“You monster! How dare you!” She shrank back against the mound of pillows.
“How dare I? I’ll remind you that you initiated this. And were enjoying it every bit as much as I, woman.” His features twisted, from the handsome man who’d been seducing her to a look that ranged between fury and frustration.
Bree tossed aside the covers and slid out of bed before shooting him a look of contempt. “You have the morals of an alley cat.”
“I’d say the same for you, madam. Not that I’m surprised. All women, it would seem, know how to use their wiles to get what they want. If you think to drive me from my home in this manner, ye’d best think again. I’ve nowhere else to go.”
“Nor do I. And now that I know just how low you’re willing to sink, I’ll be better prepared to fight you.”
Without a backward glance, she flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her with such force it rattled the windows.
In the parlor she paced, arms crossed, mind awhirl. How was she to remain here, knowing she would have to face this evil creature both day and night? How was she to find any peace if she had to continue to deal with him while dealing with her own survival?
She dropped wearily into a chair positioned in front of the fireplace and let her head fall back, deep in thought.
Had he seduced her? Or had she, as he’d accused, been the seducer? In truth, she could vaguely recall in sleep sensing a warm body beside hers. Could remember turning into that warmth and running her hands over his chest, thrilling to a sense of power when he’d responded. She’d snuggled closer then, wanting desperately to feel him, heartbeat to heartbeat. In such a state, what man could refuse?
But he wasn’t a man. He was a spirit. One who’d come unbidden to her bed.
Weren’t such creatures above worldly desires?
Perhaps he wasn’t just a spirit, but an evil one, sent here to destroy her.
Whatever he was, this devil was not to be trusted. Nor, she decided, could she trust herself while asleep.
As the midnight hours ticked by, her racing heartbeat began to slow and her troublesome thoughts faded. Lulled by the patter of rain against the windowpanes, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Bree awoke to a shrill whistling that had her eyes going wide. It took her a moment to get her bearings. Then it all came into focus. The cottage in the Highlands. The scene in the bed she’d shared with Jamie Kerr, and later, this solitary chair where she’d obviously spent the rest of the night.
The angry stranger was here, standing directly in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, scowling, and looking not in the least sorry for what had transpired in the night. If she’d thought him contrite, she’d been very wrong.
She lifted her head, determined to hide any trace of her own shame in the matter. “I would have thought you’d be gone by now, after the things you did.”
“I could say the same for you. Have you no pride, woman?”
“More pride than you have shame.”
“Oh aye. So much pride, you cried out in your sleep like an infant, hoping to touch my heart.” He gave a sigh of disgust. “I’ve never been able to deny a weeping female.”
“I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.” She pushed herself from the chair to escape his gaze and to put some space between them.
Sunlight slanted through the ivy-covered windows. A fire blazed on the hearth. And the whistling sound that had awakened her was a kettle on the stove.
She hurried across the room and lifted it aside.
In the sudden silence she turned to see Jamie standing beside her.
“What is it that troubles you, Mistress Kerr?”
“If you’re a spirit as you claim, why don’t you just read my mind?”
Her snappish attitude had him smiling. “Wake with a bit of a temper, do you?”
“More than a bit. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
“As would I. But it seems we both want to be alone in the same place. And since I was here first, Mistress Kerr, by hundreds of years, I suggest you pack up and find something more suitable.”
“I prefer this cottage.”
“I’ve already claimed it for my own. What’s wrong with living in the manor house?”
“I can’t afford to.”
“Can’t afford? The lady of the manor must do without?” He gave a mock sigh. “What’s this world come to?”
“The cost of maintaining the mansion and grounds for the benefit of just one person is unthinkable. There are far too many things in need of repair. Besides, it’s not my style.” She lifted the kettle to fill a teapot and set it on the table, along with a little basket of biscuits and a pot of jam she’d bought at the airport the previous day.
She looked over at him. “Would you care to join me?”
His frown became more pronounced. “Unfortunately, I’ve no need of food.”
“I should think that would please you. No need to shop. Nothing to store or prepare.”
“I used to enjoy a hearty meal.” He stared broodingly into the flames. The tone of his voice had gone from angry to sad.
“Then why did you put the kettle on?”
“I thought you’d want something when you woke.”
Bree was unexpectedly touched. “You did it for me?” She paused a moment, completely taken aback. “Thank you.”
He brushed aside her gratitude. “ ’Twasn’t a kindness on my part. I just wanted you awake and gone. I thought the whistling of a teakettle more effective than breaking another vase. And heaven knows I wasn’t about to touch you again.” He waved a hand distractedly before taking the seat across from her at the table. “Since you don’t want to live in the manor house, why are you here?”
“This land and these buildings are all I have left.”
“Left of what?”
“Of my marriage to Barclay Kerr.”
“Was it a happy marriage?”
She fell silent.
He studied her more closely. “I suppose that’s an answer of sorts. And now that you’re here, what do you intend to do with all this?” His eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. “I see. You’ve come to sell Ravenswood?”
“Not sell it. Use it to earn a living.”
