by Willa Blair
“What have you ladies found?” Ian asked, breaking eye contact with his cousin and looking around the room.
“We’re just getting started on the photographic record,” she told him.
Lara held up her camera to show she, too, was taking pictures.
Ian walked over and stood in front of Fergus’s painting, studying it. “There might be a faint signature in the bottom right corner, but I can’t make it out.”
Lara joined him and studied the area he’d mentioned. She’d be annoyed with him later. Right now, she could enjoy standing close to him, breathing in his scent and hearing his voice. “No,” she told him, “I can’t either. Can we take it down and check the back?”
Ian glanced at Caitlin for confirmation, then grinned. “Let’s do it.”
“Have a care,” Caitlin warned as she joined them. “Its frame looks solid, but may not be.”
Ian gripped the sides and lifted slightly, testing. “It seems sturdy.”
“Okay.” Caitlin reached under one of his arms and got a hand around the lower edge of the frame. “Ready? Now.”
Lara held her breath as they lifted the painting away from the wall. Behind it, the whitewash was a little whiter, cleaner. That painting had hung there for a long time.
Ian carried Fergus’s image closer to one of the overhead lights, then shook his head. “I can’t read it.”
Lara moved around the painting to get a look at the back. “I see a date! I think it says 1745 in the lower corner. Wow.”
Caitlin joined her and photographed the entire back side, then focused her lens on the date. Once satisfied she had a good image, she moved around and photographed the front. “Maybe the signature will be clearer with a different digital filter when I upload the picture to my computer.”
“Now you’ve taken it down, why don’t we hang it over the fireplace in the library?” Lara asked.
Ian traded a look with his cousin. “I think old Fergus should stay right here until we know a bit more about what we’re dealing with,” he told her. “Besides, if someone asks about this painting, how would you explain where it came from?”
Caitlin nodded. “Ian is right. You could make up a story, but if anyone noticed the brass plate on the frame, and they will, you’d be stuck.”
“This is an old house. I could have found that painting anywhere—in a closet or an attic. Or I could have bought it at a second-hand shop.”
Frowning, Ian shook his head. “Correct me if I’m wrong…cousin…but this painting would carry a very high price in any shop. Likely it belongs in a museum.”
Caitlin nodded. “Aye.”
“As for a closet or attic, I suppose so, but why only this? What else might be hidden? If you put this on display, you invite questions and possibly even thieves.”
“Thieves!” Lara gasped. She would not put the twins at risk. She nodded. “Okay, put him back where he was. There will be plenty of time to find him a new home later.”
And why did Ian look so relieved when she agreed?
A cool breeze wafted by Lara’s hands, almost like a brush of rough, chilly hair. From Ian and Caitlin’s startled expressions a moment later, they felt it, too.
“What was that?” Caitlin exclaimed.
Lara and Ian exchanged a glance and Lara shuddered. “Not again! That’s my cue to leave. I’m going to be late getting the twins.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Ian told her. “Cousin, you’ll be all right on your own?”
Caitlin glanced around and shrugged. “As long as whatever that was doesn’t come back. You two go ahead. If anything happens, Cousin, I’ll scream.”
****
“Fergus!” An hour later, Caitlin’s exclamation echoed in the open space of the ground floor. “I thought about him a lot after you left.”
“Wheesht!” Ian scolded. “Lara or the twins will hear you. I just heard her car on the drive.” He dragged her into one of the side rooms, hoping an extra wall would help muffle their conversation. “She’s back from picking them up from school, and they’re in the main house, or will be in a moment.”
“But Fergus! The painting! And that weird cold breeze,” Caitlin continued, at lower volume. She shivered. “Could the ghost be Fergus?”
“The ghost of a dog?” Ian snorted, then thought about it and shrugged. “Lara says the twins have been up to something ever since I broke through the wall into that wing. They might have seen the ghost…assuming it’s real.”
