Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  “Can I see the place you told me about, the old chapel where you create whisky? I’m curious as to how it’s made.” The chapel was a single-story stone building, weathered, with blue and green triangular panes of stained glass. The middle of each pane contained initials, different ones in each window, belonging to previous barons and baronesses. It was very romantic. A scene opened before her of she and Colin married, watching their initials set into one of the windows. Blinking out of her daydream and back to reality, she sobered. He liked being with her, liked having sex with her, but he hadn’t mentioned a future together, had never said those three little words. Of course she hadn’t either but she’d realized upon waking up, not only was she falling for him…she was hopelessly in love with him. She prayed to whoever was listening, she wasn’t making another colossal mistake. After all, they hadn’t even talked about her going back which she would have to do soon. She thought about staying but what about her job, her friends, her brother—why was she thinking about leaving Charleston when he hadn’t even asked her to. This might be nothing more than a fling to him. He said he’d never get serious again, never let anyone in. Sighing at being a hopeless romantic, falling for him after she said she was swearing off men, she decided to enjoy what time they had. If it was meant to be, it would work out, right?

  Walking inside the chapel, now whisky distillery, she was grateful for the warmth, the smell of warm, baking bread from the malting process, wrapped around her, making her hungry. She met the workers, part of those long ago families.

  He showed her the copper kettles, liquid dripping out into barrels while in another room, the barrels were stacked up. In that same room, was a trap door, open into the floor. Seeing her curiosity, he told her, “It leads down to the cove I told you about. Would you like to see? I promise no cave-ins this time.”

  She cringed, thinking about their ordeal but had to admit she was curious to see the tunnel and cove where his smuggling activities had taken place all those years ago.

  Squaring her shoulders, taking a deep breath, she told him, “Please, I’d really like to see the cove; it’s not too narrow is it?”

  “No, it’s actually rather wide, we used to use horses and a flatbed wagon to transport the barrels, now we have an electric flatbed with seats, you’ll ride in style milady, no getting dirty for you today…well, not that kind of dirty anyway.” He smirked.

  They walked down the ramp leading into the tunnel. “No stairs for the horses, this way they could walk down.” Climbing into the seats, Colin started the engine. It was dimly lit, with lanterns instead of torches in the walls, she could feel the air growing colder as they traveled under the ground. Moving so quickly the wide corridor didn’t make her feel too claustrophobic and with Colin beside her, telling her the history, she relaxed. Sitting up straighter in her seat, she tried to see ahead, she could smell the ocean, it was such a wonderful smell, salty, fresh, full of possibilities. The water was healing, always had been. It got lighter, she could see row upon row of barrels, the fresh air swirling around her, she inhaled deeply.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of whisky. How long did it take to make it?”

  “Some barrels are more than twenty years old. We keep some here and other barrels are moved to another building to keep the risk lower in case of fire or theft. It’s legal now so I no longer smuggle, but there are always those who wish you ill will. Though those who mess with my business usually end up dead.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or take him seriously. For all she knew, he actually did murder any who messed with his business but since he was supposed to protect humanity, she hoped he only scared them.

  The large, cavernous room, led to another room, it was even larger, the water lapping gently against the stone.

  “The boat would come in, the bell on the church would ring, giving warning when needed to alert the workers.”

  She could see posts to tie a boat to. The smaller boat then would load up, going out to the bigger boat, keeping nosy eyes from seeing a large boat at the coast, giving away their location.

  Colin settled her in the cart for the ride back. Along the way Emily said goodbye to each man by name, offering them Meg’s hot chocolate.

  “You’ve got them in the palm of your hand. They’ll be ruined wanting hot chocolate whenever it’s cold out.” Colin rolled his eyes.

  Lifting her back up in the sleigh, he paused, kissing her, a long lingering kiss, before settling her on the bench, wrapping her in blankets.

