“Master Iain, you have no’ changed enough in the years I’ve been away!”
“But now that you’re back, you’ll see that I do.”
“No’ likely,” she said. “No’ likely a’ tall.” She strutted back down the hall. Even with her back turned to them, Duncan was sure she was inspecting for dust motes.
He ushered Mara in and followed close behind. He watched Iain compliment her and kiss her cheek and felt something stronger than gratitude that Iain and Mara had never been lovers.
“Everyone’s here but Andrew,” Iain said.
“I pity him. Gertie will tear him from limb to limb.”
“She’ll just whack him a bit. She always had a soft spot for Andrew.” He started toward the drawing room. He kept his voice low. “I can’t guarantee the company tonight. I have business dealings with both of the men you’re about to meet. They’re pleasant enough on the surface, but sharks underneath, both of them. Watch that you leave with your wallet.”
“How kind of you to invite us,” Duncan said dryly.
“I asked you because you’d better get to know them both. They’re looking for investments in this part of the Highlands.”
“What kind of investments?” Mara asked.
“Nothing much, really. They want to market the life we’ve always been privileged to lead.”
“Exactly what do you mean?” Duncan asked.
“Let them tell you. And listen carefully.”
There was a fire in the drawing room, what the Scots called a stick fire, with logs as thick as the caber Andrew had tossed at the Johnsmas fair and flames leaping from the cavernous fireplace. Two women stood beside it, one with silver hair arranged in perfect waves and a pale blue dress that skimmed the middle of her calf. The other was much younger, with sleek black hair falling from two combs at the side of her head and a red cocktail dress that was one step to the left of immodest.
The men were less diverse. Both were in their fifties and balding. One was overweight; one obviously spent the requisite hours at the gym. But neither of them seemed comfortable relaxing in the environs of a Scottish country home.
Iain made the introductions. The overweight man was married to the elegant woman with silver hair. They were Martin and Sylvia Carlton-Jones from a town just outside of London. The slimmer man, Nigel Surrey from Birmingham, was partnered for the evening—and for as many nights as she’d have him, Duncan imagined—with the brunette, Alicia Cox.
“Iain tells me you’re from the States,” Nigel said.
Duncan accepted a glass of Iain’s finest whiskey and took his first swallow. He felt unaccountably irritated. “I was born in Druidheachd,” he said.
“And you’ve come back to stay?”
“No.”
“Duncan owns the Sinclair Hotel, along with his sister,” Iain said. “And he’ll soon be putting it up for sale.”
“Will you?” Martin asked, moving closer to take part in the conversation. “I know the building. I’ve admired it, actually. It’s quite…Scottish.”
“Quite,” Duncan said. He downed the rest of his drink, but he didn’t take his eyes off Martin. Both men seemed completely ineffectual to him, hesitant and not particularly bright. But he was a good enough businessman himself to know how important it was sometimes to put on an act. And he trusted Iain’s judgment. Iain could spot a shark well before it began to circle.
“Are you in the area on holiday?” Mara asked.
Nigel’s pleasantly vacuous eyes focused for seconds on her. Duncan watched him scan Mara with the efficiency of a radiologist. “We’ll be heading east in a day or so to shoot grouse.”
“The grouse dinna stand a chance,” she said.
Duncan had rarely heard a nip in Mara’s voice. Now he was surprised that Nigel wasn’t dripping blood.
“But while we’re here,” Martin said, “we thought we might look around. We’re always looking for property to invest in. The idea of a hotel in the Highlands intrigues me. Druidheachd’s a lovely little village, and your loch is so unspoiled.”
“And will remain that way,” said another voice. Duncan smiled at Andrew, who had come to join them. Introductions were made all around, and Andrew gripped the necessary hands.
“Andrew knows every inch of Loch Ceo,” Iain said, as if introductions hadn’t interrupted the conversation.
“It’s a perfectly wonderful little lake,” Alicia said. “And there are the dearest little cottages around it. I’d like to have one myself.” She slipped her arm through Nigel’s.
“I dinna think there are any for sale,” Andrew said. “The families who live on the loch have lived there for centuries and passed their homes down from generation to generation.”
“Andrew has one of those dear little cottages himself,” Iain explained.
“But everything has a price,” Martin said. “Or at least I’ve always found that to be true.” He turned to Duncan. “We might discuss the price of your hotel, Mr. Sinclair. Would you be willing to give us a quick look at it tomorrow?”
Duncan met Iain’s eyes. Iain gave the slightest, almost imperceptible shrug. Duncan switched his gaze to Mara. Her face showed no expression, and her eyes were carefully blank.
Duncan had taken a dislike to both Nigel and Martin, although he hadn’t had time to analyze exactly why. But it seemed they might just give him what he had hoped for most. Freedom and a chance to start over. “I can show you around,” he said. “Will ten be convenient?”
“It will do nicely.”
“And now I’d say we should start toward the dining room before Mrs. Beggs comes in and leads us there by the ear. I’ve been told that the cook’s outdone herself.” Iain held out his arm to Mara. The others paired up and Andrew and Duncan were left to walk in together behind them.
