by C. J. Bahr
“Och, Jeanie. I’m here now.” It broke his heart to hear Jean’s sobs, as he held her shaking in his arms. “Quiet, lass.”
“It’s horrible. Everything is wrong.” His sister’s muffled broken voice pierced him.
“Shush,” Simon reached up a hand to stroke her hair. “Calm yourself. Jeanie, lass, look at me.” He pried her away from him, holding her by the shoulders to look down into her grief stricken face.
She gave a few more choked sobs, before sniffling and meeting his eyes.
“Tell me what’s happened.”
She took a deep breath. “Da went...he...” She shook her head, then straightened her shoulders under his hands. She’d grown while he had been away, matured. He always thought of her as his baby sister, but the six years separating them from birth seemed to have shrunk. A lady stood before him now.
“He took one of the boats out. The day was clear, but Da didn’t return. The lads set sail to find him, but all they discovered was his abandoned boat.” Jean stifled a sob, and bit her lip. “Two days later...two...they found his body on the bank of the Kyle.” Tears started to streak down her face once more, returning the little girl of his memories. “When they brought...him home, Ma collapsed. Oh, Simon! She’s been in bed ever since, barely ever awake!”
She collapsed against Simon. “You weren’t here! Why weren’t you here?”
Her muffled accusations made him cringe. “Hush now, Jeanie. I’m sorry. I’ll make it right.” He stared past her shoulder and noticed the servants gathering in the kitchen. He and Jean needed to set an example. Be strong for the household. Keep appearances so the servants were reassured their livelihood and safety would remain intact even though the MacKay family was in turmoil. For most of the help who managed the estate, this was their only home, a safe haven from a rough life, and the difference between life and death. His military training took hold and he shoved his emotions and grief aside. He gently pried Jean away from him. Meeting her eyes, he gave a brief smile. “It’ll get better. Why don’t you take me to ma?”
Jean sniffled once, and nodded after noticing the servants as well. “She’s in her rooms.”
Once again, she put on a brave front and the mask of a well-bred lady, and led him through the kitchen, past the servants who parted as they passed. Simon hardly noticed the spoken condolences and greetings as he left the room.
Why had his father sailed out alone? Or for a fact, sailed at all? He had left the sea to younger men and rarely even supervised his shipping and ferrying business, leaving it to his handpicked people. Murdoch MacKay spent his time with the land and his tenants. What could have sent him out?
They climbed the stairs to the third landing and made their way to the back of the house, to the rooms almost identical to his, a floor below. Colin, the butler, waited outside her door.
“Welcome home, my lord. You have made good time.”
Simon shook his head. “Not nearly as fast as I wished.” He looked down at the aging man. How had everyone grown so old the few years he’d been away? Simon met Colin’s gaze. “How is she?”
“It has been hard for milady. She is much better today, having one of her good days. I believe the thought of your return has given her some strength. She is awake now if you would enter.”
“I would indeed,” Simon reached out a hand and squeezed Colin’s shoulder. “Thank you for all your care. It gave me great comfort knowing you were here looking after the family.”
“No thanks are needed, my lord. I serve the MacKay’s gladly.” Colin gave a slight smile, than departed down the hallway.
Simon turned to his sister. “Jean, I’ll go in alone.” It was best if he saw his mother by himself. He’d run away at the age of six and ten, and it would be the first time she’d see him since he’d left. A tense reunion at best. Would she be happy to see him after all these years? Or angry he hadn’t been there for the family? There was no telling how she would react, and Jean didn’t need any more stress or grief than she currently experienced. “Wait for me in the library?”
“Yes, of course,” she turned to leave, yet hesitated. “If you need me, send for me. And Simon,” tears filled her gray eyes once more. “I’m glad you’re home.” After a quick hug, she left, her footfalls silent on the carpet runner.
