by Willa Blair
Ian’s pride in the twins grew exponentially in that moment. Imagine facing a robber armed only with attitude…and a ghost. Ian fought not to smile. This wasn’t over yet. Though the robber didn’t have a weapon in his hand, the twins and Lara were still in danger.
Did the robber think Fergus was real? Alive? What did he see that they did not? To Ian, Fergus looked as he always expected a ghost to look—a little transparent around the edges. Couldn’t the man see that?
Ian turned back to the interloper. “Set the bag on the floor,” he ordered. “Carefully. Or I’ll let the hound pull ye down, and ye ken what they can do to a buck. What do ye think he’ll do to ye if ye run?”
Fergus, his movement utterly, preternaturally silent, edged closer to the robber who held up both hands and the bag in defense.
Ian wondered what the robber made of that—if he’d noticed.
“Fergus, guard the twins.” Lara choked out and moved to stand with an arm over the shoulder of each of her children, pulling them close to her and leaving Ian alone at the top of the stairs.
Fergus’s head turned toward her when she moved, then his glance shifted to Ian.
The robber must’ve taken his brief inattention for his only opportunity. He broke for the stairway and barreled into Ian.
Ian grabbed him before he got by, swung around and shoved him away from the stairs, then flattened him with an uppercut to the chin. The bag skittered across the floor. Fergus moved to it and sat, guarding it. Ian had no doubt Fergus would not let the robber pick it up again.
Ian hoped the fight would be over that fast.
But the man pushed to his knees and got one foot under him. He jumped to his feet and charged Ian, landing thudding blows to Ian’s chest and shoulder, as he twisted and grappled to get to the stairs.
Ian couldn’t let him get by. A fall down those hard stone steps could be deadly. He counted on Lara to keep the twins out of the way as he tangled with the robber.
The man was too close to land more than a glancing blow, but he didn’t try. He pulled free and bolted for the stairs.
Ian caught him before he took two steps, jerked him around and got in a solid punch to the head. The mask stayed in place as the man staggered back, closer to Lara and the twins.
Glancing aside, his eyes narrowed. He twisted around and grabbed Amy out of her mother’s grasp.
Both the lass and her mother shrieked. Ian took an aborted step toward them as Fergus gained his feet.
The man shifted his grip on Amy to lay his forearm across her throat and backed away from Lara’s reach toward the stairs. “Let me by,” he demanded.
“If you hurt the lass, I will kill you,” Ian warned.
“I’m going down the stairs with her,” the man declared. “You will stay up here—and keep that beast with you. I’ll let her go at the bottom and leave. No harm done, aye?”
“Ye will let her go now,” Ian told him, “if ye want to get out of here alive.”
Lara gasped and Amy whimpered. Ian ignored both.
“Fergus, the stairs,” Ian ordered, hoping the robber’s fear of the big hound would make him run for the stairs without Amy, no matter what Fergus did.
Fergus took two paces toward the staircase.
The robber’s nerve broke, and he backed up a pace. Then he shoved Amy toward Ian and bolted for the steps.
Lara grabbed at his arm as Ian caught Amy. Her grip slipped off, but it was enough to make the man lose his balance at the top of the stairs. With a cry, he tumbled down them and landed spread-eagled and groaning. Then his head lolled to the side, and he went silent.
“Is he dead?” Amy asked, her voice breathless. She hid her face against Ian’s chest.
Ian hugged her. “I don’t think so,” he told her and handed her off to her mother. He descended to the robber, knelt and checked his wrist for a pulse. “He’s alive. Out cold. Lara, call the constable, if ye will.” He pulled his mobile from his back pocket as he climbed back up the steps, and handed it to her. “Fergus and I will keep an eye on that…gentleman…until help gets here.”
Fergus disappeared.
