Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  “I said no.”

  “Did you?”

  “I’m not sure why.”

  A day of hiking on Bein Domhain flashed through Iain’s mind. He had taken one step like thousands of others, and suddenly there had been nothing beneath his boot except two hundred feet of air. He remembered that feeling of being suspended, of time stopping, and then the terrifying struggle to regain his balance before he plunged to his death.

  He was poised on the edge of a chasm again.

  This time he couldn’t stop the fall. “Come home with me.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s celebrate the remainder of the day together.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to do that.” Her eyes were troubled. “I’m not your problem, Iain. I’ll be fine. I’ve got a good book to read and a thousand letters to write.”

  “You are my problem. More of one than you can guess. And I seem to be yours.”

  She didn’t pretend not to understand. “You could end this now, before it’s a problem that gets totally out of hand.”

  She was giving him one last opportunity to do what was right, what was safe. And he wasn’t strong enough to accept. “I’ll take my chances.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I’ll get my coat.”

  * * *

  Billie was all too aware of the man beside her. Only rarely could she concentrate on one thing at a time, but since the moment she had stepped onto Flora’s porch, she had thought of nothing except Iain.

  There was an inevitability about being with him today. Somehow she had known that they would spend the day together. She had none of Mara’s second sight, but since she had awakened that morning, she had known that Iain himself would be her very finest Christmas present.

  She looked away to try to maintain a little distance. On one side of the road glimpses of Loch Ceo flashed between snow-covered evergreens. On the other the landscape was steeper, leading into the hills and eventually to Bein Domhain, where Mara had her croft. She had never seen a more beautiful landscape. She could understand why, centuries ago, Iain’s kinsmen had claimed it as their own.

  She wanted to see even more.

  “Iain, stop.” Billie put her hand on Iain’s arm as they turned the bend that would lead to the best view of Ceo Castle.

  “What for?”

  “I’ve never been through the castle. I’ve wanted a tour since the first day I came to the village.”

  “It’s closed to the public.”

  She gazed at him from under her lashes. “Oh? And am I just the public? I believe it was the honorable Lord Ross himself who informed me that our ancestors were married on these very grounds. I believe that makes me a family member of sorts.”

  He slowed but didn’t stop. “The walkways are slippery under better conditions. With this latest snow, it’ll be icy, as well.”

  “I promise I’ll be careful.” She grinned at his expression of polite disbelief. “Really, Iain, I can be careful when I choose to be. And don’t you need a walk? Hollyhock certainly does. It’s cold, but it’s glorious. There’s even sun, and it won’t stay out much past two. If we’re going to do it, we should do it now.”

  Hollyhock barked from the back seat and tried to vault into Billie’s lap. She sternly reprimanded him, and he stretched out contritely with his head on his paws.

  “See? You’re outnumbered,” she told Iain. “I can’t vouch for your safety if you pass up this chance. Even I can’t control a thoroughly frustrated dog with the jaws of a wolf and the heart of a lion.”

  “A short tour.”

  “Agreed. In the spring you can give me a full-blown one. We’ll hit the highlights today.”

  He drove a short distance and pulled onto a bumpy track. At one point he stopped and got out to unfasten a massive padlock barring a gate across the road. Then he got back in and continued another two hundred yards or so, finally stopping a short distance from the castle.

  He came around to open her door. “Take your expectations well in hand. There are no knights and ladies in full-dress costume, no halls of armor or tartan exhibitions here. There aren’t even any displays of ancient torture devices. Ceo Castle isn’t much more than a heap of stone.”

  “I can supply the rest.”

  “Aye. And I suspect you will.”

  Hollyhock bounded toward the castle, and Iain and Billie followed at a slower pace. “Did you play here as a little boy?” she asked.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Just think, while my brothers and I were making forts with rotting pine logs and vines, you were pretending to be king.”

  “Duncan and Andrew and I camped and played here as often as we could. But for the record, I rarely got to be king. More often I was a mortally wounded messenger or royal bodyguard who had given his life for his sovereign.”

  “How’d you get stuck with that?”

  “I had a flair for the dramatic. Neither of the others could die half so well.”

  “This is an act I’d prefer not to see.”

  “You’ve no idea what you’ll be missing.”

  She slipped her hand inside his. It seemed awkward not to, even though he hadn’t touched her since they’d left Flora’s. She swung their arms back and forth as they walked down through what must once have been a wide defensive ditch. It had been filled in centuries ago, so that it was now only a shallow depression.

  “What do you know about castles?” he asked. “Is this one of your many areas of expertise?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve always preferred to study the common folk. But I’ve done some reading since I arrived. I visited several castles on my journey north to Druidheachd. Stirling, St. Andrews, Urquhart on Loch Ness.”

  “They’re all elaborate in comparison, I’m afraid.”

  She knew that was saying quite a bit, since Urquhart and St. Andrews were little more than well preserved and documented ruins. “I’ve come across very little information on Ceo Castle, or on Druidheachd and the surrounding area, for that matter. It’s almost as if the rest of Scotland went about its historical business while Druidheachd was lost to view. Of course, it was remote and never a particularly strategic location for any war or skirmish, but I guess I’m still surprised.”

