray with a resounding crash. Pieces of floral patterned china rained down on the carpet in her haste to get away.
"Oh, no," Devin cried out, scrambling for the linen napkin, hurrying to soak up the amber liquid before it ruined the plush wool rug.
"Lord Rollie won't be pleased, lass. That set was in his family for over a hundred years," Kyle remarked through gritted teeth, gesturing toward the soggy mess.
"Really, and how would you know what my cousin owned?" The American woman threw a wary glance in his direction as she dropped to her knees to blot at the spot.
He offered up a nonchalant shrug. "I knew all about the man."
"Look Mr...whoever you are, I think it's time you left. This is a private home and I'm not quite sure how you got in, but I'd appreciate it if you would leave now." She motioned toward the door with her free hand.
"Kyle MacLay, previous owner of Castle Loch Haven," he replied calmly.
"What did you say?" Devin turned toward him, her gaze caught on his face, not quite sure of what she had just heard. The carpet was now forgotten for the moment.
"Laird Kyle MacLay, at your service, lass." He bowed low before her.
"Look, if this is some kind of sick joke, I am not impressed."
"No joke, milady. I would never deign to make light of Lord Roland's demise," he said seriously, as far as Devin could.
"Laird MacLay?" she whispered, her heart thundering in her chest.
The Laird's Lady
by
Patti Shenberger
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Laird's Lady
COPYRIGHT Ó 2008 by Patti Shenberger
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Rae Monet
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2008
Print ISBN 1-60154-372-7
Published in the United States of America Dedication
To my children, Amanda and Brian. Maybe one of these days you'll read one of the romance novels your Mom wrote! Love you both.
Castle Loch Haven, Scotland
September 1602
Laird Kyle MacLay rolled the hand-hammered goblet between his hands, warming the brandy with every turn of the silver chalice. He watched in silence, hidden from view in the dark recesses of the window seat, as the delicate-looking young blond lass quickly entered the solar. She cast a furtive glance around before removing a folded piece of parchment from her pocket. After placing a gentle kiss to the page, she laid it on the mantel, then hurried back across the room and disappeared through the secret passageway hidden behind the burgundy velvet tapestry.
Off to her hiding places again, Kyle thought. Away from the noise and festivities, away from the relatives and guests celebrating their betrothal, and drinking to their Laird's future happiness.
Kyle moved off the bench and toward the brightly blazing fire in the recently vacated room, all the while thinking how odd it was that both the bride and groom were conspicuously absent...
He could hear the merriment of the guests in the Great Hall, the sounds of their joyous shouts, but that gave him no peace of mind. The castle was polished to perfection. Fresh rushes lay upon the floors, the scent of rose petals and thyme filled the hall with their fragrant aroma. Trenchers topped with freshly baked loaves of bread and skewers of lamb graced the tabletops as the servants carried in platters of sweet treats. He could smell the scent of the three suckling pigs roasting on the spit in the kitchen and the aroma of the bread and rolls baking in the hearth. Everything was in readiness for the blessed event upon the morrow.
Kyle set the goblet down and reached for the paper to smooth open the edges. His forehead creased with puzzled concern at the words contained within.
You gave me the strength to do what I must. Pray, forgive me, my Lord.
He shook his head, confusion giving way to a low chuckle. What had she done now? Found a poor lost lamb in the meadow in need of a flock or worse yet, some foul smelling four-legged canine in need of a home and hearth on which to warm its weary bones. Leave it to Elsbeth to take pity on the poor and weak. His keep was filled to overflowing with Elsbeth's growing menagerie of sick or abandoned creatures, each flourishing from her tender ministrations. Her kind heart and gentle soul touched all she encountered. On more than one occasion, she had drawn him from a foul mood with a simple touch of her hand and gentle smile upon her lips. Her lilting laugh gave solace to his spirits time and again.
With that thought lingering in his head, Kyle threw the crumpled paper into the fire, reached for his brandy and headed for the serenity of the battlement---his means of escape when problems weighed heavy upon his heart and mind.
Kyle MacLay, Laird of Castle Loch Haven, reached for his bagpipes and played in the cool night air. His fingers tightening, then letting go of the bagpipe valves, as note after note filled the sky. Tonight was the eve of his wedding to the fair Elsbeth Morehead. A wedding made while Elsbeth was but still a babe in the cradle. At the base of the cliff, pale gray shards of moonlight pierced the mist that clung to the water, swirling sinewy strands of silver to curl at the bottom of the stone stairwell. He wondered if Elsbeth were hesitant about her vows that were to be spoken on the morrow. As of late, she had been closeted in her chambers. Kyle put it down to pre-wedding jitters. She was young and so full of life. But was she ready to become his bride and take over management of Castle Loch Haven? Of that he was not sure.
From his position high on the battlement, Kyle watched as a horse with two riders came out of the castle shadows and headed for the forest. Scant seconds later, he recognized Lady Elsbeth, her red cloak stark against the moonlight, as she turned in the saddle and lifted her hand in farewell. The lilting strains of the bagpipe died on the air as the instrument fell unheeded to Kyle's feet.
Laird Duncan MacPherson sat proud in the saddle ahead of Elsbeth.
Kyle's gaze narrowed; his heart twisted in agony when the pair on horseback disappeared from sight within the dense trees.
How had Laird MacPherson managed to kidnap Elsbeth from the castle? Was it possible Duncan had snuck in among the revelers? Where were Castle Loch Haven's guards? Why had a warning not been sounded? More so, why now, on the eve of Kyle's wedding?
His head throbbed, his chest squeezed in a stranglehold that threatened to force the air from his lungs. His knees buckled, so great was the fury that came upon him.
Kyle pivoted blindly toward the exterior tower stairwell, heedless of the loose rock, intent on rescuing Elsbeth. His boot caught a crevice, pitching him forward, down the stone steps. He thrust his hands out in front of him to halt his descent, his fingers grasped desperately at thin air. The red plaid tartan he wore tightened around his neck for the briefest of seconds. Kyle gasped and clawed at his neck in order to breathe. Huge boulders, silent sentinels in the dark, broke his fall. He lay bloody and mangled at the base of the steps. He'd warned his men, had even forbidden Elsbeth from walking up here. Now he would die alone. He lay unnaturally still atop the cold, wet rocks, unable to move or call out for aid. The icy cold waters of Isle Lake sucked at him; warmth only a dim dream. Kyle felt himself slip into final oblivion and closed his eyes against the unrelenting pain.
It won't be long now. Stars exploded in his skull---the pain replaced with the sensation of a frigid, almost smothering blanket, cutting off his air supply. Death would be a welcome diversion to the pain.
Queenstown, Maryland
Muted shafts of sunlight danced through the dusty glass window panes, giving the attic a fog-enshrouded appearance. A high squeal of excitement echoed off the rough hewn timber supports as the five-year-old girl cantered past on her imaginary horse, dust motes scattering in her wake. The white draped furniture shoved over in the corners gave an even more ethereal feel to the room.
"Look at me, Rollie. I'm a knight. Giddy up," she commanded.
With a weary sigh, her nine-year-old cousin, Rollie, looked up from his book and shook his head. "Girls can't be knights, Devin. Only boys."
"I wanna be a knight. I can ride and fight as good as any ole boy." She galloped madly across the attic playroom. The strings of the worn mop-head stallion flew ahead of her, twisted and mangled with use. With her every step, the metal handle of the mop smacked loudly against the old oak floorboards, filling the room with staccato bursts of sound.
Devin Elizabeth Noone drew up short in front of Rollie and waved a tinfoil sword menacingly at an invisible foe, mere inches from his face.
"Nope, can't be done," Rollie shook his head once more, barely lifting his gaze from the book.
"But Rollie," her voice raised a notch in frustration.
"Look, Devin, girls can only be the Lady of the castle, not a knight." His words were firm, yet said with kindness, as he watched her face scrunch up. Her bottom lip caught between her top teeth as she pondered his words.
"Okay," she nodded, "I'll be a lady."
"Good. Please do it quietly then, so I can finish reading."
"What are you reading? Where's the pictures? I like books with pictures." She dropped her mop-head horse and peered over the top of the book. Her eyes stared at the big words; her grubby fingers riffled the edges of the pristine white pages.
Rollie silently counted to ten and tried to be patient. She's still just a baby, he reminded himself. She was only five. "How to be a Millionaire by Age Thirty."
"Yuck, a boy book." Devin stuck out her tongue, and headed for the large wooden chest nestled under the eaves. She began to pull dress-up clothes from within, only to toss them one by one on the floor. "Nope, nope, nope, gross. Oh, I like this one."
Rollie resumed his reading, trying to block out the sound of her one-sided conversation.
"Okay, Rollie, I'm ready now."
He looked up to find Devin standing atop an old wooden rocker. A pink feather boa encircled her neck and trailed over the arms of the chair. Her hands were dwarfed within a pair of long white gloves and an oversized blue frilly nightgown hung loosely off her shoulders, revealing the Minnie Mouse sweatshirt she wore beneath. The rocker creaked and groaned in protest as she preened before him and struck a pose.
"I'm Lady Devin of the Castle," she announced haughtily. "Do as I say or I'll cut off your head."
Rollie closed his book with a thump. "That's not how it works, Devin. They don't cut off people's heads for not listening."
"I don't care. I'm the Lady of the Castle and I say so." Her green eyes flashed defiantly as she stomped her foot against the worn wicker seat of the rocker. The abrupt motion tipped the chair forward and Devin landed with a dull thud on the attic floor amid the pile of play clothes.
"Oooowwwww," her wail of distress pierced the air.
Rollie rushed forward to comfort her. "Don't cry, Dev. I'll take care of you."
Tears cascaded down her dirty cheeks, revealing a trail of golden freckles beneath the grime. The sunlight caught in her hair, outlining her fiery red curls in a halo of light.
Rollie patted her back awkwardly as Devin cried in earnest against his shirtfront. Minutes later, her tears dwindled to muffled sniffles.
"Someday, Devin, I'll buy you a real castle to live in, okay?"
"Okay." Devin looked up at him with wide green eyes in undisguised adoration.
"Come on; let's see if Momma has any chocolate-chip cookies. You'll feel better then."
She nodded, her tangled curls bouncing up and down as Rollie led her from the attic playroom.
At the bottom of the stairs, Devin stopped and tugged on his hand. "You really promise you'll buy me a castle someday, Rollie?"
"I promise," he replied solemnly.
"To live in forever and ever," she added.
"Forever and ever, Lady Devin."
\*\*\*\*
Queenstown, Maryland
Spring 2008
"So, this is what you Scotsmen wear under your kilts."
Her smile was seductive as she slid her hands up the back of his bare legs to disappear beneath the red tartan plaid.
"Do you approve, milady?" he asked hoarsely, his teeth nipping gently against her neck.
Yes, my love," Devin whispered before his mouth descended on hers, silencing the need for further conversation.
The mist lifted from the lake to surround them in a web of enchantment and gently rained down on their passion enflamed bodies.
He rolled her atop him in the wet grass, his hard muscular thighs cradling her own softer ones. He teased her bare skin to stoke the fire that blazed within her.
Devin braced herself against his chest and slowly explored his naked torso with her fingertips. The feel of his corded muscles under her palms urged her on. Her lips parted, eager for his kiss and she lowered her mouth to his once more. She pressed closer, yearning for his touch.
She moaned---the sound low and needful. His kisses drove her higher; his tongue searched the moist recesses of her mouth, plunging deeper and deeper. Then he seared a path down her throat, to the swell of her breasts.
Devin gasped as he softly tugged at her swollen nipples, the sensation both pleasure and pain rolled into one. "Please, I want you now. I can't bear the thought of waiting another second."
He caressed her intimately, teasing, driving her wild as she fought for control. She gasped and squirmed above him, stars exploding before her eyes. With a sigh, she gave herself up to his mesmerizing touch.
With one last lingering kiss, he gently laid her on the grass and stood. "Not yet, milady. Our time will come, but it must be later."
Devin reached out for him, her fingertips barely grazing his own.
He moved out of reach, his voice growing faint. "Help me, lass. Only you can set me free." Then he faded from sight, a fine shimmering mist that dissipated before her.
Devin couldn't determine if the raging crescendo she heard in her ears was the racing of her own heartbeat or the sound of the wind-driven waves as they unmercifully spent themselves on the craggy rocks of the shoreline below.
"No!" Her anguished cry tore from her throat as Devin bolted upright in bed, the cotton sheets twisted and tangled within her grasp. Her breath came in choked gulps as she fought to calm herself. Looking around in confusion, she groaned.
She was in her own bedroom. No waves crashed, no mist rained down.
Nothing.
Just the quiet of her own apartment, and the steady drone of the window air conditioner.
With a shaky hand, Devin reached and turned on the bedside lamp. Her racing heartbeat gradually slowed as she willed herself to calm. This was getting to be too much, she thought. For five nights, the same dream had haunted her sleep. As hard as she tried to recall the face of the man in her dreams, she couldn't. Maybe accepting her inheritance in Scotland wasn't in her best interests right now. She looked over at the nightstand, to the stack of travel books precariously piled there. Their covers depicted silhouettes of centuries old castles, each one more fascinating than the next.
Tomorrow, she would be on her way to Scotland, the new owner of Castle Loch Haven. Rollie had seen to it that she never again would have to work. She was now Lady Devin Noone. The title had an odd ring to it. Devin still couldn't believe Rollie was dead. Her favorite cousin, her only cousin to be exact, taken from this world at the tender age of thirty one, the victim of a fatal heart attack. She hadn't even been there for the funeral. Off on a ten-day travel assignment in Japan, the news reached her too late for her to make it in time.
Guilt was a formidable foe as Devin tried to picture Rollie gone. It seemed impossible. For all of her life, he had been her hero, a larger than life icon; always there to make sure his younger cousin was safe and sound. But what had she done for him? For years, Devin had promised to visit Castle Loch Haven, to see the home Rollie lovingly restored, and she had never kept her promise. Now, it was too late. Devin felt the burn of tears behind her eyelids and the heartache began anew.
It was now up to her to see that Castle Loch Haven maintained its rightful place in the world. It remained one of the few castles in Scotland still privately owned and closed to the public. Rollie had restored the castle to its former greatness after buying it seven years ago. She, who had trouble balancing a checkbook, would be taking on the control of the large estate and become Lady of the Manor.
Who would have thought? Devin squirmed against the pillows and thought back to her dream. Why couldn't she find a man like that in real life? Why did they tend to exist only in her dreams? Oh well, maybe she could find true love in Scotland.
Then again, maybe pigs could fly, she thought ruefully. With a sigh, she clicked off the light and tried to sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
\*\*\*\*
"There she be, up ahead in the distance, first castle on the left. Then again, it's the only castle around. All the others of her age are piles of rubble."
Devin rubbed her sleep-deprived eyes and sat up at the sound of the cabby's voice, his thick accent had her leaning forward to catch his next words. She'd managed to catnap on the flight over from the States, but not enough to get herself back on track.
His gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. "So, you're the new owner of Castle Loch Haven. Kind of young and girlish, aren't you?"
Devin smiled and pressed her hand tightly against the roof of the vehicle, then grimaced as he hit another rut. Her head banged hard on the side window frame as she fought to remain upright in the swaying taxi.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
The cabby swallowed nervously. "Wasn't meant as disrespect, lass."
"I know." With a sigh, Devin laid her head on the seat back and stared out the partially open window, letting the cold breeze caress her face, and hopefully quell the nausea she felt rising from her stomach.
An attorney, no, make that a barrister, as the gentleman called himself, had appeared at her door in Maryland announcing she was to inherit the estate of Castle Loch Haven. The previous Lord, her cousin Rollie, had died, leaving her everything.
Lady Devin Noone. A giggle threatened to escape her mouth as she bit her lip to stifle the sound.
The lush green countryside drew her attention back to the view outside the cab window. Brilliant blue skies dotted with pristine white clouds hovered above the dark blue-black waters of the lake. Whitecaps crested the waves as they crashed upon the craggy shoreline. The massive stone castle stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the water below. The setting reminded her of the postcards Rollie had sent over the years and the travel books she'd perused for the past two weeks.
The photos the barrister had included in the packet didn't do justice to the castle or the surrounding scenery. The same way she felt as the new Lady of the Manor, an ugly duckling leading the swan parade. What did she know about running a castle? For that matter, she barely knew how to work half the appliances in her own apartment.
Devin straightened, angled her head for a better view, and then paused.
A man stood at the cliff's edge, dressed in tight black pants and a billowing white shirt; bagpipes nestled securely in his grasp. Seconds before, that same spot had been empty. The mist rose from the waters to encircle his body. Tiny tendrils of vapor climbed higher and higher until he was all but consumed by the haze.
"Stop the car," she called out, unable to tear her gaze from the figure.
The cabby complied as Devin pushed open the car door and took a few steps forward, out of the cab. Haunting strains filled the air, the sound low and melancholy. She shivered as the music carried across the land. She stood frozen, eyes focused intently on the man. It seemed he played for no one's ears but his own. When his song ended, he lowered the bagpipes.
Her breath caught in her throat as Devin took another unsteady step forward.
The man turned, holding her captive with a single glance. His steely-eyed stare rocked her to her toes.
Her fingers clutched for the door handle, afraid if she let go her knees would give out. The moment stretched endlessly as time ceased to exist.
With a gulp, Devin forced her attention in front of her. He stood strong and silent---his posture ramrod straight as he faced her. She rubbed her eyes, and then stared again, trying to see his face. But she couldn't. The waves were clearly visible through his torso. She shook her head. This was impossible. Jet lag, it must be jet lag. Her imagination had shifted into overdrive and now she was seeing things.
Once more, the mist swirled and climbed, parried then retreated before her eyes. The figure disappeared, leaving only a whisper on the breeze, the cliff empty before her.
He vanished! A shiver of fear went through her as she felt panic rise within her chest.
Slowly, she lowered herself back into the waiting taxi. "I saw...did you see...? Oh my..."
The driver stared at her in the rearview mirror, and then chuckled.
"Aye, you saw him, didn't you, lass?"
"What?" She turned to look at the cabby.
"You're one of the lucky ones. The Laird don't normally grace everyone with his presence."
"I don't think I'm following you," Devin remarked, growing more confused by the minute.
"That was Kyle MacLay, the second Laird of Castle Loch Haven."
"What do you mean he was the second Laird of the Castle?" Devin stared at the cabby.
"Didn't Lord Rollie or your solicitor ever tell you about him? The Laird's your own resident ghost. He and the beastie come with the castle."
"My own ghost? Surely, you don't believe in ghosts."
"Aye. I'm surprised your cousin never mentioned him to you. But then again, mayhap he figured if he told you ahead of time, you wouldn't come over. Laird MacLay and Lord Rolland butted heads at every turn. Especially during the remodeling of the castle."
"Oh, please. Are you trying to tell me Rollie knew about this...?" Devin struggled for words, waving a hand toward the now vacant cliff, "...this ghost?"
"Of course, everyone does." He squinted at her in the mirror. "Though he doesn't show himself to just anyone. Only the few and privileged get to see him."
"Have you seen him?" Devin asked absently, her gaze still focused out the window.
"Aye, that I have. I was but a wee lad when he showed himself to me and my brother, Ned. Came in the nick of time, that the Laird did. We had gone out to fetch peat for my mother and gotten stuck in a shallow cave off Loch Haven. Tide was coming in and there was nowhere for us to go. The Laird came and pointed a way out. Never would have made it without him. We would have drowned for sure. So, you see lass, he's part of the land just like me, and now you, what with you being the new Lady of Loch Haven."
"What if I refuse the inheritance?" Devin questioned, an odd feeling twisting her stomach as she tried to accept the cabby's statement.
His mouth gaped open and beads of perspiration appeared on his brow.
"You can't even think of refusing, lass. It wouldn't be proper. Lord Rollie took over the debts and responsibilities of the castle. He put everything to rights once more. What would we do if you were to sell out and leave us? Castle Loch Haven would most likely fall into the hands of outsiders, and heaven forbid they turn it into one of those hi-tech new hotels."
Devin pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. The cabby was right, she couldn't let the castle fall into the hands of strangers. Not after all of Rollie's hard work. She had to keep it operational, for Rollie's sake as much as the people who resided there.
Great, just what she needed. A castle complete with a ghost. One who had a penchant for playing the bagpipes, no less. Things couldn't get much weirder. Or could they?
"A handful of people tried to claim rights to the castle before you arrived, but the barrister, he sorted it all out. There was even a claim from a man in Australia. But only you, lass, you're the rightful heir."
"Just take me to the castle, please." Devin closed her eyes and tried to make sense of everything presented to her. So far, nothing made sense.
Minutes later, the cabby's voice once again broke the silence. "If you look over yonder, you'll see the castle standing strong and proud."
Devin looked in the direction he pointed. There, off in the distance, lay Castle Loch Haven. The structure appeared magically before her as they crested the last hill. Devin shut her eyes tightly as the cabby narrowly missed a small herd of sheep milling in the road.
"Out of the way, you overgrown bags of wool. Off with you now, before I turn one of you into a throw rug." He hollered out the window, and then calmly continued his conversation with her. "And milady, St. Andrews Golf Course is but an hour's drive away and Carnoustie course is a wee fifteen minute drive should you feel the need to whack those little white balls around for a bit. And Lord Rollie had his own putting green installed behind the Castle as well if you're so inclined."
"I take it you don't care for the game of golf," Devin gritted out from between her clenched teeth, her hand still clinging tightly to the armrest.
The cabby shook his head. "No, lass, I never saw the point in hitting the ball, then chasing it across the countryside only to hit it once again until it fell into a little round hole. I got better things to do with my time than that," he grinned.
With a second blast of the horn, the cabby scattered the meandering flock to the sides of the narrow roadway. A scant second later his voice once again penetrated her thoughts, combined with the squeal of brakes and the crunch of gravel.
"Here you go, lass. Safe and sound at the castle." He swung the rear door open on his way to retrieve her luggage from the trunk.
Devin got out slowly, her eyes drinking up the beauty of the land before her. Her breath caught in her throat at her first real view of the castle. Green grass stretched as far as the eye could see, blending into the light-blue of the sky at the cliff's edge. Puffins rose and fell on the wind, their wings catching the updraft from the water to soar higher and higher. A rainbow hung suspended in the sky over Castle Loch Haven. With a soft sigh, Devin imagined it was there just for her arrival. Then she stared up at the castle before her. It was breathtaking, more beautiful up close than she could have ever imagined it would be.
A flourish of pink sandstone turrets and chimneys climbed to the sky. Devin looked up at the stained glass window over the front entryway, to a silhouette of a man in shining armor, battle gear ready by his side. She shivered. Something about him held her captive.
The blast of the car horn brought her out of her reverie as she watched the cabby rumble down the gravel driveway with a friendly wave. "Good luck, your Ladyship."
A loud baying broke the brief serenity as a giant seaweed-covered projectile barreled out from the bushes, tufts of grass kicked up in its wake.
Devin grabbed her tote bag, held it in front of her to ward off the creature, and closed her eyes to the impending attack.
"Drop, Algee," a stern voice commanded.
Devin could hear the beast's heavy breathing at her feet and slowly opened her eyes. The creature sat on the ground before her, its tongue lolling comically out of a misshapen head. Gray spiky fur stood up on his head like a canine Don King.
"Good boy."
Devin turned toward the sound and watched an older woman hurry down the drive. From what she had been told, this must be Emily Goode, the castle's housekeeper. She reminded Devin of Mrs. Santa Claus with a thick Scottish brogue.
"I'm so sorry, lass. I was in the back gardens and didn't hear the honk. Oh, my, I've forgotten my manners. I'm Emily Goode, the housekeeper. I hope Algee didn't startle you. He's such a baby." She tucked her gardening gloves into her apron pocket and smiled in welcome.
"Algae, like pond scum?" Devin queried.
"No, no, Algee, your Ladyship," the woman corrected. "Lord Roland named him after one of your country's famous novelists, Horatio Alger."
Somehow, looking at the pitiful wet creature before her covered in slimy green seaweed, Devin thought pond scum sounded more appropriate.
"Poor Lord Roland, such a good man," Mrs. Goode continued. "So kind and loving, never one to turn his back on a body...always the first to help out. Brought the castle back to life, aye, that he did. Found Algee down by the shore one day when he was out grouse hunting. Someone had seen fit to abandon the poor thing. Don't know why, he's such a lovable dog." She patted the dog on his head.
Devin bit back a smile. So this oversized throw rug was a dog. "What kind is he?"
Mrs. Goode pursed her lips, puzzled by the question. "Part wolfhound and poodle, of course."
"Of course," Devin agreed, trying to figure out which part was which.
With a stern look at the dog, Mrs. Goode added, "And you, off to the kitchen till you're dry."
Algee tilted his head, whined, then trotted off obediently around the side of the castle.
Mrs. Goode started forward, grabbing Devin's luggage. "We're a small castle by most standards, able to house only fifty knights in its heyday. The large solar was broken up into bedrooms by the fifth Earl, or was it the Sixth? We have ten bedrooms, five baths, and parts date back to the early 1600's. Indoor plumbing was added in the 1900's. Still don't have central air or electric heat. His Lordship never got around to finalizing the plans for that. But we do have oil heat as a back up to the fireplaces. No matter the weather, we are always toasty warm, though not always when need be. Lord Roland saw to that for us."
"What, no moat?" Devin asked jokingly.
Mrs. Goode shook her head, her steps never slowing as she headed for the front entrance into the main hall. "Oh, no. The moat was filled in over a hundred years ago. All sorts of slimy critters crawled out of there. Now, you'll need to make an appointment for a sitting. Got to have your portrait added to the gallery. I'll leave the number for you in your chambers. Also, Father Macabee wanted me to let you know the memorial service for Lord Roland will be at ten tomorrow morning. The boat will be here to take you out to the center of Isle Lake for the dispersing."
Devin chewed her bottom lip and willed the rush of tears she felt sting at the back of her eyelids to go away. Shame and guilt flooded her. "Thank you, Mrs. Goode. This last request was very important to Rollie, as I'm sure you know, and I intend to see it carried out to the last detail."
"I guess the good Lord saw fit to bring Laird Roland home ahead of schedule." The housekeeper crossed herself reverently and sniffed loudly. "If you don't mind your Ladyship, some of the staff would like your permission to attend the scattering of the ashes tomorrow."
Devin nodded, lost in thought, then lifted her head and stared at the older woman. "What did you call me?"
"Your Ladyship. Or would you prefer Lady Noone? Either is permissible. The choice is yours, milady."
"Can't you just call me Devin?"
Mrs. Goode gasped and shook her head emphatically. "Your Ladyship, that wouldn't be proper. My heavens, no, it just isn't done."
Devin leaned back against the stone foyer wall.
Lady Noone.
Your Ladyship.
Would she ever get used to the sound of her new title? Somehow, she didn't think so. "Either one is fine, Mrs. Goode. You pick. Tell the staff they may all attend the memorial. I'm sure this has been very difficult for everyone losing Rollie, I mean Lord Roland."
She pushed herself off the wall and trailed behind the retreating housekeeper. Passing various rooms on their way through the castle, Devin's head swam trying to keep straight all the facts Mrs. Goode reeled off. On their way to her new bedroom suite, Devin gasped at the furnishings: Medieval mixed with the new eclectic design. Rollie had done a wonderful job of meshing the two worlds. The great room had a fireplace hearth that dwarfed any she had ever seen before---ten feet wide with an almost six-foot-high mantel. After depositing her coat upon the enormous canopy bed, Devin paused to catch her breath. She felt like a fairy princess suddenly thrust into a land she knew nothing about. Though Mrs. Goode patiently explained everything, Devin knew no matter how many times the housekeeper outlined the route from the bedroom to the great hall, she was still going to get lost.
