“Damn it!” He saw what she was doing and grabbed the pillowcases, while she snatched Atticus to her. Brishen appeared, shoving his way through the dense bushes and taking the cats from Trev. That left Trev free to aid her through the hazard of the hanging glass.
Raven turned back to the house to see Brishen’s pony and the Gypsy. The booth was half in flames, but the horse remained untouched.
Trev read her mind and jerked her arm. “Leave it, by God.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded. She said good-bye in her mind to all her gentle things, which had sustained her and helped her heal away from the hurts of the world. Most of all, she said good-bye to the Gypsy who had likely saved her life. Giving one last farewell wave…she saw the eyes were open and looking directly at her.
Raven gave the mannequin a trembling smile and said, “Thank you.”
Then she rotated to face Trevelyn. He would keep her safe from now on.
Overhead, a pane of glass bowed and then dropped from its metal fittings, slicing down toward her. Trev leapt, dragging her out and away, far beyond harm’s way. The springy boxwoods cushioned their fall.
Brishen and Luca were there, then, hauling them through the boxwoods and away from the house. Raven finally set Atticus down. The bird flapped his good wing and fussed, but didn’t move away from Trevelyn. Even the silly bird knew Trev would protect them.
Raven coughed several times and managed a strangled, “The cats?”
Brishen shook his head, wearing a disbelieving smile. “Safe in the Range Rover.”
She looked to her house, nearly consumed by flames.
“What’s that ditzy female doing?” Brishen began cursing in Roma and then took off running toward the opposite end of the house. “I’ll bloody kill her!”
Raven and Trev twisted to see what their friend was screaming about. At the end of the small greenhouse, Paganne had a shovel and was slamming it against the locked door. Her objective met, she dropped the shovel and dashed inside, ignoring Brishen, who was roaring threats at her. As he reached the house, Paganne came dancing out, carrying a huge canvas still covered with a sheet. Paganne evaded Brishen who tried to snatch her long pigtail and came running toward them.
“I got it!” she cried when she has halfway there. “I got it!”
Brishen was right behind her. “You’re going to get it, you scatty female! I’m going to paddle you until you cannot sit down!”
Paganne set the painting down against the front of the Rover. “You and which man’s army?”
Car lights flashed behind them. The police, fire and ambulance crews followed behind a car with Mac and Cian. It was too late for the firemen to do much more than watch the death of Raven’s cottage, however.
Raven allowed Trevelyn to pull her into his arms. He laughed. “Damn, they did send all three.”
“And like the cavalry in B-Westerns…too late,” Paganne complained.
Raven stood numb, while Trev ran his hands over her head, shoulders and back, trying to reassure himself that she was unharmed. She welcomed his touch but didn’t want to think. She wanted to lean against him and cry.
Mac came rushing up and hugged her. “Are you all right? Anyone hurt? What the hell happened?”
Yes, what had happened? She tried to think back. She could barely recall anything other than the battle to get out alive. Then she recalled her baby. “Please,” was all she could cough out.
The emergency people buzzed about, asking questions, as did the police and firemen. So many questions, and she just couldn’t deal with them. Hugging Trev, she watched the final death gasps of her beloved home, willing everyone to allow her to mourn in peace.
Trev held her tight, kissing the side of her head over and over. Slowly she grew aware of his tears falling upon her face.
She was so tired, but there seemed no escaping all the faces looking to her. They needed some answers.
“Alec,” she sobbed softly.
Trevelyn pushed her backward to see her face. “He was here?” His jaw set as his arms dropped, and he started back to the cars.
Raven grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me,” she begged.
She saw the warrior in him wanting to avenge his lady, struggling with his need to be near her. Finally he nodded and pulled her close again.
She closed her eyes against the double vision. “I’m not sure. I think he set the fire.”
“Why, for God’s sake?” Paganne gasped. “What did he hope to do?”
Raven glanced to the cottage, seeing the roof collapse inward. “I really don’t know. There was a struggle. I was knocked out.”
