by Lynsay Sands
Emily felt her heart sink at Mrs. MacBain’s expression. If she had looked alarmed, Emily wouldn’t have worried, but Mrs. MacBain was shaking her head with sadness.
“It isna because he willna pay that we have no help. His Lairdship would be happy to pay. But none of the villagers will work in the castle. He even hired a couple from the south once to help, but the villagers scared them off. The couple didn’t last a week.”
“Scared them off?” Emily asked, dismayed to think that she may have been unfair in her attack on her host. “How? And why will the villagers not work here?”
“Fear mostly,” the housekeeper admitted, then frowned and moved past her to set the tray on the table before glancing around. “Ye’ve done a fine job in here. Thank ye fer yer help.”
“Why are the villagers afraid to work in the castle?” Emily asked, unwilling to allow her to change the subject.
Mrs. MacBain turned back to the tray. Emily suspected it was to avoid looking at her as «he muttered, “Oh, there have been stories about the master and this castle being cursed for years. Tales of...” She hesitated again, then firmed her mouth and shook her head. “I’ll not betray m’laird by repeating them. ‘Tis enough to say that the villagers are afraid and so won’t work here. Now, ye should eat before the food gets cold.”
“You aren’t afraid,” Emily pointed out, unwilling to let the matter drop.
“Nay. But I was at first,” she admitted reluctantly. “Until I had been here for a bit.”
“What made you come to work here if you were afraid?” Emily asked.
“I felt I owed His Lairdship. He saved my boy.”
“Saved him?”
“Aye. My Billy got himself lost in the woods. I don’t know how many times I told him never to stray into the woods, but he and a couple other boys were having an adventure, wandered into the woods, and got lost. His Lairdship found them. They would surely have died of exposure ere someone found them had he not taken up the search. I came up to the castle the next morning to tell him I was grateful and he asked if Mr. MacBain and I would work here.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t say no. He had brought my boy back to me.”
‘And the parents of the other boys? Did he ask them too?“
She shook her head. “They never came to thank him that I
know of. Neither did any of the parents of the other children His
Lairdship has saved over the years, and there have been many.“
she assured her with a firm nod. “Children who were swimming when and where they shouldn’t have, playing when and where they shouldn’t have, and so on. His Lairdship always finds them and brings them home safe.”
“I see,” Emily murmured, and she thought she did. The laird of the MacBains saved the lives of local children, yet was reviled and feared because of some silly supposed curse from decades ago. It seemed terribly unfair to her. Terribly unfair.
Worse yet, she herself was one of those he had saved and then had reviled him for first being too unthinking and then being too cheap to hire help for the MacBains, when the truth was that he had the money and was willing, but no one would work for him. She bit her lip as shame overcame her. “And I chased him away from his own table with my accusations when he was obviously planning to dine in for a change. He will go hungry because of my assumptions.”
“Oh, well, don’t ye worry none. He’ll scare up something to eat somewhere,” Mrs. MacBain said vaguely. “Come, sit down to your own meal.”
Suddenly indescribably weary, Emily did as the woman suggested and moved to sit at the table, before asking, “Where is your son now?”
“Oh, he passed on some time ago. He was still just a lad, but was killed while in the king’s army. He worked here before he was a soldier though.” She smiled and patted Emily’s shoulder soothingly. “You should eat. Ye’ve worked hard today, harder than ye’ve any right to have worked, and while I appreciate it. . .” She shook her head and left the room. She had tried arguing Emily out of helping her all day. It seemed she saw little sense in trying to talk her out of it again.
Emily ate her food alone in the fine dining room she had almost managed to return to its former glory. The wooden table shone from her scrubbing and buffing and there wasn’t an inch of the room that was not better for her efforts. She, on the other hand, could now use a good soak. Her efforts—while satisfying—had been exhausting. If she’d had the energy, she would have taken herself on to clean up before eating, but Emily feared that should she do that, she might not find the energy to return below to eat. So, she forced herself to finish a portion of the food Mrs. MacBain had worked so hard on, unable to eat all of it only because her muscles didn’t seem to have the strength to lift the fork over and over.
