by L. L. Muir
To her horror, she found herself sharing that conversation with Ethan. “The money had been my grandfather’s. He died suddenly when I was twenty-two and left everything to me, which caused all kinds of problems. He’d left special instructions that I wasn’t to loan or give any money to my family.
“In his will, he wrote of having witnessed the many slights against me throughout my life. The fact that they’d lost custody of me, yet never told him. And when I was out of foster care, how my parents treated me with contempt. They mocked me when I talked about my research, my goals. My father said it was a shame women didn’t want to be mothers anymore. And…all the times he had watched me avoid my creepy uncle.
“They were despicable people, Grandfather had said. I remember that word ringing out in the lawyer’s office when the will was read. Despicable. And Grandfather wasn’t leaving them a dime.”
Millions of dollars, and he isn’t leaving us a red cent. Her mother had been pissed.
You knew about this, didn’t you? The lawyer had been forced to step between them, to protect her.
“My uncle said nothing, but I could feel his eyes boring into my head. The lecher hated me because now the others knew what a low life he was—if they hadn’t known already. Even now, it makes me ill to think about him.”
In truth, she hadn’t known what her grandfather had planned. She hadn’t even known that he liked her very much. He had never told her; never shown her any affection.
“I wish the old man would have given me some of his time when he was alive instead of money after he was dead.”
Penny watched Ethan to see his reaction to her pathetic family story. His hands gripped the arms of his chair and his lips were compressed, but he said nothing. She figured it was a good sign that he hadn’t jumped up and down when she had mentioned how much money she’d inherited. It looked more like he was offended on her account.
“I took the money, obviously. Millions of dollars is nothing to sneeze at. I remember sitting in that office wearing a cheap black suit with a scratchy tag. I bought it for the funeral but hadn’t cut out the tag because I knew I would have to return it the next day. I couldn’t afford to keep it. But after the will was read, I didn’t wait. I reached beneath the collar and yanked the tag off.
“The lawyer finished the reading and left the room to give us a moment…” she made quote marks with her fingers, “as a family. But he knew what would happen. My parents descended on me with honey and venom. One would threaten and the other cajole, and then they would switch. I listened to their arguments for a half an hour before I realized it was the longest that either of them had spoken to me, maybe ever. That’s when I stood up and walked out.
“They didn’t give up, though. For months, they demanded funds for mortgage payments or credit cards, or gambling debts they blamed on the strain of being left out of the will. Thanks to their constant barrage, I lost weight. My hair thinned. I started grinding my teeth. With my debts all paid and money in the bank, I was free to do whatever I wanted, but I was too depressed to do anything.
“Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I figured out how much I needed to research some theories and to live. Then I took a big chunk and invested it in a tech company a friend had started called Upper Bubble. I sent proof of the investment to my parents, showing the money was off limits, even to me, so I couldn’t help them even if I wanted to.” She forced a smile. “I haven’t heard from them since.”
To distract from the emotions threatening to come up her throat, she grabbed a piece of wood, opened the grate, and tossed it in. She pulled back with a gasp. A sliver had sliced open the pad of her pointer finger and a little bloom of blood rose from the wound.
“Auch, my bonnie imp.” Ethan tisked. “Here, let us wash that.” He took her hand and carefully led her into the kitchen, to the sink, where he checked the temperature of the teakettle before pouring water over her wound.
Penny watched his face as he tended to her. His grip on her hand was firm and gentle, and his concentration on her injury was complete. She felt her heart pounding at his touch, just as it had when he’d kissed her. When the finger was clean and dry, he asked for a bandage and opened it clumsily, as if he’d never used one before. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and gave it a careful kiss.
That was when those stupid emotions escaped and she burst into tears.
Ethan immediately worried. “Does it truly hurt that much?”
She shook her head and tried to stifle the sobs that were intent on coming, but when his warm arms surrounded her and pulled her close, she sobbed even harder.
“I’m fine,” she finally said. “I’m fine.” But then his hand came up and stroked her back, and she lost it all over again. And with all pride gone, she clung to him, glad he was there for her, even if it was only for the moment.
He made comforting noises, and after a time, he picked her up and carried her to the chairs. He sat down and arranged her carefully in his lap. She fit there so perfectly. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. But she wasn’t about to spend all night wiping her face.
She apologized over and over again for crying, for wetting his shoulders, for being a mess. Ethan just shook his head, whispered “wheesht,” and smoothed a hand up and down her back. Eventually, she was recovered enough that she couldn’t justify sitting on his lap any longer, so she sat up and got to her feet. He followed suit.
“Ethan, I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Dinnae be sorry for feeling how ye feel.” His voice was gruff and strained. Penny wondered what feelings he was trying to hold back. Embarrassment? Judgement?
No. The embarrassment was all hers.
When she came out of the bathroom with her flannel pajamas on, Ethan jumped back to his feet. “Better, then?”
She nodded and waved for him to sit. “I’m fine, really. I don’t know what came over me. A long day catching up to me, I guess. After all, I forgave my family a long time ago, for my own sake. And I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I forgave Tom too. I mean, I’m better off without him here.” She shrugged and forced a smile. “But I think, since it doesn’t look like the dogs are coming back tonight, I’ll get into bed.”
