by L. A. Fiore
I glanced where he gestured, but all I saw was green grass.
“It’s gone now. I had it drained then filled in. Under our feet, there used to be an intricate maze of halls lined with cells. The dungeon. I had it filled in with cement.”
“It’s not a memorial, is it?”
For the first time since he arrived, those pales eyes sought mine. “No.”
“I don’t know what happened to you, but I understand better than most the damage that can be done by those meant to love and protect us. And based on what remains, whatever happened was unimaginable. I think it makes you human to erase the memory of the one who did harm to you.”
He didn’t reply but his focus never wavered.
“Fergus told me you once broke Tomas’ jaw.”
There was a flicker of what looked like satisfaction that sparkled in those eyes. “Aye.”
“I bet he had it coming.”
“That he did.”
“I’m not sorry I let his truck slide down that embankment.”
Another flicker, but this time it was understanding or maybe comradery. “I can see you aren’t.”
“He’s a dick.”
“You are one of a few who see that.”
“People see what they want. An easy smile and the good ole boy act and people are blind to what’s under that, but someone who doesn’t hide behind an easy smile, who doesn’t always have a quick reply, and they see trouble. I’ve seen the masks people wear. I think only people who have truly seen what lurks beneath are skeptical of those who are too agreeable too often.”
“It was Brianna who stepped in that day. She tried so hard to fix me.”
My heart stilled then nearly swelled right out of my chest at his confession. He was lifting his mask, even if just a little, to let me see a bit of the man underneath.
“I don’t think she was trying to fix you, Brochan, because you’re not broken; you’re just bent.”
His eyes went dark but what fueled that reaction I didn’t know. He practically snarled at me. “Are you for real?”
So taken back by the venom in his words, I answered absently. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He turned away, his long strides putting distance between us. “Please don’t…” I didn’t finish because I didn’t know what I was willing to beg him to do. I just knew that there was a man under the mask that I wanted desperately to know.
BROCHAN
“Damn you.” I stood over Brianna’s grave as a war raged in me. “Did you know? Did you know the one you sought was the one you cursed on me with your dying breath? She learned what I am, what I do, and didn’t even bat a lash.”
I didn’t understand half of what I felt…anger was there, but it was the other unknown feelings that baffled and enraged me.
“I don’t want it. I don’t want her.” And yet even saying it I knew I was lying. Being around her, it was the same peace I found at my home, but stronger. Just her being brought a calm in me I never felt before. Calm and oddly alive…almost drunk on the knowledge that someone understood the darkness because she too lived there. And damn Brianna because she knew. It wasn’t Miss Danton’s pretty face that broke through; it was her pain, her own demons that made her understand. And even understanding me, it wouldn’t end well. Just by the nature of who I was, her knowing me was only going to bring her more pain.
“I’ll hurt her, but that won’t stop me from claiming her. How is that being a good man, the one you were so convinced existed? Heaven help her with what you’ve set in motion.”
CHAPTER TEN
LIZZIE
I drove to Edinburgh. I wanted to see the castle, I needed art supplies, but I’d save that for another trip. My destination for this trip was New Register House, the lovely Italianate building located in New Town Edinburgh. I planned to research my own ancestors, but that wasn’t what brought me here now. I didn’t know the full story of Brochan, but I had deduced the reminder he sought in leaving his home in ruins was of the horror inflicted on him. I couldn’t imagine what kind of horror by his father would elicit so decisive and definitive a retaliation, but there was more to the McIntyres than just his father. I had been of a similar mindset when learning of Brianna. I had been prepared to dislike her because of her connection to Norah. I would have been wrong to do that. So my goal was to research the McIntyres, to give Brochan his family back. At least that was the hope. If it turned out they were all like his father, no one was the wiser.
I was given a desk and a computer terminal with instructions on how to look up the McIntyres by way of registries—births, deaths, marriages and parish. Perhaps there were other living McIntyres and not all of the clan’s history burned with the castle. The first name that popped up was Finlay McIntyre and his marriage to Abigail Stewart, followed by the birth of their son and her death. My father wouldn’t have given a shit if Norah croaked on the table when she delivered me. But someone who loved his wife, a love that was real and strong and pure, if you lost a love like that was it possible it could twist you? Would it turn your love to hate? Would you focus that hate on the one you believed to be responsible, an innocent babe? Fenella had said as much, his father blamed him for his mother’s death. I ached for Brochan, an innocent babe guilty of nothing more than being born. That was me too, abused solely because I existed, but his father had been a monster if he had blamed Brochan for his wife’s death. No pain or loss justified that. She died to give him a son and he turned on that son. Poor Abigail, poor Brochan. I changed my search. It wasn’t his father’s family Brochan needed; it was his mother’s.