\*\*\*\*
Who'd have thought a middle-class girl from Maryland would end up presiding over a castle in Scotland? Not in her wildest dreams, nor her steamiest fantasies, Devin thought.
Algee trotted slowly by her side down the long, narrow corridor of the gallery; his nails clicked on the stone tiles and his low whine echoed in the silence of the room.
Devin looked up at the vast array of portraits on the gallery wall, dating back for centuries. She stopped and stared up at the familiar face before her. Roland James Noone, seventh Lord of Castle Loch Haven. His normally smiling face was somber, his eyes focused off in the distance, on some unseen object. Yet there was a gleam in his eye. One Devin was all too familiar with, especially if it involved a prank or two.
"Oh, Rollie, I miss you so much. How can I be brave with you gone? I don't have a clue about running a castle. All those people, and..."
Devin stood silent, her eyes closed as she fought for calm. With a sigh, she continued walking down the row of portraits, each one dating back further into the past. Her gaze caught on Kyle MacLay, the second Lord of Loch Haven.
Patting Algee on the top of his gray spiked head, Devin tried to bring her erratic heartbeat under control. The sight of the Laird's vivid blue eyes held her an unwilling captive as she found herself lost within their depths. Her skin tingled and the fine hairs covering her arms stood on end. Everywhere she went, his gaze seemed to follow.
"Well, Lord MacLay, it seems you and I are to be housemates. It'll take more than a few supernatural bumps and thumps to scare me, so save your ghostly hijinks for those who really are afraid. Every castle has its faults, I guess, whether they're real or make-believe."
She looked down at the big, furry dog by her side, then back up to the portrait. "So, how about it, Algee? Does he haunt the halls at night, rearranging the furniture and rattling chains?"
Kyle MacLay would surely make any woman nervous and, at the same time, become every woman's fantasy. He was absolutely, positively gorgeous---definite hero material. His brooding good-looks combined would set any woman's pulse pounding. Devin could feel her own pulse race as she pictured him in a tartan kilt and not much else.
So, this was the infamous ghost she had supposedly viewed on the lake earlier that day. Devin raised her gaze to the portrait suspended high above her head. Reaching out, she traced a circle, stroking air as if she could truly touch the man. Her fingertips tingled, warmed. Slowly, Devin lowered her hand, clenching her fist tightly at her side, staunching the ache and the burn her imagination had conjured up in place of the real thing.
Eager to put distance between herself and the unnerving portrait, Devin patted the ever-present Algee. The big dog looked past Devin and whined; the sound echoed off the stone walls, raising goose bumps along her arms. Fighting the urge to flee the gallery as fast as she could, Devin headed for the exit.
"Come on, boy. I can't learn much about Castle Loch Haven if all I do is stand here and daydream." With a last lingering glance back at the portrait, Devin turned and left the gallery, unaware of the steely gaze that followed her departure.
Drowsy warmth filled her body as unbidden images drifted through Devin's mind. She snuggled deeper under the soft goose-down comforter, away from the repeated knocking that penetrated her slumber and disturbed the sense of calm that surrounded her.
"Go away," she mumbled, rolling over and burying her face in the cushy down pillow.
"Lady Noone, are you awake? The skiff will arrive within the hour." Mrs. Goode's voice carried through the heavy wooden door, piercing Devin's head.
Sitting up abruptly, Devin scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes to wipe away the sleep and tried to focus on the room before her. Dark-green velvet drapes hung from ornate wrought-iron curtain rods. Heavy wool rugs covered the stone floors to help keep out the cold. Embroidered tapestries graced the exterior walls, giving the room an old world look. A log crackled and shifted in the fireplace, drawing her gaze across the bedroom. Odd, she didn't remember leaving the fire burning last night. She did remember Mrs. Goode showing her how to bank the flames so the room would stay a consistent temperature against the chilly night air. Then again, after her long plane ride, the main things she recalled was Algee's unorthodox welcome and the strange feeling of being watched while she walked through the portrait gallery.
But no matter, today was the day she needed to pull herself together and behave as Rollie would have wanted her to. Like a lady.
Lady Devin Noone, to be exact.
"I overslept, I..." Tears filled her eyes.
Mrs. Goode bustled into the room and pulled back the drapes. "That's all right, dear. You had a big day yesterday. Go on now and get yourself dressed. Breakfast will be served in the dining hall in roughly twenty minutes."
Devin smiled appreciatively and headed for the bathroom, grabbing clothes on her way.
The hot water of the shower chased some of the cobwebs out of her sleep-fogged brain, allowing her to function fully for the first time since her arrival. Pulling her unruly damp auburn curls back into a loose ponytail, Devin left her bedroom and headed in the direction of what she hoped was the dining room.
Wandering through the hallway, she peered into rooms where knights once slept and ate, trained for war, and possibly died. After passing five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a nursery, and what she gathered were two more sitting rooms on the second floor, Devin arrived in the main hall on the first floor.
"Better make a note to buy a compass. It'll be lunchtime before I ever make it downstairs," she mumbled to no one in particular.
Breakfast wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Poached eggs, kippers, bagels and lox filled the center of the table. Coffee, juice and tea complemented the meal. Food enough for an army. If she ate like this everyday, the clothes she brought with her from the States would only fit for a few months at most.
Mrs. Goode stepped through the dining room door. "Milady, is there anything else you require? If not, then I'll be off to round up the staff."
"No, thank you, Mrs. Goode. There's enough food here to feed half a small country. Would you or the staff like anything before we leave?" Devin asked politely.
"Heavens, no, Lady Noone. The staff would never deign to eat with the mistress of the castle. It wouldn't be proper. It wouldn't---"
"I know," Devin interjected. "It wouldn't be right."
She sighed in dismay. There was a lot here she needed to get used to and fast. Maybe there was a book in the Castle library that dealt with 'Protocol for the Manor Lady.' Somehow, she doubted she'd get that lucky. More likely than not, everything she needed to learn was going to be trial by fire.
Forty-five minutes later, Devin wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt at warmth as the skiff slowly approached the center of Isle Lake. Her feet felt frozen after only a short time in the damp, chilly weather. Her leather boots, more for looks than body heat, did little to keep her knees from knocking together and were no match for Scotland's cold, wet climate. Thank heavens Mrs. Goode had convinced her to put on her heavy woolen coat, gloves and a scarf.
Now wasn't the time for her to fall apart. It had been seven long years since she had last given in to a lengthy bout of tears and she refused to let anyone see her break. Not then or now.
After her parent's death, Devin had allowed herself a month to grieve, and then she knew if she didn't pull herself together, she never would. The hurt still ran deep, and the loss of Rollie was devastating. How many loved ones must she bury before the Heavens deemed she had suffered enough?
On the short ride out to Isle Lake's center, she listened with a heavy heart to the words of the priest and fought back tears. Almost all of the household staff had asked permission to attend the service and Devin saw no reason to deny their request. They were as much a part of Rollie's life as she was, perhaps even more so. From the time she set foot on the dock, they'd come to her one by one, offering words of condolence and letting her know how much they had enjoyed serving Lord Roland. Rollie had been loved by so many, touched the lives of so many, and now, would never again have the opportunity to experience life the way he lived it: to the fullest, at full throttle. "All systems go, all engines full ahead," he used to say.
After the final blessing, the priest handed her the urn of ashes and Devin slowly lifted the lid, allowing the contents to catch on the wind and take flight over the land. The tears fell freely down her cheeks, as many of the members of the household staff withdrew handkerchiefs to hide their own grief. Watching the ashes scatter, Devin said a silent prayer and final goodbye to the man she had loved as much as she had her own father, her dearest cousin, Rollie. When the last of the ashes were scattered, she closed the empty container and silently returned the urn to the priest.
An icy wind whipped across the skiff, scattering the ashes to parts near and far. Devin lifted her face skyward and sighed, her breath hanging in the frigid air. She shivered, wondering again how it was possible to stay warm in such conditions.
Then she heard it.
The music carried across the land and out over the lake. Icy tendrils of sorrow surrounded her. The notes drifted on the breeze, softly at first, yet with each passing second the sound of bagpipes grew louder, as the notes grew sadder...more forlorn and melancholy. Devin stood rooted in place. For a moment, it seemed as though the haunting notes called out her name, beckoned to her alone.
She turned and scanned the vacant shore for the elusive musician. The shoreline was dotted with townspeople, each one there to pay tribute to their Lord in their own special way. No one aboard the skiff paid any heed to her questioning stare, nor was anyone playing an instrument as far as Devin could see. All stood quiet, heads bowed in silent prayer.
Devin turned toward Mrs. Goode. "Where is the music coming from?"
Mrs. Goode looked at her quizzically. "What music, Lady Noone?"
"Listen." Devin paused. The music had faded, only to be replaced by the gentle lapping of the water against the side of the skiff.
"Begging your pardon, milady, but I hear nothing." The woman snuck a furtive glance toward the shoreline and made the sign of the cross over her chest.
"Never mind." Devin shook her head, suddenly unsure of herself and confused by Mrs. Goode's unorthodox reaction.
\*\*\*\*
A loud buzzing sound filled Laird Kyle MacLay's head. The air was charged; each step brought back flashes of recognition, scenes from long ago, faces once familiar, long since forgotten. The noise inside his skull was deafening. Voices called out, shrill feminine laughter mixed with words of anger pierced his fog enshrouded brain. He pressed his hands to his ears in order to drown out the sounds, but to no avail.
A voice had awakened him from his slumber of oblivion, bringing him back to the surface, to the present. A feeling of lethargy tugged at his limbs as Kyle slowly became aware of his surroundings. He fought against the waves of pain and surveyed the room. Everything seemed to be in its proper place, as he remembered it to be, yet something was different. Something he couldn't quite comprehend.
Kyle rubbed his hand over his face. His right cheek tingled. He fought to recall what had occurred. The red-haired American woman had reached out to his portrait and somehow managed to touch him. She had brought him back from the sleep of the dead, to rise and walk the halls of Castle Loch Haven once more.
Tiny bursts of light popped inside his skull as he tried to recall more. She was here, but would he be able to convince her to help him? Of that, Kyle wasn't certain.
But wait. Lord Roland could help him convince the American woman. After all, she was Rollie's cousin from Maryland. Rollie would know what to do. Kyle took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks and slumped weakly against the stone wall of the gallery. Rollie promised to help him, and then unforeseen circumstances had taken Rollie away. Kyle fought down the lump in his throat at the memory of the kind man who had welcomed him, a ghost, within the castle that once had been his own, even offered to aid in his journey to the other side. Poor Rollie.
This wasn't the time for dwelling in the past, too much lay at stake in the present. His thoughts drifted back to the American woman. Was it possible he could be wrong? Had Rollie been mistaken as well? Kyle fervently hoped not. All his instincts told him she was the one. The only one left to aid his quest.
He stared through the window at the skiff returning across the lake, to the lone red-haired woman staring intently at the shoreline. She'd heard him. He had no doubt of that one single fact. The music had reached her ears and touched her soul as he knew it would.
"Ah, lass, pray let me be right about you, for Rollie's sake as much as my own." Kyle turned and surveyed his own portrait on the gallery wall. It had been so long since he'd felt the touch of a woman, a soft feminine hand against his flesh. The memory lingered at the edge of his consciousness. There, but not totally there. He closed his eyes and tried to let the memories fill his mind. There had been a time when conquest was all he wanted. All he needed. Not the conquest of battle, but the conquest that came with youth and exuberance. Conquest over the fairer sex was the sweetest of all, he recalled.
His father had reprimanded him time and again, warning of the duties that came with the title of Laird. Duties that did not encompass tots bred out of afternoons of boredom. An heir was imminent once he had secured his bride, one who would do him and the town proud.
But Kyle paid little heed to his father's words, instead scouring the countryside for willing flesh; for a female to warm his bed at night and be gone on the morrow. He had found sex everywhere. His title opened doors for him when and wherever he wanted, and more often than not, with whomever he chose. Then his father had passed on, and the title became all that more real. The pleasures of the flesh became more fleeting. A respectable match was what he needed, not a willing bed partner, though a combination of the two would have been preferred.
Kyle had duties, responsibilities that left little time for anything but securing his lands and seeing to his tenants. The MacLay name was well respected throughout the Scottish countryside. The old Laird was known as a fair and patient man, as was his father before him. If presented with a problem, the Laird would work with the tenant until a suitable solution had been reached for both parties, whether it be in the fields or in the walls of the castle.
Another thing that came with the title was the news that he was to be wed to Elsbeth Morehead. A match made while Elsbeth was still in the cradle. Kyle inwardly detested the news, but knew he must do his duty to his family and people. When he met Elsbeth, things changed. She was soft where he was hard. She was gentle where he was coarse. She was a cool summer's breeze on a hot, fetid night. Though not a love match, they suited one another and Elsbeth would birth many fine sons to carry on the MacLay lineage.
But he would not touch her till they were legally wed. He'd made a vow to his father, and a solemn oath to her parents that she would remain a maiden until she came to him as his bride, a virgin until the marriage bed.
Everything had changed in one fateful night. Under Kyle's own nose, he had lost her to his most hated rival. Laird Duncan McPherson had taken Elsbeth from the castle on the very night before their wedding. He fought against the memory, eager to put time between him and the past.
Kyle started. Awareness that the new Ladyship was crying came to him from a great distance. He followed the sound to the solar and squinted, as her face swam in and out of range before him.
"Milady," he spoke hoarsely, grabbing the end of the sofa for balance.
Devin lifted her head, made a fast swipe at her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand, and stared at the man whose presence filled the room. His steely-eyed gaze rocked her to her toes. "I beg your pardon."
His gaze never wavered as he fought to remain upright, his hand still clamped tightly on the sofa back. Easy man, he chided himself. Don't falter now.
"You came." He moved toward her.
Devin backed away from his advance. The delicate teacup she held hit the silver serving tray with a resounding crash. Pieces of floral patterned china rained down on the carpet in her haste to get away.
"Oh, no," Devin cried out, scrambling for the linen napkin, hurrying to soak up the amber liquid before it ruined the plush wool rug.
"Lord Rollie won't be pleased, lass. That set was in his family for over a hundred years," Kyle remarked through gritted teeth, gesturing toward the soggy mess.
"Really, and how would you know what my cousin owned?" The American woman threw a wary glance in his direction as she dropped to her knees to blot at the spot.
He offered up a nonchalant shrug. "I knew all about the man."
"Look Mr...whoever you are, I think it's time you left. This is a private home and I'm not quite sure how you got in, but I'd appreciate it if you would leave now." She motioned toward the door with her free hand.
"Kyle MacLay, previous owner of Castle Loch Haven," he replied calmly.
"What did you say?" Devin turned toward him, her gaze caught on his face, not quite sure of what she had just heard. The carpet was now forgotten for the moment.
"Laird Kyle MacLay, at your service, lass." He bowed low before her.
"Look, if this is some kind of sick joke, I am not impressed."
"No joke, milady. I would never deign to make light of Lord Roland's demise," he said seriously, as far as Devin could.
"Laird MacLay?" she whispered, her heart thundering in her chest. Staring at the man before her, she noted he did bear a striking resemblance to the portrait in the gallery. "But it's impossible. He's been dead for centuries. Oh...I...you..."
Devin backed away from the man now standing very close before her. Way too close for comfort. She tried to retreat, yet there was no escape. The small of her back hit the hearth at the same time her boot heel caught the tip of Algee's tail.
The big dog skidded across the stone floor in his haste to seek security beneath a damask covered table on the far side of the solar. His whines climbed in intensity by the second, the sound grating on Devin's senses.
"Cowardly canine," the man muttered, staring at the quivering dog, barely visible beneath the tablecloth.
"He's not a coward. You scared him," Devin corrected, then paused, remembering this man was still an intruder in her new home, regardless of the circumstances.
Reaching behind her for balance, Devin grabbed the fireplace poker and swung the instrument forward, brandishing it back and forth between her hands like a broadsword. "Hold it right there, mister. I'm not afraid to use this if I have to."
"What's the matter, lass? I'm positive I heard you say yesterday you weren't afraid of me." Lord MacLay smiled broadly.
So she thought she could defend herself against a ghost with only a fireplace tool. She had guts; he had to hand it to her.
She openly appraised the man whose presence filled the room. Devin had never been one to tuck her tail and run at the first sign of trouble. Then again, it wasn't every day you were offered the opportunity to view a ghost up close and personal. Her stomach fluttered nervously, as she fought to remain calm. Pure undiluted power exuded from him, surrounding her like a hot summer breeze.
Tall and broad shouldered, his lean body concealed by a loose white tunic and very, very tight black pants. That she did notice instantly. His hair, a light brown flecked with gold, was tied into a short ponytail secured with a leather strip. His hands, she saw, were strong and calloused. There was a raw and untamed look about the man, pure sexual energy fighting to break free from the tight confines of his flesh.
He stared back at her, assessing her. His gaze seemed to penetrate her defenses, allowing him to seemingly access all her secrets in a glance.
Devin thought back to the portrait in the gallery. This man wore the same clothes, yet in the picture the man there held a set of bagpipes.
She held his steady gaze, barely able to believe this was really happening to her. When he moved a step closer, a slow steady stalk, she was certain was meant to intimidate her, Devin shivered under his heated look, yet refused to back down, raising the poker higher before her.
She could hear Algee's frantic howls echoing off the stone walls of the room. Her own heartbeat threatened to drown out the noise.
"Lord MacLay?" Her voice barely a whisper, she questioned her own sanity in voicing his name aloud.
"At your service, lass."
She watched in a combination of fear and fascination as he captured her hand in his and placed a soft kiss upon her palm.
"Or should I call you, Lady Noone?" The roguish grin was back and firmly in place.
"Not a bad day," Devin mumbled softly. "I inherit a castle, a ghost and a gigantic, smelly dog. What more can a girl ask for?"
She faintly heard his muttered oath as dizziness overtook her. The fireplace poker clattered to the stone tiles at her feet. Her world suddenly plunged into darkness.
Kyle caught her before she could injure herself on the stone hearth. She felt like air in his embrace, yet every inch of his flesh where it touched hers burned as though on fire.
"God's blood, woman. What have you done to me?" he murmured, staring down at her inert form in his arms.
Carefully, he laid her on the sofa, and then absently reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. The soft strand of hair felt like silk to his gentle touch. Of all the owners of the castle, she was most definitely the prettiest, and had a nice figure to boot.
She moaned; the sound a welcome relief to his ears.
She slowly turned her gaze to him. "So, you're really a ghost. But how can I see and touch you? I thought ghosts were supposed to be invisible?"
Cautiously, she reached out and tentatively touched his sleeve.
"Don't," he ordered tersely, backing away. Her touch again incited riots within his body.
"Sorry, it's just I've never seen a ghost up close before. I guess I thought you'd be more...disgusting looking."
Devin always had a fantastic imagination. Even with her travel writing, her vivid imagery made the places come alive on the pages of the magazines.
He looked confused, his feelings obviously hurt. "Is that supposed to make me feel better somehow?"
She shook her head, the mass of red curls bouncing about her face. Then slowly, Devin sat upright and scrutinized him closely. "I mean...you know...more blood and guts, rotting flesh sort of appearance."
"So sorry to disappoint you, Lady Noone."
The title rolled off his tongue, sensuous and slow. Devin felt her stomach clench at the sound.
"But how and why?" She struggled to get the conversation back to a normal level, at least as normal as she could, considering the circumstances. Was he really a ghost? Or just some demented madman who took advantage of the castle staff's grief to enter unannounced. Until she could summon help from Mrs. Goode, she needed to appease him. Hopefully, he wasn't an escapee from a loony bin somewhere. Given that thought, she wondered if they had asylums in Scotland, and this far out of the city.
"Milady, if I had the answers you seek, I wouldn't be standing here before you today."
"Lord MacLay, how long did you know my cousin, Robbie?" Perhaps she could trip him up.
Kyle looked at her in surprise. He had expected her to question his appearance, but not like this. "Your cousin's name was Roland, Roland Gregory Noone. Rollie, as you know, not Robbie. Your father and his were brothers. And I've known him since he bought Castle Loch Haven back in the year, let's see, what was it, ah, yes, 1995."
Devin let out a pent up breath. Okay, score one for the big guy, she thought. "So when did you say you moved in with my cousin?"
Kyle narrowed his gaze and moved a step closer. "I didn't say, lass. And for your information, Rollie was the one who moved in. I have been here all along."
Devin threw up her hands. "This is ridiculous. Okay, Lord MacLay, do something to convince me you are really a ghost. Do something magical or mystical or whatever it is you apparitions do?"
"Lass, is all this really necessary? It's been a very long day."
Devin slowly stood up, crossed her arms over her chest, and leveled her best stare at him. "So, you admit it then, you're nothing more than a fake."
"I admit nothing. You want proof, fine then, I'll give you proof." He moved closer still as Devin involuntarily took a step backward.
"What's the matter, lass. Are you afraid of me?"
Her eyes blazed with fire. "No, should I be? Nothing you can do will ever convince me."
"Nothing?" Kyle took another step forward, then abruptly vanished before her eyes.
"Where did you go?" Devin spun in a slow circle, searching the room, seeing nothing.
"I'm right here," he reappeared scant inches beside her, his warm breath fanning the side of her face. "Miss me, milady?"
"Cheap parlor trick," she shook her head, trying to keep up the false sense of bravado. "All beginning magicians know that one. How about something more spectacular?"
He narrowed his gaze on her, and then smiled. "As you wish, milady."
He raised his arms to the ceiling and Devin felt a cold draft start at her ankles, then swirl slowly up her legs, even through the warmth of her slacks. The draperies billowed away from the walls, and the tapestries swayed to and fro in the strong breeze. Even the flames in the hearth seemed to shoot higher than before.
Then all was silent, as Lord MacLay lowered his arms back to his sides. "Satisfied, Lady Noone?"
Devin let out a gasp of surprise. "I...you..." She gulped and tried for false bravado. "Is that the best you can do?"
"You're going to be a hard sell, Lady Noone. Rollie said you were a royal pain at times. I can see what he meant." He closed his eyes and slowly lowered himself into a gray velvet armchair. "Give me a moment to regroup, milady. Then we'll try again."
"Wait a minute. Rollie said what?" Her ire up, Devin stomped her foot against the stone floor. "What do you mean, I'm a royal pain?"
Kyle grinned mischievously. Now he had her full attention. "Thought nothing I could say would convince you, lass. How about this? When you and Rollie were little, you were playing in the attic of his boyhood home. You bothered the wee lad till he could stand no more and, if memory serves me correctly, he told you to play quietly. You wouldn't listen and ended up on your backside on the hard floor, howling in pain. Rollie said it took his mother's chocolate cookies to quiet your yells."
Devin dropped limply onto the sofa, her hands shaking as she cradled her injured palm to her chest. "He told you that? I had forgotten all about that day." Her gaze took on a dreamy faraway look as she reflected back in time.
"He was reading a book on making money," she continued. "I wanted him to play and he wouldn't."
Kyle leaned forward, enraptured by her engaging, soft smile. "He told me that was the day he promised to buy you a castle, Lady Devin."
"Lady Devin," Devin whispered, as the tears spilled from her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. "That was what Rollie called me that day."
"Ah, lass, I never meant to make you cry." Kyle rose from the armchair, dropped to his knees before her and lightly cupped her cheek in his palm. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It's too soon." His fingers tingled, the brief contact with her skin setting his nerve endings on fire. He fought the urge to tear his hand away.
She looked up at him through her veil of tears, confusion evident on her features. "I don't know what to believe right now. If you really are a ghost and you can do all these wondrous tricks and such, then why didn't you intervene and stop Rollie's death? Why couldn't you help him?"
Kyle remained mute, unable to say anything that would bring her comfort. The words wouldn't come, the answers evaded his mind. What he did know, would bring her no comfort.
Devin turned away, unable to face him, her breathing ragged, as she tried to quell her rising hysteria. Why couldn't this all be a dream? A nightmare to be more exact; a horrid, horrid nightmare that at some point would end and she would wake to find everything as it had been weeks before. Yet deep in her heart, Devin desperately hoped that this was in fact reality and not a harsh, cold dream.
"Lady Noone."
Devin groaned. Oh God, it wasn't a dream.
Kyle moved closer to the large stone fireplace, agitation clearly marring his handsome features. Even in anger, he was gorgeous, she thought. His features looked as though set in granite. The hard set of his chin belied the strength she knew lay coiled behind that muscular body. A body a woman would kill to run her hands over and learn every inch. Appalled by the direction her thoughts had taken, Devin quickly closed her eyes and prayed for calm.
"I am sorry about your cousin. He was a wonderful man. We had many great times together, many excellent conversations and heated debates as well. He was a formidable foe as well as a trusted friend. They are very few men like him."
"Then why couldn't you help him?" She questioned again, hating the emotion she heard in her voice, the needy way she sounded, as though begging. Shoving her fingers through her hair, Devin sat down heavily on the sofa.
Kyle paced back and forth before her. "I wasn't there at the end, lass. The doctor said it was a heart attack. Nothing anyone could have done. I had no warning he was ill. It caught me unaware as much as it did everyone else, including yourself." He crossed his arms over his chest in frustration and reflected back to that fateful morning.
Kyle strode into the master bedroom, eager to hear Rollie's news, news that could possibly set him free from his torment. Only the day before, Rollie had hinted that he was on to something, something that might be the key to solving the mystery of Kyle's imprisonment on Earth. Kyle couldn't wait to hear what Rollie had discovered. Anything that would end his this existence would be most welcome.
He stopped short a few feet from the massive four-poster, king-sized bed. Rollie lay still, an unnatural pallor graced his normally ruddy complexion. His right hand dangled awkwardly over the edge of the mattress.
"Oh Rollie, my lad, not you, not now. We have so much more to accomplish. How will I ever finish my quest without your able-bodied assistance?"
Kyle moved to the side of the bed, gently grasped Rollie's cold, lifeless hand within his own. Then he carefully lay it upon Rollie's chest and turned away to offer up a short, silent prayer to the heavens above.
"Goodbye, my dear friend. Thank you for all you have done for me. Till we meet again on the other side. Godspeed, Lord Roland."
Kyle shook his head and pushed away the bittersweet memory, focusing his attention back to the woman standing a few scant feet away.
"There was nothing I could do, lass. If I could have traded place with Rollie, I gladly would have. Of that I am sure. To be free of this anguish would solve many problems for me. Your cousin was aiding me in determining why I still walk the Earth, unable to pass on. Then his own demise took precedence over my situation."
He paused before continuing. "What happened was beyond my realm of control, milady. I am truly sorry for your loss."
"I'm sorry, too. He was the closest thing to a brother that I had." Devin looked at him with a resolve she didn't feel, and came to stand before him. "Well then, Lord MacLay, if all of what you say is true, what do you suggest we do next?"
Looking at her, several ideas crossed Kyle's mind, yet not one contained an iota of ending his infernal prison sentence through time, nor could he speak them aloud for fear of reprisal of her temper.
There was an image in his head of her lying naked beneath him upon the large mattress, her fiery red curls fanning out wildly about her shoulders. Another was of kissing her until the sun set and then rose again.
He groaned inwardly, perturbed and frustrated at the turn his thoughts had taken. This was no way to encourage her support and assistance. If Rollie's stories were true, her temper was a force to be reckoned with if riled.
"Lord MacLay, do you have any ideas?" Devin repeated.
She reached out and lightly tapped his arm, hoping to regain his attention. Her touch incited his nerves to quiver, his flesh to feel as though on fire, and his breathing to quicken.