He moved fast, taking her by surprise, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. He peeled back the blankets, tucked her legs between the cold sheets, and covered her up again, all with her groping for something to say. He tucked the fold under her chin, kissed her forehead, and looked into her eyes. “Pleasant dreams, lassie.”
Was he kidding? “Um, you too.”
Then she was left staring at the shadowed ceiling, never feeling more alert in her life.
Chapter Twelve
Moodie sat in the rocking chair carefully not rocking for fear of waking Penny—and for fear his heart might split in twain if he so much as breathed too deeply. He could still feel her sobbing against his chest. The sound and violence of it had torn through him like nothing in his memory.
Well, not quite nothing. He remembered the cracking in his brother’s voice, the utter betrayal and despair. Collin hadn’t shed more than a tear or two, but the effect was similar.
It was happening again, just as he’d feared. Ethan Moodie would fail yet another person whom he…loved.
With a curse, he rose from the chair, took a quick peek to see that the woman still slept, then he paced. “Soncerae,” he whispered to the rafters. “Ye should never have sent me. I can do naught but break what is left of the woman’s heart.” Please, God, let her hear me. “Was this to be my own punishment, then? If so, ye punish an innocent as well!”
The witch failed to appear. For over an hour, he dared her to come and paced the floorboards while he waited. And all the while, ever-rising emotions pulsed through his newly animated veins, until finally, he realized the problem—a very old sensation that had been building behind his eyes—exhaustion. It urged him onto the floor at the foot of Penny’s bed where he covered hi
mself with the quilt from the rocker.
“Curse ye, Soncerae,” he said as he drifted into a restless slumber.
The sound of a door closing roused Moodie. He sat up and found the bed empty and straightened. “Penny?”
There was no reply. She must have gone to check on her dogs.
He sat there for a moment, letting the memories of the previous evening wash over him. Her tears, her greetin’…and all for people who did not deserve her in their lives, let alone deserve her forgiveness. And there he sat, sullying her home, yet another man who deserved no forgiveness for his own sins, both past and future, for he would soon fail Penny as surely as he failed his brother.
His despair weighed heavy, holding him to the floor. He rubbed his face with his hands and tried to push the emotions deep down so he might at least stand, but they wouldn’t budge.
“Damn ye, Soncerae.”
A flash of cold hit his bare toes and gave him a start. Thinking the door had reopened, returning Penny to him, he lifted his head and forced a smile. The only thing between him and the still-closed door, however, was a cloud of mist drifting across the boards—a mist with a familiar green cast.
Panic replaced his despair. He jumped to his feet and called out. “Soncerae, I beg ye. Do not take me yet.”
“And why is that, Ethan Moodie?” Her voice came first, then her person, stepping from the low cloud that might have choked him had he not gotten his feet beneath him. The young witch stood before him, her young face flushed from the cold, and perhaps a bit of pique. “Why should I allow ye more time when all ye do with it is curse me, aye? It seems ye’ve already decided ye’ve failed yer quest.”
“Damn the quest.” Moodie said. “Damn the prince, and damn the vengeance ye offered. Nothing is worth causing this lass more pain. Nothing.”
“I am sorry to do it, my friend, but time is running out and ye’ve yet to glean what ye were meant to learn here.”
Moodie thought back through the instructions he’d been given and those he had overheard Soni offering the other ghosts before sending them on their way. She’d mentioned nothing of gleaning or learning. She’d only assured him that he had been courageous and could be again. That he could love and be loved, that he could be depended upon. But none of that was the point.
It took no courage to abandon someone, as he would be doing…again. There was nothing heroic in breaking a woman’s heart…or a brother’s.
“Give me another chance, lassie. I beg ye. If time is running out, that means there is a wee bit left, does it not?”
Soni nodded. “Yes. A wee bit.”
“Then show mercy. Tell me what I must do, what I must learn, and I shall learn it.”
The lass grinned. “I am fairly certain, in my uncle Wickham’s book, that would be cheating.”
“Oh? And yer uncle’s book is important, is it?”
“Auch, aye. All of us will live and die by it. Mark my words.” She stepped close and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Op’n yer eyes, Ethan Moodie. That is all I can offer.”
In the space of a blink, Soncerae was gone, along with every wisp of green mist that had come with her. The fact that not a trace remained of the stuff made Moodie wonder if he might be wandering in a walking dream, that perhaps in all his frustration of the night before, he’d conjured the witch in his sleep.
“Go on with ye now,” came her voice from all around him. “Danger is headed for Stroma, and yer wee scientist.”
Chapter Thirteen
Penny headed back to the cottage with a skip in her step. She’d spent a pleasant, peaceful morning going about her usual routine of tracking down the dogs and observing them without emotions getting in the way.
“Men are such a pain,” she told herself. “And as soon as Ethan’s gone, I’ll get back to normal.”
