In Search of the Past (Stacey and Shane Mcleod, #2)

by Rikki Dyson

  “He isn’t here at the moment, but I’m sure if you call his mobile, you’ll be able to reach him.” Stacey said.

  As Stacey walked back to grandmother McLeod’s room, she wasn’t sure if she had handled that right, but she knew this was no time for jealousy. Within minutes, the nurse came in, took grandmother McLeod’s vitals, adjusted her IV and went back out.

  A little later, Shane returned and resumed his vigil. Stacey stood up and walked to the windows to stretch her legs. When she turned to look back at Shane his shoulders were shaking. She went to him immediately, and put her arms around him. Shane turned in the chair and put his arms around her as he silently wept, and held her tight with his face against her. Stacey pressed him to her body and kissed the top of his head and held him against her, until his tears abated.

  Shane had just taken control, of his emotions when his grandmother reached out and took his hand. Shane was full of joy as he leaned up to kiss his grandmother. Stacey ran to the nurses station, to tell them that Grandmother McLeod was awake. While Stacey was holding her hand and telling her how much they loved her, Shane was calling his parents, to tell them that his grandmother was awake. His mom and dad, were already on their way to hospital. Shane’s mother swore it was a Christmas miracle.

  The next day, Grandmother McLeod was transferred from ICU to a private room. Stacey saw Shane in the hall talking to someone on his cell phone. She heard him say, “Yes, thank god, she’s improving nicely. Thank you for calling and Happy New Year to you too, Miranda. Yes, yes, then he chortled, yes, absolutely, I do remember. Yes, you too.”

  Stacey waited, but Shane didn’t tell her he was talking to Miranda, and she didn’t ask. For some reason, Stacey had a premonition there was going to be trouble down the line from Miranda Cox. On New Year’s Day, Grandmother McLeod was discharged from the hospital and on her way home. She would have a home nurse as well as a physical therapist to help with a slight weakness in her right leg. She was in excellent mental condition and her spirits were high. Mrs. Beebe had the house running smooth as glass. Shane and Stacey were going to spend time at his grandmother’s before going to London. They had been staying at his parents home where they had separate bedrooms. Shane was so hungry for Stacey, that one night he slipped into her bed buck naked, and made love to her most of the night.

  He told Stacey, “When Grandmother goes home, we’re going to stay with her where I can hold you in my arms all night long.”

  A few day after Grandmother McLeod came home, Stacey asked to use her computer to check her

  e-mail. She was very excited when she had mail from the Bishop at Windingham.

  Dear Miss Scott, in regards to your inquiry into the sir name of Brother Ian of St. Gregory’s monastery in Yorkshire, England. The Vatican searched their files and found one monk by the name of Ian Harden of Hawick, Scotland. His last known mission was at St. Gregory in Yorkshire England where he died in fourteen- eighty-nine. His only living relative was a male by the name of Alistair Harden. I sincerely hope this helps in your quire into the past.

  Yours truly, Bishop Gamble of Windingham

  Stacey was so excited, she had almost given up on hearing from the bishop. She ran to show Shane her e-mail. “Isn’t this wonderful,” Stacey said, breathlessly. “How far is it to Hawick from here?”

  “About fifty miles or so, why? You’re not thinking of going there, are you?” Shane asked with disbelief.

  “Yes, why not, we’re in Scotland, this would be a perfect time.”

  “Stacey, we are here because of Grandmother’s illness, not to go chasing after people who died seven hundred years ago,” Shane informed her briskly. Shane was surprised by his own animosity.

  At first, Stacey was hurt by his outburst, and then it turned to defiance. She checked on

  Grandmother McLeod and asked her advice about a trip south. “Shane must be back at the hospital by the first of the week. Will you feel, I’m deserting you if I leave then too?” Stacey asked.

  “No, darling, certainly not. Are you going to go against Shane’s wishes, and go to Hawick on your own?”

  “Yes, ma’am I am, this is important to me. I’m sorry Shane doesn’t understand my feelings on this, but it’s something I have to do.” Stacey waited for Shane to come back from his walk. She saw him in the garden and went out to him. “Shane I’m sorry you don’t understand my feelings on this, but you of all people know how important this is to me.”