“And how would you do that?”
“I thought I’d restore it to its former glory and turn it into an upscale inn.”
“ An inn? What rubbish.” He pounded a fist on the table and stormed across the room, flitting from doorway to window to hearth like an errant flash of lightning. “You’d bring strangers here to trample the gardens and fish in the lochs? Foreigners who’d filch the silver and mock the hallowed grounds where brave Highlanders shed their blood in battle?”
Before she could reply, his fist slammed again. “Never! By heaven, I’ll burn every inch of it to the ground and, for good measure, plunge my dagger through their black hearts before I’ll let that happen.”
Bree could see that he was working himself up into a terrible, blinding rage.
Brooding, he crossed his arms over his chest. “But then, why should I expect anything different from the likes of you? How could you possibly love this place the way one would who’d been born to it?”
Instead of flinching, she glowered at him. After a few hours of sleep, she was more than ready to take up a fight with this man.
“That’s right. I don’t love it as you do. But I need what it can give me: a way to earn a living. As you suggested, I intend to invite strangers here to fish, to ride, and to enjoy the gardens. Foreigners who will be introduced to a way of life that is gone for good and will never be seen again, except for these few castles and manor houses that are left standing. In case you aren’t aware of it, travelers will spend a great deal of money to see how people lived in earlier times. At least, I hope they will.”
“What makes you think you’d be a good innkeeper?”
“It’s what I was trained to do.” She broke open a biscuit, slathered it with jam, a
nd took a bite. “I was very good at my job.”
“Then why aren’t you still doing it?”
“I . . . gave it up.”
He studied her more closely. “For a man, I’ll wager.”
She looked away. “It’s none of your business.”
She didn’t see him move, and yet in the blink of an eye he was beside her, lifting her face, forcing her to meet his steady gaze.
“Aye. For a man. And from the look of you, one who obviously wasn’t worth the sacrifice.”
She slapped his hand away and was startled to feel nothing but air.
He was already across the room with his back to the fire as he stared daggers at her.
She picked up her cup and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll remind you to respect my privacy while I bathe and dress.”
When he made no reply, she closed the door. Then for good measure she turned the lock. And missed the sudden smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.
Wrapped in a towel, Bree emerged from the bathroom to find Jamie lying on the bed, his hands folded comfortably beneath his head.
He looked her up and down before smiling. “Did you really think a locked door would keep me out?”
“I’d hoped you were gentleman enough to respect my privacy.”
“If you insist upon invading my privacy, why should I treat you any better? Besides,” he added with a grin, “I’m very much enjoying the view. As I did when you showered.”
“You’re insufferable.” She huffed out a breath and picked up her clothes.
As she headed back toward the bathroom he called, “What makes you think I won’t follow you in there again?”
“Stay away from me.” For emphasis she slammed the door.
In the bathroom, she dressed with as much haste as she could manage, all the while glancing around to see if he’d made good on his threat.
When she emerged a second time, Jamie was nowhere in sight. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed. Maybe he’d decided, since she refused to be afraid of him, to simply go away and do his haunting elsewhere. Or, she thought, he could be gathering his strength to torment her even more.
Armed with a camera and her laptop, Bree stepped out of the cottage, ready for a day in the manor house, exploring the rooms with an eye toward developing the mansion and its property into a moneymaking proposition.
She glanced at her watch, hoping to get in a few hours before Gwynn and Duncan Logan arrived.
As she made her way along the path, she kept looking over her shoulder, half expecting Jamie to fall into step beside her. Did ghosts avoid sunlight, preferring the night?
That thought had her pausing in midstride. Yesterday she’d denied the existence of ghosts. Here she was, scant hours later, not only believing that her visitor was a spirit, but conversing with him.
Jamie Kerr’s powerful presence made it impossible to deny him.
Good heavens. She was beginning to sound like Gwynn Logan.
Before she could turn the key in the lock, the door was thrown open by the housekeeper.
Bree’s eyes went wide. “Did you stay the night?”
“We did. Both Duncan and I were too worried to leave you alone. We slept in our old rooms beyond the pantry. I told Duncan you’d surely be here sometime in the night. I can’t believe you lasted until morning.” She studied Bree’s eyes. “Did you see him?”
“Yes. He tried to scare me off. I told him I wouldn’t budge.” She saw the incredulous look on the older woman’s face and couldn’t help smiling. “After that, he left me alone.”
“He left you . . .” Mrs. Logan swallowed. “After an encounter with the likes of him, I’m surprised that you were able to sleep at all.”
“I slept like a baby.” Not quite the truth, but Bree decided there was no point in admitting how she’d spent the latter part of the night in a chair.
“He didn’t try to harm you?”
Bree shrugged. “He stormed around the room threatening, and managed to break a vase.”
“But he didn’t do you any physical harm?”
“No.” Bree took in a deep breath, determined to change the subject. “I’m guessing that the architect never made it here last night. Did he call to explain why?”
“Not a word.”