The simple act of her placing her hand on him created a response he hadn't felt in centuries, but it should be impossible. He was a ghost, a spirit, not a mortal man with flesh and bones for a body. Kyle stared at the woman before him, who awaited his answer. And for the life of him, he'd forgotten what the question was. Blast it, the American had only been here two days and she was already wreaking havoc on him.
Kyle watched Devin move away from the fireplace, and walk about the spacious living room. He watched her brows crease with questions she wanted answers to, but didn't quite know how to voice as of yet.
"Lass, I have no clues. I have no idea what is holding me here, detaining my departure."
"Rollie didn't give you any indication at all? Nothing to go on?" Devin questioned, grasping at straws.
"Nothing." Kyle shook his head. "All he told me that previous eve was he had news to share. And then...then he was gone."
Devin thought about what Kyle had just told her. There was nothing to go on, no way to know where to start looking. It was a virtual needle in the haystack, it seemed.
"Okay, so we start with the castle. Floor by floor, room by room," she decided.
"That's quite a daunting search, milady. As you know the castle is very large in size at present."
"I know, but what else can we do? If this is what Rollie started, then as the new owner of Castle Loch Haven, I will finish his search and offer you my full assistance."
Admiration shone in Kyle's gaze. The lass had spunk. She was everything and more that Rollie had claimed. She was willing to take on a challenge and see it through. He knew he could count on her. Putting his trust in the American woman was a risk he had no choice but to take.
"Lady Noone, I wish to offer you..." His words broke off as Mrs. Goode came through the doorway of the solar.
"There you are, milady. How about a nice warm-up for your tea? And here are a few pieces of shortbread fresh from the oven for you." Mrs. Goode bustled in the room, carrying a smaller version of the tray already on the coffee table.
"Thank you, Mrs. Goode. Oh, I want to apologize for the mess on the rug. I'll pay for the cleaning." Devin pointed to the spot on the carpet and to the ruined tea towel at the edge of the silver tray.
"Nonsense, milady. It'll come out, not a problem. Nothing to worry about."
"But the china? I thought it was an old set, from a hundred years ago." Devin looked back to the fireplace; finding the room empty, save for herself and Mrs. Goode. She turned a complete circle, searching for Lord MacLay, but found nothing.
"Oh, we have plenty of china, Lady Noone. Lord Roland used to complain mightily about the number of china patterns we housed in the dining room. It's all right. I'll just have cook take out another cup and saucer. Now, how about a nice cup of tea, dear? It'll help take the chill off your bones and tide you over till suppertime."
"I saw him, you know," Devin blurted out.
"Saw who, dear?" Mrs. Goode picked up the teapot and started to pour.
"Lord MacLay. He was in the solar and then here in my room, just moments ago."
The floral teacup rattled against the china saucer, as Mrs. Goode fought to contain her reaction. Devin noticed Mrs. Goode's hands shake as she accepted the proffered cup. Again, she had the uneasy feeling that Mrs. Goode knew exactly what Devin was referring to, just like out on the skiff when she'd skirted her question about the elusive music.
"Oh, milady, you probably fell asleep and were dreaming."
Devin shook her head and replied firmly. "No, I wasn't."
From his unseen position by the fireplace, Kyle saw the myriad of emotions pass over Devin's face as she replayed the incident in her mind.
He moved closer to the tea table, his presence still undetected until he chose otherwise. This was a conversation he would enjoy being privy to.
"It's been a very long day for you, Lady Noone, and I suspect your imagination is running a bit wild right now. Castles are very drafty places, you know. The slightest breeze can set the drapes to fluttering or even the candles to flicker. As you can see, there's no one here but you and I."
Mrs. Goode's relief was so blatantly obvious, Kyle wanted to laugh. Instead, he remained silent, awaiting Devin's reaction.
Agitated, Devin moved across the room. "No, it's more than that. Lord MacLay stood right here by the fireplace. Even Algee felt his presence."
Mrs. Goode uttered a nervous laugh and darted a quick glance around. "Lady Noone, a butterfly would frighten poor Algee off. Now, drink up, dinner will be served shortly in the dining room."
"Mrs. Goode, what is going on? I know I saw something on the cliffs today, and during my cab ride from the airport yesterday, and what I heard just now. I have had a conversation with a man who claims to be Lord Kyle MacLay, the second Laird of Castle Loch Haven and you act as though I'm dreaming."
Kyle watched as the housekeeper wrung her hands within the voluminous folds of her white apron.
"Milady, it's not a subject we should be discussing. No, no, wouldn't be proper, Lady Noone."
Devin sighed and rested her face in her hands for the briefest of seconds. "Mrs. Goode, I don't know much about protocol or being a Lady, but if I asked you a direct question would you have to answer?"
The older woman had the grace to look chastised. "Yes, Lady Noone, I would."
"Well then, I wish to know everything there is to know about Lord MacLay. Start at the beginning and don't leave a word out."
"But milady," the older woman protested.
"Every little detail, Mrs. Goode or I will be forced to question each member of the staff individually until I get the answers I seek. And," Devin fervently hoped her bluff would work. She never had a poker face in her life, and now was not the time to fail. "If I don't get the answers I want, then I'm afraid I'll be forced to take the story to the newspapers and the castle will be put on the market for sale."
Devin forced herself to keep a blank expression and not let Mrs. Goode see how badly her knees were knocking, or how tightly she had her fists closed.
The woman gulped, obvious shock splayed across her face, and then she sighed. "As you wish, milady. But please don't even think about going to the dailies or sell the castle. Our lot would be a poor one for sure, if you did. Lord Roland, bless his soul, took everything in stride, even the specter."
So there was something going on after all, Devin realized.
"And..." she prompted, hating the façade she created just to get answers.
"Well, when your cousin bought the castle and started to renovate, all sorts of odd happenings started occurring, almost every day. Before that, we only saw the Laird on occasion. There were noises to be heard, sounds from which we could never find a source. Lights would go on and off, the drapes would blow about madly in a closed-up room, and you could hear footsteps walking where there wasn't a body to be found."
Kyle grinned, remembering the tricks he had pulled on poor Rollie in the beginning. Trying to get the American newcomer's attention and prove he was here. Some of the same tricks he used on the household staff whenever they annoyed him. Harmless games, nothing malicious or violent.
"So, yes, milady, the rumor of Laird MacLay is true. He does haunt the halls of the castle and he does play tricks on a body."
"And have you seen him yourself, Mrs. Goode?"
"Aye, I have, Lady Noone. Quite a bit since Lord Rolland took over."
"And the music I heard. It was him?"
"Again, yes, it was the Laird."
Devin asked the question she partially dreaded hearing an answer to. "And what is the story of the Laird? The whole story, Mrs. Goode."
The woman pressed her lips together in a tight line. "Are you sure I must?"
"Yes, you must. It's very important I know all the details if I am to reside here."
"All right. It is said back in the year of 1602 that Laird MacLay and Lady Elsbeth Morehead were to be married, here in the castle. The very eve before their wedding ceremony, Lady Elsbeth was taken from the castle, stolen from the Laird's home by his worst enemy, Laird Duncan McPherson. Laird McPherson came in and spirited Elsbeth away right under Laird MacLay's nose, right in the middle of the great celebration. It is said that Laird MacLay's grief was so strong that he ran up to the tower and threw himself from the battlement, down the ancient stone staircase to Isle Lake. His broken and bruised body was found the following morning, when the guests gathered together for the wedding, but no bride or groom appeared. From that day on, the castle has been plagued by noises and strange happenings. Many of the previous owners couldn't even spend a night here, they were in such fright over the occurrences, they left and the castle was sold time and again."
"So you're telling me Laird MacLay committed suicide?" From what little contact Devin had had with the elusive Laird, it seemed highly unlikely that the man would have taken his own life. He seemed so strong, so virile, so...
She focused her attention back to Mrs. Goode.
"Yes, milady," Mrs. Goode lowered her voice. "And Lady Elsbeth was never seen or heard from again. It is his grief that causes all the problems the castle has had. Though, when Lord Rolland took over, he and the Laird were able to come to some sort of understanding. A peace offering of sorts. The bad things stopped and the Laird could be seen walking through the halls, talking to Lord Rolland. They shared many stories together, and it was at that time that the Laird started appearing to the rest of the staff here. Even myself, the older woman whispered."
Mrs. Goode looked around the room, searching out each nook and cranny for the elusive Laird. Her features paled as though speaking the words aloud would incite the Laird's wrath all over again.
"And has the Laird ever hurt anyone or done anything destructive since my cousin moved in?"
"Heavens no, milady. His Lordship isn't violent, just depressed over the disappearance of his Ladyship and his own unfortunate demise."
"Then why is everyone so afraid of him and won't talk about him? Only the cabby was willing to tell me bits and pieces of the late Laird. He told me the Laird even saved him and his brother from drowning, in a small cave off shore."
"Aye, that he did. Jamie and Ned were but wee bairns then," Mrs. Goode acknowledged. "The Laird saved them both from a terrible fate."
"So, why do you think the Laird is making his presence known to me right now, then?" Devin questioned.
"I'm not rightly sure, milady. I know he and Lord Rolland would stay up till the wee hours of the dawn talking. As though they were working on something. Planning something perhaps. But what, I don't know for certain. I do know Lord Rolland seemed a bit upset the last time I saw him. Quite preoccupied, if you ask me. But," she let out a sigh. "I never had the opportunity to ask why, and it wasn't my place to question the Lord of the Manor."
Devin decided she had pressed Mrs. Goode for enough answers for now.
"Thank you, Mrs. Goode. I appreciate your answering my questions. I know this hasn't been easy for you, either."
"Your very welcome, milady. But please reconsider about going to the papers or selling. We love Castle Loch Haven and would hate to have it become a tourist trap. This has been a home to many of us since birth." The woman picked up the serving tray and headed for the door. At the last second, she stopped and paused. "Lady Noone," Mrs. Goode's voice wavered.
"Yes."
"Would you have come from America if you had known about the Laird?"
Devin sighed. "I really don't know," she answered truthfully. "I really don't know."
With a quick nod of her head, the woman left the room. "Dinner will be served shortly, milady."
"Thank you, Mrs. Goode."
Settling herself upon the window seat, Devin pulled her knees up to her chest, tugged the woolen throw around her body, and stared out at the sky. Thousands of stars filled the inky heavens, even though it was barely seven in the evening. Suddenly very weary, Devin closed her eyes and sat quietly in the silence.
"That's it, lass. I'm right here with you." Kyle reached out to lightly caress her cheek.
Devin jumped, her hand covering her cheek as she scanned the vacant room.
"I know what I saw. You were there and you're here right now, as well. I may not be able to see you, but I can feel you." She whispered softly, and then dropped her head back down atop her knees.
When had things become so complicated? Just last week she was plain old Devin Noone, a travel writer who came and went as she pleased in her little apartment on Maryland's Eastern shore. Now, only seven days later, she was Lady Devin Noone, owner of Castle Loch Haven, Scotland. Everyone looked to her for guidance, guidance in matters she didn't know a thing about and doubted she ever would.
From his position under the mahogany end table, Algee crawled out and padded softly over to Devin. Resting his big furry head in her lap, he whined.
"I know, Algee. I saw him, too." She patted the dog and looked back out the window. "We'll just have to manage. What else can we do?"
The dog gave a loud groan as if acknowledging her words.
Kyle fought the urge to reveal his presence to Devin, to tell her he was right here beside her. But she needed time; time to grieve for Rollie, and time to come to grips with what had occurred this very day. But he also needed to tell her his own version of that fateful night centuries ago. A night that had been recounted through history, each telling of the tale wilder than the one before. A tale in which, to this very day, the ending was misguided.
"Till later, milady."
Devin woke bright and early the next morning, despite the fact she'd slept no more than four hours total, tossing and turning, trying to figure out what she could do to help Kyle.
This time, when she headed downstairs, Devin made careful note of the rooms she passed on the second floor. At the head of the staircase, she stopped and stared at the enormous stained glass panel framing the front hall entryway. From the outside of the castle, it was beautiful. But here, inside, with the morning sunlight streaming through the multicolored panels, it was magnificent---a sight to behold. The glass shimmered and shined in the morning light. It was Kyle at his finest. There was no doubt that he was a man very in command of himself. Dressed in silver chain mail and brandishing a broadsword, Devin could think of nothing more gorgeous than the man etched forever in glass above her.
The designer hadn't come close to doing Lord MacLay justice. Devin closed her eyes and let the previous day's memories take over. He was so handsome. His body, though hundreds and hundreds of years old, retained a strength, a look of rock hard muscle with lean, trim thighs. His legs were powerful and strong. The way he had stood before her told Devin he was in total command. His stride never wavered or faltered when he had crossed the room toward her. But it was his eyes that most intrigued her. They were so very blue...blue as a clear azure sky and the deepest ocean. They were his finest feature, she thought. Funny, eyes were normally the last thing she noticed in a guy. Her first favorite feature was their butt. Okay, so call her a derriere devotee, she was hooked on a man's backside more than anything else. Come to think of it, Kyle's wasn't too shabby either, she thought with a wry grin. Oh, good heavens, now she was fantasizing about a ghost's butt. Could the day get any stranger?
Argh. What was she thinking? It was time to focus and get with the program. Sizing up a man's back end, regardless of who it belonged to, had no place in her plans for the day. Gathering her disjointed thoughts and wits about her, Devin started down the staircase, heading for the dining room, and a jolt of caffeine to jump start her day.
"Good morning, Lady Noone. I trust you slept well."
Devin let out a gasp of surprise and whirled around to find Lord MacLay lounging comfortably against the wall by the sideboard. His nonchalant attitude tugged at her, making her insides quiver in a way she had never felt before.
"I suppose it would be too much to ask if you could possibly warn me somehow that you are about to pop in and out of a room?" She casually stepped around him, posing the comment in passing, as she glanced at the bountiful breakfast buffet spread across the table. Her heart still raced from his surprise welcome.
"What, and take away the little fun I do get to have?" He grinned.
Oh boy, that grin...she'd forgotten how devastatingly handsome he was when he smiled. This was going to be harder than she thought if all she did was spend her time ogling a specter. It could make for a really long day.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the food spread magnificently before her, Devin poured a glass of orange juice and took a blueberry muffin from the basket.
"Lord MacLay," she began.
"Please call me Kyle, your Ladyship. After all, the castle is rightfully yours now. I..." he sighed dramatically, pressing his hand to his heart as though in mortal anguish. "I am but an unwanted visitor in my own humble abode." He gestured to the grand surroundings, tried to look sorrowful, and failed miserably.
"Oh, for heavens sake. Humility doesn't become you." Devin dropped the knife on her plate and rolled her eyes. She fought the smile that threatened to break through.
He smiled at her again, and this time his gaze lingered, slowly looking her up and down in a very thorough once-over. Devin felt her cheeks flush with his intimate perusal and dropped her own gaze back to her plate. This would never do. She needed to get control of things now, right from the start, before it got any worse.
"Fine, Kyle. I have been giving the matter quite a bit of thought and I believe that the best course of action is to start my search inside the castle. Possibly in the solar or maybe even the library. There must be some clue somewhere as to what my cousin had learned."
"And how may I be of assistance to you, milady?" Kyle pushed off the sideboard and moved closer, settling his hip on the edge of the table, less than a foot away from her.
"Um, I don't know yet. I'll have to get back to you on that." His close proximity was doing strange things to her insides. The nearness of his body set off warning bells within her skull. Her skin felt warm, as though she were running a fever from the inside out. The blueberry muffin that looked so appetizing only moments before now lay untouched on her plate.
Pushing back her chair, Devin stood, leaving the uneaten remains of her breakfast, and moved a safe distance away from his enigmatic presence.
"I'm going to take a walk outside for awhile. Check things out, you know, look at the outside of the castle and get a handle on stuff. Why don't we talk later?" She was nervous, and when she got nervous, she babbled. This very moment she was babbling with the best of them.
Kyle stared at her intently for a moment. "As you wish, Lady Noone. I will meet you later in the solar, then." With a quick bow, he vanished before her eyes.
Dropping heavily back into the seat she had seconds before vacated, Devin let out a slow, unsteady breath. "Okay, so much for a warning," she muttered to no one in particular.
After slipping on her wool coat and hiking boots, Devin opened the front door and stepped out into the courtyard. Staring around her, it was hard to believe this was now her new home. Borders of rhododendrons and tulips lined the edges of the drive, bursts of red and yellow a vibrant contrast to the soft hues of the castle walls. Miles and miles of green grass stretched before her on one side, on the other, waves crashed against the craggy shoreline. It was near here the Loch Ness Monster had been made popular through witness accounts of a creature swimming across the icy cold Loch, its giant body undulating in and out of the water, its scaly body breaking the surface time and again. What could be more bizarre?
Better yet, a giant mutant trout undulating through the clear waters of the trout stream that ran across the side lawn.
With a giggle, she realized the answer to her own question. How about a ghost who inhabited Castle Loch Haven?
Would people flock to Loch Haven for a glimpse of the elusive Laird MacLay, or would they debunk her sightings as far-fetched fiction? Probably the latter, she thought. She thought about the laptop packed away in its case upstairs in her suite. What a great tale she could tell. But she had given Kyle her word, and she would help him find a way out of this life, to pass on to the other side.
She inhaled the scent of peat and heather, mixed with the cold spring air; a heady combination of land and sea.
Looking up, Devin gazed over the enormous exterior of the castle. The turrets and towers, climbing high into the sky filled her line of vision. The outline of the ancient drawbridge pulled her attention down to the enormous entrance to the castle itself. It was here hundreds of years ago, that Lord MacLay would have defended his home, using weapons that today would be sorely lacking. But back then it sufficed. At the base of the castle, the landscaping was perfect. The box hedges were trimmed to a neat and tidy height, no branch out of order anywhere. The lush green lawn was perfectly manicured, as though shorn with nail scissors in order to keep each blade of grass in exact length with the one on either side of it. The interior gardens were clean and free from debris, their rows mulched for the oncoming summer season. As for the walls of the castle, they were an entirely different matter. Old mixed with new. The massive walls of stone, in spots broken and scarred, but not displeasing to the eye.
Devin knew she was looking at things with her writer's eye, as though she were sizing up her next article. In fact, she mused, maybe the castle would make a good piece to write about. Once she knew more about it.
High above her loomed the archer's windows. Small slits cut into the stone walls that allowed the archers to view the approaching marauders and launch their own counterattack by sliding their bow and arrows through the slits for aim. Or worse yet, pour boiling water down on the intruder's heads, scalding them in an instant. It was an unsettled place, where war threatened the inhabitants time and again; where one was never truly safe from attack. What little she did know of castle life, she had gleaned from the travel books at the library in Queenstown, Maryland.
Devin shivered and buried her face deeper into her coat, pulling the collar tighter about her neck. The cold spring weather crept through her, chilling her to the bone. She moved forward, around the side of the castle to the staircase leading to the lake.
Picking her way gingerly down the uneven countryside, amid the rocks and boulders that formed the ancient stone staircase, Devin soon found herself at the base of the castle. The beauty beckoned her closer to the water's edge, teasing her with tiny waves that darted across the craggy shoreline, and then retreated out beyond the safety of the shallows. Slowly, she scanned the shoreline, for something, anything to give her a starting point with which to work from. If only she had a clue, something to go on. Then again, if she had all the clues she needed, this wouldn't be much of a mystery, would it?
She rounded a corner and saw the dark outline of a cave looming ahead of her. Picking her way carefully across the shore, she headed for the entrance. Could this have anything to do with Kyle's tie to the present, she wondered?
The outside walls of the cave were moss covered, bits of peat bog clung to the rocks and broken sea shells littered the entry way. Devin paused. Should she go in? No telling what might be residing there, waiting for some hapless victim to stumble in, and be its next meal.
"Great, now I sound like one of my own articles. Woman enters cave, only to be eaten by sea monster. Stay tuned, story at eleven." Embarrassed by her own cowardice, she moved forward.
Holding on to the slick walls of the cave as best she could, Devin took a step forward. A dim light filtered into the entrance of the cave, enough though that she could see bits and pieces of the interior.
The cave smelled musty, water logged and something else Devin couldn't readily identify. The walls were covered with a brackish film, which she supposed was seaweed.
Not watching her step, Devin tripped and fell to her knees. The cold water instantly enveloped her lower legs, as the rocks bit at her knees and hands.
"Great," Devin mumbled, stumbling for balance as she rose clumsily to her feet. "Hey, what the---" Devin stared down at her feet, or at least where her feet were a moment ago. Water now covered her up to her ankles, and more filled the cave at a quick pace. She turned back toward the entrance as another swell of icy water pushed in, this one bigger than the one before. The way she had entered was now flooded. No sign of the shoreline remained. Just water as far as the eye could see. And unfortunately, that was everywhere she looked.
Scrambling forward, Devin waded through the water toward the back of the cave, away from the impending onslaught. The light was dimmer back here, harder to see, but Devin continued on. She faltered at the base of what seemed to be a staircase. Should she go up? Who knew what was at the top of it, even if there was a top or possibly a dead end. Turning around, she watched the water ebbing and flowing, quickly filling the interior of the cave.
She knew better than to venture into areas she knew nothing about. Devin thought about an article she had written, describing what not to do if you were in almost the same situation as this one. The first thing was not to panic; the second was to find higher ground, away from the rising waters of the Loch. Right now, climbing seemed to be her best bet.
Up the staircase she went, higher and higher, until she reached what seemed to be the top. Slowly, she sat down on the top step, and surveyed her surroundings. Here too, the smell was undistinguishable, a rank, odd odor that set her senses to reeling.
Off to the side of the so called landing was a stack of something she couldn't quite make out.
"Please don't let there be anything dead up here," she prayed quietly.
Thanks to several small holes in the ceiling of the cave, muted shafts of light permeated the darkness, thought not enough to really make a difference. Taking a look around, Devin noted that the landing seemed to be about four feet wide in all directions. Not huge, but comfortable enough until she figured out what to do.
Leaning back, she took stock of the wall behind her. It seemed to bear the outline of a door. In the dim light, Devin couldn't be sure. She stood and ran her hands around the edges. It was a door. She continued to scan the surface with her fingertips, feeling the remnants of a door latch, now broken and rough to the touch from time and the air. An entryway to somewhere, but where? She mentally tried to focus on the rooms of the castle she did know. Where would this lead to? Where would it come out? The Great Hall? No, she was too far below. The kitchen? Possibly. But wherever it led to in the past, was now sealed over with stone or concrete. Devin wasn't sure what the material was, but it effectively plugged all the gaps between the door and what was on the other side.
Turning back, Devin squinted again at the stack. Cautiously she reached out her index finger and poked the top of the pile. It squished beneath her touch and Devin felt her stomach lurch.
"Not dead, just gross."
Suddenly, the realization hit her. Peat. It was peat squares. This was where they stored the peat for fuel when brought in from the Loch. She recalled Mrs. Goode saying that before the castle had electric heat, they had used peat for fuel. Cut into squares and dried, it was stored directly below the kitchens for easy access. Though the smell was atrocious, it was a cheap and effective source of fuel, burning for hours at a time. This was a storeroom...an old one that hadn't been used in a very long time. From the looks of the rapidly rising water, she could see why. Before long the room would be completely submerged...with her in it!
"Okay, I've got to get out of here before the water reaches the top step." Devin searched her brain for help. What was she going to do? Whatever it was, it needed to be fast.
Fear bit at her. She shivered, her teeth chattering. The chilly air swirled around her, working its way into her bones. Her wet clothes were no match for the cold waters of the Loch. Panic clawed at her insides as she struggled for answers. Anything that would help her get out of this cave and back into the warmth of the castle.
"Help, can anybody hear me?" Devin pounded on the door behind her, calling out for aid. Her voice echoed off the stone walls of the cave, the words sounding distorted, muted by the crashing waves outside the cave entrance.
"Please, somebody, anybody, help me! I'm trapped in the cave." Again, she pounded on the door, her fists beating at the wood, her teeth chattering as she called out time and again for assistance.
Nothing. Not a sound from the other side of the door could be heard. Nothing but the sound of her own hysteria as she realized the futility of her plight.
No one answered her plea for help. Devin felt the cold air brush against her face. She coughed; each gasp of frigid breath burned in her chest and tore at her throat. She yelled and hollered, over and over, till her throat was raw. Barely a whisper, she cried out again, then fell back weakly against the stone door.
The water was at the third step from the top. Devin backed away from the steps, away from the rising murky water and pressed back against the peat squares. Searching for a foothold among the peat, she pushed herself higher, atop the pile of fuel.
She would probably die here, Devin thought, with a touch of melodrama, her imagination once again getting the better of her. Alone in this stupid room, all because of her own ignorance. Alone beneath the castle, trying to find answers to the questions Kyle had posed. Alone in the musty, gross cave with the stinky smell of peat forever etched in her mind.
"Help me, please. Somebody, please." Devin cried out. Desperation filled her mind as she shivered in the icy air. She huddled deeper into her coat, seeking whatever warmth she could. But the fleece provided little protection against the frigid cold that bit at her.
She struggled again for a handhold, anything to keep the water at bay, but the sides of the walls were too smooth and moss covered from time. There was no way, without assistance, she was going to make it out of here or escape the rising, icy cold water.
Then she noticed a blurry blob come into view. Algee. His pitiful cries from the front of the cave at seeing her echoed her own.
"Algee, good boy. Go get help. Get Mrs. Goode, get Kyle. Hurry boy, go to the kitchen."
The dog plopped down at the edge of the rocks and stared at her.
"Algee, please. Go get help." Devin realized she was putting all her faith in a dog who was scared of his own shadow, but it didn't matter. She croaked out the words as sternly as she could
A good fifty feet and some seriously rising water separated Algee and Devin from her perch atop the peat-filled landing. Algee whined and stood, then turned back. He took a few tentative steps, barked once, and then trotted off out of sight, the sound of his whines growing faintly with each step.
Thunder rumbled off in the distance. The smell of rain filled the air, as the wind rose, blowing great gusts through the entrance of the cave.
Devin prayed the dog would get someone in time. Someone who could help her escape.
If the thunder continued, there would be no way anyone would hear her cries for help, everything depended on Algee.
She had no one to blame but herself for this predicament. Biting back a curse a truck driver would envy, she shoved her hands between the piles of peat squares, trying to secure a better handhold. Then she thought of it. Throwing the peat squares off the pile, Devin tried in vain to create a sort of sand bag wall against the water. One by one, she added to the growing pile of squares at the top of the landing. Anything to stop the water, to slow down the onslaught that she knew was inevitable.
"What the---"
Devin fumbled around in the near darkness, trying to catch hold of whatever she had just touched. Searching between the bales, she pulled out a square, material wrapped package.
"What in the world is this?"
The waters rose higher still, the tide pushed the incoming swell further into the cave. Devin yelped as the water reached her ankles. At this point, even thinking about escaping seemed futile. Time had run out. Tucking the packet in the inside pocket of her coat, she grabbed more squares and prayed for the best.
Kyle paced in front of the large picture window, his long, lean body tense from worry. He stared out at the Loch, watching the incoming tide creep higher and higher upon the shoreline. The chilly waters crashed at the craggy rock base. Gulls dipped and climbed, searching for juicy morsels of fish among the shallow pools formed by the rush of water.
"Where is that blasted woman? She should have been back hours ago. What could be taking her so long? Unless..." He dragged a hand through his hair, and then glanced at the mantel clock. The hour was growing late and still there was no sign of her.
He paused. Unless she had found something to aid in their search. Looking about the great room, Kyle wondered if it might be truly possible. Could Devin have found the key to end his time on Earth? Something that Rollie overlooked, or maybe even had uncovered at the very end?
Rollie.
Poor Rollie. The memory of his dear trusted American brought a lump to Kyle's throat. Lord Roland, friend to everyone, and most of all, ally to Kyle when times were hard and no one chose to assist him.