“And instead of frightening the twins, the apparition of a dog might seem like something fun. Even friendly,” Caitlin argued.
He held up a hand when she made as if ready to go ask them. “But they won’t admit to it.”
“After seeing that painting, can you doubt it? And what if they go up there and see it? Are they old enough to make the connection?”
“Between the painting and the ghost…if it’s a dog? Or if there really is one. I don’t know. Anyway, Lara has forbidden them from there. Let’s just find some proof first, aye, before we go naming a ghost we’re not certain exists.” Except for that draft just now and earlier on the stairs… “Speaking of proof, we need to find some dates on the things up there to confirm why these rooms and their stairway were sealed.”
Caitlin pointed up. “The plaid on the bed upstairs wasn’t enough? They were Jacobites. Had to be. Why else go to such lengths to hide all of the things they valued? To seal all of those things away?”
Ian crossed his arms. “We need a date. Some Jacobite symbols. Provenance is your area of expertise.”
“I’ll find them.”
“Make sure you do. And don’t…” He waved a hand.
“Interpret and create proof? Never.” She frowned. “This is too important. And whatever proof I find will have to stand up to scrutiny.”
“Exactly.”
“But, Ian, you don’t own Cairn Dubh. The family hasn’t owned it for decades…maybe centuries.” Caitlin gasped and backed up a step. “Wait…is that your plan? To reclaim it by marrying the lovely widow? I wouldn’t have thought you capable—”
Ian held out both hands, palms down. “Shite, Caitlin, keep your voice down. And nay.” He shook his head and let his hands fall to his sides. “I’d never do such a thing. No’ for that reason, certainly. I have as much right to marry as anyone else, and whether I choose Lara or someone else, taking advantage of a woman will never be part of my decision.”
She gave him a skeptical frown, one eyebrow raised.
Ian held up a hand, mostly to keep from balling it into a fist. How could Caitlin think such a thing of him? “I wouldn’t. I like Lara—a lot. But if anything develops between us—”
Caitlin snorted. “Given the looks you two exchange, I think anything is well on the way to developing.”
“If…anything develops between us,” Ian hissed, “how Lara finds out about…me…will make a big difference in whether it works out.” He sighed. “I have to tell her, aye, when the time is right. So, I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut and stick to business. Thank God you suggested she hire a second appraiser. No matter what she thinks of me, at least she won’t think you’re tempted to pick her pockets.”
“Seems to me you’d better tell her soon, before she finds out another way.” Caitlin crossed her arms, then waved the top hand. “People talk, and if enough people say a little here, a little there, she’ll figure it out on her own. Imagine how that will make her feel.”
Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I ken it. She’s overheard the title—not only from you. I haven’t found the right time to explain. And I don’t want her to fire me before I make this building safe for her and the twins. And before you get a chance to figure out what the contents of these hidden rooms mean.”
“I think we ken what they mean. Wait, fire you? Do you really expect that to happen?”
Ian gave a resigned shrug. “For her to fire me? Aye. And you right along with me. Wouldn’t you, once you knew our connection to this place? I los
t the chance to get access and answers a year ago when her husband decided to act as his own general contractor. If he ever knew anything about me, it seems he never told his wife. Now she’s a rich widow, and I’m unmarried, so the truth will look even worse to her. I have to convince her I just need to know…”
“We all do, Baron.”
He turned and glanced over his shoulder toward the main house. “God, stop calling me that. For all we know the title may never have existed outside of my grandfather’s imagination. I know he believed it, and he convinced everyone in the family, the village, hell, the surrounding countryside, but in this century, it’s worthless and it could ruin everything.”
“Do ye care for her?”
Ian froze, reluctant to admit it out loud. But it was the truth. “Of course I do. She’s beautiful and smart and…”
“And for all we ken, she owns your family’s ancestral seat in these parts. Your history,” Caitlin added and stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “Yours by right of inheritance, if some prior Baron hadn’t supported the wrong side.”