The crying session the night before seemed to have washed everything out of her system. It was just too bad it had to wash out through her eyes and make her look pitiful and weak. She laughed out loud when she realized the poor man who’d been caught in her personal storm would now want, more than ever, to get off the island just so he could get good and dry.
With no more emergencies to keep him distracted, he’d be looking for a boat and an exit. Playing house with a Highlander was over, and that was that. She had no intention of playing the damsel in distress and conning him into staying. But she couldn’t help hoping he might have some bacon and eggs going.
Just the thought of a hot breakfast waiting turned her brisk walk into a run. When she got close, however, she slowed and caught her breath. She didn’t want him remembering her as over-dramatic, so she had to show him her calm side. Her cool side. Her “I’m going to be perfectly fine without you” side.
She took one last breath of fresh air, then stepped through the door. Though she planned to play it cool, she couldn’t help being disappointed when the smell of bacon was only a trace left over from the day before.
“Bummer.”
The quilt still lay on the floor where her castaway had slept, so she picked it up and spread it over the rocking chair. “Ethan?” He wasn’t in the kitchen, so she walked down the hall. “Ethan?” The bathroom was empty. So were the bedrooms.
Finally, she opened the door to the barn with a smile back on her face. But he wasn’t in there either.
“Must have gone for a walk or something.”
“Stroma One. Stroma One. Stroma One. This is Pride o’ Caithness on channel 16, over.”
Penny grinned at the familiar, very missed voice of the man who used to deliver her groceries and wood, Brian Mackenzie. She ran to the desk and picked up the radio mic. “Pride o’ Caithness, this is Stroma One. Switch channel fiver fiver, over.”
“Pride o’ Caithness switching fiver fiver.”
She turned the dial to the right channel, waited a few seconds, and pressed the button. “Caithness, Caithness. Brian, you old goat. What are you doing back on the water?”
“Stroma, Stroma, Stroma, I’m pure gallus with both sea legs hale again. But ye’ll see for yersel’ if ye’ll but come to the Netherland pier.”
How wonderful! “You’re already here?”
“Aye, and I’ve brought ye company.”
“Who?”
“Come see for yersel’. Pride o’ Caithness returning to stand by channel 16.”
Penny turned the channel back to 16 and scribbled a quick note, which she stuck to the pot-bellied stove with a magnet. Gone to the pier. Boat’s in. Walk east, then north. Can’t miss it.
She pictured Ethan seeing the note and her stomach dropped. Of course he wouldn’t see the boat as a possible source of excitement, like she always did. He’d see it as a ride. And for half a second, she thought about wadding up the paper and tossing it into the cold coals. She could make it to the pier and maybe make it back again without the Scot ever knowing, but that wasn’t like her. It was more like the kind of woman he’d first accused her of being, someone who would keep him there against his will because she was lonely.
She was not that woman.
She would not be that woman.
No matter how tempting.
Moodie kept his eyes open, as warned, while he ran flat out for The Gloup. He could clearly view a great deal of the island in all directions, but nowhere did he spy the lone figure of a woman on the face of it. Either she was on the shore, in the lighthouse, or in that deadly Malt Barn trying to fish out dogs that weren’t clever enough to stay away.
Penny had claimed that the only reason Milkshake had been in trouble was because he was new. She’d insisted the others had no problem getting a meal and getting out before the tide came in. But he’d remained unconvinced. And this time, if the danger lay in The Gloup, he’d use every breath he had remaining to convince the woman that, no matter how much she’d spent to rent her beloved Stroma, she needed to pack up her charges and move back to the mainland.
His ears strained to catch the barking of dogs, but the breeze pushed all s
ound past him. And though he was winded early on, he kept running until he was a few yards from the circle of cliffs. He carefully strode to the edge and leaned his hands on his knees, both to catch his breath and scan the pool below.
The tide was in. The entrance to the cave and Malt Barn were well and truly covered. No dogs, and more importantly, no red-headed lassies were floating in the waves as they threw themselves at the rocky walls.
In danger, Soni had said. Not dead. And The Gloup couldn’t have filled completely in the time it had taken him to run there.
“Right, then. The menace lies elsewhere.” He sucked in deep breaths to prepare for a run in another direction. But where?
He turned and scanned the world behind him, then looked out at the sea to the west. The smell of the Barney’s Geo blew into his face and he struggled to keep his mouth shut. The woman had warned him of the odor created by the colony of shags and guillemots that made the inlet their home, and the breeze from the sou’ west made certain he had a taste of it. And though he was loath to move closer to the birds, he would do so if it meant the safety of his wee Elvin lass.
One last time, he looked around for some hint of danger, for a few red curls blowing in the wind. His attention caught on a lone figure standing on the horizon at the opposite side of the island, but it was far too small to tell if it was Penny. The colors were wrong for her clothes, but he hadn’t seen what she was wearing when she left the cottage that morning.
East was also the direction of the pier, where danger might arrive by boat!
He took a deep breath and started running. This was it, surely. His chance to be her hero. At long last, he would manage something helpful…before abandoning her. He only hoped that she might forgive him one day as easily as she’d forgiven her family.