Instead, they had chosen to ignore his presence, despite Kyle's calculated, though most assuredly unwelcome and unorthodox disturbances.
Kyle wandered toward the front hall table and picked up the stack of letters. He looked through them, absently noting the Australia postmark, and then walked back toward the fire. Where was she? He paced back and forth staring out at the Loch, the letters still clutched within his grasp.
A commotion in the foyer drew Kyle's attention from the view of the Loch and back inside the castle.
Algee skidded to a stop in the great hall, his oversized body slipping and sliding on the stone floor.
His incessant barking tore Kyle from his musings, yanking him from his thoughts.
"Quiet, you mangy beast before I make a throw rug out of you," Kyle bellowed at the dog.
The barking continued, with Algee prancing about the room, alternating between howls and whines, until Kyle could stand no more.
"What is wrong with you, you overgrown mongrel?"
Wasn't it enough that the creature burst into raucous cries of woe every time Kyle came near him, now must he also incessantly bay, like some love-struck lone-wolf howling at the moon?
Algee barked again, this time directly in front of Kyle.
"Go away, you miserable excuse for a coward. Leave me at once," Kyle ordered.
Algee stood his ground, refusing to back down. Moving closer, the dog leaned on him, pushing at his leg with his muzzle. Algee tugged at Kyle's sleeve, trying to urge him forward, closer to the door.
Kyle eyed the dog suspiciously. What was wrong with the beast this time? The creature had touched him repeatedly. He had never done that before, he always ran in fear, instead. It was as though it was trying to get his attention. To tell him it needed assistance. To...
Dear Heavens above, had the lass been injured?
Kyle whirled back to the window, scanning the land. Nothing seemed amiss, no one to be seen. But then again...
Devin.
Kyle expelled a deep, ragged breath.
"Lady Devin, where is she?" Kyle bellowed in the general direction of the dog, his gaze locked on the craggy shoreline of the Loch. His thoughts were in disarray as he forced himself calm.
The big dog ran to the doorway, then back to Kyle and barked once more.
"Mrs. Goode, where are you? I need your assistance, madam. Lady Devin is in trouble." Kyle called out to the housekeeper as he raced from the great room, throwing the letters on the table, not noticing that half fell into the fireplace and were immediately consumed by the roaring blaze that burned of his own making.
Worry clouded his mind as he followed the dog through the foyer and out the front door of the Castle. Please don't let anything happen to Devin, he prayed inwardly. Not now, not after Rollie's untimely demise. He knew his prayers were more than likely in vain. What had he ever done to deserve attention from the Heavens? Nothing that he could recollect in the past century or so. But at this point, a little Heavenly intervention couldn't hurt, now could it?
\*\*\*\*
"Hold tight, you're safe now, Devin." He murmured softly beside her.
"Kyle, help me." She whispered his name, too tired to even try and open her eyes to see him.
"It's all right, milady, you're safe now. Safe and sound back at the castle and in your own bed. Everything will be all right now."
His words were spoken softly, yet Devin could feel his presence in the room.
She shivered, unable to stop the violent shudders that racked her body.
"Kyle, it's so cold. I can't get warm." she murmured, her numb fingers plucked at the blanket's edge.
"Get another warm blanket on her, that's the ticket." Mrs. Goode bustled about the bedroom, poking at the fire until it became a raging inferno in the room.
"Sip this, Lady Noone. Nice warm broth to help chase the chills away. That's it, lass. A little more if you would please, milady." The older woman's voice was gentle, yet insistent.
Doing as she was bid, she raised her head from the pillow and slowly drank the broth, letting the warm liquid ease her throat.
Lying back, she burrowed deeper into the cocoon of blankets, buried her face against the soft wool, and sighed.
"I knew you wouldn't let me die, Kyle. I knew Algee would find you and get help," she mumbled softly, as her words trailed off and sleep took over.
"Sleep milady, it will do you good. Everything will be better upon the morrow." Kyle hoped his words were not said in vain.
Mrs. Goode turned; arms folded across her ample chest and stared at him, her gaze quite resolute. "'Tis a curse, Lord MacLay, brought on by your infernal quest to pass on. The lass almost died out there because of you and your blasted interference. Your presence in the castle cost us Lord Rolland and today we almost lost her Ladyship. What are you trying to do, take everyone with you as well? I hope you're satisfied."
With that said the older woman sat down in the chair by the fireside, her arms still tightly folded and posture rigid as she glared at the man who stood by the bedside. It was clear to see she intended to stay with her Ladyship until all was right again.
Kyle stood quietly by the bedside, his fists clenched in frustration. The few times Mrs. Goode actually deigned to speak to him and acknowledge his presence were also unfortunately the times when something had gone wrong within the castle walls.
She was right; he had been in the castle at the time of Rollie's demise and now Devin's mishap, too.
Was Mrs. Goode right? Was his presence wreaking havoc with the lives of the people he interacted with? He had nothing to do with Lord Roland's death. That fact was made certain by the physician who had come to tend to Rollie in the aftermath. But, was it because of him Devin had nearly drowned in the cave?
He fervently hoped not. Fading from sight, he left to ponder the answers to his own puzzling questions.
Devin was cold, colder than she had ever felt before. Her teeth chattered. Pulling the covers tighter about her, she sighed.
She opened her eyes and stared at the blazing fireplace. The fire burned steadily, the flame high and bright in her room. How long had she been asleep? Devin remembered hearing voices, Mrs. Goode's, Kyle's, and Cook's reassuring tones that enveloped her, letting her know she was safe and back inside the security of the castle. They smoothed her hair, tucked the woolen blankets about her, and made sure she was warm and dry.
Maryland was never this cold, not even in the worst possible weather. But here in Scotland, spring brought new meaning to the word frigid.
Glancing toward the window, she noted it was dark outside, whether late night or early day, Devin wasn't sure. A peek at the clock on the bedside table read eleven-thirty, confirming it was indeed evening.
Stretching, she felt the stinging sensation of a thousand tiny needles jabbing at her skin. Her legs ached in spots she hadn't known existed, her muscles sore from her extended time in the cold wet cave.
Tears of foolishness welled up in Devin's eyes as she realized the folly of her ways. How easily it would have been to have died in that storeroom, alone and quite possibly never found until her body washed up on shore at some later date. The waters had climbed higher and higher, till they all but encompassed her. Time was a blur as she thought back to how she had been rescued. All she knew for sure was that she had heard and then seen Algee, peering around the entrance of the cave, whining and barking at her. Then, nothing. Everything from that point was fuzzy, until she woke in her own bed. Yet something nagged at her. Something she couldn't quite put a finger on.
Reaching for a tissue from the nightstand, Devin swiped at her eyes and loudly blew her nose.
She mentally retraced what she could of the event. She remembered taking the peat squares and trying to create a breakfront of sorts, a sandbag effect to slow down the water. She had pulled the squares from the pile, and put them in a messy row, atop one another. Then...she remembered the package.
The parcel she had encountered nestled securely between the squares of peat. But what had she done with it? A quick glance around the room showed nothing amiss.
Devin closed her eyes and thought back. Where had she put it?
At once her eyes opened and her gaze flew to the coat rack beside the bedroom door. She had tucked it in her coat pocket. Would it still be there, or had it somehow been misplaced during her rescue?
There was only one way to find out.
Pushing back the covers, Devin swung her feet over the edge of the bed and made to stand. Her upward motion caused the room to dip and sway before her. Slowly, clutching first at the bedcovers, then furniture, Devin moved from the bed and toward the coat rack.
She thrust her hand in the inside pocket of her coat and withdrew the package. The smell of peat immediately filled the room, invading Devin's senses and causing her stomach to lurch.
Devin headed back to bed, holding the packet at arm's length to fend off the smell. Eager to get back into the warmth it offered her cold body, and the hot water bottle she found nestled against her toes upon awaking earlier.
Tucking the covers tightly about her legs and upper body, Devin looked down at the material wrapped square.
What could this be? Possibly a record book of sorts for the peat delivery? It didn't make sense. Something like that would have been kept in the kitchen, for easy access to record and make notes on fuel consumption. That was if they even kept records for such a thing.
Whatever it was looked as though it had been there a long time from the tattered wrapping and the horrendous combined smell of peat and mildew that emanated from it.
Slowly, Devin peeled back the material from the square, carefully, so as to preserve what was left of the coverings. Little by little, she peeled back the material revealing a time-worn leather book. The book smelled slightly less offensive, she noted thankfully. She didn't know how much more of the peat smell she could take.
With the wrappings now laying in a tidy pile on her night stand, Devin turned the book over in her hands. A single piece of faded blue velvet held the cover shut.
"Oh, how beautiful," Devin remarked.
Soft, creamy off-white leather, though cracked and faded with time, the journal maintained an aura of old world elegance. Hand-tooled, intricate designs graced the front cover.
Sliding her fingers across the cover, Devin felt the raised letters almost immediately. Slowly, she held the book closer to the bedside lamp and studied it. Gradually she could make out the initials embossed on the front.
E. M.
Elsbeth.
Lady Elsbeth Morehead.
The name popped into her head the second she read the lettering. Could it really have belonged to Lady Elsbeth Morehead, Kyle's betrothed?
Her shivering increased as she beheld the journal before her---a journal from hundreds of years ago. Reverently, Devin untied the piece of velvet and opened the cover. The leather made a few creaking sounds, shifting after centuries of non-use.
Her fingers trembled as she paused, unsure of whether she should turn the page or not. Curiosity got the best of her and Devin opened the cover to a watermarked parchment-like sheet, tattered with age. The inscription contained within read...
"To my bride to be. May these blank pages soon fill with the wisdom of your words. Always, Kyle."
Devin's hands shook as she stared down at the words written in a large, mannish script. Kyle had given Lady Elsbeth the journal, before they were to be wed.
Devin slowly turned the page, reading the words printed there...
"Dear Diary, isn't this journal delightful? Lord Kyle has given it to me. To keep my thoughts, wishes and prayers for all eternity. You will be my closest companion in the ensuing months, as I make the transition from maiden to wife. The wife of Lord Kyle MacLay, the man I have been betrothed to since the cradle. I know virtually nothing of the man with whom I am to marry, but it does not matter for I am told he is a good man, an honorable man, and so strong and powerful. Mother and Father made a very wise choice in selecting him."
Elsbeth
"Oh, my."
Devin quickly closed the book and laid it upon the bed. Lady Elsbeth's journal. Devin stared at it before once more picking it up. Taking a deep breath, she opened the cover and turned to the next entry. The words were printed, in a tiny flowing hand. Devin squinted to make out some of them. Time and water had smeared the edges of the papers, yet most of the text could be easily read.
Dearest Diary, I apologize for my lengthy absence. Horrid news has come upon us. Mother and Father were set upon by looters as they made their annual sojourn to Glasgow. Alas, the struggle was fierce but in the end they were taken home to their maker in Heaven.
Oh, Diary, what will I do? It is terrible. Aunt Cecelia cries all night long. She thinks I do not hear her for she puts on a brave face during the day. I too, shed tears of sadness into my pillow in the eve, but never in public. I shall close now, my silent friend. Till the morrow,
Elsbeth
Devin felt the sting of tears at her own eyes as she reread the note. Elsbeth's parents killed at the hands of robbers. How terrible cruel, even back then, to have suffered such a fate. What made it all the more sad was that it came at a time when Elsbeth should have been filled with joy at her upcoming nuptials.
Without hesitation, Devin turned to the next entry...
What am I to do? How shall I get through this? Why could it not have been me Diary, instead of my beloved parents? I know nothing of how to get through this tragic time.
The daylight hours are filled with my aimless wandering through the halls of Castle Greymore, hoping to hear Father's voice as he tends to his calculations or Mother as she instructs the household staff in their daily duties.
At night, I lie awake in my chamber for hours, tears streaming down my cheeks as I pray this to be all a terrible, terrible nightmare that will end upon the morrow. But it is not to be, I fear. It is all too real.
Elsbeth
Devin's heart caught in her throat. So young to be left without parents. She knew firsthand what it was like to lose a parent at a young age. It wasn't something she wished on anyone. Life was cruel enough without adding death to the mixture. Thanks to her aunt and Rollie, she had come through things unscathed. Without their continuous love and support, she probably wouldn't have made it through the first year after her father's death, let alone when her mother died. The morning passed into afternoon as Devin continued to read, caught up in Elsbeth's words.
Dearest Diary, Lord Kyle arrived today with his many guardsmen. They are here to protect the land in our time of need. He was closeted with Aunt Cecelia most of this afternoon in Father's study. I was not privy to their meeting. But within the last hour, I have been told of his plan to assist us. I must go dear friend. They are calling for me.
Elsbeth
Devin bit back a sob. Poor Elsbeth. The tragedy she'd suffered far surpassed Devin's own misery at the moment. The heart wrenching words tore at her, even now centuries later. Though centuries separated them, Devin knew exactly how Elsbeth felt.
Curiosity forced her to read on, to continue delving into the tales left behind by Lady Elsbeth Morehead. Devin's chattering teeth and chill-numbed fingers were forgotten in her eagerness to learn more.
Lord Kyle has asked Aunt Cecelia's permission to become my guardian until the wedding. He will leave men here to protect our home and lands, and I will travel to Castle Loch Haven and stay until we are wed. This will provide security and sanctuary for me. Aunt Cecelia says she will stay here and oversee the lands, she does not wish to become an additional burden to Lord Kyle's Castle. I do not wish to leave the only home I have known for all these years, but I will not disrespect Aunt Cecelia's wishes.
Lord Kyle has gone over and above the call of duty with his offer. Aunt Cecelia tells me she has agreed to this as it is best for all parties concerned. She will make the journey for the wedding, under the protection of his men. Then with Lord Kyle's blessing, she will return to Castle Greymore for the duration of her years.
Diary, I fear for her health. She is frail and the news of Mother and Father has added more strain to her life. She will be alone here, with the servants and of course Lord Kyle's men. I wish to stay on and assist, but know it is for the best that I do as they bid.
Till next time,
Elsbeth
Devin's hand clenched around the diary, as she tried to imagine the horror Elsbeth had gone through, and the sadness that continued to dog her. The death of her parents, leaving the only home she had known, and coming here to Castle Loch Haven. It was as though each incident quickly followed the next, without giving the young girl time to recover between each event. Kyle had been so kind, asking her to move in until their wedding.
Their wedding.
The words made Devin's stomach tighten. Her heart twisted. It wasn't jealousy, she told herself. It was...it was....
What was it she felt?
It's not like she was dwelling on his muscular body, or lean legs, she told herself. Nor on the way he filled out his breeches so snugly it made Devin want to run her hands over the material.
With a snort, she pulled herself from her musings. How long had it been since she last went out on a date?
Without having to really think about it, Devin knew the exact time, day and even year. Two years ago was the last time. She told herself it was her career that put her social life on hold, but it really wasn't true. The men she dated just didn't interest her.
So, instead, she was ogling a dead man's backside. God, she was pathetic. How much lower could she get?
Setting the book on the bed next to her, Devin lay back against the pillows and contemplated what she had read.
Elsbeth's diary. The story of Elsbeth's life since coming to live at Castle Loch Haven. If she remembered her facts correctly, it wouldn't be all that long after, that the wedding was to occur, and then the kidnapping of Elsbeth and the untimely demise of Kyle.
Was she pretty? Was Elsbeth a raven-haired beauty that no man could resist? Devin bit at her lip, contemplating the thought. Possibly she was tiny and petite with long flowing hair that men fought one another over, in their haste to escort her to a ball, or maybe, Elsbeth had suitors lined up a block deep, waiting to offer their hand in marriage.
Devin snorted. She was letting her thoughts get ahead of her. So far, the diary had made no reference to Elsbeth's looks. Of course it wouldn't, Devin decided. Women didn't go around writing down how beautiful they were in their diaries. At least, the women that Devin knew didn't do that.
If she were to read on, would it shed light on the growing relationship between Kyle and Elsbeth? Devin wasn't sure she wanted to know. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench anew.
\*\*\*\*
"Good morning, your Ladyship. How do you feel today?" Mrs. Goode entered the room, bearing a large serving tray before her. "I've brought breakfast up this morning, and here's the mail from yesterday." The older woman paused. "Though, I was positive there were more letters. Oh, well." She shook her head and put the breakfast tray on the bed in front of Devin. "Perhaps it might be best if you stayed abed awhile longer."
Thinking of the still somewhat stinky diary tucked securely under the covers beside her, Devin smiled at the housekeeper. "Actually, I feel a lot better, warmer too, finally. But you're right. It might be a good idea if I stayed in bed today, just to be safe, of course." She hated lying to the woman, but she did want to read more of Elsbeth's diary. "But I am hungry."
The loud rumbling of Devin's stomach punctuated her sentence.
"Wonderful, wonderful. I'm so glad. Yesterday was terrible, just terrible. I've told the grounds crew to do whatever it takes to wall up the entrance to the cave. That place is too dangerous, now and before."
"What do you mean, before?" Devin asked.
"The cave was used for peat storage as you are now aware, Lady Noone, but it was also used years ago as a spot for lovers to meet. Ah, yes, many a time when I was a child my grandmother would tell the tales of young lovers, sneaking away in the evening to spend time together alone." Mrs. Goode sighed, as if she recalled the stories.
Devin smiled. "A secret lover's lane of sorts, I guess. But what about the water? Didn't it prohibit their meeting?"
"Ah, that's the catch, your Ladyship. Most of the trysts were between the young female staff of the castle, and their paramours who would arrive by boat. Many a wee bairn came out of their meetings, many marriages as well, once the gal revealed she was with child."
"Wow, that's kind of neat in an odd sort of way." Devin thought what a great article it would make. Castle Loch Haven used as a trysting point in the past.
"And by chance, would any of your family have resulted from these trysts, Mrs. Goode?" Devin asked with a grin. She could already envision a two-page spread with a glossy view of the castle in the background.
"Well, you see, I, we...."
The woman was actually blushing, Devin noticed.
"I am told that my great, great, great-grandmother met up with her husband this way. Their union produced fourteen wee ones."
"Oh, my gosh, that's so romantic."
"Aye, it is, milady. Now enough of my blathering. Go on and eat your breakfast before it gets cold. There's time for talking later."
Devin took a sip of the tea, and then sat the cup back on the tray. "Mrs. Goode?"
"Yes, dear." The housekeeper turned from the foot of the bed, the half-folded quilt on her arm.
"It's none of my business, but what about you? Did you find true love under the castle, as well?"
The older woman sighed and shook her head. "No, lass. I'm afraid I've never had much luck in the romance department. Once, I thought I'd found love, but alas, it wasn't meant to be."
A dreamy look came across Mrs. Goode's features. Devin waited, hoping the woman would continue her tale.
"It was wonderful, such a grand adventure for a time there. He was a local farmer, so strong and handsome. Ah, he could have any gal in the county and he chose me. But things were different back then, times were tough and we parted as friends in the end. I guess I'm more of the---what is it your Americans say? 'Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.'"
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right, milady. I'm very satisfied with the way my life has turned out. My wee nieces and nephews fill my free time and that suits me just fine." Mrs. Goode laid the now neatly folded quilt across the foot of the bed and headed for the door.
Turning back, she added, "Besides, if I had a man to keep me company and warm my bed, I wouldn't have been able to meet such fine people as Lord Roland and yourself, now would I?"
Devin watched the housekeeper pull the bedroom door shut behind her.
"Fine people, my butt. First, I badger the poor woman relentlessly, threatening her with the sale of the castle in order to get her to tell me about Kyle, then I almost frighten her out of her wits with my own carelessness. Oh, I'm a fine example, all right."
"I must say you look fine to me, milady."
Devin uttered a startled gasp and made a wild grab for the delicate teacup at the sudden appearance of Lord MacLay.
"I thought we agreed you would give me some sort of warning before you popped in and out."
"No," he shook his head. "That was your request, Lady Noone. I never said yes or no," Kyle finished with a roguish grin.
Boy, for a ghost he sure was a handsome one, Devin thought. His clothes looked clean and freshly pressed as though he had just put them on. His nearness still unnerved her, and now he was scant feet away.
A shiver of excitement shot through her as he moved closer, resting his hip against the footboard. For a ghost, he sure seemed real. Just like a living, breathing man from where she sat.
"So, what did you learn, lass? Anything that would help me end my journey here on Earth?"
Devin thought of the old journal tucked safely away under the bed pillow beside her. "Nothing that would help, I'm afraid. Nothing at all."
It was the truth, she told herself. So far, she'd found nothing that would assist him in passing on. Okay, so it was a little white lie. Devin had found the journal and soon she would tell him about it. But not just yet, not until she'd read more and possibly learned something that would help.
She watched as Kyle stopped pacing abruptly to stare at her. His penetrating look rocked her clear to her toes, warming every inch of her body with a single glance.
"I never should have let you search alone. It was my fault you found yourself in such a dire predicament. It will never happen again, your ladyship. I am truly sorry."
"Lord MacLay, what happened yesterday was no one's fault but my own. I shouldn't have gone into the cave without some prior knowledge of its interior. I know better. I've written tons of articles telling readers what to do in situations such as this one. But I panicked and forgot my own advice. You are not to blame." Devin stated firmly.
"No, milady, you were searching for answers to aid me. It was my fault. You could have been maimed or killed."
"Listen here; this wasn't some diabolical plot to take over the world by having me die in the cave. It was an accident, plain and simple. A stupid one, but still, just that. You don't have to go about like some old-world James Bond, trying to annihilate anything that gets in your way."
"James Bond, is he some American countryman of yours? I have not heard the name before."
Devin shoved her hand through her hair and groaned. "No, he's British, but forget I said anything. Just know this, I'm fine and I plan to stay that way."
Kyle reached out and took hold of her hand, his touch inciting a riot of shock waves coursing through Devin's body. Her skin tingled within his warm embrace.
"Your ladyship, from this moment on, I vow to protect you with my life for as long as I am here on this Earth. No harm shall come to you under my protection." Emphasizing his point, he executed a low bow over her hand.
He really was serious, Devin noted. His words were so solemn, his countenance severe as he pledged his eternal servitude to her.
"Lord MacLay," she began again.
He raised his hand to stop her protests. "Allow me this small favor, milady. Please do not argue."
"I..." Devin looked up at him, knowing any further argument was futile. "All right, Lord MacLay, for now I will agree to your request."
"Thank you, Lady Noone. You will not regret it." His engaging smile overwhelmed her, as he leaned and brushed a tender kiss to the back of her hand. His breath was warm against her skin, his lips barely caressing her.
Her heart lurched against her chest at his touch. Her skin sizzled where he had seconds before brushed his lips.
She shouldn't be feeling this way. It wasn't possible, yet Devin could swear her every nerve ending surged to life whenever Kyle came near. But it couldn't be. A ghost couldn't make you feel things the way this one did. Or could they? Was it her imagination or every time they were in a room together did he seem less shimmery and more solid?
This one request was going to be really hard to handle. Devin was already a goner. All thanks to one devastatingly delightful specter.
Diary, the order was given to ride out and so we did. The journey was arduous though made pleasant by Lord Kyle's men. They are very companionable and quite well versed. I ask for nothing, save it would impede our travels. Lord MacLay's land stretches as far as the eye can see. The last two inns we have availed ourselves at for food and shelter are also under his protection. So quaint are these villages, I long to come back and explore them more thoroughly with the Laird by my side.
I am told we will reach Castle Loch Haven by nightfall. Lord MacLay is but a day or two ride behind us, as he stayed with Aunt Cecelia to give further instruction to the staff and men that will remain in our absence.
Oh, Diary, I am sad but know that time will dry my tears. I miss my parents, Aunt Cecelia, and yes I miss the Laird. His quick wit and knack for conversation are sorely missed as I bide my time awaiting his safe return. Soon my head and heart will be filled with plans for my upcoming marriage. That will overshadow all for the time being. Till the morrow, dear friend. Elsbeth
Devin slid the diary into her sweater pocket and sighed. Pressing her forehead to the cool window glass, she stared out at the panoramic view before her. The sunlight shone brightly through the clouds, chasing away all remnants of the dark and dreary days past. The icy, black waters of Isle Lake crashed against the craggy shoreline. The waves chased across the sand, sending a light, frothy mist into the air. As beautiful as the view was, all Devin could do was focus on Elsbeth.
Restless, she swung herself off the window seat, and wandered to the dining hall.
Breakfast was long over, but knowing her penchant to snack, Cook had left a tray of muffins and carafe of hot tea on the buffet. Devin picked up the carafe, intent on pouring herself a cup of tea, then set it back down with a gentle thump.
Poor Elsbeth. So young to be going through such an ordeal. Her neatly ordered world had suddenly turned into a terrible turmoil. She was very lucky Kyle had taken her under his protection.
Under his protection.
The same protection he now offered to Devin centuries later. A vow he carried to the grave back then. But now? The thought caused shivers to race up and down her spine and goose-bumps dotted her skin. What she wouldn't have given to find a modern day man who would offer her protection with his very own life, instead of a long dead ghost. With a sigh, Devin moved away from the buffet.
Protection wasn't what Devin needed. She needed a stroke of genius to find whatever was holding Kyle to this time and place. And the sooner, the better.
Her search felt akin to locating a needle in a haystack. So far the diary had turned up no clues. Sitting down at the massive table, Devin gazed about the dining room. Everything looked as though it belonged, nothing out of the ordinary. A normal dining room, as formal dining rooms went. Lots of furniture. Lots of chairs, a huge table, sideboard and a chandelier. Pretty standard, she surmised with a sigh, compared to her own sparse dining nook. Back in Maryland, she had two chairs and a small round glass top table, a definite contrast to the ornate furniture here.
Standing back up, Devin moved to the sideboard and stared at the oil painting that hung above it.
"A clue, I need a clue. Something, anything. And now would be a good time to get one."
Carefully, Devin lifted the edge of the frame, lifting it away from the wall and peered behind it.
"What are you looking for?"
Devin dropped the picture with a small shriek and whirled around, coming face to face with Lord MacLay.
"Don't do that. It could have fallen from the wall. Mrs. Goode will kill me." Devin put her hand to her racing heart and strived for calm. "Lord MacLay, I have no idea what I'm looking for. I don't know where to start, or what we'll even find at the finish, if we manage to come up with anything at all."
Kyle leaned past her, lifted the picture and looked beneath it. "But there is nothing there, milady."
"I know. It was just a silly thought. They do this all the time in movies and usually there is something there." Her words were marred with frustration.
"If you are referring to the safe, that would be in Lord Rollie's study, behind the portrait of Castle Loch Haven."
"You mean there really is a safe hidden behind a picture? Shows what I know. I thought they only made that stuff up." Devin thought back to all the old black and white movies she'd watched where burglars broke into homes and immediately started lifting paintings from the wall to find the valuables.
Kyle turned away from her and stood by the dining table. "Milady?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything I can do to assist you?"
"Do whatever you want, Lord MacLay. But please stop calling me Your Ladyship, or milady. Just plain Devin will do just fine, okay? And at the moment, I am fresh out of ideas. But I am going to check out the safe." With a quick smile in his direction, Devin practically sprinted from the room.
Kyle grinned. Several quite engaging thoughts immediately entered his mind, though he seriously doubted she would take kindly to any one of them. And it was very possible, she might even slap his face heartily should he voice them aloud. He chuckled at the thought.
He paused. For whatever strange reason, he needed a reprieve from her nearness. She enflamed his senses, caused his gut to clench every time she was in his general vicinity. It seemed odd he would feel thusly. He felt whole, his mind clear and his body no longer ached with pain. This had never happened before, so why now? He wondered. Did it have something to do with the red-haired vixen he was hard put to get out of his mind?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Kyle entered the study.