  “Sweetheart, I do understand, that you are curious about these people from the past, but you are turning them into a priority, and I don’t fancy sharing you with them.”

  “Shane, this is more to me than simple curiosity. I need to know who these people were, and what they have to do with me. I thought you understood that.”

  “What I don’t understand Stacey, is your willingness to give up our time together, to go off chasing after people who have been dead for centuries. I told you, we would go to York and investigate after we get married again.”

  Stacey was getting exasperated with Shane and his objections. “Shane, I love you and I’m not sacrificing our time together chasing after dead people. It will only take me a day or two to go to the libraries, and the historical society to see what I can find, then I’ll fly to London and be with you before I have to be back at school. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this. You’ve known all along, I was searching for these people from my dream. And besides, these people were last known to be in Scotland, not York.”

  “Very well, Stacey, I’m not going to debate this with you any longer. If you had rather go chasing, after these imaginary people than to be with me, then I can’t stop you. Do as you wish, I have work and patients waiting for me.” Shane turned and walked away. He was hurt and disappointed, by Stacey’s lack of consideration. That night, Shane went to bed early and pretended he was asleep when Stacey came to bed. It was so hard to resist her when she came to bed fresh from the shower. She smelled so sensual of the lotion that he loved. It took all of the strength, he had not to turn to her when she slipped into bed nude, with her silky smooth skin and ripe breast snuggled against his back.

  Stacey kissed the back of his broad shoulder and said, “I love you Shane and I don’t want you mad at me.”

  Shane lay ridged trying to control his need for her, but when she kissed his neck and caressed his chest with her soft hands he was lost. Shane turned and forcibly took her in his arms and kissed her with a savagery he had never felt before. As his lips crushed hers, Stacey matched him kiss for kiss with a ferociousness of her own. He explored her sweet mouth with his darting tongue and Stacey met him thrust for thrust with passion of her own.

  Much later, they both lay spent and silent in each others arms. Stacey, hoping he would understand said, “Give me two days, Shane and I’ll meet you in London, I promise.”

  Shane was so angry, he jumped out of bed and said, “Like bloody hell you will.” He grabbed his pajama bottoms and disappeared into the bathroom. Stacey lay quietly waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Soon, sleep over took her and when she woke the next morning, Shane was gone.

  After showering and getting dressed, Stacey came downstairs. Grandmother McLeod was sitting in the solarium having a cup of tea. “Good morning, Stacey, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?”

  “I’m not so sure about the morning, but I would love a cup of tea. Thank you.” Stacey took a sip of her tea and said, “I assume Shane left, I see his mother’s car is gone.”

  “Yes, he has darling, he left early this morning. Are you leaving today as well?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am. A rental car will come pick me up soon. I’ll call you before I leave Scotland, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course, it’s okay darling. Whatever this is that has come between you two, I want you and Shane to work this out, before it goes too far.”

  The rental car service picked Stacey up at ten o’clock. Stacey kissed Grandmother McLeod and Mrs. Beebe goodby
e, and then drove by to say goodbye to Shane’s parents.

  Elizabeth McLeod asked, “Stacey, darling, is everything okay between you and Shane. He seemed rather upset.”

  “Yes, Mrs. McLeod, I’m sure he is, but we both have things to do, I’ll be back in London in a couple of days. I’m sure he’ll be okay by then.”

  Stacey thought, as she drove away: I hope that’s as true as I tried to make her believe. Stacey had never seen Shane as angry as he was last night. Actually, she had never seen him angry ever. That goes to show, how little we know about each other.

  Chapter 36

  Hawick

  Stacey drove to Hawick with Shane on her mind. She wished he wasn’t so angry with her. He had been so, understanding about her search before they were married. I wonder: am I missing something here. I understand his feelings, of being a bit jealous of Eric Fitz-Morgan, but why his descendants. It makes no sense to me. Hawick was fifty three miles south of Edinburgh. When Stacey reached the town she drove slowly across the river, and into town looking for the Library. She checked her map and soon found the library and went in. She spoke with the head librarian, telling her of the Harden family she was looking for.