Andrew held Duncan back. “Does it no’ feel odd, Dunc, to sell your birthright?”
Duncan felt a flash of anger, made more potent, he supposed, because the same thought had occurred to him. “No odder than it must feel to spew guilt so blatantly, Andrew.”
“I dinna like these men.”
“Am I supposed to wait for a buyer you approve of?”
“You belong here.”
“I don’t!” Duncan took a deep breath. “You don’t know me anymore. You don’t know what I want or need.”
“No? Then that makes two of us, does it no’?” Andrew started for the door.
Duncan grabbed his arm. “Look, I can’t stay here. What’s here for me?”
Andrew shook his head. “If you can no’ figure that out alone, there’s nowt to be done about it.”
Duncan dropped his hand. “Why are we fighting about this? We’re not kids anymore. We’re both adults. I don’t tell you what to do, and you’ve never tried to tell me what to do before this.”
“I’m no’ telling you what to do. I’m asking you to look at yourself and your life, Dunc. That’s a wee thing to ask.”
“I’ve looked and I’ve thought, and I’m leaving. Just as soon as I can. I owe it to April, and I owe it to myself.”
“I mind the day you left Druidheachd. We were eight years of age. You sobbed as if your heart would never be whole again. And it has no’ been whole since that day. And it will no’ be whole until you cease trying to run away from who and what you are.”
Duncan stared at his friend. He had never seen Andrew so serious. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Andrew jammed his hands in his pockets. “Will you make my excuses to Iain, please? I dinna think I can eat tonight. And certainly no’ with this company.”
Andrew left Duncan standing in the hallway.
* * *
Mara had felt uneasy all night, although she hadn’t been sure why. Fearnshader, with its medieval gargoyles and shadowed corridors, was a house with terrible secrets, but once there had been laughter there, too, and that balance had kept her from being overwhelmed.
She had disliked Iain’s guests, and at first she had believed the dread growing inside
her was related to them. But as the night wore on she realized that Martin and Nigel were only part of the problem. Her feelings were much more closely related to Duncan.
“So, you’ll be showing Mr. Carlton-Jones the hotel tomorrow,” she said in the car as she and Duncan drove back toward her cottage.
“I suppose so. He seems interested.”
She wished, as she often had, that she could read Duncan’s thoughts. “Did you like him, Duncan? Did you enjoy your conversation?”
“I didn’t like him.”
“But business is business?”
He glanced at her. She couldn’t read his expression, either. “I’ve never thought it was necessary to like the people I negotiate with.”
“And you feel no different when it’s your da’s hotel you might be selling?”
“You know, it’s possible you’ve ended up with the wrong man of midnight, Mara. You and Andrew may be more suited to each other.”
She was hurt clear to the bone. She stared out the window at darkness.
He was the first to break the silence. “Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t want another guilt trip, okay? I may have a buyer for the hotel, and that’s what I’ve been working for since I came here, so I’m happy about it. Maybe Martin won’t make an offer, and maybe he will. But even if he doesn’t, I’m going to sell the hotel to someone, and I’m not going to ask the villagers for yea or nay votes.”
“You have no attachment to it?”
“None. And no attachment to Scotland.”
“I see.”
He smacked his hand against the steering wheel and pulled off the road at the next passing place. He turned off the engine. “Look, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I didn’t mean there’s nothing here that I want or care about.”
“It does sound that way.” She still didn’t look at him.
His tone softened. “You know I care about you, but we’ve both known this was coming. I’ve always been honest about my intentions.”
“So you have.”
“I would take you with me if you’d only go.”
“You’ve never asked, have you?”
“Because I know what your answer will be.”
“Perhaps you do, or perhaps you only tell yourself I’d no’ consider following you.”
“Would you?”
She heard a dozen conflicting messages in his voice. Even through her own pain she could hear his longing. He was a man with a deep well of emotion inside him, even if he rarely acknowledged it. He wanted and needed her desperately, and that was in his voice. But there were other messages, too. Fear. Distrust. A stubborn resistance to what he needed most. He had made up his mind what was best for them both, and he wouldn’t reconsider.
“I would follow you anywhere if I thought I was truly wanted,” she said. “But I will no’ be following when you go.”
He touched her hair, as if to reassure her. “Could you really be happy in New York or London or even a smaller city? What kind of life could you live where you were overwhelmed by impressions of the people all around you? You would be a prisoner.”
“What kind of life will you live when there are no impressions of the people around you because they are all strangers?” She faced him. “Is that no’ a prison, too, Duncan? Will you leave the people who love you most to go live among people who dinna even know you?”
“People do it all the time. People change jobs, move on, make new friends.”
“And the new friends will be the same? You’ll learn to love them as you love Andrew and Iain?”
“And love you?”
It was as close to telling her he loved her as he had ever come. She swallowed. “And me.”
“What else can I do? I can’t stay here. You can’t go.”
She saw that in his mind there were no other answers, no compromises. “Why can you no’ stay here?”