Stewart was a very popular name, so for the next few hours I went through lists and lists of marriages, deaths and births. It took time following the trail back from Abigail, but knowing how much my life improved learning of Brianna, knowing there was more to me than my parents, I wanted Brochan to experience that. Why? That wasn’t a question I was ready to answer. I knew very little about him. I understood him, I was attracted to him, but I only knew the tip of the iceberg when it came to him. Going down the path I felt myself being pulled toward was one I unequivocally knew there would be no coming back from. However it played out, Lizzie Danton would never again be the same. I was just beginning to find myself. I wasn’t sure I was ready to lose myself so soon.
I spent the entire afternoon jotting down names and creating a rough draft family tree. Marking marriages, children and deaths. Next step would be the internet. Googling the names still living. I wondered why Fenella and Finnegan never thought to do it, to find her family. I’d ask Fenella when I returned to Tulloch Croft.
On the steps outside the Register house, I referenced my tourist books for the shopping district. I was going to dinner tonight at a French restaurant, one of a few places I hoped to try. The reviews were wonderful and I liked that it used seasonal Scottish produce in their offerings. I needed a dress. Well, I didn’t need one I had one, but I wanted to shop. I rarely shopped. Most of my clothes I bought online or Cait bought them. Cait. It had been too long since I talked to her. I reached for my phone. As efficient as ever, she answered on the first ring.
“Cait Allen.”
She hadn’t checked her phone before she answered. That was her formal, business voice. I mimicked her, “Lizzie Danton.”
“Lizzie! Oh my God. It is so good to hear your voice. How are you? Where are you? Are you having fun?”
Chuckling, I attempted to answer all of her questions. “I’m good. Currently, I’m in Edinburgh in search of a dress for dinner. And yes, I am having fun. I love it here.”
“I can tell. Are you still thinking about staying?”
“I am, but that is kind of dependent on what happens with the cottage.”
“Speaking of which, I have the information on your father. I’ll email you. He still has an office in New York and one in Boston. I have direct numbers for both.”
There was a knot in the pit of my stomach thinking about speaking to my father, but I would. Norah wasn�
�t going to win, no way.
“I did a little research on him too. He never remarried after your mom and he doesn’t have any other children.”
“I should hope not. He couldn’t handle the one he had.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge, but thanks for getting the info. How was your surprise weekend?”
“He took me to Vegas. I thought I would hate Vegas. I loved it. We’re going back.”
“I’ve never been.”
“It was crazy and loud and wild and just electric.”
“I’ll have to check it out. I need your fashion sense. I’m going to dinner tonight at a restaurant that is business attire.”
“You need a cocktail dress and get black, very versatile and it is a great color on you.”
Not according to my mother it wasn’t. All these years later and I still remembered that. The damage our parents were capable of doing to us.
“There are a couple great little boutiques. I’ll text you their addresses. Don’t forget shoes.”
“You love this.”
“I do and I think you will too. Any update on your scary, sexy Scotsman?”
“That is a whole other conversation.”
“So there is more.”
“He fascinates me, Cait, and partly because he and I share a similar background.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It connects us though. I can’t even really explain it, but he gets it because he’s been there. It’s not just empathy, he really understands.”
“I like that you have that. Sorry that either of you need it, but I like that you have it.”
I did too. “I have a dress to buy.”
“Send pictures.”
“I will. I miss you, Cait.”
“I miss you too.”
BROCHAN
“It’s not empathy. She’s been there; she gets it. And there’s just something about her.” I glanced down at my companion as I flexed my fist. I had really been getting into it; my breathing was labored. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe because I know it won’t leave this room.”
Wide fearful eyes stared up at me. Blood dripped down his cheek from the cut over his eye. He only replied in grunts, but the gag inhibited his talking. I cracked my knuckles then slammed them into his face again. His front tooth popped out.
“She knows what I do. Understands it.”
He moaned when my fist connected to his temple. He may have even blacked out. I grabbed the pliers and started on his fingernails. “She talks to herself. A lot.” He howled when I yanked his thumbnail from his finger. I held it out to him. “She has a devious streak too, intentionally letting that douche’s car roll into the mud.” I yanked out another nail. “Just the fact that I’m talking about her.” The man was whimpering. He was almost at his breaking point.
“Only one way to stop people like you. You can’t use it if you don’t have it.” I grabbed the knife. He screamed around the gag, his eyes completely dilated from fear. My cell rang.
I glanced at the ID before I answered. “Fenella.”
“Brochan, how are you?”
I glanced down at my mark struggling to break free. I pointed the knife at him and he nearly expired on the spot. I grinned. “I’m good.”
“Are you working?”
“Even now, yes.”
“Oh. Well…you answered the phone. This is kind of awkward, never mind. I don’t want to keep you from…but I wanted to let you know that Lizzie is in Edinburgh.”
I was losing it because I felt my mouth turning up in a smile. “She is?”
“Yes. I thought maybe you could meet up with her.”
“Edinburgh is a large city.” That didn’t matter I’d find her. It was what I did.
“Like that matters.”
Again my lips twitched. It was a slippery slope, this feeling thing.
“I’ll let you get back to ah…work. Show Lizzie the sights.”