  The woman was friendly and eager to help. She brought out a large chronicle of people and events. When Stacey found nothing on Alistair Harden, Eleanor or the girls, she took her search to the Historical society. It was late in the afternoon, and the Historical society was closed. She made a note of the hours and left to find a hotel for the night. She tried to call Shane, but there was no answer, so she left a message.

  Stacey was eating supper in the hotel dining room, when a young man, possibly in his late twenties, a couple of tables over, sent a glass of champagne to Stacey’s table, and asked to join her. Stacey refused the champagne, and shook her head no, as she held her hand up to show her wedding ring. Undaunted, the man came over to Stacey’s table and said, “May I join you Mrs..?”

  Stacey looked at him with irritation in her eyes and said, “What is there about ‘no,’ that you don’t understand, sir?” Stacey noticed his fine clothes and how well they fit his tall athletic frame.

  The man smiled a roguish smile, and surprised Stacey by saying, “I understand that a beautiful woman has been asking about me. My name is Alistair Harden. Now may I join you.”

  Stacey continued to scrutinize the man and said, “If you are the person you say you are, I assume you have some identification on you.”

  The man took his wallet from his jacked pocket, opened it and laid his drivers license and a military identification card on the table in front of Stacey. She picked them up, looked them over, and then motioned for him to sit down.

  “You have the advantage over me, Mrs...., you know who I am, but I have yet to know who you are or why you’re interested in me. Not that I’m complaining, you understand. It’s not everyday that a beautiful young woman comes looking for me.”

  “Actually, Mr. Harden it’s not you I’m interested in, but an ancestor of yours by the name of Alistair Harden, who lived back in the fifteenth century.”

  Alistair Harden looked dumbfounded and asked, “Why are you interested in a long dead ancestor of mine? Are you a long lost cousin from America, I would guess from your accent.”

  “Yes, and no, Mr. Harden. I am an American, from Texas actually, but I assure you I’m no relation to you. I’m looking for a woman and her three daughters, that sought sanctuary with your ancestor back in fourteen sixty-nine. Do you by any chance have a family history?”

  “Yes, I’m sure we must, but I usually don’t take a young woman home with me without knowing her name,” Alistair said, smiling.

  Stacey reached her hand across the table and said, “I’m Stacey McLeod, and I’ve been on the trail of these ladies for a while now. You say, you have a family history. Do you think I might be able to take a look at it?”

  “I don’t see why not, Mrs. McLeod. I’m sure my mother will know more about this sort of thing than I do. Shall we say tomorrow around noon, I’ll meet you here at the hotel.”

  “No, Mr. Harden, I’ll meet you at the historical society. I have yet to look there. Better yet, just give me the directions to your farm, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “My farm?” he said, wondering why she thought he lived on a farm. “I’ll meet you at the historical society, Mrs., may I call you Stacey? And you call me Alistair, all this formality seems a bit over the top, don’t you think. Actually, Stacey, I have no qualms about meeting at the farm, but unless you’re familiar with the area there’s a good chance you may get lost.”

  Stacey smiled and said, “No problem, we’ll meet at the historical society.”

  At the historical society, Stacey found much information on the area, but very little about the inhabitants, unless they were influential. She wasn’t looking for that sort of people, so she lightly skimmed through them, until she saw the name, Sean Harden fifteen-hundred-eight. The laird of Blackthorp, she wondered if this was a relative of Alistair’s. Then she read that the Harden clan was an ancient clan, that went back to the early days of Scotland.

  Well, I’ll ask him at the farm, but most likely his mother will know more about it than he would. He didn’t seem the type to be interested in family histories. When Stacey asked the curator about the Harden families, she was very vague about their history. The family only came to prominence in the sixteenth century with Sean Harden as the laird. As Stacey was thumbing through the clan histories, she spied the Scott clan. She stopped and Read: The Scott clan was a rough and saucy Scots. The Scotts settled in the Teviot and Ettrick districts of the Scottish borders during the thirteen century. The original home of the Scotts was a small area round Bellenden, near the head of the Ale Water in Roxburghshire. The Scotts later acquired Branxholme near Hawick, before adopting the name Buccleuch, which later became one of the richest Dukedoms in Scotland.