Brishen assured Trev, “Take care of our Raven. Leave him to me.”
“Stand in line, fearless vampire killer. You can drive a stake through his heart after I finish with him,” Cian joked, but there was a true threat in the words.
More coughing hit, and Raven was aware of the medic pushing past Brishen and Cian to check her. “She’s suffering a concussion, obviously smoke inhalation—”
Trev supplied, “And she’s pregnant.”
The medic nodded. “We need to get her to the hospital.”
Paganne patted her shoulder. “Take her. We’ll deal with the beasties and get them settled at Colford.”
Raven agreed, but she didn’t relinquish her hold on Trevelyn. Before she allowed anyone to take her away, she watched the final moments of her beloved home and said one more silent good-bye to the beautiful Gypsy.
Trevelyn laid the white rose across Raven, who was still sleeping. It had been two days since the fire, but he still hadn’t shaken the panic of how close he had come to losing her.
The nightmare had come again, the first night after the fire. Tashian and Annie, his chasing her through the woods. Trev had seen the whole story. She had wanted to hear the words “I love you” and Tashian had been too confused, too arrogant to give them to a simple Gypsy. A man so far above her, Annie had feared he could never love her, had desperately sensed there was an air of doom that hovered around their love. Tashian’s unwillingness to give her the one thing she wanted drove her to despair. She carried his baby but refused to tell him until he offered her the love she so wanted. When he didn’t, it confirmed her hopelessness. She’d blindingly fled him during the storm. Tashian found her too late. A tree, struck by lightning, had fallen and crushed her.
Last night, the dream hadn’t come. It was as though he’d been finally shown the last pieces of the puzzle. There was nothing else left to reveal.
He leaned over and kissed Raven’s cheek. “I love you, Red Riding Hood.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and then a sad smile touched her lips. He had a feeling it would take time until her smiles were no longer haunted.
“Good morning,” she whispered, her voice still raw from the smoke inhalation. Seeing the rose, she picked it up and breathed in its scent.
He handed her a glass of juice from the tray. “I’ve been down to check on Marvin. Little bugger is having a ball in the stable with all the big horsies. I let him into the empty wing in the Hall, and let him dash about. I chased him properly, so he got his ‘go inside and aggravate the people’ out for the day. The cats feasted on pink salmon for breakfast and demanded extra pets. Atticus is in the conservatory and thinks the bubbling fountain is a birdbath. So, how are you and our baby feeling?”
“Well, I think. Just a little tired.”
He took the glass from her when she held it out, signaling she was through. After a moment he said, “I brought you oatmeal with honey and diced apples. I thought that would do well on your gimpy tummy.”
Raven scooted up in bed. “Thank you. Sounds perfect.”
“Well, the cook—and her foul-mouthed parrot—assured me this was good for a new mum to be. That bird is a howl. He must have been owned by a vulgar seaman at one time.” Trev chuckled.
Reaching out, he rubbed her knee, lightly, needing the contact. He watched her eat, waiting to discuss other matters. Finally, when sh
e said she was full, he took the tray and set it aside.
“I want the kitties,” she requested.
He nodded. “I’ll go round them up. Last I saw them, they were in the kitchen mooching treats from the cook and eyeing the parrot like he’d go well with lemon sauce. Now, why they view the macaw as fit for the dinner table and they ignore that ridiculous seagull, I’ll never understand.
“First, I wanted to let you know they caught Alec. He confessed to setting the fire, to cover the fact he thought he accidentally killed you. He’ll be going to jail for a long time. Lucky for him, because I was going to hold him down while Brishen staked him.”
Raven nodded. “What about Ellen?”
Trev sat down on the bed and pulled her across his chest. Stroking her hair, he marveled at this special woman. His woman. His life. “Only you could worry about the wife of the man who almost killed you, accidentally or not.”
“Ellen’s only mistake was loving unwisely. And she has a baby, Trev.”