When Ian looked down the steps, he was already sitting by the robber. “That’s a neat trick,” Ian muttered. At the bottom of the steps, Ian stripped off the man’s ski mask and swore. Jimmy Barth. One of Rollo’s subcontractors. He must have overheard one of them talking about what was up here. Or come up himself when Caitlin and Lara were elsewhere. Well, he wouldn’t be a problem any longer. While Lara talked to the constable on the mobile, Ian stripped the man’s belt and used it to lash his hands together. Then he glanced from Fergus, who waited patiently, his attention on their prisoner, to the wide-eyed twins peering down from the top of the staircase.
“How did you know his name is Fergus?” Ian asked, hoping to distract the them from the man on the floor.
Alex shrugged. “We saw his picture.”
“I’ll take that as an admission of guilt you’ve been somewhere you were told not to go,” Ian teased, rocking back on his heels. Relief was starting to flood him. Everyone was safe. And the ghost, Fergus, had protected the twins as well as the contents of the hidden room from the man in front of them.
Lara finished her call, frowned at Fergus, and shook her head, then turned her frown on her children. “What were you doing up here after you were supposed to be in bed?”
“It’s Halloween. We hadn’t looked for Fergus, yet,” Amy said. “Everyone said this was the best night to find him.”
“You didn’t need to find him,” Lara responded. “You saw him when we got home, didn’t you?”
Alex nodded. “We wanted to see where he lived.”
“Of course,” Ian interjected, unable to miss the muscle jumping in Lara’s jaw. “And we were too busy talking in the library to help.”
“Exactly,” Alex answered.
“I whispered to him to find you,” Amy told Ian, “while Alex was talking to that man.”
Lara rolled her eyes, then gestured at the hound. “How are we going to explain him?”
Ian grinned at Lara and shrugged. “I say we don’t try. Barth thought he was real. If the constable sees him, maybe he will, too. If he doesn’t see him, nothing will seem strange.” Then he turned to their resident ghost. “This has to be the most excitement you’ve seen in a couple of centuries,” Ian told Fergus.
Amy giggled.
Fergus wagged his tail, then returned to keeping an eye on their prisoner, who opened his eyes, took one look at the hound looming over him, and squeezed them shut again.
****
Lara’s hands shook, so she hid them behind her back. She’d just watched a ghost guard her children and intimidate a burglar. What would have happened if the ironmonger’s tale had been the right one instead of what Ian and Caitlin had guessed about Fergus? She could barely wrap her mind around what happened here tonight, much less imagine a large, armed ghost clanking around in chain mail and wielding a giant sword. The burglar would have died of heart failure, and so would she. No, if they had to have a ghost, Fergus was a much better version, and certainly more kid-friendly.
Fortunately, when the constable arrived to take custody of the burglar, Fergus made himself scarce.
“He’s going with me,” the constable told them as he put cuffs on their prisoner, “but one of you will have to come down and file a complaint for unlawful entry, attempted theft…”
“And threatening my children!” Lara interjected, laying a hand on their shoulders. Alex and Amy looked tired. Now that the excitement was almost over, the adrenaline rush was fading. She needed to get them to bed soon. If they stood here much longer, she and Ian would have to carry them back to their rooms.
“What about that beast of theirs, threatening me,” the burglar complained as the constable hauled him to his feet.
Amy snorted but didn’t say anything.
Alex just grinned.
Lara traded a relieved glance with Ian. The burglar seemed to have thought
Fergus was real, so they didn’t have to scramble to discredit his ravings about a ghost hound. One small mercy in a crazy night.
“He never touched you,” Ian answered.
“If you’re scared of dogs, that’s your problem,” Alex taunted.
Lara squeezed Alex’s shoulder, warning him to keep quiet.
The constable prodded his charge forward. “Afraid of a wee pup, are you?”
“’Tweren’t no wee pup. It was a deerhound. A big one.” The man tried to spread his hands, but the cuffs stopped him. Then he tilted his head toward Ian. “He said he’d let it pull me down and do what it does to a deer!”
“Well, I don’t see any blood,” the constable chided, “so let’s get you out of here.” He nodded to Lara. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, ma’am. Kids, the excitement is over. Sleep tight.” He turned to Ian. “I’ll see you later, Baron.”