Bree sighed. “Then I’m ready to take another tour of the house.” She pulled her camera from its case. “ A nice long tour, if you don’t mind, Gwynn.”
The housekeeper gave a curt nod of her head. “Where would you like to begin?”
“I believe I’d like to see the kitchen and dining rooms first.”
She followed the housekeeper along a hallway beyond the sitting and living rooms, and was pleasantly surprised to discover a fairly modern facility.
Bree used her camera to record the spacious cook’s pantry, the oversized stove and oven and wide, empty counter space that could accommodate quite a number of people working side by side.
“Oh, this is so much more than I’d expected.” She set aside her camera to admire glass-fronted cupboards filled with the finest china and crystal. Several drawers revealed chests of gleaming silver tableware.
Bree looked over at the housekeeper. “It looks as though you have enough here to serve several dozen guests.”
The housekeeper nodded. “In earlier days, her ladyship often entertained on a lavish scale. Why, I remember one grand holiday when there were so many titled guests, we had to hire more than a dozen young girls from the village to help with the serving. Duncan was sent to Edinburgh to fetch additional crystal and silver her ladyship ordered for the occasion.”
As they moved on to the elegant dining room, Bree took pictures of the floor-to-ceiling fireplace, with its spectacular marble surround, and a half dozen round tables with matching upholstered chairs. Though the upholstery was faded and the tables covered with a layer of dust, she could see the potential.
The housekeeper stood watching her. “ Are you planning on entertaining, Mrs. Kerr?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Bree pointed to a set of double doors. “What’s beyond there?”
“It’s the rooms Duncan and I occupied for forty years, and where we stayed last night.” Mrs. Logan led the way and stood aside to allow Bree to precede her.
Duncan looked up from the table where he was drinking his tea and reading a newspaper.
“Oh, I’m sorry to bother you, Duncan.” Bree stepped back, but the older man gave a quick shake of his head.
“Please, missus. Gwynn told me you’d be touring the premises today. Come in,” he said affably.
Seeing the tall, leaded windows looking out over rolling hills covered with heather, Bree put a hand to her throat. “Oh, what a beautiful view. You must have been so happy here.”
Glancing at her husband for confirmation, the older woman’s face radiated warmth and pleasure. “Duncan and I were saying just this morning that we’ve never forgotten how much we loved this place. The rooms we’re renting in the village are comfortable, and we’ve done our best to make them feel like home. But after a lifetime at Ravenswood, our hearts are still here.”
“Then you and Duncan might be willing to consider coming back to work here?”
Gwynn Logan’s eyes filled. “It would be the answer to our prayers, Mrs. Kerr.” She ducked her head, ashamed of her tears. “Ever since we received your letter saying that you were coming to Scotland, we’ve been afraid that you were planning on selling off the antiques, and then the estate, before returning to America.”
“I may still be forced to do so. But I think I have a solution that could spare me the pain of selling this beautiful place.” Bree took a deep breath, thinking of the furious reaction from Jamie Kerr, and wondering if her next words would have the same effect on these two. “I’m thinking of turning Ravenswood into an inn.”
FOUR
“Why the smile, lass?” Jamie fell into step beside Bree as she followed the path from the manor house to the cottage.
&
nbsp; “It’s no thanks to you.” She shot him a sideways glance.
“You didn’t care for my jokes while you whiled away your time in the big house?”
“Whiled away? I was working. Which is more than I can say for you.”
“Aye. I was playing. And having a grand time of it, I might add.”
Playing. The very thought had her smile fading, just as Jamie’s image faded from view yet again.
She’d spent hours touring the house and taking dozens of photographs of the rooms, which she hoped to share later with a local firm she’d contacted about making the changes needed to transform Ravenswood from a private dwelling to a charming inn.
Afterward, over a lovely lunch with Gwynn and Duncan in their quarters, she’d talked about her plans for the inn, and was buoyed by their enthusiasm. Having the two of them on board with this transition meant the world to her. After all, these two old people knew this place better than anyone, and loved it. They knew its history, its pride, its sorrows. If they could share her vision for its future, she felt one step closer to making her dream a reality.
She’d felt comfortable enough to share her concerns that the initial cost would be great, both in labor and material. Each suite of rooms would have to be brought up to local code, and to have modern amenities while keeping the original flavor of the ancient manor house. When the two old people realized that she wasn’t the wealthy heiress they’d expected, but rather burdened with debt, they became genuinely concerned. It was Duncan who had proposed hiring unemployed workmen in the village to help with the remodel, while Gwynn volunteered to locate as many ambitious young women as were needed to help scrub everything to a high shine.
There had been one terrible moment over lunch, when Bree had seen Jamie standing between the two, scowling at her. She’d lost her train of thought, glancing from Gwynn to Duncan, until she realized that neither of them could see what she was seeing.
How did Jamie do that?
She’d had to put him out of her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. But it hadn’t been easy. Throughout the long day she’d seen him at the windows, standing by the hearth, even reclining on one of the upstairs beds, and each time looking smug, knowing that he was playing havoc with her senses.
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