He leaned back, tasting emotions he didn’t want to revisit: a mother with a small child left alone to raise the little boy. Yes, it was only one, compared to his mother who had struggled with three, but still…“I know. Despite the child being Alec’s, I can no more condemn it to a life of hardship. I’ve already spoken to Des. We’ll set up a trust for the child and make support payments to help raise it, until we see if Ellen lands on her feet.”
Raven nodded, then she glanced up. “Thank you.”
He gave her a sad smile. He supposed it would be a long time until his smiles weren’t haunted as well. He’d come too damn close to losing Raven. That was going to take time to get over. Maybe a lifetime.
“No need to thank me. While it was Alec’s doing, it did feel like a bit of history repeating itself. Your grandfather condemned the Mershans to a life of hardship. I’m not about to play his role again, to have a child grow up hating Trevelyn Mershan because I destroyed his daddy. I break the circle here and now.”
“But Alec’s actions were his own,” she argued. “He made his own choices.”
“I guess by the same token, despite what your grandfather did, my father’s action was his own. He made his choices. It’s still too much alike, that I want to prevent the same cycle of hatred and bitterness. I did ruin Alec. In his mind, I gave him no way out. I am not without blame. Perhaps if I had offered him a good paying job in Mershan, none of this would have happened. I am not the saint Jago is.”
“No what-ifs, Trev. No wasting life on them.” She snuggled closer. “What’s going to happen with the takeover?”
“It will happen. Only, Des has found B.A. is worth more than setting right the past. Instead of a hostile takeover, it will be a kinder, gentler merger. After all, the Mershans are going to marry three of the Montgomerie sisters. Let Des and Cian hammer out the details, I’d like to talk about our merger. What do you think—getting married on St. Patrick’s day? We could tie green bows around Chester and Pye, maybe even Marvin and Atticus.”
She finally gave him a real smile. “I think that’s doable.”
“You know I found another version of Little Red Riding Hood. I thought you might be interested,” he teased.
Her face brightened. “Really?”
“Yes. Basically it’s the same story, but with Red and the Wolf getting married and living happily ever after. And there was a line or two missing from the crucial dialogue.”
“Oh?” She reached up and ran her finger along his jaw. “Pray tell, what?”
“There is a line where Red faces the wolf and he tells her, ‘My, what a big heart I have.’” Trev laughed and then finished his version, the right version. “To which Mr. Big Bad then adds—hang on to your hats—‘All the better to love you with.’”
He kissed her then, shaking with need for this woman and knowing he was a blessed man indeed.
Epilogue
Two days laters, Raven saw the postcard with a crystal carousel on the entry table of Colford Hall. Picking it up, she carried it upstairs to the suite where Trev and she were staying while the cottage was being rebuilt. She paused inside the room and flipped it over, already knowing it was from LynneAnne in New York, even before she saw the signature. She’d dropped her sister a note a couple weeks before, telling her of the loss of the Gypsy fortuneteller, and could she please keep a lookout for another to replace it.
My darling sister, while I love and adore you, I have no idea what you are going on about. What Gypsy fortune-teller booth? I haven’t sent you anything for your birthday…yet. Sorry, I have a beautiful shawl I picked up in France, but have been remiss in sending it. You know how I am about sending parcels out. Ms. Procrastination! Anyway…I’m not responsible for this clockwork marvel you speak of, but would have loved to see it. Sorry it was lost in the fire. I promise to keep an eye out for anything as wonderful, but I seriously doubt coming across anything of the likes again. Something of that quality would be worth a fortune and in the hands of a collector. But a word of warning: If I find something that unique and marvelous, I am keeping it!
—Kisses and Hugs, LynneAnne.
Raven rushed across to the vanity in search of the memento box to dig out the photographs LynneAnne had sent her just before the mechanical Gypsy was delivered, along with her sister’s postcard telling her to expect it. After three steps she paused, recalling the box and the contents were lost in the fire. She tried to recall if she had showed the card and pictures to her brothers, but had a suspicion she hadn’t.
