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 overgrow
n 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.
The Laird's Lady Page 2