Simon braced himself and entered his mother’s sitting room. A roaring fire in the hearth crackled merrily in stark contrast to the weather outside and his mood inside. Rain pounded on the windows and a burst of lighting burned across his eyes. He blinked rapidly, blaming the sudden welling of tears to the storm. He had been right to leave all those years ago, but he had sorely missed wee Jean and his mother. He couldn’t change the past. He had left for everyone’s benefit, for the peace and welfare of his home, but he highly doubted if his ma saw it that way.
He looked at the open door to the bedroom when the clap of thunder struck. Simon shivered wondering if the menacing boom had been an omen. Enough of this superstitious nonsense, he admonished himself. His mother needed him.
He walked across the room, but reaching the doorway, he hesitated.
“Don’t stand there lurking, come in Simon,” Cora MacKay greeted her only son while propped up in bed. Simon expelled a sigh, but crossed the room in a few strides to reach his mother’s bedside. She held out her hand, which he raised up and gave a brief kiss before clasping both his hands around her own. “Ma, I came as fast as I could.”
“I ken that, lad. You look like you’ve ridden hard. You’re dripping wet.”
He shrugged and stared down at her. She didn’t look well, though she was trying to put a brave face on. The handsome woman, he remembered, had grown old in the eight years Simon had been gone, belying her forty-two years. Always a petite woman, she now seemed shrunken and lost in the blankets of the massive bed. Her thick, shiny red hair hung limp and flat, and her green eyes usually holding teasing mischief, were bloodshot and swollen.
She noticed his scrutiny and pulled her hand from his, and patted at her head, fussing with her hair. “Stop glaring down at me, son. I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” Another clap of thunder greeted this statement causing them both to glance out across the balcony. “You should look to yourself. You need to get out of those wet clothes, before you end up in bed like me.”
Simon shook his head, “I will. Dae nae worry about me.” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Tell me what happened. Why was he out to sea?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.” Her already soft voice, lowered to a whisper. “I told him Duncan could handle anything he needed. After all the man has looked after his business for ten years now, but your father wouldn’t listen, he was so stubborn. He said he had to go, do it himself.”
Simon watched as a single tear trickled down his mother’s cheek. His hand clenched into a fist, when she brushed it aside and then pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.
“Does your head ache you?”
“Only a wee bit.”
He watched her forehead crease, and she inhaled sharply.
“I think it’s more than that. Let me get you something—”
“No, no, I’ll be all right. I just need some rest...” She reached up to grip his arm, pulling at him. “But I need to tell you...”
He dropped to his knees alongside the bed, bringing his face close to hers. “What is it, Ma?”
Her grip tightened on his arm, her voice barely a whisper. “Simon...your father was murdered. Careful...Find his killer...” her eyes closed and her hand slid from his arm to drop limp beside her.
“Ma? Ma? Are you all right?”
Cora sank deeper into the bedding and fell asleep before his astonished eyes. His mother was obviously ill and now this revelation. Murdered? Murdoch MacKay had been murdered? Was this truth or just a fantasy his ailing mother had conceived? He wanted to wake her and demand answers, but kneeling beside her, he knew she needed rest. With a light touch, he traced a finger across the back of
her hand and sighed. “Sleep easy.”
He stood, not taking his eyes from her diminutive form. He knew his mother. She was sharp and quick, even an illness wouldn’t change that. Stunned, he let reality sink in. His father murdered. His intuition had warned him when he first read the message in France. He knew something had been terribly wrong. But why would someone kill him? His thoughts were broken by a thunderclap, and he turned to face the storm.
Simon stared blindly out the windows as the storm increased its fury. What had his father needed to handle personally? Therein lay the key, but it just didn’t make any sense.
He left his mother’s bedside, and reached the balcony doors. Placing a hand against the cold, damp glass, he brooded. He didn’t want this added burden. He hadn’t been ready to be Earl, and now he had to track down a killer.
When Simon left for France, his da had been robust and it seemed he would live forever. He was a stubborn man—too tough to ever die. It was hard to believe he was gone, his death brought about by foul intentions.