  “See the stones piled over there?”

  She nodded. He was pointing to an area just yards away.

  “Most likely they’re what’s left of the stone causeway that crossed this ditch. There would have been a gap in the middle that had to be crossed by a drawbridge. The stones that are left are broken up and useless, which is why they’re still here. The good ones were probably carted away for use in local buildings.”

  “What a shame.”

  “I suspect Fearnshader has its share of castle stone in the foundation.”

  “Another mark against your ancestors, Iain.”

  “Just spare me another MacFarlane curse.” He pointed farther along, in the direction they were walking. “The causeway probably ended there. The lowest of the walls that you see would have been the gatehouse. The best estimate is that in its heyday it was three stories tall, with rooms for the castle keeper, and a room just above the portcullis—the iron grate that protected the entry—where it could be raised or lowered. There was probably a prison cell or two, possibly a storehouse for grain. We don’t really know for certain. There’s been a bit of archaeological excavation from time to time. There’s sure to be more in the future.”

  “You approve?”

  “Absolutely, if it’s done well. Ceo Castle belongs to all of Scotland.”

  “Yet you own it still, when most historical monuments have been given over to organizations to preserve them.”

  “I’ll do the same someday. When the time is right.”

  She wanted to know more but realized it wasn’t her place to ask. “And what about the highest walls? And the tower?”

  “We’ll walk the walls. Come on.”

  By the time they had reached their final destination, the best preserved and navigable of two c
ircular towers, Billie’s imagination had taken flight. She had become reacquainted with upper baileys and water gates, nether baileys and great halls. So little had survived of the once proud castle, but every bit that was left resounded with history and legend.

  She wanted to know it all, every last story, every tear that had been shed and laugh that had echoed here. “It’s so wonderful. So astounding. Do you know what you have here? We’ve been walking through rooms that are centuries older than European civilization in the Americas. There’s so much history here!”

  “Rooms without walls or roofs, most of them. And so much of the history’s lost.”

  “Then it has to be reclaimed. Somebody has to do it. You’ve got to make sure of it.”

  “Do you know your eyes sparkle when you’re excited? I’ve heard that expression a thousand times, but I’ve never really witnessed it before.”

  His words stirred something deep inside her, and she smiled. “Don’t you feel it, Iain? This is a powerful place. I can almost see the ghosts of your ancestors going about their business. Ruaridh was born here. And how many more?”

  “We’ll probably never know.”

  “Let’s climb the tower.”

  He held her back. “Not today, Billie.”

  “Why not? It’s a perfect day for it. I know we could see every bit of the loch. I’ll bet we could see for miles. The village, the mountains. And then I’ll be a good girl and go back to Fearnshader without another word.”

  “The stairs will be icy.”

  She looked up. “Why? There appears to be a roof.”

  “A very old one, and the steps are worn and slick even when they’re dry.”

  “Can we try? I promise if it gets too bad, I’ll come down without an argument. It would just be so wonderful to go up there.”

  Now there was no expression in his eyes except resignation. She realized she had pushed too hard, but before she could withdraw her request, he started toward the tower. “Let’s get it over with, then.”

  She followed, at a loss for how to apologize. She had the feeling that whatever she said now would make things worse. He waited in the doorway. “You first,” he said. “There are handholds. Be certain to use them, and step carefully. It’s narrow and winding, very close quarters. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She hadn’t realized just how narrow it would be. She gazed up and saw an endless spiral of steep steps. For a moment she wasn’t sure she could do it. Her aversion to enclosed places was like a hand choking off her breath.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he said from behind her. “It was your idea.”

  It was as much of a dare as she needed. She had broken bones for less. “I’m on my way. See if you can keep up.” She put one foot in front of the other and began. One foot, then the next. There were handholds, but thousands of clawing, grasping hands had smoothed them nearly away. Her only consolation was that there wasn’t a trace of ice on the steps.

  She made herself think of other things as she climbed. Exactly what she would say in her next report to the faculty committee that was overseeing her dissertation. Who she could interview for more information about the ghost that was said to warn village residents of impending danger. Why she was falling in love with a man who kept more secrets than the CIA.

  Her concentration and her foot slipped, and strong arms steadied her from behind. “We’re halfway there,” Iain assured her.

  She could feel the warmth of his arms against her hips and his palms against her abdomen. “I suppose that means it would take just as long to go back as to keep going.”

  “You’re not afraid, are you? I’m sorry if I frightened you. The steps seem fine after all.”

  She had no intention of discussing the revelation that had nearly sent her tumbling. And even less intention of standing enclosed in the intimate warmth of his arms. “I’m fine. Terrific. I’m just a little spooked by closed-in places. I got stuck once hiding from my brothers in a storm culvert. I was there for an hour before they could pry me loose.”

  She began to count steps, reminding herself that each one took her closer to fresh air and open space. She ignored trembling knees and sweaty hands and climbed. And she tried desperately to ignore the fact that the man behind her was beginning to mean too much to her.