Devin moved about the room, touching the various items on display. He watched as she ran her hands across the back of the dark-burgundy leather chair, her fingertips slowly outlining each ornamental brass stud of the chair's trim. Abruptly, she stopped before the desk and stared, then reached out and picked up a picture frame off the credenza. Her eyes closed as the tears spilled out, the picture frame held tightly to her chest.
Kyle quietly approached her. "Devin?"
Devin turned about abruptly, and bumped into his shirtfront.
As she shifted off balance, and tried not to drop the photo, he caught a hold of her arms for balance. The warmth of her flesh through the bulky sweater felt as though he were touching a burning coal.
His hands trembled. Against his own better judgment, Kyle pulled her closer, and then lowered his head.
She stared at him as though memorizing his features, the closer Kyle came.
Her mouth was scant inches from his. It would be so easy to kiss her, Kyle thought. She lifted her chin a notch, putting their lips in closer proximity, and nervously licked her lower lip. The simple motion tugged at his gut, making him feel as though he had just been kicked square in the stomach by one of his fine war stallions.
Closer, closer, until he could feel the warmth of her breath upon his face.
Kyle captured her mouth with his own. He heard her sigh, felt her lean into him. His arms tightened about her, drawing her near.
He tasted her, the scent of strawberries filling his senses as he drank of her. Throwing caution to the wind, he deepened the kiss, devouring her mouth with his tongue.
Delving, eager to touch every inch of her, Kyle pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. He heard her soft moan and felt himself grow hard immediately.
Waves of shock raced through him, searing him in his spot. How long had it been since he held a woman in his arms and tasted the fragrance that was uniquely hers?
Part of Kyle wanted to sweep her up in his arms, and carry her upstairs to the bedroom, to lie with her and be with her, exploring every inch of her perfect body. To see those big green eyes of hers fill with passion. Hear her call out his name in the throes of lovemaking. To bury himself within her soft womanly depths time and again.
Good heavens, the memories made him ache anew, his arousal growing harder by the moment. But now they didn't seem like memories, they seemed real and here in the present. With her in his arms, he would have sworn the feelings existed. But...
Her soft whimper tore into his brain. The feel of her palms clutching at his shirtfront. The odd photo frame pressed tightly to his chest. Devin dragged her hands through his hair, tugging him close as she met his kiss, eager for more, silently begging him not to stop.
He ravished her mouth, as though a man long deprived of the very essential elements of life. The touch of her hands upon his scalp brought back memories, visions of another time and place. A place where under the cloak of darkness, two bodies came together as one.
Kyle wanted that now. To take her and make her his. Never to allow another man's hands to touch her flesh, to taste her lips, or bury himself within her softness.
"Milady." His voice was ragged as he released her lips and trailed a fiery path of kisses down the soft column of her neck. Pushing the neckline of the sweater aside, Kyle continued his tortuous assault on her skin, his teeth nipping at her flesh, tasting, teasing and torturing all in one motion. Her breathing quickened as he felt the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his lips.
She wanted him as much as he did her. There was no mistaking the passion in her kisses, the eagerness in her touch, nor his. She felt the same stirrings he did.
"No, we can't," Devin whispered, shaking her head vigorously and taking a step back. "Can we?" Her hands shook as she moved out of his embrace.
Kyle didn't want to stop. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and continue kissing her until all reason left their minds. Kiss her until there were no thoughts of what had happened and what would happen. When he was done kissing her, he wanted to start all over again.
"Yes, milady, we can." His warm breath caressed her cheek, causing a tremor of desire to course down her spine.
"Bad idea," she mumbled, as though she could read his mind, her gaze still caught on his mouth.
"If it is so very bad, why does it feel so right, milady?" He caressed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
"I don't know, but it can't and it shouldn't. You're a ghost and I'm a human. It isn't normal," her voice was shaky as she pushed herself away from him.
Kyle instantly felt bereft from the lack of her touch and how wonderful it had felt to be touched by her. Despite the warmth of the furnace and the blazing fire, the room suddenly felt very cold against his skin.
Positioning herself behind the safety of the desk, away from the pull of his sensual gaze, Devin stared down at the credenza and drew in a shaky breath.
"I had no idea Rollie kept this photo." She paused, the memories flooding back. "That was the last time I saw him. We had gone fishing out on the Chesapeake Bay. It was a gorgeous day, perfect weather, no rain in the forecast. Rollie had a tough time getting his sea legs though. For most of the morning, he was pretty queasy." She smiled at the memory before continuing.
"We had so much fun. I caught a bass, but Rollie never caught a thing. The great, white hunter coming up empty-handed, it was quite a sight to see. He didn't want to come in until he caught something. I think we were out there half the night until he finally conceded." She paused.
"He told me he had started renovating Castle Loch Haven, but he never mentioned you." She sat the photo back on the desk and reached for another. "Then he asked when I was going to fly over and visit, to see what he had accomplished. And that was the last time I saw him." Her eyes closed as the tears threatened to spill out, the picture frame held tightly to her chest.
"Devin?" His words were so soft she barely heard him, yet somehow Devin knew he had spoken.
Look at the photos, not at Kyle, she chided herself. Dropping her gaze to the picture frame in her hands, she smiled. It was a photo of Rollie, his arm draped across an invisible companion. Realization dawning, her gaze rose to Kyle.
"Would this happen to be you, Lord MacLay?" Devin asked, hoping to get the tone of the room into a more neutral feel. Her breathing was still quite erratic; her pulse beat wildly from their close encounter.
Kyle's look was so sad, so forlorn, as he stared at it. "Aye lass, that was Rollie and me. He had a great penchant for taking foolish photos. He loved showing this one off to people, just to gauge their reaction. This was taken shortly before his untimely demise."
Kyle took the frame and ran his hand across the glass, remembering his dear friend fondly. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he lowered the fame with a sigh. "Maybe Mrs. Goode is right. It is quite possible my presence here is wreaking havoc on everyone, yourself included."
"You didn't ask for what happened to you, Lord MacLay. It just did. And so far, no one, not Rollie and certainly not I can explain why things are as they are."
"I appreciate your attempt to console me, Lady Noone." His voice took on a hard edge as he continued. "But sympathy is not what I need. I need answers. Answers that no one to date has been able to provide for me." Kyle set the picture frame down on the desk with a loud thud and promptly vanished from sight.
"Lord MacLay?" Devin pivoted in a slow circle, seeing no one. With a frustrated groan, she sank down into the desk chair and picked up the photo. "Well, when the going gets tough, Lord MacLay certainly has a tendency to disappear."
Devin stared at the photo for a long moment, and then set it back in its rightful place on the credenza. Laying her head against the back of the chair, she stared out the window, over the land and across the Loch.
What was she going to do?
If one kiss could affect her so deeply, how was she going to help Kyle move from one world to the next? How would she be able to let him go?
Lost in thought, she idly drummed her fingertips on the inlaid leather desktop.
"If only I knew then what I know now, I never would have made a wish for a castle, Rollie. Things would be different, normal, like before. You would still be here in charge and I'd be back in Maryland. Darn you, Rollie, for making me a Lady.
"Come on, Rollie, give me some help here. Remember me, the little kid who drove you nuts?" Devin stared up at the ceiling as though Rollie would suddenly appear.
She paused, as though expecting an answer.
"Okay, fine. Be that way. Don't help me. That's your business." With a sense of bravado she didn't feel, Devin gathered her courage.
"But," pushing herself upright and out of the desk chair, she continued, "everything's changed and I need to get on with business as usual."
Walking from the room, she gave a final look back before shutting off the light switch.
"No matter what, Rollie, I'll never be sorry I came."
\*\*\*\*
Kyle headed for the battlement, and the sanctity it provided. Agitated, he took the steps two at a time, feeling his heels dig into the stone beneath him, eager for solitude. Here he could think in peace, away from the distractions inside the castle. Away from Devin.
Devin.
Little did she know that single shared kiss had ignited a flame in him he thought long dead. The feeling so very foreign after all these years that Kyle thought at first he quite possibly could have imagined the sensations that rolled through him. They continued washing over him, wave upon wave, until he was consumed by the mere touch of her mouth on his.
She insisted it would never happen again as though kissing him were akin to kissing a frog. Why, he wondered? Unless he was sadly mistaken, that kiss had left Lady Devin Noone as flustered as he was. What amazed Kyle the most was that he really was flustered. He, a battle scarred warrior, up in arms over a kiss. One small, simple shared kiss. A kiss that threatened to set his soul on fire and burn down the very castle around them.
He regretted not having his bagpipes at the ready. Playing the music and hearing the familiar strains never failed to soothe his tormented spirit. Right now, he desperately needed soothing.
Damn it all.
What was happening to him? This was absolutely ridiculous. In all his years, nothing like this had ever happened to him. Why now? Why with the feisty red-haired American? A woman whose nearness both excited and unsettled him...
He wanted her. Oh, sweet heavens above, how he wanted her. Kyle closed his eyes and tamped down the instant surge of arousal that threatened. Now was not the time or place for such thoughts.
He was more of what the Americans called "a love them and leave them" type of man. No one woman held his attention or affections for longer than a week, unless you counted Elsbeth.
Lady Elsbeth Morehead. His betrothed.
Frowning in annoyance, Kyle paced back and forth, his steps agitated as he crossed the battlement time and again. Then he stopped, braced his palms on the ancient brick wall and stared at the bright blue sky filled with large white clouds. "Come on, Rollie, old chum. Help me here, would you? Guide my path to join you, I beg of you. Or if that is truly not possible, then show me the way to stay here, to spend the rest of my life with your cousin."
Kyle dragged a hand through his hair and drew a deep breath.
Nothing. Not that he had expected a response. What had he expected? He dropped his arms back to his sides and kicked at the loose rocks on the tower floor, sending them in a cascade over the edge of the battlement staircase.
Listening to the sound of the stones careening off the steps, he looked again to the heavens.
Kyle wasn't sure there even was an answer to that question. Lately, it seemed all his questions were going unanswered, especially the one that would end his time on Earth.
Devin paced across the large office, her steps muffled in the thick wool rug that encompassed three quarters of the room. Time and again she walked one way, then the next. She couldn't get this room out of her mind. For some reason, she felt as though there was something here she was missing. There had to be something she was overlooking, something that might aid in her search for answers. All morning long, it had nagged at her, until Devin finally gave in to the feeling and headed back to Rollie's office.
Staring at the wall behind the massive desk, Devin noted the portrait right where Kyle had said it would be, and the safe nestled behind. The only surprise was that the safe held no lock to secure the contents. Devin swung open the small gray steel door, unsure of what she would find within.
Would it be information to help Lord MacLay pass on? Or perhaps something more? She smiled at the cache contained within. A large crystal bowl full of gold foil covered chocolate coins. Rollie's favorites, she remembered fondly. Shaking her head ruefully, Devin gently closed the door on the treasures. Leave it to Rollie to make a splash with everything he did, from the castle, to the chocolates.
Moving back to the desk chair, Devin slowly sat down and surveyed the many drawers before her. Drumming her fingertips on the leather blotter, she contemplated her next move. Where to start? What to look for?
Starting with the top center drawer, Devin pulled it open and sifted through the contents: bills of lading for products bought from the States, receipts for items purchased in Scotland, and paperwork for repairs that needed to be made to the castle.
Knowing what a neat freak Rollie had been, Devin was careful to replace the bills where she found them. In the next drawer, she found a manila file folder full of postcards and letters she'd sent Rollie over the years, each one a painful reminder of her failure to visit. If she had, would the outcome be different than it was today? Of that, she wasn't sure.
Putting the file back, Devin moved on to the third drawer and found Rollie's To-Do list. Some of the items were crossed off, others remained.
"Arrange for stone mason to repair steps on battlement, talk to Vicar about annual Easter Egg Hunt on back lawn. Change furnace filters, re-caulk the windows on the main floor. Contact Lord Con..." The rest of the name was blurred on the paper. Devin held it up to the light to try and see the words but to no avail. Whatever had been spilled on the notepad had erased all vestiges of the word. Who was Rollie going to contact and why? The first part was Lord, so it must have been someone important. As for the rest, who knew? She would never know.
Such simple tasks, and yet, she couldn't see Rollie working a caulking gun no matter how hard she tried. Devin smiled. But talking to the Vicar about the Easter egg Hunt...quite possibly she could carry on that tradition at the castle. If only all her problems were as easily solved as the ones on Rollie's list.
Devin made a mental note to ask Mrs. Goode for the Vicar's number, and then noticed the rolodex in the drawer. Possibly the numbers would be there for who she could call to accomplish the other tasks on the list.
Swinging around in the chair, Devin noticed for the first time an enormous mahogany armoire positioned in the corner of the room. Walking over to it, she admired the intricate carvings that graced the doors. Upon closer inspection, she found them to be bagpipes, etched into each raised door panel.
Opening the double doors, Devin found a state-of-the-art sound system contained within. A stereo receiver, compact disc player, and a column of compact disks that reached from the base of the cabinet to the top.
Pressing the power button, Devin listened as the strains of Louis Armstrong filled the room. Jazz...Rollie's favorite type of music. She remembered how she loved to tease him about his jazz. The "old fart's music," Devin snorted in recollection. He had merely smiled and shrugged off her jibes.
Thumbing through the C.D. collection, she replaced the one playing with one from the stack and hit the play button. The deep husky strains of Elvis soon filled the room and her head.
She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her, swinging and swaying along with the tempo. For the first time in a very long while, Devin felt free to indulge her mood.
"Everybody in the whole cell block..." She joined in with Elvis and pivoted in circles about the study.
"What is that infernal racket?" Lord MacLay's voice cut into her thoughts.
Opening her eyes, she found him standing mere inches before her. "Nice of you to pop in. This happens to be classic rock and roll, I'll have you know."
"Sounds like someone stepped on a feline quite repeatedly."
"Everyone knows Elvis. He's the King of Rock and Roll...a legend in his own time. So lighten up, Lord Lucifer. I'm sure you've heard of him."
He cocked his head to one side. "That thing you were doing before," he gestured with his hand. "Circling the room by yourself."
Devin sighed. "If you must know, I was dancing, slow dancing, actually."
"Like the waltz?" he queried.
"Sort of, but not as stuffy. How do you know the waltz?" Devin questioned.
"I have seen many things during my lifetime, and that was one of them. Now, show me this slow dance you were doing."
"Well, I don't know..." Devin bit her lower lip, unsure of what to do next, remembering how their last encounter had ended.
"Afraid of me, Lady Noone?" He arched his eyebrow and grinned at her.
"Never." Her look defied him, as she nervously tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach.
He moved toward her, slowly, one step at a time, then halted directly before her.
Devin gulped and lifted her hand to his shoulder, then placed her other hand in his. For the first time in her life, Devin was grateful for Miss Milliken and her formal dance lessons. Though she dreaded them in sixth grade, right now she silently thanked the woman for her fortitude in enforcing that Devin be an accomplished student.
"Like this?" His back ramrod straight, he looked ready to march rather than dance.
"Less stiff, more fluid. Now, put your hand on my waist. That's it. Now, move your feet back and forth, as though you were shifting your balance from one foot to the other. Feel the music. Let it guide you."
The strains of Love Me Tender reached her ears---a slow song, and very powerful emotionally. Unfortunately, it was always one that turned her insides to mush every time she heard it.
Her nearness set his senses on fire. The touch of her hand nestled in his was doing crazy things to Kyle's brain.
"Never let me go," Devin sang the lyrics softly, her eyes closed.
The feel of her breath against his neck raised the hairs on his skin. At that moment, Kyle could think of nothing better than to hold her captive in his arms forever, just as the song proclaimed.
Without thinking, he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips in a gentle kiss.
Devin's arms tightened about him, drawing him near as she leaned closer. Her warmth stole into him, bringing light to where darkness once prevailed. He deepened the kiss, willing it to go on forever.
"Yes," she breathed softly against his mouth.
Kyle obliged, crushing her mouth beneath his, his tongue taking possession of hers, teasing and taunting, promising so much more if she would let him.
Sweeping the inside of her mouth, he felt her tentative touch in return. His soul on fire, his hands slid down her arms, gliding over her shoulders and lingering at her breasts. Unsure of how to proceed, Kyle paused.
She moaned under his touch, and arched her back. An unspoken acquiesce.
A shiver coursed down his spine as Kyle took what she offered and allowed himself to touch her intimately. His thumbs caressed her breasts through the heavy sweater. Even with all the layers of clothing between them, he could feel the tiny nubs harden. His own body tightened in response.
"Milady," he groaned, lowering his lips to her throat and feeling the erratic beat of her pulse beneath his mouth. His hands pushed at the heavy folds of material until he found skin. Warm, feminine bare flesh. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he continued to tease the buds beneath his fingers until she gasped.
Kyle lowered himself in the desk chair and pulled her down to his lap. Pushing the sweater up, he lowered his mouth to her breasts, laving first one, then the other.
"Do you like this?" He asked, nipping and teasing her with his lips.
Devin buried her fingers in his hair, urging him on, pressing her body to his, squirming against his lap in order to get closer.
"More please, more," she begged, her voice shaky.
Eager to obey, Kyle suckled gently, then harder, hearing her cries echo throughout the room. He stoked the flames higher and higher. Capturing her other breast in his hand, he palmed the weight of it as he toyed with the rosy crest, giving her what she wanted and needed.
His lower body throbbed as blood rushed to his groin, a welcome contrast to the years of emptiness he had endured.
Devin ran her hands over his shoulders, down his chest and across his back. Touching him, igniting him, offering herself to him.
He wanted her, but knew this was neither the time nor place to consummate their passion. But more importantly, if the opportunity presented itself, could he make love to her? Kyle wondered.
Slowly, with unsteady hands, he reluctantly lowered her sweater back into place and lifted his gaze to hers.
"Later, milady. Not here in the study, not now. And most definitely not like this."
Devin stared at him as though seeing him for the first time, then clamped her hand across her mouth.
Scrambling from his lap, she backed toward the opposite wall. "Not again," she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest.
Kyle stood, his arousal unmistakable.
Devin blushed. "We can't keep doing this, Lord MacLay. We can't."
"We can and we did, milady. And it was most pleasurable," he said quietly.
Yes, it was, she thought inwardly. It was very pleasurable.
This time it was her turn to flee the room.
\*\*\*\*
A tiny voice inside her head scolded Devin for allowing herself to get caught up in the moment again. Twice in one day. This couldn't be happening. What was she thinking?
That was the problem. She wasn't thinking, at least not with her head. She was thinking with her heart. Kyle was a man and she was a woman. Correction, he was a ghost and she was a woman. No...okay, what difference did it make? It shouldn't have happened regardless of the circumstances.
Shoving her fingers through her hair, she groaned and leaned back against the wall in the hallway.
But it had felt so good, and so right. What was the harm in that? She wondered. They were enjoying each other's company, she was teaching him to slow dance and then...then it became something totally different. Something real, vibrant and passionate.
"Urgh," she mumbled. "That's the problem. It was passionate."
How could you feel passion for a ghost? For that matter, how did he manage to have such an enormous erection?
She felt her cheeks warm at the very thought. The bulge in his pants couldn't be missed. Nestled against her thigh, it felt wonderful. Powerful, throbbing, alive. But he was dead and no power in this world could change that one single, solitary fact.
"Darn it all," she groused. "This isn't supposed to be happening. Come on, Rollie, help me out here."
"Wait a minute," Devin paused. "This better not be your idea of a good time, Rollie," she wagged her finger to the heavens. "I am not going to fall in love with a ghost. No way. No how. And that's final."
With a quick look back at the study door, Devin headed for the kitchen, more confused than ever.
Pushing open the swinging door, Devin stepped in to the room. All activity instantly ceased and two very surprised faces turned in her direction.
"Your Ladyship," the young serving girl stammered, rushing forward to drop a curtsy. "It's an honor." She bobbed up and down, eyes wide and a look of awe on her features.
"Off with you, Galene. I'll see to her ladyship," the Cook intoned, sending the young girl off with a brisk nod.
"Yes, ma'am." The girl dropped another quick curtsy and scurried for the door.
"I did something wrong again, broke another protocol rule," Devin sighed. When was she ever going to do the right thing at the right time?
Cook smiled and shook her head. "Not at all, milady. It's been awhile since we've had visitors to the kitchen. Please, sit down." She gestured to a chair at the table.
Devin moved further into the room and glanced around. She remembered briefly passing the kitchen on the day she arrived, but not since. A massive brick hearth dominated the room. A cheery blaze burned within, warming the room to a toasty level.
The appliances were all stainless steel and spotlessly shiny. Everything seemed very modern and up-to-date, neat and tidy, no crumbs to be seen at all.
"His Lordship Roland had the kitchen remodeled immediately after he moved in," Cook informed her proudly, as though reading Devin's thoughts. "We now have a microwave, dishwasher and a little spigot that spouts hot water instantly."
"It's wonderful," Devin murmured, trying to take it all in.
"Your cousin had a penchant for late night snacking. He used to come down and whip up some of your fancy American concoctions. We had some very interesting chats and I know I gained a few pounds from his treats." She patted her middle. "He would entice the entire staff to come join him, singing, dancing about the room. Had us all in stitches that he did. Such a dear man. I'm sorry, milady." She sniffed. "But enough of my blathering on like an idiot."
"No, please. I'd love to hear more," Devin prompted. "Do you think it would be all right if I came and visited the kitchen? But I'm a lousy chef. And I promise not to wake anyone up. I wouldn't want to disrupt your routine or get anyone in trouble."
"Milady, by your hand alone would be the only way we would be in trouble."
"Oh," Devin was confused.
"Still having problems getting the hang of all this, aren't you?" Cook patted Devin's hand.
"Big time. What with the rules of being a lady, finding my way around the castle, and Lord MacLay."
"Begging your pardon if my question is out of line, but is his Lordship giving you fits, Milady?"
"He's...he's...I don't know what he is," Devin concluded.
"How about we have some tea and cookies, lass? And a little chat as well."
"I'd really like that," Devin replied, watching as Cook efficiently poured two cups of tea and assembled a heaping plate of cookies within seconds.
"Now, where were we? Oh yes, Lord Rollie and the Laird. They were quite a pair. Didn't dare turn your back on either one. Great practical jokers as well. Whether on each other or the rest of the staff."
"You've seen Laird MacLay?"
Cook chuckled. "Many times. Still do. Not everyone does though. Only the ones he chooses to reveal himself to. My gran told me stories when I was but a small girl, way back when, the Laird even then a ghost, would visit the kitchens and drop a kiss on the poor unsuspecting serving girls cheeks, or he might pat their rumps, causing them to spill their platters of food. All sorts of mischief. Shook their wits that it did. Never meant any harm by it. I've been kissed a time or two myself." Cook stopped and looked at Devin, as though she were peering deep inside her, and could see something Devin couldn't. "But with you, it's different."
Devin ducked her head, and picked up her tea cup, hoping her blush wasn't a dead giveaway. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, since your arrival the Laird hasn't popped in at all. Too preoccupied with you, would be my guess."
Devin groaned. "What am I going to do? He's a ghost."
Cook reached across the table and took Devin's hands in hers. "Do what your heart tells you to, lass."
"If only it were that simple," Devin replied shakily.
After leaving the kitchen with the words of the Cook dogging her thoughts, Devin once again found solace in Elsbeth's journal---the only thing that made sense to her since her arrival here in Castle Loch Haven.
Diary, we are here! The castle is enormous; I fear I will get lost trying to locate my quarters. The land is beautiful. Everything is so lush, so green, and so vast. The water is smooth, and the shoreline is dotted with many birds.
The Laird's holdings are immense, as you can see for miles. The people have been so friendly and kind in welcome. They waved and smiled at me as our traveling party passed through their tiny village. Young girls brought me bouquets of wildflowers that had picked themselves along the roadway. The older women heaped gifts of wine, cheese and handmade linens upon us as we slowed our progress to accommodate their welcome. It brought me to tears, Diary, their fondness for their Laird and his happiness.
His name is spoken in the highest regard. They say he is a generous man, eager to help his people flourish.
Diary, I heard a tale last night that Lord Kyle worked the land alongside his people in order to ensure the harvest was brought in before the winter's storm arrived last year. How generous of him to give his time and energy as such.
Elsbeth
Devin could well imagine Kyle working alongside his men. She had already seen how devoted he was to whatever he set his mind on. Still, reading Elsbeth's words made Devin feel a bit odd, as though privy to an insider conversation she had no part in listening to. And yet, it was equally hard to just shut the book and pretend it didn't exist.
Pulling the soft woolen blanket tighter about her, Devin snuggled down deeper in the bed and continued reading.
Diary, I have met so many kind people. They come to the castle bearing more gifts for our upcoming nuptials. I have seen gifts of livestock, breads, poultry, and even a fatted turkey.
There is another guest here at the castle. A Lord Duncan MacPherson. He has a large keep two days journey north of Castle Loch Haven. He bowed low before me and kissed my hand! I swear my whole body tingled from his touch!
He and his men are here seeking Kyle's guidance regarding the recent marauder attacks.
They are out surveying the land and talking to the townspeople today and will be back late tonight. Lord Kyle bade me goodbye this morn, and said we will talk tomorrow.
After breakfast I made my way out to the stable, Diary. Lord Kyle has many fine war horses. So tall and strong. They are so tall I can barely reach my hand to the top of their heads, but they are also very gentle as I fed them apples from my palm.
There was a litter of newborn kittens there as well. They are orphaned the stableman tells me. Their mama left them shortly after birth. They are so fragile and weak. I took them back to my quarters in the castle tucked inside my gown. Cook gave me warm milk and I was able to get them to eat a bit. Their plaintive cries tear at my heart, as I know exactly how they feel with no mother to guide their course in life.
I made a bed for them from a blanket I found and they are now sound asleep in the bottom of my traveling chest. When they are older and stronger, I shall return them to the stables to earn their keep.
Elsbeth
Elsbeth had brought the kittens back to her bedroom? The very idea made Devin giggle. She could only imagine Kyle's reaction to the furry bundles, knowing how fond he was of Algee. Looking down at the floor, Devin spotted Algee. Flat on his back, with all four paws stuck into the air, he groaned and waved his paws as though doing a mad dash. He must be having quite a dream, Devin thought. Reaching over, she ran her hand across his spiky fur to calm him. He gave a loud sigh, and then lay quiet. With a quick smile at the giant beast, Devin turned her attention back to the journal.
Oh, Diary today was a disaster. My Lord Kyle came to my chambers to escort me on a tour of the grounds and the kittens attacked him! Well, not exactly. You see, Diary, they were fascinated with the tassels on his boots and got quite carried away in their enthusiasm to snare one.
Unfortunately, the biggest kitten, Lucifer, as I have named him, used his sharp little claws to secure a foothold on my Lord's thigh, quite near his private area, causing such a row.
Lord Kyle bellowed in pain, the kittens scattered in fear and took up refuge under the bed, and I, most unbecomingly collapsed in a fit of giggles upon my coverlet. My Lord was not amused for the longest time as I fought to control my mirth. His countenance was very dark, until he did in time see the humor in the situation at hand. So, it is clear I must return the kittens posthaste to the stables. For their safety as well as my Lord's.
Devin laughed aloud at the thought. She could only imagine the kitten's tiny razor sharp claws digging into Kyle's nether region. What she wouldn't have given to have seen it firsthand. What a hoot it would have been.
Closing the diary, Devin tucked it safely beneath her pillow and reached to turn out the bedside lamp. Since their shared kiss, Kyle had made himself scarce. While Devin wasn't quite used to his popping in and out, right now, she would welcome the intrusion. Anything to take her mind off their kiss.
Their kiss.