Lara choked back a gasp. She thought she’d been through as much as anyone could stand in one night. Then the constable called Ian Baron. She suddenly and heartily wished she’d let Ian talk earlier this evening. As much as she’d enjoyed what they’d done before the kids yelled and Fergus appeared out of nowhere, this was the final straw. If even the constable called Ian Baron, she must be the only person in town who didn’t. What did everyone know that she didn’t?
Ian colored, then nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”
“No need. I’ll let you wrap things up here.”
After the constable took his prisoner away, Lara herded the twins and Ian down to the kitchen. First things first, she told herself, setting aside her irritation. She put a hand on Ian’s arm. “You must be hurt,” she told him. “That man landed a few punches…”
“I’m fine.”
Ian’s flat tone warned her off. She sucked in a breath, determined to make him see reason. “You’re going to have bruises, if you don’t already, and maybe a cracked rib, or worse. Let me look…”
The twins were watching the adults, wide-eyed and no doubt listening carefully to every word.
“Really, I’m okay.” He gave her a tired smile. “You need to stay with the twins. I’ll go back to the village to file the report,” he offered. “It’s on the way to my flat.”
Lara nodded. He was right, but she was still worried. “Only if you’re sure you’re okay.”
“Of course he is, Mom,” Alex piped up. “That guy didn’t stand a chance against Ian.”
Ian grinned at Alex, then gazed at Lara with a lifted eyebrow. “I’ll help you get the twins settled before I go. That should give you time to stop worrying about me.”
“That’s probably not long enough,” Amy interjected. “She’s a world-class worrier.”
“That’s not true,” Lara objected. “And if I worry, it’s because I care about you two.”
“What about Ian?” Amy smirked. “If you’re worried about him, you must care about him, too.”
Lara closed her eyes. Out of the mouths of babes? Really? “I care about anybody who’s hurt, silly,” she said, tap-dancing for all she was worth. She didn’t dare look at Ian.
“Come on, kids. Everyone is tired. Let’s get you to bed.”
The sudden sound of his voice startled her into a quick glance his way. The rat! He was grinning at her. But when the kids moved to obey, she sighed and nodded her thanks.
Twenty minutes later, Ian wished the twins good night. “Ye needn’t fash,” he told them. “Fergus will keep watch over the house. Sweet dreams.” He closed their doors.
Lara wanted to fold herself into his arms and forget about the burglar and the constable calling him Baron, if only for a few minutes.
But Ian held a finger up to his lips, then pointed down the stairs and gestured for her to precede him. In the foyer, he kept his voice low. “I’ll go now,” he said and reached for the doorknob.
“Wait…Ian, we need to talk.”
“No’ tonight lass. I’ve still got to do the report.” He opened the door, letting in cold air—or was Fergus nearby? If so, he didn’t show himself. Instead, Ian stepped out with a quiet, “Good night,” then closed the door behind him.
Lara couldn’t believe it. She leaned her forehead against the door, the events of the evening running through her mind like a movie on fast-forward. The images stalled when she got to the last few minutes. Ian reassuring the twins, wishing them sweet dreams.
She didn’t know whether to be sad or angry that he hadn’t done the same for her. Instead, Ian left without giving her a promise of when they would talk…or a goodnight kiss.
Chapter Eleven
Lara had never been to Ian’s office in the village. She debated going right after she dropped the twins at school, but her nerve failed her. Instead, she ducked into the tea shop for a pot of mildly caffeinated courage and a scone.
She’d heard enough bits and pieces from Caitlin, Becky, Blane and Cassie, Rollo, the constable, for God’s sake, and even from Ian himself, to make her certain there was more to the nickname Baron than she knew. The obvious interpretation worried her. Barons were minor nobility, after all, even in Scotland, but why would Ian be reluctant to tell her he had a title?
She’d always wondered why Angus decided against hiring a general contractor for such a big job, even though he knew what he was doing. Someone to help manage the project would have saved him a lot of time and stress—and maybe his life, damn it, especially someone so obviously qualified as Ian. She’d re-read the paperwork he’d saved, but hadn’t found any answers.