I dropped the phone on the table. An evening with Miss Danton, my day was looking up. My focus shifted back to my mark as the grin morphed into a sneer. “I’d say this won’t hurt, but that would be a lie.”
LIZZIE
I checked myself in the mirror of the hotel, turning this way and that. I wasn’t sure about the one shoulder design on the rack, but I loved it. The chiffon beaded dress fell to mid-thigh, one shoulder was completely bare, the other ended in a long, flowing sleeve. The color was not black, but a charcoal gray. My wild, brown curls were pulled up into a knot and I’d added a little mascara and lip gloss. The Sophia Webster crystal beaded silver sandals were an extravagance, but they were so damn pretty. I even bought a little silver clutch. I didn’t recognize the smiling woman looking back at me in the mirror. Checking the time, I grabbed the room key and clutch and hurried down to the waiting cab.
From the outside, the restaurant didn’t look like much, but inside was simple and elegant. The color palette very neutral with splashes of color coming from the orchids at the table, but more importantly the dishes. The entire restaurant was designed to be the canvas for the cuisine. It was very clever and very effective. The hostess saw me to my table, one that was set for two. A restaurant of this caliber shouldn’t have two place settings for a lone diner. I assumed the server would remove the second setting when he saw I was dining solo.
The menu was a little overwhelming and partly because I didn’t know what half of it said. I’m not sure what had me glancing up when I did, but if I hadn’t I would have missed the sight of Brochan McIntyre entering. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. I had been thinking about him a lot throughout the day, but watching the hostess stand a bit taller, seeing the slight flush coloring her cheeks—he wasn’t a hallucination. I forgot all about the menu and just stared. In the back of my mind I wondered what he was doing here, more specifically how he knew I was here, but at the moment I was enjoying the sight of that tall, hard body dressed in an elegant black suit. The man was handsome and striking and he was also heading to my table. I glanced down at the second table setting.
“Miss Danton.” His pale eyes looked darker, heated as he moved them down my body.
My greeting could have been better. “How did you know I was here?”
He flashed me a grin. Yes, he grinned. “May I?” He gestured to the empty seat.
“Please.”
He folded his tall frame in the chair and glanced at the hostess. “A bottle of Chateau Lafite 2012.” Those eyes were on me immediately after. “Are you enjoying our fine city?”
“How did you know I was here?”
“In this restaurant or Edinburgh?”
I had said similarly to him once. He was teasing me. The smile couldn’t be helped. “Both.”
He didn’t reply immediately, his focus was on my mouth and I felt the heat of that stare from my head right down to my toes. I reached for my water in the hopes it would soothe the burn.
“Work brought me to Edinburgh. Fenella called, told me you were in town.”
“That doesn’t explain how you are here now?”
“I tracked you down.”
I had said he was a predator. He was an even better one than I thought to be able to hunt me down in a city this size.
His face closed off; it was only then that I appreciated how animated he’d been. I didn’t like how he could turn it off so quickly. “Would you prefer to dine alone?”
“No!” I said that loud enough to attract the attention of several tables around us.
He grinned. I really liked that grin.
“I would enjoy your company.”
“Have you decided on what you want?” he asked.
Him. I wanted him. I had from the moment he encouraged me to buy a can of haggis. He was waiting, watching. I dropped my eyes to the menu. “I don’t know what half of it means.”
“Would you allow me to order for you?”
“Please.”
&nb
sp; The server returned with our wine and went through the production of uncorking, pouring a splash. Once Brochan approved it, the waiter served me then Brochan before leaving the bottle and disappearing as quietly as he appeared.
“It’s a Bordeaux. Quite good too.”
It was better than good. The flavors exploded on my tongue, some lingered longer than others. “It’s delicious.”
Brochan ordered for us both before he reached for his wine. “So what brought you to Edinburgh?”
“Research.”
His brow rose at my vague answer. “On?”
“I’d rather not say just yet.”
“Very well.”
“You said work brought you here, that went well I hope.” Even as I spoke the words, I realized what I was saying. That I hoped his killing of someone had been successful. Silence followed before we both laughed out loud. My own cut short to hear that melodious sound from Brochan.
“Aye, it went well.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I regretted asking when the brightness in his eyes dimmed. “Yes.”
“Never mind.”
“What do you want to know, if I have a code or do you just need to be able to afford my fee?”
“I know you have a code.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m looking, Brochan. I see you.”
His hand flexed and a dark but wildly sexy look entered his expression. “What did you want to know?”
“Does it help? Righting the wrongs, does it help push back the darkness?”
“Yes.” There was so much behind that simple word. “Are there sights you hope to see while here?”
Normalcy. We both deserved that. “I’d like to see the castle.”
“You have an unusual interest in castles, Miss Danton.”
“We don’t have castles in the States. I doubt Edinburgh Castle will come close to your home, but I still want to see it.”
Silence followed for a few seconds. His voice seemed softer when he said, “Edinburgh Castle is pretty spectacular.”
“Your home is spectacular. That view from the lane is unparalleled. How the castle rises up with the trees. I’ve never seen anything to compare to the beauty of that.”