Simon would unearth the murderer. He was good at finding the enemy, and had plenty of experience working behind French lines. He’d start by finding Fiona. She was the first person who might be able to shed some light on this mystery. She knew everyone in the county and had her ear to the gossip. Simon only wondered if his jilted betrothed would even deem to speak with him.
He silently walked across the room. As he reached the bedroom door he stopped and gripped the frame’s molding. Someone would pay for tearing his family apart. He glanced back at his mother’s sleeping figure lost in the large bed. His knuckles turned white as his hand tightened with his fury. He would make it right, or die in the trying.
Chapter Five
Near Cleitmuir
July, Present Day
Laurel turned on her side to face the windows and snuggled deeper into her cozy nest of sheets and blankets, letting the filtered sunlight from the gauzy curtains warm her face. It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time. She hadn’t realized how poorly she’d been sleeping these past weeks. Derek had gotten to her. But apparently being over-tired from jet lag, and hanging with her best friend until one in the morning was just the medicine she needed for a peaceful night’s sleep. Even finding it still light as day out when she’d finally gone to bed hadn’t affected her. It was weird, even though Laurel had read about it, but definitely another thing to experience it. This far north during summer, Scotland could get up to twenty hours of daylight.
She smiled and opened her eyes while taking an internal inventory. Laurel felt great. No hangover. What a relief considering the amount of wine and scotch she had consumed last night. She hadn’t drunk that much since her freshman year in college. At least this time it had been stretched out over the evening in hours instead of binge at a frat party. Her smile changed to a grin, as she remembered her first college party Beth had dragged her to, claiming they had invitations, but were actually crashing. The things Beth had gotten her to do.
Last night had been relaxing and fun. It was easy to see why Beth had fallen in love with Grant, and drastically changed her life for him. It was a relief to see how much in love Grant was with Beth. Laurel should have been jealous, but she wasn’t. If anything, seeing what true love looked like had opened her eyes to the three years she had wasted with Derek.
After dinner, Beth and Grant shared stories on how they had met, and the comedy of errors their wedding had become. They had her laughing so hard, she once again regretted the fact she hadn’t made the wedding. Work, as it always seemed to do, had demanded her time. The museum had received a generous donation of Inca artifacts needing verification and the exhibit to arrange. There hadn’t been a chance for her to sneak away for a surprise last-second marriage. After that, it was always something rearing its head, keeping her from getting to Scotland.
But she was here now, almost a whole year later. Laurel opened her eyes and stretched before throwing back the blankets and sitting up. Somehow she always let her job take over, leaving little time for a personal life. Maybe if she hadn’t, she might have spotted what a fraud Derek really was or possibly been able to hold his interest. Stop! That train of thought would drive her insane. Besides she had a country to explore and no time to waste in bed, mulling over the past she couldn’t change.
Laughing, she stood and stretched again. The irony of it all, mulling over the past was her job, but she was on vacation, a much needed and long overdue one. She wasn’t going to waste another minute.
****
A short time later, Laurel entered Cleitmuir’s inviting kitchen and stopped short in wonder. Controlled chaos met her eyes. Beth presided over a staff of four and everyone seemed to be heading in a different direction.
“Dear God, is this normal?”
“Oh Lori, you’re up early. I expected you to still be in bed.” Beth dusted the flour off her hands. “We have a dinner party to get ready for, remember?” She walked over and gave Laurel’s beat-up tall riding boots, faded blue breeches, and long sleeved T-shirt a long look. “I think it’s time you invested in some new riding duds. Your boots and breeches have seen better days.”
Laurel shrugged. “They’re comfortable.”
“Are you sure you still want to ride out on your own? I know you won’t get into any trouble, but maybe you’ve changed your mind and would like some company? It’ll only take me a moment to change and join you. You can grab some breakfast while you wait.”