Nothing Ian had said or done made her doubt the quality of his work or his dedication to finishing the restoration. Or his care and concern for her and the twins. Or how he wanted her. She had felt the very large and rock-hard proof of his desire for her last night.
She just had a pervading sense that something important had been withheld, something he’d finally been ready to tell her last night. And that set her teeth on edge. After what she’d seen—Fergus guarding the twins until she and Ian arrived and helping Ian subdue the robber—she was fairly certain the ghost, who was supposed to obey the laird, had given the secret away. Baron. Laird. What difference did a title make? If Ian was the laird who the legend said the ghost obeyed, he had more to do with Cairn Dubh than restoring it.
Fortified by her morning tea and growing irritation, Lara decided she could finally confront Ian and get some answers.
She showed up unannounced at Ian’s office mid-morning. The building looked like many of its neighbors—old, well-kept, even genteel. She entered into a waiting area as chic and modern as the building housing the office was not. She could see how the contrast would appeal to Ian, even if it jarred her a bit at first. His receptionist was cool and off-putting when Lara admitted she had no appointment. Once she made Ian aware of Lara’s presence, she became all smiles as she ushered Lara down a short hall to Ian’s private office.
There, Lara got another surprise. It might have been called an office, but it looked like a cross between a draftsman’s workshop and an art studio. Oversized blueprints and sketches, including some beautiful pen & inks of Cairn Dubh, were tacked to three walls under high windows that let in the uncertain Scottish sunlight. A tilted drafting table, a desk piled high with paperwork that nearly hid the computer screen atop it, and a small seating area took up most of the floor space. Framed certificates, photos and other memorabilia filled the fourth wall behind the desk.
“Thanks, Lenore,” Ian said to the receptionist, who quickly closed the door, leaving them alone. He let Lara finish her inspection before he approached her. Then he took her hand and turned the full force of his gaze on her.
The same gaze he’d used last night to make her reckless with wanting him. Lara’s knees went weak. What was she doing here? This was Ian’s place. His business. His stronghold. Last night he’d proven she was nearly powerless against him—against her need for him. No way would she get him sufficiently off-balance in here to admit anything he’d held back these last weeks. Coming to his office was a
mistake. He’d been willing to talk last night and she hadn’t let him. What right did she have to demand answers now? She should have waited until he came out to the house—until he was ready to have this conversation.
“This is a welcome surprise,” he told her, his tone warm, but his expression quizzical. “Is there a problem at Cairn Dubh? Rollo hasn’t called. Or is Fergus bothering Caitlin?” he added with an altogether too adorable grin.
Lara shook her head and found her voice. “No, no problem. Not there.” Her nerve was failing her, and she had to get it back. She straightened.
The grin disappeared. “Which implies you have one elsewhere. Here,” he added, giving her an assessing stare. “So this is about last night?”
“Yes.” She took a breath and plunged ahead. “After last night, I realized how little I really know about you, given where our evening almost went,” she continued and cleared her throat, somewhat embarrassed by bringing her attempt at seduction into the conversation. “It’s time you told me more about yourself. More than I see here,” she added, gesturing at the wall of certificates. “And all of what you’ve been hiding from me.”
Ian didn’t comment. He left her long enough to clear a stack of books from an upholstered chair, then ushered her to it and took a seat opposite her.
Lara used the time to get her thoughts in order, or as much in order as she could when facing Ian. His brow was slightly crinkled. He looked so endearing, she wanted to reach out, cup his cheek, and reassure him. But no, she was the one who needed reassurance, and she’d come here to get it.
“I should apologize,” he told her. “I’ve wanted to tell ye long before now, but—”
“We’ve become friends, haven’t we?”
But now wasn’t the time. She knew it. She’d caught him off guard, and he was going to stall some more, tell her this wasn’t the place to have the conversation. In his office. During his workday. Whatever. She’d interrupted again, then kicked herself for stopping him, and worse, for changing the subject when she’d wanted to demand answers. Given his hesitancy, a softer tone might draw the truth out of him.