  The horses led on, bells jingling. Could it be any more picture perfect? Kat would die with envy. Emily smiled, happy with the day, enjoying the cold, crisp air. Her stomach protested loudly, Colin laughing at her when Callum, their driver, turned around to ask, “Milady, was that you?” He looked incredulous, Emily and Colin both laughed. The found a spot by a waterfall, the water partially frozen, creating a beautiful ice sculpture, tinkling over the rocks.

  Removing the blankets from the sleigh, Colin spread a couple on the ground, saving the rest to bundle them up in. He wasn’t wearing his kilt today, he’d put on jeans and a thick, chunky wool sweater with his usual Doc Marten boots. He looked like he’d walked off the cover of Mr. Outdoor. Emily felt a bolt of desire pool in her center, wanting to throw herself in his arms.

  Callum took two sandwiches, handfuls of cookies and two beers before he unhooked the horses, leading them off to an area of grass for them to graze on. “Milord? If ye don’t need anything else, I’ll be on my way.”

  “No, you can go. Thank you for driving us.” Colin bundled them up under the remaining blankets, spreading the bounty in front of them, pouring Emily warm, spiced wine, a beer for him.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Where will he go?”

  “Did ye not see the lad putting on snowshoes? He’ll head back to the castle.”

  She gaped at him, “It’s so far!”

  “The folk here are outdoors most of the time. They walk everywhere or ride. I offered him a horse, but he was fine with his snowshoes. Let’s eat before your stomach rumbles again.”

  They fell upon the food as if they hadn’t eaten in a week, the cold air giving them a hearty appetite. Colin finished off four sandwiches to Emily’s one. He also ate most of the cookies; thank goodness she’d taken a couple and put them aside by her meal. He eyed them, and she snatched them away, “Oh no you don’t, these cookies are fantastic, you’ve eaten at least a dozen, I’m not sharing the last two.”

  “You are heartless.”

  After cleaning up, he sat back down beside her, “Alone at last,” he pulled her close, kissing her soundly, his hand reaching up under her sweater, pulling the cup of her bra aside to reach what he wanted. His palm was cold against her breast and Emily gasped, her nipple hardening. A slight moan escaped her as he rubbed circles around her nipple, laying her back, covering them with the blankets, trapping the warmth inside as he pulled up her sweater, licking her stomach. Kissing his way to her aching nipples, he took one in his mouth, suckling it as his other hand drew lazy circles on her other breast. Emily reached under his sweater, unbuttoning his jeans. Damn, why did he have to have button-fly jeans on today, seriously.

  Working the buttons, she freed him; he didn’t wear underwear, his proud erection sprang free, bobbing against her hand. She circled her hand around the width of him, marveling at the velvety softness of skin against the hard shaft. Up and down she stroked him, running her hand over the top of his cock, feeling the bead of moisture on the head. He moaned deep in his throat, switching his mouth to her other nipple, his hand trailing to her waistband, undoing her jeans, reaching inside her panties.

  “Gods, you’re so wet and ready for me.”

  He tapped her bud; sending fissions of pleasure through her, her body vibrating with need. She stroked him harder and faster, hearing his breathing become ragged. She smiled at the power she held in this moment, bringing him pleasure. Before he could bring her to completion, she shifted, breaking contact, licking h
er way down his chest, her tongue circling his nipples, paying attention to each of his six pack abs, nibbling a path to what she was seeking. She took his balls in her mouth, rolling them around gently, sucking. Licking short hard licks at that part where the base of his cock met the sac, she felt him hiss, his hands tangling in her hair, fisting it. Kissing her way up his shaft, she took the engorged head in her mouth, running her tongue around the crown as his cock jerked. She took him in, sucking and licking up and down as he thrust his hips up to meet her. Feeling him breathing harder, his cock pulsing as his warm seed spilled down her throat. Lapping at the head of his cock, it was purple, still hard with need. Growling, he grabbed her, sliding her along his body, flipping her over on her back, his cock poised over her, jutting straight out from his body.

  “My God, I want you Emily.” He said it reverently as if praising her, his eyes hooded. His hair had come undone from the tie holding it back. He looked like an ancient god there above her, ready to devour her in some ancient fertility rite.