“There’s nothing here for me. I have to live in a city to be a success in advertising or any business. And I want to be a success again. Lisa took something precious from me, and I want it back. Druidheachd is a prison, and Martin Carlton-Jones may very well have the key to help me escape.”
“There is no prison except the one you’ve made for yourself.”
“Don’t talk in riddles.”
She saw that he really didn’t understand because he wasn’t going to listen to his heart. And there was no way she could make him. “It’s getting late. I think you’d better take me home.”
“Mara, don’t do this. Don’t let anger spoil the time we still have together. Let’s make the most of it.”
“It truly is getting late.”
He shook his head and turned back to the steering wheel. In a moment the car was climbing again.
There were so many other things she wanted to say to him. But there were no words for any of them. There were so many things keeping them apart, and the very least of them was his need to live in a city.
They were almost to the turnoff to her croft when she spotted a car on the side of the road. Duncan’s car was warm, but inadvertently, she shivered. “Isn’t that Frances’s car just ahead?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled over and parked behind it. She started to get out when he did, but her growing dread slowed her limbs and pounded through her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help. She tried to envision walls as thick as a fortress, but that didn’t help, either. Nothing helped; she’d had a lifetime to learn that lesson.
The conversation drifted toward her.
“Frances, what’s wrong?”
“Oh Duncan, it’s glad I am you came along. I’ve a tire that needs changing. And I can no’ seem to get it off.”
“Then I’m glad I came along, too.” He peered inside the car. “Where’s April? I thought she was going home with you tonight?”
Frances, who had been examining her woefully flat tire, straightened. “April? But I’ve no’ seen her all night. I went up to check on her just after you’d left, and she was no’ there. Sally’d been keeping an eye on her out in the garden, as you asked, and Sally said she left with someone and we thought—”
“My God, and you didn’t call me to check?”
“But there seemed to be no need! Sally said it had all been arranged, that the woman said—”
“Woman?”
Frances was becoming agitated. “Aye. It was a young woman that April left with. And she told Sally she’d met you and April in Inverness at the hotel supply company there, and that when you heard she was going to be in town you’d asked her to take April out for the evening since you were going to be away. She said you must have forgotten to mention it. Sally thought it odd, but April seemed so glad…” She stretched out her arms. “No! I never thought. We had so many guests for supper, and I was so busy. And Sally…!”
“What did this woman look like? Did Sally say?”
“No, except that she was bonny.”
“Sally knows better! Somebody should have called me!”
“But it could no’ be April’s mother. She must have spoken like a Highlander, Duncan, or Sally would have been suspicious. How could Mrs. Sinclair have spoken like a Scot?”
“She can sound like a Frenchwoman or a German or an upper class English aristocrat! She’s an actress. She can be whatever a role requires!”
“Oh Lord, forget me, Duncan. Go back to the hotel. Someone else will come along, and I’m no’ that far from home.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you.” He started back toward the car. “I’ll phone Roger when I get back to town.”
Frances wrung her hands. “It’s my fault. I should have thought. Sally’s so young, and she would no’ think the worst of anyone. And she said she was watching from the window when the woman went to get April, and April seemed so glad…”
Duncan slammed the car door behind him. He swung around in the narrow space and started back toward Druidheachd.
“It’s Lisa,” he said after he’
d left Frances far behind.
“Aye.”
“Damn it, I knew if she started talking to April on the telephone, she’d start thinking about trying to see her! I know her. I know what she’s like!”
“She’s a mother, Duncan. Had you no’ let her talk to April she might have come sooner.”
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about!”
“I know more than you think.”
“What?” He was terrified, and he was covering his terror with anger. “What could you possibly know?”
“I know that April’s all right, and that Lisa has no intention of stealing her from you. She’s taken her somewhere so that you can no’ stop her from visiting, but she plans to bring April back.”
“Oh really? I feel better now. Thanks!”
She told herself not to be hurt. She told herself he was suffering. She was bleeding inside for him. “I know you have little faith in my gift. But listen this time, please. Lisa’s intentions are good.”
“If you can see all this, just tell me where she’s gone, why don’t you? I’ll go wherever you say. Just tell me where that woman’s taken my daughter!”
“I can no’.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I can no’ see the fate of anyone I love.”
“You can see just enough to stop me from worrying, but not enough to tell me where she is?”
“I can no’ see anything that I can understand. I can feel this in my heart. Lisa loves April, too. She wants the best for her, and she wants to show you she can be responsible.”
“She has a strange way of showing me, doesn’t she? She’s kidnapped my daughter! She doesn’t have any right to her at all.”
“She has a mother’s right to see her own child.”
She could see the muscle jump in his tightly clenched jaw. She wondered what terrible words he was trying to repress.
She felt nauseated, and her head continued to pound. Visions had filled her head as soon as they’d encountered Frances; indistinct pictures she couldn’t understand, and a cacophony of indistinguishable sounds. She had seen as if through a fog, and every image she could glean was unfamiliar and mystifying.
The only thing she knew for sure was that Lisa had no desire to hurt either Duncan or April.
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