It made her doubly grateful that the lord of this neglected castle had gone out for his meal. Emily didn’t understand why he would want to when he had such a wonderful cook, but supposed it was for the best, at least for tonight. She would have been embarrassed to have had to eat with the man after the way she had treated him. It was something of a relief to her that she was going to manage to avoid him. But this was only a temporary reprieve, she knew. Emily still had to thank him for saving her life. And on top of that, she now owed the man an apology for maligning him unfairly.
Sighing wearily, Emily pushed herself away from the table and left the room. She would have to make a quick washup, change, then return below to the library to wait for Keeran MacKay’s return. She owed him an apology and wouldn’t rest until she had given it.
Keeran stood at the foot of the bed and watched his guest sleep. Emily. She slept like an angel, her expression serene in repose. One arm bent, a lightly curled hand by her cheek, the other lying open on the bed. He watched her for a moment, then turned to peer around the darkened room, able to see it clearly in the moonlight with his nocturnal predator’s eyes.
The room was coated in dust and filth. Her cleaning efforts obviously hadn’t reached up here. He wondered briefly on that, then let it go with a shrug. He had returned home from the hunt, hoping to find her still awake. When he had found no sign of either the girl or the MacBains on the main floor, he’d made his way here to the room they had settled her in that first night. He’d intended to wake her and force her to tell him where she belonged so that he might return her there, but the sight of her sprawled across the foot of the bed, still wearing the rumpled gown from earlier and still bearing the smudges on her cheek and nose, had made him pause. It was obvious she had sat down for a moment to rest and then simply drifted off to sleep, exhausted by her efforts that day.
Emily made a small murmur, and Keeran turned his gaze back to her as she sighed and shifted in her sleep. She was beautiful in moonlight, a pleasure to look upon. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad that he hadn’t found out where she belonged and wasn’t sending her home on the morrow. She hardly seemed unsettling in her sleep. Aye, he wouldn’t disturb her and insist she tell him where she belonged. Tomorrow was soon enough, he decided as he pulled the bed coverings down from the top of the bed to cover her.
She was just one woman. How much trouble could she cause in a day?
“I shall expect you at the castle within the hour.” Emily nodded at the small crowd around her, then turned to smile at Mrs. MacBain. The older woman’s returning smile was a little uncertain, but she ignored that as she joined her to start back to the castle.
Emily had awoken that morning, upset to find herself curled at the bottom of the bed. She truly had wished to make her apologies to Keeran MacKay for her behavior the night before and had been determined to thank him for saving her. It seemed, however, that she had fallen asleep before she could manage the task.
Determined to speak to him first thing, Emily had thrown the covers aside and hurried out of bed and about her ablutions. She had then rushed below, only to learn that the master of the castle had already left for the day. Emily had no idea where he had gone and hadn’t been rude enough to inquire, but Mrs. MacBain had claimed that she didn’
t expect him back until dark, so Emily supposed he had traveled to a nearby city on business or some such thing.
It was while she had sat over another lovely breakfast that Emily had decided to visit the village on her host’s behalf. The man was in dire need of household staff, and it was obvious that he’d had little success in the matter. She decided to use her own powers of persuasion for him. The man had saved her life, and she had treated him abominably in return for it. Emily felt she owed him. It was as simple as that.
Armed with all the information she could gather, and with a protesting Mrs. MacBain trailing her every step, Emily had taken the short walk down into the village. She had been determined not to return until she had succeeded in employing several servants for the castle.
It hadn’t gone quite as she’d expected. She’d started out approaching those who were unemployed, which seemed to be the better part of the village. The response was less than enthusiastic. But she hadn’t changed her tactics until an elderly woman had actually dared to spit on the ground at her feet, splattering the lovely slippers Mrs. MacBain had given her to wear. Then Emily had been forced to regroup. She had taken Mrs. MacBain aside and asked her to point out those who’d had children or relatives saved by the master of Castle MacKay. She had hoped that, like Mrs. MacBain, they would feel they owed it to the man. However, the others didn’t appear to suffer the same conscience as the housekeeper did.