  She knew she had reached the top when cold air ruffled her hair. Sunshine poured through the opening, and she emerged again into the prettiest winter day of the year. The air was as clear as high summer. On one side of the walkway connecting the towers the loch shone like a polished silver coin. On the other a narrow strip of forest bordered a rolling moor that stretched toward the mountains. “It was worth it.” She waited for Iain to appear. “It’s every bit as beautiful as I thought it would be. Is it safe to walk over to the edge?”

  “This area is perfectly safe, except for the places where pieces of the walls are missing. I’d trust the rest of it over anything built by contemporary hands.”

  She wandered from one end of the walkway to the other. The greatest part of the battlements was intact, complete with narrow arrow loops for wily medieval archers. There were a few places where the stone had crumbled or perhaps been removed, but she carefully avoided those.

  When she had paced the whole distance she stood looking over the countryside she had already come to love. “I didn’t know it was so beautiful. Until now the countryside’s been like the pieces of a skillfully designed jigsaw puzzle. But here’s the finished picture. And I love it.”

  She turned, and Iain was right behind her. “It’s in your blood, and it appears that centuries haven’t diluted it.”

  “You love it, too, don’t you?”

  “That’s why I always return. No matter where I go, I always come back. No matter what waits here for me.”

  The words were perfectly innocent, but there was something about the way he said them that made her shiver.

  “You’re frozen.” He put his hands on her arms. “And you should be. Have you finally seen enough? Can the rest wait?”

  She almost expected him to kiss her. There was more than concern in his eyes. There was something as old as the castle. He didn’t move for a moment; he just stood there holding her at arm’s length. Then he dropped his hands and turned.

  She watched his face as they walked back to the stairwell. She might have missed the carving on the battlement nearest the stairs if she hadn’t stumbled on a raised stone. She caught herself quickly, but as she looked down, she saw what she hadn’t noticed before.

  “Iain, what’s this?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, his voice held no hint of why not. “It’s an inscription.”

  She moved closer, squatting in front of it so that it was at eye level. “It looks very old.” She traced the letters with her fingers. “I can’t read any of it.”

  “That’s because it’s in Gaelic.”

  “Actually, I understand a little Gaelic when it’s spoken, but I’ve never tried to read or write it. I plan to work on that while I’m here.”

  “Why do you understand it?”

  “My mother always swore at us in Gaelic. And believe it or not, her father spoke it fluently. He could recite poems and tell stories he’d learned from his father. I’ve got folktales in my genes, and Gaelic, too, I suppose.” She turned to him. “What does it say?”

  “Not as much as it should. Look at the stone carefully.”

  She examined the stone, and she saw what he meant. “It’s only half here. The other half of the block is missing.” She frowned. “This is odd, Iain. It looks as if it were put in place this way. Do you know the story?”

  “It’s difficult to tell anything from half an inscription, especially one so faded by time.”

  “Have experts looked at it?”

  “To my knowledge no scholar has found it particularly noteworthy.”

  “I love a good mystery.” Reluctantly she got back to her feet.

  He held out his hand. “I love a warm fi
re and a good woman.”

  The expression in his eyes made her forget everything else. She linked her fingers with his. “I think the trip down will be easier than the one up.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Because this time I get to watch you.”

  “But your view won’t be nearly as interesting as mine was.”

  They made the trip down the stairs and the rest of the drive in comfortable silence, but the moment they pulled up to the front of Fearnshader, Billie was anything but comfortable.

  The old house, so warm and welcoming on the evening of Duncan and Mara’s wedding, was forbidding on this sunny winter afternoon. Inside, it was no better. The halls were cold and gloomy, and the rooms were shrouded in indifference. Iain didn’t seem to notice, but Billie was consumed with the loneliness that seemed like a living entity. She was happier than ever that they were going to spend the day together, because she couldn’t endure the thought of his being alone here on Christmas day.

  “It’s so quiet, so profoundly silent,” she said as they walked through the house. “I’ve been in empty churches that were noisy in comparison.”

  “The stone absorbs all noise.”

  “I think I’d give anything to hear a bird sing or a baby gurgle.”

  “We’ll go into the sitting room and make a fire. It’s the homiest room in the whole place. I’ll turn on the stereo.”

  She took his arm. “Let’s go.”

  Iain might think that the sitting room was comfortable, but Billie was immediately appalled. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, but it looked as if no one had looked at the room with an eye for comfort or beauty in a decade.

  She busied herself rectifying that. “First we open all the curtains. Then we build a huge fire in the fireplace. We turn on all the lamps. Iain, there are a dozen lamps in this room, and only one is on! And if that’s not enough light, we’ll find some candles left over from the wedding and light those.” Billie fluttered around the room like a moth looking for a flame.

  “I gather you think this room is gloomy, too.”

  “Good lord—and I’m not talking about you—yes! Don’t you?”

  He looked around, and a frown puckered his elegant forehead. She nearly caught her breath. At all times Iain was magnificent. But slouching against his own fireplace, surveying his private kingdom with the aristocratic demeanor of a storybook prince, he was even more.