It had felt so good, so right to be in his arms. Yet, what future did they have? A ghost and a mortal. A very unlikely combination. Kyle was destined to return to his own time and place at some point. Yet, she couldn't dispel the tingles that surged through her as she reminisced. Tingles she had never noticed before when kissing anyone else. Not that she had a multitude of practice, that is. But still, his kiss, his lips, his tongue...
Argh, Devin punched the pillow into a lumpy blob beneath her head. It would be a long time before she fell asleep tonight.
\*\*\*\*
Diary, oh my, today I saw Lord MacPherson in a state of undress!! He is magnificent! So well defined and large, like Father's war stallions.
His muscles bulged as he hefted the bales of hay from the work cart into the stables for the horses. My stomach flutters very oddly every time I look at him. The serving girls giggled at his near nakedness and made lewd comments aloud among themselves. They throw themselves at him, simpering, asking if he needed water, anything for an excuse to touch his body, to run their hands across his skin.
But he merely smiles and tells them no thank you.
Oh, Diary, why do I feel this way? It is so very embarrassing to see the girls act this way. I do not understand at all. The serving girls told me about a storeroom under the castle where they meet their gentleman callers. Diary, it is odd. They do not want to be seen. The visits are conducted during the nighttime hours, secreting themselves away with their callers. They also speak of things that are so very intimate, Diary. Talk of kissing and touching in the dark, of lovemaking without benefit of marriage. Oh, my, my cheeks flushed quite warmly at the things they said. They giggled and said I would know such things when my marriage was finalized to Lord Kyle. If this is true, Diary, I fear I will be blushing all the time. I wish Mother or even Aunt Cecilia were here so I could ask for their council on such matters. I know very little of what transpires between a man and woman in the marriage bed. Who will instruct me, pray tell?
Elsbeth
Okay, things were getting freaky. This entry was the second time Elsbeth had referred to Lord MacPherson. And now she was writing about seeing him partially undressed in the barn? Not good, Devin thought, popping a bite of buttered croissant into her mouth. Something didn't seem right at the moment. But what, and did it mean anything in the broad scope of things? Maybe, her active imagination was taking another turn for the worse. Devin knew she should be trying to find answers for Kyle, but lately all she wanted to do was curl up and read about Elsbeth. The young woman who had captured Kyle's heart and home so many years ago.
Reaching for her mug of tea, Devin glanced about the dining room, and was surprised to find she had been sitting there almost two hours. Closing the journal and dropping it in her pocket, she folded her napkin and laid it next to her plate.
"Good morning, milady. You are looking well this morning."
His deep baritone broke through the silence and Devin tried not to jump at his nearness. Why did he always have to look so fresh, when she felt like yesterday's wet dishrag? Well, not exactly, but she had been burning the candle at both ends staying up late and reading.
"Good morning yourself, Lord MacLay." Devin nodded to him, rising from her chair.
"Have you made any progress on determining what is impeding my passing over?" Kyle inquired.
Devin guiltily looked away. "Not yet, but I'm still searching," she answered as truthfully as possible. She was, just not that hard, and from the looks of things, probably not in the right places either. The diary had consumed the better part of her waking hours, enthralling her with the words contained within the time worn pages.
"Milady, the Vicar is here," Mrs. Goode's voice carried from the Great Hall.
"Oh, my gosh, I forgot all about him coming out."
"Why is the man here?" Kyle grimaced. "I don't like him. He gives me the creeps, to coin one of your American phrases."
Devin choked back a laugh. "The creeps? You have the nerve to say he gives you the creeps? Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black," she commented.
"Well, he does," Kyle responded grumpily. "He was always trying to get Rollie to banish me to some far off corner of the castle and forbid me to return. At one point, he offered to perform an exorcism on the castle, if need be."
"Really? Isn't that interesting. I'll have to ask him about it. Maybe he can give me a few hints as well."
\*\*\*\*
"Your Ladyship." The Vicar enthusiastically pumped Devin's hand up and down. "What a nice pleasure it is to see you again."
"Father Byran, I want to thank you for the lovely memorial service you provided my cousin last week. It was greatly appreciated."
"He was a wonderful man, very well liked by his staff and his neighbors." The Vicar crossed himself, and then glanced about the room.
"Is something wrong, Father?"
"No, no." The man brought his nervous gaze back to her. "I was wondering if we were truly alone."
"Truly alone?" Devin repeated confused.
"Yes," he nodded, lowering his voice. "Without the Laird."
"Oh." Everything became crystal clear in a second. "Laird MacLay, you mean. I know all about the Laird and have seen him quite a few times since my arrival." She left out the more interesting facts about Laird MacLay and herself, for fear a thunderbolt might magically find its way into the Great Room and strike her down.
"So, you'll be staying anyway?" he asked.
"Yes. I'll stay as long as the people will have me."
Father Byran sighed loudly. "Thanks be. What wonderful news it is. But I worry whether you might be tempted to sell the castle and the land."
"Why would I do that Father? Is there something you know that I don't?" Devin questioned.
The man shook his head. "No. It's been brought to my attention by my parishioners though, that there are people out there still trying to lay claim to the castle and the title, even though you are the rightful heir through Lord Rolland."
"Well, then, it's up to my barrister to set them straight now, isn't it?" Devin smiled, trying to set the Vicar at ease. He seemed nervous enough about Laird MacLay popping out at him at any moment.
"I'm very glad you came by today, Father. I've been reading through some of my cousin's notes and I would like to continue the tradition he started with the Easter Egg Hunt. Do you think that would still be possible at this late date?"
"Of course, milady, of course. The children will be so excited. The hunt is something they look forward to all year long, myself included. I'll send round the details to you this afternoon."
"Good, I'm glad." Devin was relived to hear she could have the hunt as originally planned. "I'll have the staff help me organize everything."
"Well, milady, I must get back and write my weekly column for the church paper. What good news it shall contain. Shall I save a seat for you at Sunday services?" Father Byran asked hopefully.
It had been a long time since Devin attended a Sunday service, but the obvious joy on the Vicar's face made it hard to refuse.
"Yes, I'll be there," she nodded.
"I'm off now. And thank you again!"
Devin watched as the Vicar practically sprinted down the front steps and off to his car. With a wave and a smile, he was gone. Closing the door behind her, Devin leaned her forehead against the massive oak panel.
"Sunday service, my, my, Lady Noone. The townspeople will be keeping you quite busy, so it seems."
Devin turned toward his voice to find Kyle lounging on the staircase. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and hands laced behind his head. Damn the man for always looking like he stepped off the cover of a men's fashion magazine. Those tight pants made it hard to think. She dragged her gaze away and shrugged her shoulders.
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing."
"Then your point is..."
Kyle grinned. "I remember going to church once."
Devin snorted. "Oh, yeah."
"There was this fair-haired lass in the front pew. Had enormous..." He put his hands out in front of his chest, drawing large circles. "You know. Kept giving me the eye. After the service concluded, we made our way up to the church loft and set the church bells to ringing, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively.
"Please." Devin rolled her eyes.
"We did. Are you calling me a liar, lass?" He jumped up from his lounging position on the stairs and came to stand in front of her, hands on hips and eyes blazing.
"Not at all, Lord MacLay. I think you're a tad bit overbearing and arrogant with your own self worth, but definitely not a liar," she replied with a laugh, trying not to notice how handsome and sexy he looked.
"She did remind me of you, lass."
"Me? How would she remind you of me?" His words stopped Devin in her tracks.
"She was very feisty, like you, and quite vocal with her likes and dislikes. But," he continued, "you don't have her 'you knows'."
"Should I be flattered or insulted, Lord MacLay?"
"I'm not sure," he stroked his chin and stared at her. "How about if we go to the chapel bell tower and find out."
"In your dreams, buddy." Devin laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Hrmh," he grumbled good-naturedly, then fixed her with a stare. "The Vicar, what did he want with you? Am I to be banished again?"
Devin pretended to think about his question for a moment, watching the consternation build upon his features. "No, not yet. We're going to hold the Easter Egg Hunt on the grounds, just like Rollie did. I want things to continue on as they did when my cousin was alive. At least, I hope things will be the same."
"Lass, you are doing everything in your power to assist all of us in our times of need, and we are grateful for that. Myself included," he executed a low bow before her, then reached out and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it.
Devin sucked in a gulp of air. She wanted to pull her hand away and forbid him from touching her, but couldn't. It felt so nice, so warm and definitely turned her insides to mush.
"Well, I better get a move on. There are a lot of things to do to get ready before Easter Sunday." Tucking her hand behind her back, Devin gave him a small smile and walked from the room. Her head spun, but not from what needed to be done. Instead, she found herself concentrating on his mouth. For a brief moment, she was almost willing to let herself take him up on his offer to go to the bell tower. She really needed to get a life. The Laird was becoming a full time obsession.
Kyle watched Devin depart the Great Room, his thoughts a bit jumbled at the moment.
In his dreams.
If she only knew how close to the truth she'd really come. Visions of Lady Devin Noone entered his mind quite often, interfering with his concentration and disrupting his train of thought. Even when his body was at rest, she occupied his head, causing a surge of electricity to race down his body at breakneck speed.
He reflected back to their earlier conversation, thinking once more of the fair-haired lass from centuries ago. She was a beauty, there was no doubt, and very well endowed as memory served. But she wasn't Devin. The lass of long ago didn't make him want to shout and throw things about, like his feisty American redhead did whenever she was near. Just being in the same room with Devin caused sparks to fly and tempers to near burst. Kyle smiled at the recollection. No, the blonde lass was definitely more interested in his body, and at the time, Kyle had no argument. They satisfied one another's needs on more than one occasion, and then moved on. No ties to one another, no need for promises and most assuredly, no need for words when they were together.
Kyle sighed. If only it were that simple now. There was a lot to be said for physical attraction and Kyle was definitely attracted to Lady Noone, but all was for naught. As to his needs, well that would never happen. Not in this lifetime or any other.
It was best if he concentrated on getting out of this world and into the next before Lady Devin decided to put a pox on him with the help of the nervous Vicar. Kyle laughed aloud and disappeared from sight, leaving the sound of his hearty chuckle ringing behind in the foyer.
\*\*\*\*
Diary,
It was such a lovely afternoon today. Lord MacLay is gone for the afternoon to settle a dispute among the tenants over an errant sow. I met Lord MacPherson on the back lawn and we watched the sun set over Isle Lake. He is a very well mannered and well versed gentleman. He knows of so many things in this lifetime. He told of the training he and Lord Kyle received as children. They had studied under the same tutor, here at the castle, with Lord Kyle's father in charge. Lord MacPherson's keep is not as vast as my lord's, but Lord MacPherson says it is very beautiful. He talks of it with such passion; he makes me wish to see it with my very own eyes. Maybe someday Kyle will take me there.
Elsbeth
Maybe when pigs fly, Devin thought angrily, slamming the book shut harder than necessary. Elsbeth was getting just a little too cozy with Lord Duncan McPherson for Devin's liking. Elsbeth was writing more about Duncan than Kyle, it seemed. Something was up, but what? How easy it would be to turn to the last entry, to the last page, yet she hesitated. The best way was to read the journal in order. As much as she longed to see the ending, she was afraid of what she would find. Stuffing the book under her pillow, Devin left the bedroom, intent on locating the library. Maybe something there would help. Or quite possibly she could find a book on the castle manners she so desperately needed to study up on. Either way, she needed to get away from the diary for awhile. Away from the thoughts of Elsbeth and Lord MacPherson before they completely engulfed her.
Standing in the library door, Devin gasped. The room was enormous, with floor to ceiling shelves lining three walls. The fourth wall was all glass with an enticing view of the lake. It was absolutely breathtaking. Leather chairs completed the décor, with afghan's strewn about for added comfort. It would be a real treat to read and write in this room---a room that was designed to be used at all hours of the day or night, in all types of weather, no matter the cold or heat. Here you could lose yourself in the magic of reading, Devin noted by the sheer volume of books that adorned the shelves.
She pulled the ladder down the row, stopping at what looked to be a section of nonfiction books, judging by their titles. Land Ownership for the Untitled, The Castle at Rest, The Castle at Dawn, Swordplay for Dummies, Lordship for Dummies.
Devin laughed. Okay, so maybe there would be a book on etiquette here after all. Everything else seemed to be at hand. Climbing up, she steadied herself and started peering at the rows upon rows of books, squinting to see some of the tiny titles.
"Ah, ha, there's one."
Tucking the leather bound book under her chin, Devin shifted on the ladder in order to reach the next shelf. Somehow, staying perched on the fourth rung and keeping one's balance was a lot harder than it looked in all the black and white movies she had seen on television. Devin looped her foot around the ladder support and precariously leaned to her left, her fingertips barely grazing the edge of the shelf. The book slipped out from under her chin and fell to the floor below with a loud thud.
Looking down, she grimaced and prayed the spine was still intact. Devin didn't know how old any of the books were and with her luck, she had probably just destroyed a hundred-year-old masterpiece. For a brief second, Devin wondered if Mrs. Goode was keeping a tally of the things Devin had destroyed in her short time at the castle. Lowering her foot down a rung, Devin bumped into something warm, solid and definitely male.
"What the..." Peering over her shoulder, Devin came face to face with His Lordship.
"Good afternoon, Lady Noone. Catching up on your reading?" He inquired with a grin.
His cheery tone and devilish good looks did nothing to quiet the earthquake that rocked her stomach and the heat the seeped through her skin at the slight contact. Closing her eyes, Devin slowly counted to ten and took a deep breath, clinging to the ladder as if it were a lifeline to peace and serenity.
Say something, anything to show him you're not flustered, Devin chided herself sternly.
"Lord MacLay, I trust you didn't interrupt your busy day just to pop in and frighten me to death?"
Kyle threw back his head and laughed. "Not at all, milady. Just thought I'd pop in and see what you were doing."
"Other than throwing books on the floor, not much," Devin conceded, trying not to touch his body with hers.
"Allow me to assist you." Kyle leaned around her and took two books from her hand. His touch immediately set off warning bells in Devin's head. There was no way this was going to turn into a make out session like their last two encounters. No way at all, she firmly told herself.
"Thank you, but I can manage just fine." Her tone sounded curt and she knew it.
"Very well, milady. As you wish." Kyle handed the books back to her and vanished into thin air, leaving as quickly as he had come.
Devin let out a whoosh of air and fought back the urge to call out an apology. The room seemed suddenly chilled without him there. She didn't mean to hurt his feelings, if that was possible with a ghost. She only wanted to keep things above board and on an even keel, as Rollie used to say.
Rollie. She bit her lip and willed the tears not to fall. She would be brave and strong. She would persevere just like he would have wanted her to.
If there's no blood and no guts, then there's no reason to cry, he used to tell Devin when they were younger, and sometimes when they were grown as well.
Climbing slowly back down the ladder, Devin picked up the fallen book and carried two back to her room. Scanning the titles briefly, she groaned. Etiquette for the Modern Castle, and Proper Scottish Protocol, sounded like very dry reading. But if she must, she must, and before she did that, there was the Easter Egg Hunt to plan. Running through her mental To-Do list, Devin crossed off the items she had covered. So far, that made one. Find books on how to behave. Everything else still loomed on the horizon. Pushing an unruly strand of hair off her forehead, Devin headed to the kitchen in search of Cook and Mrs. Goode. With their help, anything was possible.
\*\*\*\*
Diary: Oh my, how do I begin? I don't know the words to write, the feelings I feel I must express, oh Diary, it was wondrous! Last night, the Laird returned from the fields well in his cups. The men were celebrating the completion of planting. The Laird was very happy, but very unsteady on his feet. He wobbled to and fro like a willow branch in the breeze. I assisted him up the stairs to his chambers and he dropped like a stone quite heavily upon his bed. As I was pulling off his boots, he grabbed me round the waist and pulled me down beside him. He kissed me, Diary and it was the most wonderful thing I have ever felt in my life. He kept kissing me and touching my face and hair. I didn't know what to do. My hands were clenched quite tightly by my side, though I wanted to touch his body as he was doing to me. Then his hand slid under my skirts and he caressed the inside of my thigh. Oh, Diary, I felt as though my body were melting. I was warm all over.
Devin paused, closing her eyes. This did not happen. Lord MacLay did not come on to Elsbeth. She opened her eyes and lowered her gaze back to the page.
Then he touched me there, Diary, and I thought my body was on fire. It was very nice. All the time he kept mumbling how much he needed me, how much he cared about me. Things I had waited for so long to hear and now he was saying them.
Oh my, then he moved over me and pressed my body back onto the mattress. I felt my skirts being pushed up to my waist. I know I should have stopped him, but I couldn't, I didn't want to stop him. I wanted these feelings to go on and on. He fitted himself between my thighs and entered my body. There was a sharp pain but it was quickly replaced with a joyous pleasure. He moved slowly at first, then faster. Oh, Diary, I felt as though the heavens had opened up and allowed the stars to appear before my eyes. Oh, Diary, I am now truly a woman in every sense of the word. The heavens moved when we joined as one. I wanted to call out my joy from the rooftops and tell the world how joyous I feel, but alas there is no one I can tell. I never knew this is what it would be like between a man and a woman. Mother and Aunt Cecilia did not tell me of this great joy. When it was done, the Laird moved off me and fell asleep. I slipped from his bed and crept back to my own chambers. The next morn, no words were spoken of the previous night. I dare not bring it up for fear of upsetting the Laird. Diary, is it wrong to be pleased that this has happened? I truly hope not, for I know I would welcome his attention again and cannot wait to become his bride if this is what marriage will bring."
Devin bit back a sob. This is what marriage would bring. If only she could find the same happiness for herself. But the Laird had made love to Elsbeth without knowing who it was in his bed. Not good. Not good at all. Shoving the diary under her pillow, she headed for the kitchen and away from the way her thoughts were running.
Walking into the kitchen, Devin's taste buds were instantly assailed with the smell of freshly baked cookies. Chocolate-chip cookies to be exact. Following the delicious aroma, she stopped at the counter and peered over Cook's shoulder.
"My favorite," she said, inhaling the smell of chocolate.
"I didn't forget, lass. Thought I'd pop a batch or two in the oven for you. Also made peanut butter cookies if you're so inclined." Cook pointed off to her side where at least three dozen cookies sat cooling on a baking rack.
"I'm in Heaven," Devin murmured, selecting two off the pan. "All my favorites in one day." She moved to the table, and took a seat.
"Cook, I need help."
"Your Ladyship, we all need help," Cook said with a laugh.
"You know what I mean," Devin began again.
"Aye, that I do. You want to know more about the Easter Egg Hunt, don't you lass?"
"How did you know?"
"The Vicar called this morning, asked me to start on the food preparations so you wouldn't feel overwhelmed. I hope that's all right with you, milady."
Devin nodded. "That would be wonderful. I didn't even know where to begin."
"Actually, Lady Noone, as Lady of the Castle, it will be your job to start the hunt in play." Mrs. Goode replied, walking into the kitchen.
"And then what?" Devin questioned.
"That's it; the children will take it from there, running here and there in search of the eggs."
"But how do we boil all those eggs, and who hides them, and..." Devin didn't know what else to ask.
"Heavens no, milady, we don't use real eggs. They would spoil out there and all the little creatures would take them off to their own hidey holes," Cook responded. "We use plastic eggs, with little candies and trinkets inside."
"Oh." Things were becoming clearer by the second to Devin. Plastic eggs, that made more sense.
"Gracious, Lady Noone. There wouldn't be a hen left for five counties if we boiled all the eggs. My, my, what a thought," Mrs. Goode chuckled.
Devin blushed, but soon joined in with their laughter.
"Milady, more cookies?" Cook inquired a while later.
"No, thank you. I think I've eaten two dozen by myself so far."
"No one's counting, Your Ladyship. Help yourself," said Mrs. Goode, biting into a peanut butter cookie of her own.
Looking down at the list before her, Devin was pleased to see that between Cook, Mrs. Goode and herself many of her items had been crossed off. Enlisting their help was the smartest thing she had done. After being part of the castle staff for a combined total of thirty years, the two women could probably run the place on their own. She didn't doubt they had on more than one occasion.
"Milady, good morning to you." Jamie doffed his hat and smiled broadly at her. "Beautiful day for an Easter egg hunt, now isn't it?"
"Jamie, it's a pleasure to see you. It's a beautiful day, indeed. Bring any more Americans to the countryside lately?" Devin queried.
He paused and scratched his head for a moment. "Not a one, your Ladyship. Would you be expecting someone? I can make a run to the airport with my cab if you so desire."
"No, no, just checking that's all. And who would these two be?" Devin looked down at the dark-haired little girl and boy peering out shyly from behind his legs.
"This would be Emma and Jasper, my niece and nephew of my brother's. They're four and both are eager to share in the Easter Egg Hunt. This is their first year, Your Ladyship. What do you say to, milady?" Jasper prompted.
Devin watched as Jasper came forward first, and bowed before her. Then Emma stepped out and gave a quick curtsey.
"These flowers are for you, Your Ladyboat," Emma said in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Ladyship, Emma, not boat," Jamie patted the small girl on the head and offered up an apology. "Sorry, milady."
"That's all right." Devin knelt down before the girl, took the flowers, and smiled. "It's a big word; sometimes I have trouble with it, too. You know, how about if you call me Devin. That's a lot easier than the big fancy title, don't you think?"
The children both nodded and Jamie had to hide a smile. "Your Ladyship, it wouldn't be..."
Devin raised her hand and cut him off. "Devin."
Jamie sighed. "Devin, it is then."
"Thank you, Emma and Jasper. These are lovely. They'll look beautiful in my bedroom."
The children fairly beamed from her words of praise. Their flowers were going to go in the Lady's bedroom.
"Come on, Jasper."
Devin turned toward the sound, and saw the other children motioning to the boy. He looked up at his Uncle, who nodded. Running off, Jasper shouted a quick goodbye and headed for the crowd of children.
"You know, Emma, if you don't have a partner for the Easter Egg Hunt, I would love to have you help me. I have no idea how to do this at all." Devin turned to the girl.
"Really? Me, I can be with you?"
"If your Uncle says its okay, I would love to be your partner."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want her to be a bother to you." Jamie stammered.
"Not at all. I would love to have Emma be my helper." Devin smiled at Emma, who in turn offered up a quick grin.
"Of course, then. That would be wonderful."
Emma tugged at Devin's hand. "Can we start now?"
"Absolutely, let's go get a basket, shall we? Oh, Jamie, I was wondering if you would mind checking on Mrs. Goode for me?" Devin asked as the man blushed. She knew there was something between the two, and she intended to see it furthered along. She took Emma's hand and heading toward the rest of the children ready to start searching for eggs, they selected a brightly-colored wicker basket from the lawn and headed for the starting line.
Kyle watched from high atop the battlement. The small child with Devin was laughing and swinging the basket from her hand. He peered down as the child stopped and picked up a gaudy pink egg from the flowerbed and placed it in the basket. Devin clapped her hands and off they went again, searching through the flowers.
Would a child of theirs look like that one, he wondered? Ringlets of curls and rosy red cheeks. Would she have a laugh that sounded like tinkling glass upon the wind? Or maybe a boy, like the one who suddenly ran up to Devin to show off his green egg. Kyle watched as she patted the boy on the head and made a fuss over his find. She was very good with the wee ones, he decided. She would make a wonderful mother to a child.
Devin stopped and looked up, as though feeling his eyes upon her at that exact second. His gaze narrowed as she lifted her hand in greeting to him.
He nodded, remembering years past when Rollie had hosted the hunt. Rollie had gone to the extreme length of dressing up as a large gray rabbit and hopped about the back lawn. At one point, he lost his balance and almost tumbled into the icy waters below. Kyle grinned at the memory. Such a character, Rollie was, one who was sorely missed.
Staring back across the yard, Kyle intently searched out the guests for Devin. Finding her, he settled his gaze upon her and never looked away for the remainder of the day.
"Who's that?" Emma asked.
"Who do you mean?" Devin stopped walking and turned toward the child.
Emma pointed. "That man up there with the funny clothes."
Devin looked in the direction Emma pointed.
Kyle.
Emma was pointing to the top of the tower and to the man standing there. No doubt about it, the child could see him. And just as plainly as she herself could, it seemed. Her gaze lingered.
"Do you know him?" Emma asked.
"Yes, I do. That's Laird MacLay. He used to own the castle a long time ago before I ever came here and way before you were even born."
"Is he nice?"
Devin smiled. "Yes, he's very nice and very kind, too."
"Can he come down and play with us here?"
"I don't know if he can, but how about if you wave to him. Maybe that would make him smile."
"Okay." Emma waved with both hands to Kyle, who grinned and waved back at the child.
"He saw me."
"I know." Devin's insides turned to mush at the giant smile on Emma's face.
"I'm going to tell my Uncle Jamie I waved to the man on the tower today."
"All right." Devin wasn't sure if that was a good idea or not, but figured since Jamie himself had seen the Laird what could it hurt?
"Come on, children, time to eat." Cook's voice rang out across the lawn, halting the children in their tracks at the thought of food.
"Hungry? I hear Mrs. Goode has prepared all sorts of wonderful things for us today." Devin asked the small girl beside her.
"Uh, huh. I like her cookies."
"Me, too. Well, then, how about we go eat?"
"Okay," the child agreed, placing her hand in Devin's. They headed back to the castle and towards the other children who swarmed around Mrs. Goode and the kitchen staff.
\*\*\*\*
Oh, Diary, I have done something so very wrong. I met Lord MacPherson in the storeroom. It was only to be a quick stop as I wished to see the place the serving girls all speak of. We went in the late afternoon, passing through the kitchens. There is a door that leads from the kitchen to the storeroom. My lord was out with his guardsmen, patrolling the border land.
While Lord MacPherson was the perfect gentlemen, I must admit, I had the secret wish to have him kiss me there. So that I could see what the fuss was all about, as the serving maids say he is the best. But then they do not know about Lord MacLay's kisses. At least, I don't believe they do as I have not heard any gossip regarding the Lord in that form. The storeroom is a cold and dreary place, no lights save the lanterns on the walls. The peat is stacked quite high for fuel and the place smells musty and dank.
Then it was as if Lord MacPherson read my mind. He reached for my hand and pulled me to him, kissing me gently on the lips. So soft, as though a butterfly had delicately brushed my skin. But it felt wonderful, Diary. I wanted more. I asked him to kiss me again and he laughed, then bowed low before me and said he would do anything to please his lady. He called me his lady, Diary. Oh, my. The second kiss was better than the first. This time, I felt his tongue touch my lips, and he whispered to me to open my mouth. It felt scandalous, but I did as he bid.
My, the earth moved. I felt a warm rush fill my body as he did this time and again to me. I garnered my courage and touched him thusly with my own tongue. He groaned, the sound was music to my ears. I pleased him, he said.
Diary, what shall I do? I know it is wrong to act so wantonly with both the Laird and Lord McPherson. I am betrothed to Lord Kyle, and while I loved his touch and the intimacy we shared, this feels so right. So good and so wondrous. Pray for me, Diary, for I fear I have sinned against Lord MacLay.
Elsbeth
Devin slammed the diary shut harder than she meant to.
"Oh, crap." Closing her eyes she fought for calm.
Elsbeth had kissed Lord MacPherson! The diary was beginning to hold more secrets that most of the romance novels Devin had read in the past. The images Elsbeth painted were branded in Devin's mind as she fought to make sense of it. Betrothed to Kyle, but kissing another man. Even back then it was unthinkable. It wasn't done. There was definitely something brewing between Elsbeth and Lord MacPherson. Unable to contain her curiosity, Devin quickly opened the book back up and continued to read. As much as she wanted to forget what was occurring between Elsbeth and Duncan, she couldn't. The more she tried to forget, the harder it was. The journal drew her in, like a moth to a flame. She felt like a voyeur, yet her need to learn what had transpired blotted out the present. On she read...