Trev came up behind her. Taking her in his embrace, he pulled her back against his chest and asked, “What’s wrong? You appear troubled.”
“I just got a card from LynneAnne,” she replied.
The news caused Trev to chuckle. “Julian gets that same worried look on his face whenever your sister’s name is mentioned.”
“Julian and LynneAnne?” she echoed in disbelief. After a moment’s thought she shook her head. “Nope. Someone is having you on. It’d never work. They’re exact opposites.”
“At one time I thought the same thing about you and me.” He put his head against hers and just swayed with her. “What else does my sister-in-law-to-be have to say?”
Raven held the postcard up for him to read, still flummoxed by LynneAnne’s insistence that she hadn’t sent the Gypsy as a belated birthday present. Of all the things she’d lost in the fire, the Gypsy and Brishen’s rocking horse hurt most. She recalled taking the last look at the mechanical woman and seeing flames already licking up the sides of the wooden booth. It hurt. She’d felt as if she lost something rare and special. A friend.
“LynneAnne sent me a note saying she’d found the Gypsy and was sending it as my birthday gift. She enclosed two pictures to show me what she’d found. One showed the whole box. The other was a close-up on the face of the mannequin.”
“And you don’t have them because they went up in the fire with everything else.” It was a statement and not a question.
Raven nodded. “Along with everything but your painting.”
“Not my painting. That is Tashian Dumont. I just happen to look a lot like him, just as the Gypsy looked a lot like you.” He sighed. “I don’t have the answers you seek, Raven. I doubt anyone does. The Gypsy—Annie Brightmoor—came to us for a reason. When the circle closed, her time was over. She’d done what she came to do: save us. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
Raven turned in his arms, hugging this man she loved more than life. “I’ll never forget her. I wonder what happened to Tashian and Annie.”
Trev kissed the tip of her nose. “Someday, my love, I shall tell you of Annie and Tashian. Just not now. I want to hold you and think of the future. Our future. Allow the past to stay in the past for awhile.”
I’ll cross these waters now
I need to cross this ocean of time
to be with you…
Don’t let me drown tonight
Don’t bring me down tonight
Don’t
wanna lose this feeling
that you belong to me
Shine all your light my way
There’s nothing left to say
I’ll never stop believing
that you belong to me.
“Oh, Trev, do you hear that?” The words of the beautiful song that was playing finally caught her attention. “That’s Mike Duncan. He writes most of his own stuff, too. Amazing voice. That song was playing the night we met! In fact, it was playing that first time when I looked over and you met my stare.”
“I recall.” Trevelyn smiled softly. “And I’ll never stop believing that you belong to me, Red Riding Hood.”
RAVE REVIEWS FOR
DEBORAH MacGILLIVRAY!
RIDING THE THUNDER
“This second story about the Mershan brothers is as interesting, fast moving, suspenseful and fun as the first one.”
—RT Book Reviews
“This is a tearjerker at times but be prepared to laugh, cry, and sing along to your favorite oldies. If you like young love, time warps, haunting ghosts or jukeboxes, and even riding the thunder on a Harley, this is the one for you.”
—Coffee Time Romance
“Deborah MacGillivray has beautifully penned a hauntingly romantic story of timeless love and breathtaking passion with Riding the Thunder…MacGillivray weaves a heart-wrenching story of love and passion with paranormal twists that are sure to captivate the reader…This is a great romantic story and a delight to read.”
—Night Owl Romance
“Read Deborah MacGillivray’s Riding the Thunder—you won’t be sorry! This book is fast-paced with a host of loveable characters. I fell in love with everything about this story, right down to the fat, late-named cat. It’s a keeper!”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“The sprinkling of past and present, especially the songs on the jukebox, even had this reader reflecting back on many things…in this unforgettable read that left a lasting impression.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
PRAISE FOR
THE INVASION OF FALGANNON ISLE!
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