  “Take me,” she pleaded.

  Pushing her knees up, spreading her legs wide, he stared at her. “You are so beautiful, look how ready you are for me. I want to lick you until you scream.” He looked feral, every inch the ancient warrior as he leaned down, licking her, causing her to buck, lifting her hips up as his tongue swirled around, she moaned. Sucking on her clit, he inserted two fingers as he felt her start to clench around him. She cried out, falling, the waves crashing home.

  With a very satisfied male smile, he entered her, his head rubbing her clit, making her whimper, lifting her hips, wanting more, “Colin, please, I want you inside me.”

  Thrusting, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning, “Ah, you’re so tight and wet.” Pulling out almost all the way, he paused, slamming back into her. Leaning down, he suckled her nipples, Emily felt the waves building inside her, ready to crash to the shore when he pulled out. Starting to cry out at the feeling of emptiness, she was lifted up and flipped over on her stomach. Rising up on her hands and knees, he took her from behind, filling her, touching her core as she rocked back, meeting his thrusts, his balls slapping against her. He reached a hand around, stroking her nipples, pinching enough to make her insides clench at the delicious sensations. His hand stroked down her stomach, searching, finding her bud, stroking, circling, tapping out a rhythm as he pounded into her. The cold air puckered her nipples. Harder and harder, he slammed into her, relentless, savage with need as she shattered. Removing his finger, he grabbed her hips as he came again, calling her name.

  Maybe she should be shocked at herself. Having sex outside, but no one was around, so no reason to be embarrassed. He pulled her on top of him, her head resting on his chest.

  Emily dressed under the warm blankets ready for a nap before dinner. Colin wrapped blankets around her and tucked her into his side as they started back to Ravensmore. Pointing out a crumbling ruined castle in the distance, he stopped so she could enjoy the view. Castle Gloom he told her, belonged to Hamish. After his brother died strange things started happening and it was rumored to be haunted. The castle fell into ruin.

  “It looks so desolate, lonely…I think buildings can feel unloved; you can feel the melancholy in the air around…” She trailed off.

  “Becoming a Scot already are ye?”

  “The end of the week is almost here…I’m supposed to go home.”

  “Ah, well, I’m sure we’ll have taken care of whoever is after you by then. You can go back to your life in Charleston. I’m sure your brother and friends are missing you. Probably miss work as well. Good to get back to something familiar, forget all of this.”

  Wait a minute? Did he want her to stay or not? He hadn’t said but seemed to like being with her, was it fishing if she asked? Why couldn’t he just tell her? Angry, she decided to say nothing, if he didn’t feel anything for her other than sex well then, fine.

  Both silent, lost in thought, Emily watched the winter afternoon light casting shadows across the highlands, then she caught a scent, swore she smelled gardenias. The smell hit her so strongly, for a moment she couldn’t breathe. It reminded her of being at her grandmother’s in Georgia, the early morning smell of the air, grass and sunshine, telling you it would be a wonderful day. Struck by how clear the memory was, she was overcome with emotion, her eyes started to tear up, and her throat clogged. Not sad but happy, as if her grandmother were passing on a message, what—she didn’t know, but a message nonetheless. Emily smiled, remembering her. She was a great lady.

  She thought about the power of memory…of scent. Maybe for others it wasn’t scent at all but a certain movie, TV show, song, or world event to trigger memory. Smell did it for her. She’d bet she could find Colin in the dark by his scent alone. Remembering a few weeks before she left for this trip, walking through a department store, catching the scent of White Shoulders perfume; she didn’t know they still made it but immediately could see her grandmother, full makeup on, clothes and hair done, perfume wafting around her…at the breakfast table.

  Her grandmother insisted they dress for breakfast. It still made her smile when she was home in her pajamas with wild hair and no makeup. Or one time in the airport, waiting to board her flight…a guy walked by who smelled like Rainbath shower gel and in that instant she was transported back to school, sitting next to a boy she was crazy about who always smelled of that particular shower gel…he turned out to be less than desirable but to this day, she recognized the scent anywhere.