Emily had then asked Mrs. MacBain for the names of those who were both unemployed and whose child or relative had been rescued by The MacKay. Armed with this further knowledge, she had set to work. Resorting to pestering, bullying, and shaming when necessary, she had managed to convince more than half a dozen people to agree to work up at the castle. It wasn’t as grand a success as she’d hoped for. The castle was in a sorry state and in need of a lot of work. She would have been happier with twice that number, but Emily would take what she could get. On top of that, the few she had managed to cajole into the duty had steadfastly insisted that they would not even set out for the castle until after sunrise and that they were to be allowed to be away well before sunset.
Emily could only shake her head over the superstition this revealed. Obviously this demand was a result of the mysterious curse supposedly plaguing the castle and its owner. It made her curious about the curse again, but Mrs. MacBain was remaining steadfastly closemouthed on the subject, and Emily would not betray the woman who had been so kind to her by asking any of the villagers to explain this curse.
Letting the mystery of the curse drop from her mind, Emily began to plan what she would have the workers do first. All the rooms needed cleaning. They could also all use a coat of paint, but—?
She stopped suddenly as an idea occurred to her. “Mrs. MacBain?”
“Yes, dear?” The elderly woman paused as well.
“You go on back to the castle. I need to return to the village.”
“Oh, but—”
“Go on,” Emily interrupted her protest with a smile. “I can find my way. The path is clear.”
After a hesitation, the woman conceded and continued along her way, leaving Emily to return to the village alone. Her steps were quick and excited as she walked. She was feeling quite pleased with herself. She had no doubt at all that Keeran MacKay would be pleased with what she had accomplished so far, but what she hoped to do now would surely please him even more.
Dear God, she had to go! That was Keeran’s first thought on arising. His sleep had been disturbed by the presence of strangers in his home all afternoon. They hadn’t been threatening, but their very presence had poked and prodded at his awareness as he’d attempted to rest. Now, he stormed up the stairs out of the dungeon, prepared for battle. Were he a dragon, he would be breathing fire.
He stormed up the hall toward the dining room, aware of the subtle changes made here and there. The floor shining clean, the hall tables polished to a fine sheen, a vase of flowers in the entry. Dear God! She was bringing his home to life and he couldn’t stand it. It had taken decades to get used to the filth and neglect of a nearly servantless castle. Was he now expected to get used to it being clean again, only to have to relearn life with it the other way all over again when she left and the new servants refused to return?
“Oh, my laird.” Mrs. MacBain rushed up as he neared the dining room. It seemed the likely place to find his guest; it was nearing dinner and that was where he’d found her yesterday. But the room was empty. He turned to his housekeeper, a forbidding expression on his face. “Where is she?”
“Ah .. .” She hesitated, her suddenly wary expression making Keeran curse inwardly. He detested the frightened way people reacted to him, but he hated it most of all from the MacBains, who should know better by now.
“She was only trying to help, my laird,” Mrs. MacBain excused the girl. “She hoped to please ye to thank ye fer rescuing her. She—”
“Mrs. MacBain,” Keeran interrupted patiently. “I realize she didn’t mean to upset me. But I like routine. I only wish to ask who her family are so I can arrange to return her home.” Much to his amazement, the woman’s face now went through several changes, starting with alarm and ending in a calculating look he had never before seen on her face.
“Ah . .. well, my laird—”
“I am no longer Laird, Mrs. MacBain,” he reminded her.
“Of course, my lair. . . ah, sir.” She smiled brightly. “Miss Emily’s abovestairs preparing for the evening meal.”
Keeran nodded and turned toward the room. “I shall wait for her in the dining room.”
“Ye’re joining her?” She seemed alarmed at the prospect.
“No. I shall wait for her and speak to her before she eats.”
“She’ll be a while,” the woman warned, then added, “ I’m guessing a long while. I told her the meal wouldna be ready for two hours.”