  Stacey was amused and asked, “May I print this out, my gramps will get a big kick out of this.”

  “Yes, of course,” the woman said. At the same time, she wondered what the young woman found that was so amusing, about one of Scotland’s finest Dukedoms.

  When Stacey came out of the historical society, Alistair was waiting for her. He was leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest. He greeted her good morning and asked, “Do you want to ride with me or me ride with you.”

  “Neither way,” Stacey said. “I’ll follow you.”

  As Alistair turned the ignition, he glanced at Stacey in his rear view mirror and thought; she may be young, but she’s nobody’s fool. She’s clever enough not to get in a car with a strange man, and where the bloody hell is this husband of hers, to be letting her wonder around in a strange country alone, when she looks like that. I hope she can handle herself as well as she handles that car. Alistair had been watching her drive through his rear view mirror. They had driven about four miles when they turned off the main road onto a tree lined gravel drive. Stacey was a little surprised, when the house came into view.

  It was a four-story manor house that looked centuries old. As they pulled into the driveway, a dainty woman, came out to greet them. She looked to be in her fifties, Stacey surmised. Alistair introduced her, “Mother, this is Stacey McLeod. She’s an American girl interested in our clan.”

  The lady was small, about five-two with bright blue eyes and a bit of gray in her hair. She smiled at Stacey, took her hand and said, “Welcome to Blackthorp manor, my dear. I can’t imagine why you’re interested in us, we are the dullest people I know.”

  “I rather doubt that, Mrs. Harden, but thank you for allowing me to come out.”

  “Oh, please, call me Alma, Stacey. As soon as Alistair told me about you, I was so intrigued. We don’t have many new people or much excitement around here. So do come in, please. I have coffee ready and waiting.”

  Alma Harden, ushered them into a bright sitting room with a warm fire burning. She poured coffee for the three of them. “Alistair tells me yo
u’re interested in one of our ancestors by the same name as my son’s. I find this so very interesting and mysterious.”

  Stacey took a liking, to this chipper little woman right away and said, “Yes, ma’am, I am. He was the brother of a monk at St. Gregory’s monastery in Yorkshire, England. Brother Ian was his name. He had a brother here in Scotland by the name of Alistair Harden, who lived on a farm near Hawick. Brother Ian, brought a woman and her three daughters here from Yorkshire, for sanctuary in the year fourteen-sixty-nine.”

  Alma Harden, took an old tattered book from the tea table and said, “I reviewed our family history, last night when Alistair told me about you. I’m so sorry my dear, but it doesn’t go back that far. There are many prominent people in our family, and Alistair is a frequent name. Is there anything, else you can tell us that might help in your search.”

  Stacey thought for a minute, and then decided it would do no harm at this time in history to divulge their names. “Yes, I can tell you their names. The mother’s name was Eleanor Fitz-Morgan, the countess of Dun-Raven and her twin daughters, Jacquelyn Suzanne and Jessica Leighanne, age fourteen and Cassandra Ann, age twelve. The Earl and his son were killed in battle in fourteen sixty-nine. Brother Ian was the castle priest, and he knew they were in danger, so he smuggled them out of England, and into Scotland to find sanctuary, at his brother’s farm.”

  Alistair and his mother sat silently, finally, Alistair said, “So, that’s why you thought I lived on a farm. I wish it had been me, what a riveting story. How did you come by all this information, Stacey.”

  There was no way she could tell them the truth, so she said, “I’m an archaeologist and I heard that Lord Wakefield, who lives close to the old castle ruins of Dun-Raven was in possession of some old papers that were found after the old monastery was torn down. The letters were written by Brother Ian about the countess and her daughters. I went to see lord Wakefield and he was generous enough to give me a copy of the papers. I was intrigued and my curiosity got the best of me, so I started searching and here I am.”