He grabbed her hand and pushed it away. “But he did—as far as we can guess—and he lost everything. I may be a successful architect, but I can’t afford to keep up this place. Lara can. I’m fine with that.”
“Will ye be fine if she marries someone else or decides to sell the place to someone who doesn’t care or cannot afford the maintenance? It was on its way to becoming a ruin before MacLaren bought it, and could be again.”
“We’ll deal with that if it happens, aye? Let’s not borrow trouble.”
Caitlin pursed her lips and blew out a burst of air. “Nay, let’s not. We have trouble aplenty already.”
Chapter Eight
On the way to the village’s market day Saturday morning, Lara could barely contain her emotions. Today was the anniversary of Angus’s passing. She hoped the market day would distract the twins and give them something fun to do. As for her…she’d get through it somehow.
Cairn Dubh had turned out to be so much more than just a home. The contents of the secret rooms would make a wonderful display in a museum, perhaps even in Angus’s name. It would be an appropriate way to remember him and to memorialize his connection to the area. The National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh would probably love to have many of the finer furnishings, art and odds and ends, even weapons, in its collection. If not there, then something in the Highlands, like the visitor’s center at Culloden, or even in the village.
If only she could tell someone! But Ian had been clear about the possibility of attracting thieves. He trusted Rollo, but apparently not the men working for him. She would not put the twins in danger, no matter how fitting the idea of donating to a museum in Angus’s name seemed today. Ian had appeared quite emotional about what they’d found. He was right. She wouldn’t talk to anyone but Ian and Caitlin until arrangements had been made and anything of value removed to safe keeping.
In the backseat, the twins were talking to themselves in low tones Lara knew presaged trouble. “What’s going on back there, you two?”
“Nothing, Mom,” Alex answered. Lara glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see Amy elbow her brother, then turn her face aside to stare out the window.
“Uh huh. Okay, we’re almost there. Remember to stick close to me. I don’t want anyone getting lost.” She pulled into the car park and found a space. “Ready, lads and lassies? Let’s go see what there is to see.”
The fairground was filled with small square vendors’ tents, and more than a few without cover had their goods piled on tables or on the ground around them in baskets. Alex made a beeline for the ironmonger’s display of swords, chain mail and targes, the round shields used by Scottish warriors of old. Amy followed him and fingered the chainmail while Alex drooled over the swords. To keep them out of trouble, Lara had no choice but to go where they went. She didn’t need a vendor complaining and getting them kicked out of the market.
“And what’s yer name, lad?” the ironmonger asked Alex at the same time Amy called to her.
“Look, Mom, aren’t these cool?”
Amy was examining thin belts made out of loosely woven metal loops in many colors—like rainbow chainmail.
“They are colorful,” Lara told her just as the ironmonger’s voice reached her.
“Aye, I ken the place. ’Tis haunted. Ye would have heard that by now, I expect.”
Lara waved Amy to silence so she could hear Alex’s response. Would he admit to the man what he and Amy had avoided telling her? But she should have known better—Alex played dumb.
His eyes got wide. “Really?”
“Aye, and a laddie like ye had best keep yer wits about ye. Especially on All Hallow’s Eve. The most loyal warrior of the laird guards the old keep still today, armed with a claymore twice yer height and a battle cry to freeze yer blood in yer veins. Ye dinna want to cross paths with a ghost like that.”
Lara pictured a scary man in chain mail with a huge sword—the two-handed kind she’d heard Highlanders preferred—lurking in the pitch darkness of the upper floors. The image alone was enough to keep her from going up there, or letting the twins anywhere near the old wing, ever again. Thank goodness it was only a story.
“Wow,” Alex replied, taking a step back. “I guess not.”
Lara had heard enough. “Come on, kids. This gentleman is busy.”
“But Mom, he’s telling us about the ghost at…” Alex blurted out. Dismay flashed across his features right before his sister elbowed him in the ribs.