“Two hours?” He turned on her with dismay.
The housekeeper’s head began bobbing like a heavy flower on a slim stem in a breeze. “Well, she just quit working and went upstairs but a moment ago. She worked ever so hard today, my lair ... sir,” she interrupted herself to add, then continued, “I knew she could benefit from a nice soak. Then she shall have to dry her hair by the fire, and dress, and I knew she would rush through it all and weary herself unnecessarily did I not be sure she had the time she needed. And she was ever so weary already from all the work she was doing around here trying to make ye happy, so I told her dinner wouldn’t be for—”
“Very well,” Keeran interrupted her diatribe. When she fell silent, he eyed her hopeful expression with suspicion, then sighed and decided, “I shall speak to her when I return, then. I shan’t be late. Please ask her to wait for me.”
“Aye, my lair. .. sir.” Her head was bobbing in that odd way again, but she was smiling widely, obviously relieved. Keeran considered her suspiciously for one more moment, then turned away and continued out of the castle.
As he had the night before, Keeran would have to find his meal closer to home than he liked. He preferred to travel far and wide, varying where he struck to prevent alarming anyone near to his home. Not that he ever killed anyone while feeding. Keeran fed a bit here and a bit there to prevent harming anyone unduly. Of course, this method of sustaining himself was a bit riskier than feeding off one person, but left his victims healthy and well, if a little weak. To him, the risk was worth it. The beast—Carlotta, he had since learned, was her name—may have stolen his life and damned his soul to hell that night over two hundred years ago, but she could not take his humanity.
A bitter laugh slipped from his lips as he moved into the night. Many would argue that he was anything but human now. Yet still he clung to what bits of integrity he had learned as a human. He had no idea what he was now, or rather, he knew but preferred not to think about it. A vampire, a soulless nightwalker, feeding off the lifeblood of those around him. And a coward. He had suffered this existence for two centuries and still he had not the courage to let
the sun claim him.
Forcing these unpleasant thoughts away, Keeran set about his business. He wished to be back before his houseguest should retire again. Mrs. MacBain was acting oddly and he didn’t trust her to tell the girl that he wished to speak with her.
As it happened, Keeran had underestimated his housekeeper’s obedience. It seemed she had indeed passed along his message to Emily, for he found her in the library on his return. Unfortunately, while the girl had remained below to await him, she had been unable to remain awake. He found her curled up in his chair before the fireplace, sound asleep.
Pausing before her, Keeran found himself unable to disturb her slumber. She looked achingly innocent, and innocence was something he had known little of in the last two hundred years. Keeran found interaction with humans painful, knowing they had loved ones to go home to; that they lived, laughed, and loved as he never would again. So, other than the occasional servant he managed to convince to work for him, he had little interaction with the rest of society. What little contact the necessity to feed did force on him was usually with its less sterling members of society, ne’er-do-wells and drunkards he came across during his nightly hunts. Keeran preferred to avoid feeding on the innocent. Despite the fact that he left them mostly unharmed, he didn’t care for the guilt that sullying them caused on the rare occasion when necessity had found him feeding on one.
Now, he found himself fascinated by the woman who, in rest, seemed innocence incarnate. Emily. Her hair shone golden in the firelight.
“An angel,” he whispered. His hand moved of its own accord to caress one soft, golden tress. It felt as warm as he recalled sunlight to be and, had he a heart, he was sure it would have pained him at that moment. She was achingly beautiful. Keeran wouldn’t have been at all surprised had she sprouted wings and begun to glow with heavenly light there before him.
“She couldn’t stay awake. She worked herself to the point of exhaustion today.”
Those soft words drew his gaze to his housekeeper, who had suddenly appeared to hover anxiously nearby. Keeran felt irritation sting him at her protective attitude. Did the woman yet not trust him not to harm the chit? If after knowing him for thirty years she did not, what hope was there for him in this world? To live eons without love or true friendship, to watch those around him age and die, one after another, endlessly. . . . Perhaps there was no hope for him.