Laurel grimaced and gave a brief shake of her head. “No thanks, you know I’m not the breakfast type, besides, we talked about this last night. You’re much too busy, and there’s no way I’m waiting for you to free up some time. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since you wrote and told me you renovated the barn and filled it with everything equine.”
“One of these days I’ll get you to eat breakfast,” Beth gave a shrug, and grinned. “For now, I’ll ignore it, ’cause I can’t wait for you to see the barn. Grant’s amazing. I’m still shocked he let me do it,” Beth smiled warmly. “Here, let me walk you out at least.”
Beth untied her apron and flung it onto a nearby chair and led the way across the kitchen. Reaching the back door, she grabbed a slicker/windbreaker from a hook on the wall and handed it to Laurel.
“You’ll need this. The weather is unpredictable up here, besides, the wind off the Atlantic can be cold.”
“Thanks,” she slipped into the jacket shocked it fit so well.
Beth caught her look and shrugged. “It’s an extra. Some guest left it behind. It’s yours if you want it.”
They walked outside and into a small herb garden. Crossing through, they passed under an arching trellis covered in blooming roses and onto a gravel path. Laurel took in the view. The ground opened up, and directly ahead stood a large stone building surrounded by mostly flat land, with an occasional rolling hill. It was the view from her balcony. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the hotel and in the far distance a large mountain range reaching up to touch the puffy white clouds floating in a crystal clear blue sky. A sky appearing so low, Laurel felt she could reach up and touch it.
“I still can’t believe I own a stable full of horses and get to ride whenever I like,” enthusiasm filled Beth’s voice. “Remember in high school how we had to beg and bargain for our rides? Let alone scrap together the money to compete? It’s great to be an adult!” Beth smiled. “I’ve picked you out a great mare. Her name is Rògair Gailleann.”
Laurel gave a half-skip jog to catch up to Beth. “Ah, that’s a mouth full.”
Beth laughed. “Yeah, well, that’s Gaelic for you. Her name translates roughly to rogue storm. We simply call her Gale. You’re going to love her. She’s an English thoroughbred, ex-steeplechaser. Right up your alley. I can’t wait for you to try her.”
It was right up both their alleys. As kids they hungered to run and jump cross country. None of the prissy show hunter stuff for them, and dressage was just a phase they endured
in order to run like maniacs on uneven terrain, flying over ditches, up and down banks and solid jumps that wouldn’t fall down if they hit them. They both loved it so much they made time in college to continue to ride. It was harder for Laurel now with a full time job, but every once in a while she still managed to get in a ride. She was completely jealous of Beth. What would Laurel do in order to own her own stable full of horses?
“A tempest is she?” Laurel laughed. “I’m not sure I should thank you just yet. You do remember I haven’t ridden in a while, right?”
“Phsst, you’ll be fine. You said it’s only been a few months. And here we are,” Beth gestured to the large gray stone building.
She followed Beth into the well-lit and ventilated barn. At once the welcoming smells of hay, horse and leather reached out to her.
“The tack room is here to your right, the crossties are across the aisle.” Beth walked right past said items with only a slight gesture and continued to the first corner stall.
An elegant, well-shaped gray head popped out of the open split door. Large brown intelligent eyes observed them as they approached. Beth stopped in front of the horse and reached out to affectionately pat her.
“Gale, I’d like you to meet my best friend in the whole world. Laurel, this is Gale.”
Laurel stepped near and raised her hand for the mare to sniff. A warm puff of air blew across her open flat palm in greeting. She smiled and reached up to stroke Gale on the neck.
“Hey sweet girl, aren’t you the pretty thing?” And she was too, Laurel thought. A good sixteen-three hands, tall for your average horse. Refined, yet muscular, with a gleaming dappled gray coat, she was the pin-up girl of the equine world.
“You’re going to love her, Lori. I’ll just leave her to you. You do remember how to groom and tack, right?” Beth teased and raised an eyebrow at her.
Laurel returned the eyebrow. “It hasn’t been that long. I think I can manage.” She gave the mare a pat.