  A part of her knew, all of her memories reminded her of where she came from and those collections of memories helped define the woman she’d become today. To this day Emily couldn’t stand the smell of deli sandwich meat…it brought back the memory of lunch the day of her parents’ funeral and reminded her how much she missed them.

  “You’re awfully quiet. Is everything OK?”

  She refused to tell him what was wrong. How could he be so kind one moment and so cruel the next?

  “A bit tired I suppose. I’m fine.” It was childish, but she planned to give him the silent treatment for a while until she got over the hurt of his careless words.

  Chapter 18

  Almost to the city, Monroe thought back to last night. He’d gotten his laptop out to make notes before going to bed. His room was richly appointed, done in dark burgundy and gold. Thick, heavy curtains on the windows to keep out the chill, a fire crackling in the fireplace, the floor warm under his feet, heavy quilts on the large bed, with a trunk at the end. Two chairs flanked the fireplace; he sat in one to finish his thoughts. Lord Campbell must be raking in the money. There was still something suspicious he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The baron wasn’t what he seemed. Monroe had done well for himself. Saved every pound, had a small inheritance from his mother he’d invested, and while his apartment was a hovel, he thanked whoever might be listening for his Mercedes SUV. It was a beast in the snow, worth every bloody bit of the expensive price tag. His one concession to vanity.

  Worthington had given him the code to access the internet. He could check email on his mobile but preferred the larger laptop screen if possible. He’d received intel from a source he’d dealt with before. The guy was in the import/export business, right, most likely illegal, but he hadn’t done anything yet, seemingly content to live and let live, occasionally giving Monroe a tip.

  The informant pointed Monroe to an abandoned warehouse where a high-end red Ducati motorcycle had been spotted a couple of times, same color as one seen leaving a recent crime scene. He figured the guy wanted the warehouse and giving a cop the tip, might ensure the bad guy was taken out of the picture, freeing up his source to pick up the warehouse for a steal.

  He’d woken early, left at first light thankful the drive had been plowed. The roads were dicey in places but steadily improved as he made his way back to his beloved Edinburgh.

  The snow was much lighter in the city, only a few inches blanketed the ground. The abandoned warehouse near the water on the outskirts
of town was the same location Monroe checked when Alice was killed; it couldn’t be coincidence to end up here again. The killer had to have used this place, something tied him here. All he had to go on was the expensive bike, smell, and gold dust. Hell, it was more than he’d had in the past ten years.

  Being his day off, he didn’t have backup but was used to poking around the more unsavory parts of town. Entering the warehouse, it looked empty and unused. He’d search it inch by inch to be sure. Heading into the interior, the grime encrusted windows cast a dim light. His flashlight pointed the way, glinting off the metal door at the back of the building.

  Slowly sweeping his beam back and forth across the floor, he moved closer to the metal door. Odd—it looked new, no rust. Trying the handle, it swung open easily, leading him into blackness.

  Monroe fell to his knees, the now-familiar smell filling his nostrils, invading his lungs, choking him, clawing its way to his brain.

  There was noise up ahead, the sound of metal clanging. Using the wall for leverage, he pushed up, steadying himself, and moved towards the noise.

  Raised voices. He moved faster, coming into a lighted room, skidding to an abrupt halt as he gaped at two huge sonofabitches fighting.

  Geez, had giants started populating Edinburgh? These guys were easily over six feet, at least seventeen stone each. Bugger me, there was a guy wearing black leathers, dressed as some badass movie reject with… swords strapped to his side. He tripped over a piece of metal, causing it to clatter to the floor, as both men stopped mid-swing, staring at the newcomer.

  “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” drawled a bored voice.

  “Put your hands in the air. What are you doing here?”

  “This guy is funny. Though not as hysterical as that getup you’re wearing, pirate.” The guy pointed his sword at Monroe. “Back off, human.”