“It’s almost Halloween,” Amy gritted out with a tight smile. “Everyone knows lots of ghost stories.”
“Yes, they do,” Alex agreed, recovering quickly.
Including stories about Cairn Dubh, it appeared. “Thanks for keeping them entertained,” Lara told the man, who’d watched the byplay with an interested grin.
“’Twas no trouble at all, Missus,” he told her.
Lara raised an eyebrow to collect the twins. As she walked them toward the farmers’ stands, she admonished, “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Alex and Amy looked at each other, then back to her. “We won’t,” Amy responded for the pair.
Lara pursed her lips, hiding a grin. The twins definitely knew more than they were telling. Yet, they didn’t seem frightened, so why should she? “Okay, what’s for dinner?” she added, hoping for a change of subject. With the twins’ contributions mostly involving groans and scrunched up noses as they demanded, “What’s that?” over every unfamiliar vegetable, she started filling her basket.
A few minutes later, Ian’s voice came from behind her. “You look like you could use a hand.”
She glanced around in surprise just as Alex and Amy pivoted and threw themselves at him.
He caught them deftly, hooked an arm under theirs, and whirled them around.
Lara couldn’t get over how strong he must be to lift both kids at once, much less to hang on to them while they spun. His bunched arm and shoulder muscles under his fisherman’s sweater would make any woman drool, but Lara couldn’t stop ogling his jeans covering the bunch and flex of his ass and thigh muscles as he turned. He laughed as the kids shrieked with excitement. The sound of his voice made her heart melt and her thighs clench.
Ian brought the giggling twins in for a landing, and then reached for her basket. “Let me carry that for you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she objected, though in truth, the basket was starting to pull on her arms and shoulders. She shifted it from one elbow to the other and grasped the handle with her free hand, trying to lighten the load on her arm. “You must have your own shopping to do.”
“I do, but I can pick up the few things I need as we go along.” He grinned and peered past her white knuckles. “Or I can just eat with you. You’ve got enough in here to feed a small army.”
“Or two nine-year-olds.”
“Almost ten,” Alex added, proudly, straightening up and lifting his chin.
>
Ian held out a hand, palm down, by Alex’s head, as if measuring the boy’s growth. “Ten? I’m impressed.”
“But not for four more months,” Amy added.
“That’s not a very long time, now is it?” Ian asked her.
She preened under his attention, smiling and curling a lock of hair around her finger as she shook her head. God, that started so young!
It struck Lara again how Amy responded to Ian. Alex, too. They were completely comfortable with him, and, in Alex’s case at least, seemed much happier and less resentful of their father’s absence, even today. Especially today.
Ian always seemed fond of the twins, but the gleam in his eye made her hope it was more than fondness. He really liked them. Or was it all a show to impress their mother? Surely he was smart enough to know they were the most important thing in the world to her.
Ian led the twins off on a turnip-hunting expedition, telling them as they walked away about the Scottish origin of the Halloween jack-o’lantern.
Lara’s heart twisted in her chest. Angus should have been the one filling their heads full of tall tales. But he wasn’t here, and hadn’t been for a year. And Ian seemed determined to be a very acceptable substitute, at least for the kids.
For her, as well? I’m here, too. His words echoed in her mind. She had mourned long enough. She couldn’t let Angus’s memory keep her from a happy future. She had no doubt he would want her to live a full life, including falling in love and marrying again. She would never stop loving Angus, but she hoped someone else would eventually fill her heart as Angus once had.
Was that someone Ian?
****
“Mom, can we get a dog?” Alex’s question, in his most plaintive voice, preceded him as he bounded into the kitchen, where Lara was making dinner.
Lara glanced up from cutting potatoes into cubes to roast along with the chicken already in the oven. “A dog? What kind of dog?”
Alex shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. A big one.”
Lara froze. “A big one? Why do you want a big one?” A big one like the ghost hound she feared they’d been following around?