His kiss, it sets my body on fire. His hands, he touched me so gently I wanted to cry. I dare not speak of my time with Duncan. It is so unfair of me to betray Kyle as I have done. In a matter of weeks I am to become the new mistress of Castle Loch Haven. What shall I do? I have wronged my Lord Kyle. Dearest Diary, I should be full of shame but instead I long for our next secret meeting. It consumes my every waking thought. I think of it constantly. Does that make me wrong to want more?
Elsbeth
Devin didn't want to know about the intimacies they shared, the things they did together. But it was to no avail, she couldn't force herself to put the book down. As much as she knew it wouldn't turn out to be anything good, she had to keep going. Picking up the journal, she pored over the next page.
Diary, I waited till everyone was abed this evening, then I snuck down to the storeroom. Duncan promised to meet me, and he was there, waiting in the shadows until I made my way to the bottom of the steps. He was so gentle, Diary. He spread a blanket on the ground for me to sit upon and we talked. We talked of many things. His hair shines in the light of the torch. He is so handsome; it was all I could do not to cry at the sight of him. Then it happened. Oh, Diary, it was wondrous. So very naughty and wanton, but felt so good I wanted more.
. The kisses went on and on, diary. He touched my lips ever so softly with his own, and then I felt the taste of his tongue as he swept the inside of my mouth and the feel of his body next to mine. It was sinful, but oh, so delightful. I wanted more, but it felt so wanton.
He removed my clothes one by one. I was so scared but he told me to fear not. He would protect me and never hurt me. He laid me back and touched my body, covering it with his own, warming me against the chilly night air. He is so strong where I am weak; he is hard when I am soft.
He did things with his mouth, Diary, which I have heard the servant girls talk about. He touched me at the apex of my thighs with his tongue and I felt as though the world would come to an end. Then with his mouth and his hands, he took me higher. Right up to the Heavens. I swear I saw stars bursting forth behind my closed eyelids. I could hear my own breathing pounding in my ears. It was magical.
Then he entered me, taking me and making me his own as he claimed. It did hurt a little, but not as much as my bedding down with the Lord, then, oh my, it was wondrous. The feel of his body pressed to me, the largeness of him inside me. I wanted more, I needed more and he laughed and promised he would always be there to give me more.
I wanted to tell the entire world how joyous I felt, but alas there is no one. I dare not speak of my time with Duncan. It was unfair of me to betray Lord Kyle as I did. In a matter of weeks I am to become Lord Kyle's wife. What shall I do?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. She wanted a love like that---a love so strong that it brought tears to your eyes. Devin felt her cheeks flame with the thought. She was intruding into their lovemaking, a lovemaking that took place hundreds of years ago. She told herself to close the diary and put it back where she found it. But she couldn't.
I want to learn more, Diary. He laughed when I asked that he teach me all he knows in the ways of love. Oh dear diary, he is so much more experienced than I. But my heavens above, it feels wonderful to lie in his arms and be held as though I am a fragile vase. Till the morrow diary. Elsbeth
Diary, I have written Lord MacLay two letters. The first is to tell him that I cannot marry him. It would be impossible. I cannot go through with the marriage. It would not be right. I know my vows should be to the Laird, but I cannot. I am in love with Lord MacPherson. He is the man to which I wish to spend the rest of my life. The second is to tell him that I am safe and truly content with Lord MacPherson. I will have the letters delivered to him upon the eve of our marriage ceremony. Yes, Diary, I am a coward that cannot face the Laird and tell him myself, but I fear my tears and conscience will thwart what I know must be done. Dear Diary, I wish you could counsel me as to what to do. No matter the way of my actions, someone will be hurt by the ramifications. That I do know and I pray that I will find solace in my choice.
Devin picked up the parchment paper and held it in her hand. She was almost afraid to open it and see what it contained. To actually see the words that would break Kyle's heart and cause his downfall---the downfall that would lead to his suicide.
Dearest Kyle:
I beg of you to understand that I love another. And he loves me in return. Pray do not hate me for I am content and secure in my Lord MacPherson's care.
Bestow your blessings upon us for I could not go on without your support. I know this will come as a great shock to you, my lord, but it is for the best.
Of that you will agree. You gave me the strength to do what I must, pray follow your heart and do the same, Kyle.
As always, your loving friend.
Elsbeth
Searching through the pages, Devin couldn't find the second letter. She shook the journal as carefully as possible but nothing fell out. No second letter.
Devin imagined the young woman closing the diary and wrapping it safe and sound at the time, in the pristine white muslin. In her minds eye, Devin could see Elsbeth make the journey to the storeroom and tuck the book safely behind the squares of peat. Then quietly turn and walk away, the candlelight flickering in her wake, until she pulled the door tight behind her, leaving the room in total darkness once more. Never knowing she wouldn't be able to go back for the book or the letter.
To have its final resting place be a secret for all these years, never to have the truth be told until centuries later...at a time when no one but one man cared of the answer.
Diary,
How I wish I could speak freely to my lord Kyle. He does not yet know of the
Elsbeth
Diary,
The wedding day draws close. The seamstress arrived this morning to make the final adjustments to my wedding gown. It is so lovely; the dress has the prettiest lace across the bodice, and the veil of the finest gossamer silk. I am told Lord Kyle had it made especially for me. I begged the seamstress to keep her tongue as to the thickening of my waist. I am ill in the morns, my stomach lurches and heaves at the mere smell of food. I have told Kyle it is but nerves. Nerves of our impending marriage and all the planning that must occur. But I know the truth, as does the seamstress. It is the babe that stirs within my womb that causes the nerves. Not the wedding. The babe stirs at times that are most inconvenient, and I get so ill that food is most appalling.
Oh, Diary, my heart is heavy with dread. For I know that I will never wear the gown outside of this room. I will never be wed to Lord Kyle. He has been such a kind and wonderful guardian to me, but I must do as I must. Pray assist me in my hour of need.
Elsbeth
Diary, the time is now. Duncan and I have agreed that in two days time I will take my leave of Castle Loch Haven, under the guise of darkness. Kyle will be furious, as it is our wedding eve. But later he will come to realize this was for the best. For all of us.
I will not marry Lord MacLay in order to hold him to the vows made of our Fathers. We have not struck a love match. Nay, we share a great fondness for one another, yet nothing more. Kyle deserves a woman who can love him fully and that is more than I can offer. My heart is taken, given freely in love to another.
Until my next and final entry, dear friend.
Elsbeth
Diary,
The child in my womb conceived in love, yet under a cloak of darkness stirred again. This time it was when Kyle asked that I accompany him to the kitchens to instruct the staff on what I would like for the wedding feast. The smell of the venison was nearly my undoing, Diary. Oh, how I have longed to tell Kyle. To share my happiness, but I dare not say a word. My secret is harder to conceal with each passing day. My happiness will also be my ruin, I fear, should I ever reveal my secret to him.
Someday, my secret will be told. But alas today is not the time for telling. Soon Diary, I shall reveal all, and my torment shall ease.
Elsbeth
Devin flipped the page. Nothing. She scanned further through the book. All the pages were blank. This was the last entry Elsbeth had made. Devin closed the book with a soft thud and set it beside her on the bed. What next? She already knew the answer. She had to show Kyle the diary. Regardless of how made it made him, or how upset, he needed to see the truth once and for all. Would that end his torment and anguish? Or would it break his heart?
Maybe a walk would clear her head, tell her the right thing to do. Great, now she sounded like Elsbeth. She knew what the right answer was. Find Kyle and hand over the diary.
Taking slow, careful steps, Devin found herself atop the battlement, the diary in her sweater pocket. This was where Kyle came to think, she realized. The view was extraordinary. For miles, all you could see was green grass, dotted with bright bursts of flowers. Sheep milled about, their plaintive calls echoing on the breeze.
She looked down at the faded scrap of tartan plaid cloth held tightly in her grip. The tiny piece caught between the pages of the old diary, hidden from view for all these many years. Carefully, she brushed off the smudge of dirt and examined it closer.
An icy sensation started in her fingertips, moving swiftly up her arms to encompass her entire body. Everything went blank before her eyes, as though a movie theater had instantly gone dark before the feature presentation started.
A low mournful song reached her ears. Devin could hear bagpipes being played. Voices talking, conversations all around her, whispers of the bride and groom to be came to her from a great distance, filling her head and flooding out all else.
A gray veil of mist descended across the land. The bright sunny light of day faded to inky blackness as a full white moon hung low in the now dark sky. Silver shards of mist covered the land, creating eerie tendrils drifting to and fro.
Devin watched a man all dressed in black emerge from the shadows. Slowly, he approached the base of the castle and paused. A young woman darted out from the gate, her steps sure as she ran to the man. He lifted her in the saddle behind him and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.
The pair on horseback galloped away from the castle, the young woman's white gown stark against the bright contrast of the moonlight.
Devin watched the woman turn back to face the castle and raise a delicate hand in farewell. Her words though spoken barely above a whisper were clearly heard.
"'Twas not your fault that I love another, Kyle. My diary will explain all. Pray forgive me, my lord."
Devin stood transfixed, caught between the past and the present. Then she saw him as though through a fog.
Kyle turned from his post atop the battlement, spying the pair below. Enraged, he bellowed out his displeasure and wheeled away from the wall. His boot snagged on the loose rock, his footing gone, his body twisted forward, toward the stone staircase.
Devin watched paralyzed as he thrust his hands out in front of him, catching nothing but air. Kyle plummeted down the steps and landed in a heap, his body twisted and broken, blood slowly pooling at his side. The craggy moss covered boulders at the bottom his final resting place. Devin tried to scream, yet no sound issued forth from her lips.
The mist abruptly cleared, as quickly as it had come. Sunlight broke through her line of vision to replace the darkness. She felt nauseous, and her body trembled violently.
Somehow, someway, she had become privy to that fateful night centuries ago. The scene replayed before her eyes. A scene that while violent and ending in death had cleared the mystery surrounding Lady Elsbeth's disappearance without a doubt. The world seemed to shift as the past rearranged itself into something completely different. Elsbeth hadn't been kidnapped, she had gone willingly into the arms of another, Duncan McPherson as her diary had stated.
Devin slowly leaned over the wall and stared down to the base of the stone staircase, afraid even now of what she might see. The stair was mercifully empty. The water ebbed and flowed from the lake as it normally did. Her stomach lurched as she carefully stood back up.
Kyle hadn't killed himself as the tales told. He had attempted to stop Elsbeth from leaving, and ultimately fallen from the tower. An accident...nothing more. Yet so powerful, it had prevented him from passing on to the other side.
The facts filled her head fast and furious, as Devin tried to sort out what she had seen. Turning, she hurried down the steps and back inside the castle. The diary. Lady Elsbeth's diary was the key to everything.
"Lord MacLay where are you? I need to talk to you, right now." She paced the Great Hall, waiting for him to appear. Praying he would. Now that she had her nerve, she wanted to get it over with. Give him the diary, let him read it, and then see what happened next.
"You rang, milady?"
He appeared before her, and her heart skipped a beat. Would she ever get used to his popping in and out?
"I have something for you," she said softly.
"Have you found something? Yes, I can tell by your expression you have. But," he paused, "Why do I get the impression it is not good?"
"It's good, I think. It answers a lot of questions that you have been searching for the answers to." She pulled the diary out of her pocket and handed it to him. "I found it the day I was trapped in the storeroom under the castle. It's Elsbeth's diary. I think you should read it. No, you need to read it."
"What need have I to read a women's personal writings?" He stopped and stared at her intently. "Milady, is there some reason you have held onto this and not shown it to me before now?"
"Well..." Devin couldn't find the right words to answer him.
The flames flickered in the fireplace as she watched his features harden.
"Is there something in here I am not going to like reading? And I take it you have read the entire thing as well?" He asked.
She could only nod weakly.
"Fine, I will read the diary, if that is what you wish."
"It is," she replied.
He opened the diary to the first page. Devin watched as his eyes scanned the words. Then he smiled. "I gave her this as a wedding present."
"I know."
He turned the pages, reading further. Devin wandered about the Great Hall, poking at the logs in the fireplace, replacing the poker in the rack, then finally perched herself on the edge of a chair.
"She was in my bed?" He groaned, his face scrunched up into a frown. She could see him trying to recall that fateful night. "I deflowered my bride before the wedding. No wonder she was timid to the point of being scared. I did that to her. I ruined her. What she must have thought of me from that moment on."
"Keep reading," Devin said softly.
Slowly, his anger became evident. It was palpable. It filled the room. The flames in the fireplace rose higher; the drapes began to whip wildly back and forth from their rods. The china vase on the end table teetered back and forth. Devin expected it to crash to the floor at any moment, yet she found herself frozen in place on the chair. She couldn't move, she didn't want to move. She wanted this all to come to an end, for the truth to be revealed once and for all. Now.
His expression was as dark as the night sky.
"Not only did he torment me, he humiliated me before my guests. He took a treasure that belonged to me." His words boomed out, anger clouding every feature of his face.
"Lady Elsbeth belonged to no one," Devin replied softly. "She was her own person."
"She was mine." Kyle slammed his fist down on the arm of the sofa.
"No, she wasn't. She loved Duncan MacPherson and she chose to leave with him of her own free will. You couldn't have stopped her if you wanted to."
Kyle rounded on her, more furious than Devin had ever seen him. "How do you know she loved Duncan? Maybe he forced her."
Devin gulped. It was now or never she realized. "The words she wrote were of love, not fear."
"You had this the whole time and never told me?" His rage was thunderous, as Devin tried not to flinch from his booming voice and ferocious temper.
"I know it was wrong to keep it from you, but I wanted to read it first and see if there were any clues as to how to help you pass on, to leave this place and time."
"I must leave you now." Kyle turned from her and left the room.
"Kyle?" Devin reached out her hand to stop his retreat.
He shook his head. "Later, milady."
Devin slowly scanned the room. He was gone. An emptiness filled her very being. Nothing would ever be the same again.
She could hear his grumblings as he moved about the castle, until he was out of hearing range. Devin slumped down on the sofa, put her head in her hands and let the tears flow. This was terrible. She knew he wasn't going to be pleased or happy or anything of the sort. It was going to be hell living with the Laird from this point on.
The next morning, Devin opted to eat all her meals in the kitchen instead of the dining room. The silence was getting to her. Since she had given the Laird the diary, she had seen nothing of him. He was definitely making his presence well known and that of his anger, too. The castle creaked and groaned; crashes could be heard from unused rooms, but when the staff went to investigate, nothing was a miss. Devin knew she was the cause of his misery. If only she hadn't given him the diary, things might have been different.
Maybe it should have remained a secret. Then none of this would be happening. No, he needed to know the truth. To see the truth that while Elsbeth did love him in her own way, she had chosen another to spend her life with. She wasn't kidnapped, she hadn't met an untimely death and more so, everything she had done, she had done of her own free will.
"The Laird certainly is in a state today. Got himself all fired up, that he has." Mrs. Goode bustled about the kitchen, clearing the lunch dishes from the table.
Devin said nothing. She kept her gaze focused on the table before her.
"Would it be you know something about the Laird's mood, Lady Noone? You've been awfully quiet today yourself. Not that I'm prying or anything, that is."
"I'm fine, just tired, I guess." Devin toyed with the edge of the tablecloth, her fingers twisting the cloth one way, then the other.
"Begging your pardon, your Ladyship, but if you keep that up, I won't have a tablecloth left to use for supper tonight." She tugged Devin's fingers loose and held them in her own. "If I'm not speaking out of turn, why don't you go upstairs, run yourself a nice hot bath and let your troubles soak away for awhile. I'll send one of the girls up with a pot of tea in a bit for you. Oh, and here's the mail for you. There's some of your fancy American magazines in here, as well. Why not read one of those while you soak?"
"Thank you, I think I will do just that." She accepted the parcel of mail and smiled at Mrs. Goode before heading for her bedroom.
\*\*\*\*
Devin turned the faucet off and lay back in the tub, sinking into the bubbly warm water up to her neck and letting it soothe her frazzled nerves. She closed her eyes and absorbed the quiet. She could smell the lavender from the sachets on the armoire, so refreshing and delicate. Later, when she was out of the tub, she'd read a magazine, but not now. This was too nice, too...
"You were right and I was wrong." Kyle paced the room from end to end.
She started and sunk lower in the tub, forcing the water to rise nearly to her chin. "Is it necessary to have this conversation right now, Lord MacLay?" She fervently prayed the bubbles covered her naked skin.
His agitated steps continued, as Kyle furrowed his brows in thought.
"I did love Lady Elsbeth, but not as a lover or a husband should. My affections were that of a brother. But nevertheless, I was a fool to have not seen the signs."
"If she were any more discreet, there wouldn't have been any signs to see," Devin gently reminded him.
His steps stirred the air, as Devin watched the soap bubbles slowly dissipate before her eyes.
She frantically searched the area for a towel, and then saw her robe lying just out of reach on the vanity chair. Without stepping completely out of the tub and exposing herself to his eyes, she was stuck.
He turned, and his gaze caught on her in the tub. Liquid heat pooled in her stomach as he continued to stare at her. Her naked body was barely hidden from view by the barest hint of suds.
Devin squirmed under his intimate perusal.
"Milady, I must apologize."
Good, he was going to leave. Devin sucked in a breath of air she didn't realize she was holding.
"Forgive my manners. Allow me to assist in your bath. I will wash your back for you."
"No, thanks, I'm done as you can see. Now if you would please excuse me, I'll join you in the sitting room shortly." She sunk lower trying to avoid the heated look in his eyes.
"It wouldn't be any trouble, I assure you." She watched him reach for the washcloth hanging on the vanity.
"No," Devin whispered, the words breathless and throaty.
Kyle dipped it slowly in the tub water beside her knee. It was clear nothing she could say was going to sway him from his task.
She hesitated for a moment. Now or never she told herself.
"Kiss me," she whispered softly.
"Your wish is my command, milady."
Kyle obliged, taking her mouth in a crushing kiss.
"Tell me what you wish of me, milady. Anything, everything. You have only but to ask and ye shall receive." The wicked gleam in his eye told Devin he meant every word of what he had said.
"Milord, I do believe you are quite overdressed for the occasion at hand," she commented coyly.
"Aye, I suppose I am." With one quick motion, Kyle tore the tunic over his head and divested himself of his breeches. In seconds, he stood naked before her. Devin's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened at the sight of him.
His arousal was enormous, tall and proud, springing from the nest of curls between his muscular thighs.
Kyle knelt and nuzzled the back of her neck. His breath feathered down the side of her throat, sending tingles racing across her highly sensitized skin. His hand brushed over her hip, pulling her tighter to him, though still separated by the wall of the bathtub.
Desire, hot and fierce raced through her, tugging at her, blinding her to all but his touch.
A pleasurable ache began low in the pit of her stomach, warming her insides, turning her legs to jelly as he touched her.
"Kyle, please."
"Please what, milady. Stop, more, tell me, Devin. Tell me what you wish of me. I am yours to command."
"Please, make love to me," the words slipped from between her lips. "Now, please. I need you. We don't know what will happen tomorrow or even in the future, but please I need you. Now."
He smiled down at her flushed face. "Ah, milady. I will make love to you, but slowly, and for all the night long. We will not rush this. That I promise you."
She stood and leaned into his kiss. A kiss she knew she would never forget, no matter how long she lived. Kyle gently toweled off her body, then picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, depositing her gently on the down comforter, and came to lie beside her. His fingers caressed her skin, touching, seeking, searching.
Devin arched her back at his intimate touch. His fingers teased the soft skin of her inner thighs, drawing slow lazy circles across the tenderized flesh. She moaned, pressing herself closer to him, wantonly splaying her legs apart for more.
Kyle growled, the sound low and raspy. "Milady, if you continue to tease me thusly, I will be forced to rush our lovemaking and that I would hate to do."
His thumb stroked the very core of her being, dipping inside to lay claim to the dewy wetness within.
"I would be remiss if I did not thoroughly please, milady." Again he rubbed against her, then bent down and took her nipple into his mouth.
Her back arched and she pressed her breast further against him. "Yes." She took hold of his shoulders and held him to her, wanting the feelings to continue, to never stop. The world swirled around her and Devin felt as though she were going to shatter into a million pieces.
"Kyle," Devin begged. "Now, I can't wait."
"As you wish, milady." He smiled and rose above her, positioning himself between her thighs, the tip of his erection teasing her. "Is this what you want, Lady Noone, or possibly this?" Again he slid into her then withdrew, leaving her gasping for breath.
She was hot and ready. Ready for all of him.
Surging forward, Kyle thrust within her silky folds with one stroke. Devin moaned, the sound low and keening. "More," she whispered. "I want it all."
"And you shall have it all, my love."
Stars exploded behind her closed eyelids as Devin let herself go. She clung to Kyle's broad shoulders, crying out against his skin as she came. "Yes, yes."
Slowly coming back to Earth, Devin allowed her gaze to roam over the man next to her. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't she fall for a mortal man, a man to live out the rest of her life with, not a ghost who was destined to leave her at any time.
With a soft sigh, she curled up in his arms and felt herself drift into sleep.
Kyle watched the red-haired lass slumber. She was curled into a ball, like a tiny kitten, the bed linens tucked beneath her chin as she slept on, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that warred within him. Already, he could sense a change in the atmosphere. The air was charged, his skin prickled as though being touched by a thousand dagger tips. Their night of passion had changed the future. Kyle held his hand up in front of his face. It shimmered in and out of focus. His fingers were translucent, his hands followed suit. Soon, he would be invisible again. He closed his eyes and prayed for guidance. Dropping a soft kiss upon Devin's brow, he slipped from the bed and padded toward the door. His footsteps made no sound on the stone floor. Reaching for the doorknob, his hand slipped through the wooden portal. Kyle sighed. It had begun.
\*\*\*\*
Devin opened her eyes and turned to her right. The bed was empty, but the indentation from where his head lay still remained on the pillow next to her. She pulled it closer and buried her nose in it. It smelled like him, a woodsy, manly smell. A smell she wouldn't be able to smell again without thinking of him. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she fought not to cry.
Pushing back the covers, she rose from the bed and stretched. Looking in the bureau mirror, she studied her reflection. She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly loved. Her lips were swollen and the right side of her neck had the distinct markings of a stubble rash. She smiled. So this is what it felt like. It felt wonderful.
Tugging on her jeans and sweatshirt, she went in search of the Laird.
As she crossed the Great Room, Mrs. Goode called out to her. "Milady, there's a phone call for you from your barrister. He says it's urgent."
"Please, tell him I'll call him back." Devin was intent on finding the Laird.
"But, milady," Mrs. Goode called out. "He says it's about the letter you received. There's another Lord---"
"Later, Mrs. Goode. Can't talk now." Devin rounded the corner.
She didn't know why, but she knew she would find him atop the battlement, his bagpipes held loosely in his hand. His back was to her as he stared out at Isle Lake.
"Kyle," Devin called out softly, walking toward him.
He turned and held out his hand. "Sleep well, milady?" he asked with a mischievous grin.
"The little I did sleep, yes, quite well. And you, my Lord?"
Kyle pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. "I slept quite well it seems. When I woke this morn, I felt quite a different man."
Devin resisted the urge to shudder. A different man. It was happening. The simple act of their lovemaking had changed everything.
She felt him rest his chin on the top of her head as he continued. "I felt as though today would be a new beginning, a new start for my life. How I don't know, or even why or when."
"But---"
"Ssh, don't say it, my love. We both knew my time would end. We just didn't know when. It appears that the diary and our night together is the start of the end."
Devin pulled back out of his embrace and stared at him. His body shimmered in the sunlight, and Devin realized the longer she looked at him, she could see the grasslands behind him. But she was seeing them through his body, not around it.
No, it couldn't be happening already. She wanted more time, she needed more time with him.
Panicked, she stepped back and stumbled on the uneven surface of the battlement. Her hands flailed in the air, trying to right herself. Her body twisted and she felt herself falling over the edge of the battlement. Her fingers clutched at the jagged rocks, searching for a hold to keep from tumbling down the staircase and into the cold waters of Isle Lake. Her descent stilled as she clung to the moss covered rocks.
"Kyle, help me. I can't hold on much longer."
Kyle struggled against the lethargy in his body. Trying to move a step forward was more than he could do. He struggled to move his hand, his legs, anything. Slowly, he was able to bring his hand up before his face, afraid of what he would see. The once solid planes of his body were now a shimmering haze. He was dissipating before her. Kyle knew it was time, as the world became cloudy before his eyes. The sky changed, from the bright light of day to the darkest of night.
"I love you, milady. Of that, always be sure. I must leave you now."
"No, don't leave me. Kyle..." her anguished cry filled the tower, as her grip loosened on the rocks.
"Kyle," Devin whispered hoarsely. She slowly became aware of her surroundings as shards of pain shot through every fiber of her body.
"Aye, you've awakened then, lass. You gave us a dreadful fright, for sure. You almost tumbled down the battlement staircase and into the lake. Rest now, the doctor says you will be fine in a few days."
"My head, it throbs so." Devin winced as she felt the cold damp cloth touch her brow.
"Just a couple of nasty bruises on your forehead, arms and legs, and a quite colorful lump to your cheek that will take time to fade. Nothing permanent the doctor assured us, thank goodness," the masculine voice reassured her. "That wretched beast you call a pet saved your life, alerting us to your presence on the battlement staircase."
"Who are you?" Devin asked, her tongue feeling thick and her words sluggish as she tried to concentrate on the room swimming in and out of focus before her. What little she could tell was that she was in her own bed in Castle Loch Haven. That simple fact alone comforted her somewhat.
He leaned over the bed and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His touch was so soft and gentle, as he caressed her skin. Yet, something was different. Something not quite right.
"Kyle?" she asked again, trying to push her self upright in the massive bed. The effort sapped at her strength.
"No, lass, I'm not your Kyle," he replied gently, easing her back onto the pile of pillows. He picked up her hand and held it within his own, his fingers stroking the back of her hand. "I've been trying to contact you this last month, but you're a very hard lady to get a hold of, milady."
Slowly, her vision cleared as he came clearer into view. Blond hair, blue eyes...the striking image of Kyle, yet not Kyle.
"Then who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom? Where's Mrs. Goode?" Devin questioned.
"Your housekeeper will be here shortly, along with some tea. Allow me to present myself, Lord Connor MacLay at your service, Lady Noone. I'm the great, great, great-grandson of the former Laird of Castle Loch Haven. It seems you are not the only heir to the Castle and I've come to make you an offer you cannot refuse."
Devin groaned and shielded her eyes from the glare of the bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom windows. She turned her head slowly, trying to ignore the stabs of pain at her temples.
"Ah, you're awake, milady." Mrs. Goode crossed the room and moved to the bedside.
"Good morning, I think. Things are still a bit hazy."
"Aye, that they will be for awhile, the doctor warned. You have to take it easy, he said. Regain your strength slowly." The woman fussed with the bedcovers, tucking them around Devin.
"I had the strangest dream, Mrs. Goode."
"Really, milady. What would that be about?"
Devin picked at the edge of the coverlet. "I dreamt that I fell from the battlement, and I was hanging off the edge calling for help and Kyle couldn't help me. He just started to vanish before my eyes. It was so weird." She looked up at Mrs. Goode. "It was a dream, wasn't it?"
The woman slowly shook her head. "No, lass, I'm afraid it wasn't." She lowered her gaze to the floor. The Laird is gone."
Devin felt the tears burn at the back of her eyelids. "No," she whispered. She raised her gaze to the older woman. "Then the man that was here..."
"Lord Connor, aye. He's downstairs taking his morning meal."
Devin threw back the covers and pushed herself to a sitting position. The room swam before her eyes and she grabbed the bed post for support.
"Milady, you lay right back down. You know what the doctor said." Mrs. Goode settled her back against the pillows. "You can't be pushing yourself right now. You've had a bad scare. It's best to stay still."
"I have to talk to him. It's imperative I talk to him." Her eyes filled with tears. "I need to know."
"I'll get him for you. You just stay put. But first, let's tidy you up a bit before I bring Lord Connor up here."
Devin tamped back a sob. "Thank you, Mrs. Goode; I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Don't you be fretting about that none. I'm not going anywhere. Now sit still while I get you a warm basin of water and a washcloth. We'll have you ready in a jiffy." She hurried off into the bathroom.
Roughly fifteen minutes later, Devin sat back against the bed pillows nervously fidgeting with the lace trim on the coverlet. As much as she wanted to see Lord Connor, she didn't have a clue what she was going to say to him. Part of her didn't want to say anything at all.
Why did it have to be this way? She knew in her heart that something had changed between her and Laird MacLay the morning after they made love, but why now? Why did it have to be so fast? She felt the tears threaten to fall and willed herself not to cry. She had to remain strong, had to fight away the memory at least for a little while.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. "Come in," Devin called out.
She watched as the door slowly opened and a tall man came into view. "Lord Connor?"
"Aye, milady. Lord Connor MacLay at your service." He gave a small half-bow.
"Please, come in and have a seat. I'm sorry I can't get up and properly welcome you to the castle, but..." Her words trailed off.
"Don't worry yourself over it, Lady Noone. I'm sorry I came at such a difficult time. Please, forgive my intrusion." He settled himself in a wingbacked chair by the fireplace.
Devin found herself staring at him. Kyle? No, he wasn't Kyle. Kyle was gone.
This man was tall and handsome. He wore a black turtleneck and black dress pants. Every inch of the man was pure muscle, not an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. A warmth filled her body as she continued to stare at him. He was the spitting image of Kyle, but not. And too, there was something different...
"Milady, are you alright?"
Devin pulled herself from her musings. "I'm sorry, forgive my staring. You look so much like Laird MacLay, but that's impossible." As hard as she tried, she couldn't pull her gaze from him. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember the reason why you're here."
He cleared his throat and moved to stand. Her eyes followed his every movement. "I'm here to..." He looked at the floor, then back at her. "I'm here to assume my rightful place as the owner of Castle Loch Haven."
"I beg your pardon." Devin sat up straight in the bed. "I don't believe I heard you correctly."
"Aye, you did milady. I am the heir to Castle Loch Haven. My great, great, great-grandfather was Lord Kyle MacLay and as such, I am entitled to the ownership of the Castle."
"That's impossible. Kyle never married nor had children."
"It's true he never married, but he did father a child. My great, great-grandfather was his son."
"Lord Connor, do you have proof of this?" Devin felt shaky; her hands clenched into fists, her palms became clammy.
"Yes, I do have proof. I would have come sooner, but I have been away on business in Australia and only found out last month about Lord Rolland's passing and of your inheritance of the castle."
"And where is this proof you have?" She tried to make her voice sound strong, to show she didn't believe him, but something niggled at the back of her mind. Was it possible?
"It's in my room, Lady Noone. I shall be back posthaste with it." He turned on his heel and left the room.
Seconds later, Mrs. Goode bustled in. "I don't know about that one, Lady Noone. He seems to be who he says he is, but keep your guard up. Your barrister was mighty excited about talking to you yesterday. He said he had something important to tell you. He did say the Lord was coming to the castle and that he did, barely minutes after the phone call." She paused and took a breath. "And it's a good thing he did, milady, or we might not have found you when we did. It was Lord Connor who pulled you to safety from the battlement. I hate to think what would have happened if he hadn't heard Algee's barks and ran after the dog."
Devin stared at her. "It was Lord Connor who pulled me up?"
Mrs. Goode nodded. "Aye, that he did and just in the nick of time. I don't think you could have held on much longer."
"But Kyle..."
Mrs. Goode shook her head. "The Laird was gone, we haven't seen him since."
"I don't understand."
"Maybe this will help you, Lady Noone." Connor's voice broke in from the doorway. He walked to the bed and held out a small linen-wrapped packet.
Devin took it from him and laid it on her lap. She stared down at it. Carefully, she peeled back the cloth and gasped.
"The diary, how did you get Elsbeth's diary?"
"It's been in my family for generations, apparently. Only last month did my grandmother give it to me when she learned of Lord Rolland's death. She said it was time to set things to rights again."
"But you couldn't have had it. I have it." Devin looked first at the packet, then up at Connor. She ran her fingers over the front of the book, and then opened the cover. "Oh, my."
Mrs. Goode leaned over. "Lady Noone, are you all right? What's wrong, lass?"
Devin lifted her head and met Connor's stare. "This isn't the same diary."
"I don't understand." He took a step forward.
Devin pushed back the covers and made to stand; pushing away the hand Mrs. Goode offered her. "The dresser, I need to get to the dresser."
"Milady."
"Lady Noone."
She brushed aside their concern and slowly made her way to the dresser. Pulling open the drawer, she reached under the pile of sweaters and lifted out a small cream-colored book. "This is Elsbeth's diary," she proclaimed.
"As is this," Connor lifted the other cream-colored book off the bed. "It seems there are two diaries."
"Good gracious," Mrs. Good exclaimed, clutching her hand over her chest.
Devin took a step toward the bed and felt herself start to sway. Before she could take another step, she was lifted up into the arms of Connor.
"Easy, milady, wouldn't do you any good to bash your head a second time. Let me help you."
"I can walk," Devin protested weakly, knowing she couldn't.
He sat her on the side of the bed and stepped back. "Mrs. Goode, it's probably best if you do the rest."
The older woman bustled about, tucking Devin back in between the covers.
"Two diaries," Devin said softly. She couldn't seem to get her head around the fact that there might actually be two. When and how?
She lifted her hand to her throbbing forehead and closed her eyes. Suddenly, nothing made sense. She was tired, so very tired.
"That's it. You've got to rest now, milady. No more talking for awhile." Mrs. Goode glared at Lord Connor. "Off with you now. The Lady needs her rest. You two can chat more after lunchtime."
"Milady, if it would be all right, may I read the diary that you have. And perhaps it would be best if you read the one I brought. Afterwards, we can compare what we have learned." With a sideways glance at Mrs. Goode he added. "No rush, of course."
"Fine," Devin slide down under the covers and let the housekeeper tuck her in. "Read the diary and we'll talk later." She closed her eyes and fell asleep within seconds.
"Lord Connor, unless you want to be risking my wrath, I suggest you take the diary and hightail it out of Lady Noone's chambers. I'll not have you upsetting her while she is ailing. Do you understand me?"
Connor smiled at the woman. "I understand completely, Mrs. Goode, and might I add you're a formidable force to be reckoned with." With a wink, he picked up the diary and left the room.
The next few days passed in a blur as Devin slowly pulled herself back together. Her head throbbed terrible, but at least the bruises were beginning to fade. Looking down at her bloodied knuckles, she realized just how close she had come to falling off the battlement. The thought sickened her to her core.
Reaching for the diary, she had to force herself to open the cover. Unlike the first one, this time she was scared to see what was contained between the creamy-covers. Flipping the page, she noted the familiar handwriting at the top of the page.
Diary,
It has been a long time is passing since I last wrote. My Lord Duncan presented me with this book in which to keep my thoughts and hopes. He knows I have much on my mind and believes this is the cure. Diary, I am happy. So very happy. But it came at a great cost. I have learned that Lord Kyle has perished. He fell from the battlement on the night I rode away with Duncan. It is my fault Diary. If I hadn't left, none of this would have come to pass.
I cannot turn back the hours to that fateful night. I can only go forward in knowing I have wronged my Lord Kyle. Till my dying day, I will not rest easy with the knowledge it was I who killed the Laird. Your humble servant, Elsbeth MacPherson
Devin shut her eyes and felt a tear slide down her cheek. So Elsbeth knew what had happened to Kyle. She choked back a sob and forced herself to continue reading.
Dairy, the babe is moving well now. There are times when I wish he wouldn't be so active. But it is a good thing. I am learning to be a good wife to Duncan and have made great strides at running a household. Lord Duncan is a good man, and has been very kind to me. Our love was created in the shadows but now is allowed to bloom outside the confines of the darkness.
Till later, dear friend. Elsbeth
So if nothing else, Elsbeth was happy. That mattered a lot, but at what cost? At the cost of Kyle losing his life? At the risk of sending an innocent man plummeting to his death? She felt herself grow angry, and she tossed the book on the bed next to her. Resting her head back against the pillows, Devin sighed.
Knowing that she wouldn't find the answers she sought unless she finished the diary, Devin glanced at it. Did she really want to know what happened to Elsbeth at the end of the pages? Part of her did, and the other part didn't.
Maybe a change of scenery would clear her head. Pulling on her sweater she moved toward the bedroom door. The doctor had given her clearance to move freely about the castle. Her wounds all healed but her knuckles. Tucking the diary in her pocket, Devin headed for the kitchen.
Pushing open the kitchen door, she started. "Lord Connor."
Connor MacLay looked up from where he was rolling dough and grinned. His face was covered in flour and his black dress pants were speckled with white.
"Afternoon, milady, might I say you're looking a mite bit finer than the last time we met."
"Thank you, what are you doing?" She surveyed the room, smiling at Mrs. Goode and her young assistant. "It looks as though you've had a flour fight."
"Not exactly, but close. I'm teaching the lasses how to make my famous cinnamon buns." He picked up the dough and tossed it high into the air and neatly caught it with one hand.
Devin watched as Mrs. Goode blushed. "Aye, milady that he is. And a right fine baker the Laird is."
"Please, Lady Noone, have a seat. I'll put on some tea for you. Galene, get her Ladyship a cup of tea and some cookies."
The young girl curtseyed and scurried away to do Mrs. Goode's bidding. Devin took a seat at the far end of the table and watched as Lord Connor pounded the dough, then broke it off into pieces for the buns. He certainly looked as though he knew what he was doing. She watched as he joked with the kitchen staff, putting them totally at ease. He looked so very much like Kyle...
No, she shook her head. He wasn't Kyle. She needed to stop thinking that he was. What she did need to do was finish reading and find out whatever it was that made Connor believe he was heir to Castle Loch Haven.
Galene put the tea and plates of cookies down in front of her and curtseyed again. "Thank you, Galene."
"You're most welcome, milady." She scurried back to her spot at the other end of the table and resumed greasing and flouring the pans for the rolls.
"Okay, we're all set. Put the dough in the pans, top it with the nuts, cinnamon, brown sugar and honey, and then put it in the oven to bake. While that's baking, you can mix up the powdered sugar and water for the icing. How about it, Lady Noone, care for a fresh, hot cinnamon roll from the oven? Can't beat them, made it myself." He smiled at her and Devin felt her stomach flip over.
"Maybe later, thanks."
His gaze clouded over, then brightened. "As you wish, milady."
A few minutes later, Devin strolled into the library and took a seat on the plush window-bench. She pulled the heavy lap-robe over her legs and settled back to read more about Elsbeth.
Diary, it is growing closer. The babe stirs most of the day and night now. Duncan believes it to be a boy I carry. I am carrying low, as did his mother and sister. Hence the feel that it be a male within my womb. I don't care either way. As long as the child be healthy, that is fine for me. We are leaving the keep to stay with Duncan's mother in Glasgow. It is but a two days ride from here. The midwife that delivered him and his sister will be there to assist in this birth. So dear Diary, it is with heavy heart, I must close the door to another part of my life and journey forward once more. I wish Mother were around to see my child. Aunt Cecelia as well, I miss the closeness we shared, but know nothing in life is guaranteed. Till the morrow.
Elsbeth
The baby was due soon, Devin mused. And Elsbeth was off to another castle to deliver her child. How uncivilized things must have been for her. No modern medicine, no mother or aunt there to hold her hand and reassure her that things would be fine. She turned the page and continued on.
Diary, I have given birth to the most beautiful child on the face of God's earth. A boy, a darling, little boy who came howling into the world as though the demons of hell were on his hells. It was a difficult labor and not one I wish to repeat. I am weak and the midwife has banished me to bed. I am to remain in my chambers for the next two fortnights to regain my strength. They bring the babe in to suckle during the daytime hours. I am weak Diary; Duncan tells me there was great bloodshed at the birth. It was a long and arduous labor to bring my son into the world. But well worth it as he is everything to me. Duncan and I have a son. A child to carry on the name of MacPherson. His family is well receiving of the child. I believe I actually saw tears in his father's eyes the first time he held him aloft for the villagers to see. I must rest now diary, I fear my strength is wasting away. Till we meet again, Elsbeth
Something wasn't right, Devin could feel it. She hastened to the next page, almost fearful of what she would see written there.
Diary, it has been a long time since we last visited. I am still not well; the simple task of walking down the stairs from my chamber to the Great Hall exhausts me. My son, Lord Braedon MacPherson is my life. He is such a good babe. He does not fuss, nor cry out. Happy is the child that has love lavished upon it, and Braedon is such a child. Granted he is just a babe in arms, but Duncan takes him everywhere with him. To the stables, the village, everywhere father and son go together. I cannot say enough about the father Duncan is. If only my father were here to witness this, it would make matters simpler in my mind. But it is not to be and never shall.
Devin shook her head. As much as she wanted to believe everything was fine and dandy, something wasn't ringing true about Elsbeth's last entry. Not sure what it was, she read on.
Diary, I am remiss at writing within your pages. I have been ill, and time slips past me without my notice. I am with child again. Duncan and I are to be parents in the late winter of thus year. I hope the child is a girl, but Duncan has sent prayers upon high for another boy. Braedon is the light of his life. He is still such a good baby, never a cry from him. He is moving about now, and the castle has all fallen under his spell. His blue eyes, dark hair and wide smile enchant even the dourest of maids.
The shadows crept into the library but Devin kept on reading. Reaching over, she flicked on the switch for the lamp next to the window-seat, but never lifted her gaze from the page. Trapped within the pages of the book, she read on.
Diary, this will be my last entry of the year I fear. The babe will come soon. I am swollen and am constantly ill with nausea. The child moves slowly within my womb, not like his brother did. The movements still for many hours at a time. My back hurts as does my stomach, I cannot bear the thought of food and water makes me ill. I wish for the babe to arrive so that I can return to my normal life. I am not well. Elsbeth
"No, this can't be happening. She can't be this ill. It isn't right," Devin whispered, turning the page. She dashed away a tear from her cheek and bit back a sob. "Not Elsbeth."
Diary, the child within my womb no longer moves. I have lost the babe. The midwife says I will never carry another child again. I am beside myself with worry. The babe was a boy. Another son for Duncan. Labor was strong, the intense pain pushed away any thoughts I had. I remember nothing save the screams that rent the air upon the delivery. The screams were my own, I am told. I am grateful I remember nothing but the onset of the labor. But the pain of losing a child is more than I can bear. Duncan has not come to me in many nights since the birth. He is feeling pain as well. I have dishonored my husband, his mother tells me. She claims I have done this on purpose. Diary, what am I to do? I feel so ill, so weak, I cannot bear the thought of my husband's desertion should it be so. Elsbeth
Diary, Braedon is a big boy now. He turned one today. There is concern among my husband's family diary. Braedon's blue eyes, fair hair and winning smile have earned him the scrutiny of the villagers. What I had not thought of has now come to pass in a most unusual manner. The child to which I gave birth last March was not Duncan's. It is unmistakably Lord Kyle MacLay's child. He is the spitting image of his father. I had failed to see this, blinded as I was by the truth of the conception. I had no inkling that a woman could get pregnant the first time she was with a man. The maids back at Castle Loch Haven assured me of this. I had no others to turn to for guidance. It is clear now that the child I carried was my Lord's and that I have done him a grave injustice by spiriting myself and the child away under the cloak of darkness. Pray he forgives me. But that is not possible, as he is at rest with the heavens. I have sinned the greatest sin of all, and I must atone for my mistakes. I fear this will be my last entry.
Elsbeth
Devin turned the page, but it was blank. Just like the last time. "No, it can't be. There has to be more." She rifled through the pages, searching for another entry, searching for something. But there was nothing to be found.
"I believe this is what you're looking for."
Devin started, turning toward the sound of Connor's voice. He held out a letter in his hand and laid it within her grasp. "This will tell the rest of the story." He turned from her and settled himself with a chair.
We lay to rest Elsbeth Amelia Morehead MacPherson at the vase of Castle Loch Worden. She sleeps peacefully now, among the angels. Her death was quick, her body found among the trees in the forest. Hemlock on her lips, the remains of the fatal poison still in her grasp. She was loved by her husband, I, Duncan MacPherson, and I shall set to rights the identity of the small child. He was mine to raise and he will be mine to bear the burden of his mother and father's untimely demise. Forgive me Lord MacLay, it was not my intention to take both your wife to be and your child from your home. I shall forever remain in your debt for allowing me the time I had with Lady Elsbeth MacPherson. Forever saddened, Lord Duncan MacPherson
Devin closed the diary and the tears cascaded down her cheeks. "The baby was Kyle's. She left without knowing the child was his. He never knew." The tears came in a hot rush, falling unheeded down her face.
Connor rose from his chair and moved to the window-seat. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close.
"No one knew the truth till the child started to grow up."
He rested his chin on the top of her head and let her cry. She needed to get it all out, everything that had been bottled up inside since before he came along. Stroking his hand over her head, he held her without saying a word, till the sobs turned to hiccups.
She pulled back from his embrace and looked up at him. "How long have you known?" A hiccup emphasized her words.
"For about a month and a half now," he answered honestly. "The diary must have been passed down from generation to generation in my family and no one thought anything of it until my grandmother was on her death bed. She summoned me to her side from Australia and gave me the book. She told me to read it and go after my legacy. I didn't know if I wanted to do that, to disrupt a man's home and life after all this time. But I went ahead and had my barrister send a letter to Lord Roland, informing him of my existence. By the time I got to Scotland, I had learned of your cousin's death and that you had taken over the running of the castle. And when I arrived, well...."
"You arrived just in time to save my life," Devin stated, looking up at him from beneath tear-soaked lashes.
"Right," he looked away, hiding the blush he was sure was on his face.
"So..." Devin said slowly. "Now what? I presume you've read the first diary."
Connor nodded. "I have indeed. It boggles the mind, I must admit."
"That it does," Devin agreed. She shifted back, removing herself from his embrace. Instantly, his arms felt cold, devoid of the warmth that had filled them when he held her.
"Lady Noone."
"Lord Connor."
He shook his head. "Ladies first."
"You are the true owner of the castle, not me. You have it in your ancestry. I just inherited the title. We have to let people know."
"Lady Noone, by all rights you are the owner. My ancestors didn't come forward to claim it as they should have once the error was made known."
Devin moved from the window-seat and walked about the room. "I can't stay here knowing what I know."
"Why not? Why not stay here while we figure out what really is the right thing to do. The villagers adore you; I heard it in their voices when I arrived. They would die for you."
"Please." She waved her hand at him.
"Mrs. Goode, she is a formidable foe if you cross her against you." He grinned.
"Okay, that one I'll give you." She smiled back at him.
Connor liked it when she smiled. It lit up her whole face. He mentally shook his head. Get back to the business at hand. The last thing Lady Noone needed right now was for him to hit on her. Wait a minute, he told himself. He wasn't hitting on her. He was just...he paused for a second, internalizing the thought. What exactly was he doing?
"Connor?" She repeated his name.
Pulling himself from his wayward thoughts, he looked up at her. "Yes, milady."
"Do you think you could call me Devin? This milady stuff gets a bit daunting."
"I think that could be arranged." He grinned at her. "So how about one of my cinnamon rolls now, Devin?"
"I'd like that," she smiled at him. "Lead the way."
Connor rose from the seat and offered her his arm. At the first touch, he felt a jolt of electricity surge through him. He paused for the briefest of seconds and fought the urge to look at her and see if she felt it too.
"Right this way, mi...I mean, Devin."
"Damn it, Rollie, you did this on purpose. You and Kyle. You ganged up on me and now what am I going to do?" Devin paced the length of the office, alternating between kicking at the fringe of the Persian rug and yelling at the ceiling in her frustration. For the past two weeks, she had been in a state of turmoil. Not knowing which end was up, whether she was coming or going.
"You both planned this, didn't you? Get me to fall for the guy so I could move on with my life. Well, it's not going to work. It's just not...." Wait a minute, falling for the guy? No, not her, she was just. She was just being nice to Connor? So why did her insides turn to mush every time he smiled at her, and why did she get all giddy inside every time he took her arm and lead her in to dinner? This would never do. There was no way she was falling in love with the guy. Was there?
She paced the length of the office and muttered a word even Rollie would be appalled to hear her say.
"Things can't be that bad, Lady Noone."
Devin stopped short, nearly an inch from Connor's broad chest. "When did you come in?" And more importantly, how much did he hear of her previous conversation?
"Just now, why?"
"Nothing." She let out a long sigh.
"Problems?" He inquired, settling himself on the sofa.
"No, nothing I can't handle." She smiled in spite of her own objections. "You?"
"Fine, fine." He crossed his legs and leaned back, linking his arms behind his head. Damn, the man looked good sitting there. A dozen thoughts ran through Devin's mind and not one of them was proper. Shaking herself from her errant thoughts, she moved to sit behind the desk, busying herself with a stack of papers.
"That photo, is that Lord Roland and the Laird?" He motioned to the credenza.
Devin swiveled around in the chair. "Yes, that's the two of them, though as you can see, Laird MacLay is invisible."
"Yes, I noticed." His voice came from directly behind her. Devin forced herself to stay facing the photos. She refused to look at him.
"Lady Noone, am I making you nervous?" Connor toyed with a strand of her hair, twisting it around his finger.
"Of...of course not," she lied, still facing the wall.
"You make me very nervous," he said softly.
She turned to face him, her lips scant inches from his. "I do?" she whispered, unable to take her eyes off his.
He nodded. "Very much so."
"But why?"
Connor shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I'd like the opportunity to find out."
Without conscious thought, Devin lifted her hand to his face, and pushed back a strand of auburn hair that had fallen across his brow. Connor caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Bad idea, milady."
"Why is that?"
"Because it makes me want to do this." He lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. Devin sighed, allowing herself to be drawn into the kiss. His arms tightened about her as she snuggled closer. His tongue teased the corners of her mouth, awaiting access and she granted it. He tasted like cinnamon and spice. A heady combination all rolled into one.
A groan fell from her lips as he deepened the kiss, igniting her senses. She wanted more, needed more.
He pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. "Wow."
A simple one word response. "Definitely, wow," she smiled against his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.
"Milady, something tells me this is not over, not by a long shot."
\*\*\*\*
Taking the last two steps at a trot, Connor rounded the corner of the battlement.
"So this is where it all began, eh Lord MacLay?"
Leaning over the edge, Connor peered down at the murky waters below. "Long way down. No one deserves to die like this. Regardless of the circumstances." He walked the length of the tower, then back again.
"Lord MacLay, I feel a bit odd doing this, but I need your advice. That and Lord Roland if he's available." Connor glanced around, to make sure he was truly alone.
"I came fully intending to seek claim to the castle and now I find I don't want to do that, it isn't a priority for me anymore. I...I don't know what I mean and I'm sure I'm bumbling this all about, but the question is this. I wish to seek the hand of Lady Noone in marriage. I find myself enamored of the lass and I love her." He paused. "I love her," he repeated with a goofy grin on his face. "So, my Lords, I wish to ask your permission to do so. She will be well cared for, and never want for anything within her lifetime."
Connor stood silently, awaiting something, anything from the heavens. He looked left, then right. Nothing. "I take it I have your blessings, my lords?" Again, he paused. "Well, at least you didn't send down a thunderbolt to deter me."
He waited another second, then grinned and headed for the stairs. "No time like the present."
\*\*\*\*
"More wine, Lady Noone?" He inquired, reaching out with the bottle.
"No, nothing more, thank you. I'm stuffed."
"It was a wonderful meal Mrs. Goode prepared."
"Yes, very much so. I don't think I'll eat another bite for at least a week." She smiled across the table at him.
The door to the dining room swung inward and Mrs. Goode entered the room, carrying two glasses of champagne.
"I do hope you've saved room for one more thing. It's a special toast. To celebrate Lady Noone's recovery."
Devin inwardly groaned. But she knew she wouldn't hurt the woman's feelings by refusing. "Of course."
Mrs. Goode set the crystal goblet down in front of her, and then moved to give Connor one. "I'll be leaving you now. Have a good evening."
"Thank you, Mrs. Goode, we'll see you in the morning." Connor nodded at her.
"Goodnight, Mrs. Goode." Devin reached for the goblet and moved it to her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glint of something. Lowering the glass, she looked through the side and gasped.
"Connor."
"Yes, milady." He smiled at her.
Devin tilted the glass and fished out the object. Holding it in her hand, she stared at it. "It's a ring."
"Really, what kind of ring?"
"Diamond," Devin replied, drying it off with her napkin.
Connor pushed back his chair and crossed to her side. "Well, I guess there's only one thing to do, then." He took the ring from her hands and dropped to one knee.
"Lady Noone, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Devin stared at him incredulously. She opened her mouth, and then promptly closed it.
Connor shifted, uncertainty filling his face. "Lady Noone?"
"Yes," she whispered, then threw herself in his arms.
On the other side of the door, Connor heard the kitchen staff erupt in cheers.
Four years later
Devin smiled down at her red-haired daughter and gave her a gentle push.
"Off you go, Ellie. Find some more Easter eggs for your basket. Watch Mrs. Goode, she knows where the best ones are."
The little girl smiled broadly up at her mother, then ran over to where the housekeeper stood.
"Look, Momma, I found another one." Little Kyle proudly held up the blue plastic egg for his mother to see.
"Good job, sweetheart."
She watched as the two children ran off in search of more treasures, trailed by Algee. As time had gone on, the once scared mongrel had turned into a fierce some watchdog. No one dared mess with "his" three year old charges, Devin thought fondly, watching the dog lope across the grass in hot pursuit.
"Our children are smart and adventurous, just like their mother."
His words were whispered against her ear, as Devin snuggled back into the warmth of her husband's broad chest. "And they know just how to wrap me around their little finger, just like their father," she replied. Her three year-old-twins were the delight of her life, next to their father.
Four years ago, when she had come to in her bedroom in the castle, she found Connor standing over her. It was Connor who had saved her from a fateful fall off the battlement. Kyle was gone, for whatever reason finally able to pass on to a peaceful existence on the other side.
Slowly, she found herself falling for the enigmatic Lord, and within a year's time span, said yes when he asked for her hand in marriage.
Devin couldn't believe her good fortune. She knew to whom she owed it all. She also knew that somewhere, somehow Lord Kyle MacLay was looking down and smiling at the happy couple and their two children.
Looking skyward, she whispered, "Wherever you are Lord MacLay, thank you for everything. I hope you're finally at peace."
"So, Lady MacLay, what are the odds that we might be able to sneak away for say a half-hour. I've got an Easter surprise of my own planned for you." Connor kissed her cheek and turned her around in his arms.
Devin wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer to his chest. "I think the odds are quite in our favor, my Lord husband. But really, another surprise. You spoil me too much, my Lord." She thought of the surprise she had in store for him and felt a flutter in her stomach. Another child due in February. "I think that could be arranged."
"Anything for my Lady. For forever and ever." Connor murmured as his lips took hers. Lost deep in their own passion, neither noticed the shimmering images of Laird Kyle MacLay and Lord Rollie Noone atop the battlement smile at one another and slowly fade away.
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