Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  He didn’t need to be told twice.

  “Sometimes you remind me of Terence,” she said. “He sat in this very kitchen more times than I can remember, sipping my whisky and telling me stories. You’re his image.”

  He immediately sipped slower.

  “He was a good man, your da.”

  Andrew was tired, and even the warmth of Kaye’s toddy did little for his aching throat. He wanted to be charitable toward his father. He nearly always managed charity, if not love. But tonight he couldn’t find either within him. “My father was a boozer,” he said. “And if you fed him whisky, you must have seen him here often. He would take whisky wherever he could get it. Toward the end, he would take anything with alcohol in it.”

  “You sound bitter, lad. I’ve never heard you sound bitter.”

  “I know what he was.”

  “I think perhaps you may no’.”

  He looked up at her. Her brows were knit in a scowl. “I lived with the man, Kaye. If I dinna know, then who does?”

  “Did you know that when we were in school, your da took all the prizes?” After he shook his head, she went on. “There was no one brighter than our Terence. No one who could take an ordinary day and turn it into a story that had everyone gasping for breath. And his smile…” She smiled herself. “He turned the heads of all the lasses in the village with that smile. Mine included. But he had no eyes for me or anyone but your mum. And Jane loved him equally as well. That’s why she never left him, Andrew. Och, she had reason to. We both know she did. But when he was no’ drinking, he was an angel come to earth, with a sweetness, a clarity of thought, a vision of a world the rest of us could no’ see….”

  Andrew felt as if someone had wrapped their fingers around his throat and was squeezing hard. “I look in the mirror sometimes, and I see him staring back at me.”

  “And well you should. Because you’re like him, Andrew. You’re what he could have been if the drink had no’ got hold of him.”

  “He got hold of the drink. And the rest of us watched him drown in it.”

  “He loved you very much. He tried to stop drinking for you and for your mum. In the end he could no’ stop for anyone. And he was afraid that you’d be bitter.”

  Andrew was silent as he finished his drink. It was the oddest of nights. He rarely discussed his father, and now the fingers on his throat were squeezing harder.

  “I suppose you’re wondering what’s happened to make me ask you here,” Kaye said, changing the subject.

  “It’s occurred to me to wonder.”

  “I have no’ signed the final papers for the sale of this property.”

  “Have you no’?” he asked, with no change of expression, although his pulse sped up a beat.

  “I just said so, did I no’?”

  He nodded.

  Kaye sighed and crossed her arms. In the light of the kitchen, Andrew could see that her red hair was turning white, one inch at a time. He wondered if that was the reason she suddenly looked so old, or if she had decided not to dye it anymore because she really was old and knew she could no longer fool herself.

  “I’m dying, Andrew.”

  He set his cup on the table. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve less than a year to live. I’ve known for some time. I suppose I thought that if I left here I could change it somehow. Change homes, change fate.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe she’d been so foolish. “But I know better. My decision caught up with me. You’re responsible, if you must know. You and your defense of Iain and Duncan. I wanted to believe differently, because it suited me. But I know those lads nearly as well as I know you, and I could no’ fool myself forever. And when I began to question…”

  “They’re good men.”

  “Aye. So I’ve talked this over with my girls. They want me to stay here, where I’ll be most comfortable, and for once they’re right. They’ll each be coming home in the next months to spend time and say goodbye.”

  “Are you certain you’re dying?”

  “Of course I’m certain! Do you think I’d be wrong about something as important as that?” She softened her words with a reluctant smile. “Ah Andrew, lad, you dinna want to believe it, that’s all. I suppose I’m glad.”

  This time his voice was hoarse from more than encroaching illness. “I’ll miss you.”

  For a moment, just the briefest moment, she looked sad, too. Then she shook her head. “We’ll have none of that, Andrew. I’ll be here a while yet. And we have to make plans.”

  “Do we?”

  “Aye, because I’ve decided to leave you this land when I die.”

  For a moment he thought he’d heard her wrong. “Me? But why?”

  “You’re the only one who will no’ turn it into a blasphemy.”

  “Your girls deserve to inherit this, Kaye.”

  “My girls dinna want it. And they’ve done well by themselves. There was more of me in each of them than I ever believed. They’ve good professions and strong marriages. No’ a one of them needs what the sale of the land would bring. I’ve made a wee bonny investment or two over the years. They’ll each get a good bit to remember me by.”

  “Is it really possible to back out at this late date? There’s been work done on the property already, work ordered by Carlton-Jones, as I understand it.”

  “The piers had to be replaced in any case. I’ll pay the men for their labor myself. But I’ve checked carefully, Andrew. The property is still mine until I sign the final document, and I can change my mind, like any good lass.”

  “Carlton-Jones and Surrey will no’ sit idly by. They’ll threaten…” He stopped. “Have they threatened? Have you told them?”

  She smiled slyly. For a moment she looked younger, and as healthy as ever. He understood why when she spoke. “No. I’ve no’ said a word. They’re staying in Fort William for the night, and they’re expecting me to deliver the final papers there in the morning. Telling them will be your task, Andrew.”

  * * *

  Fiona sat in the hotel dining room, at a window overlooking the green, where preparations were under way for the annual Johnsmas Fair. She had intended to have supper with Mara, but early in the afternoon Mara had been called away to her shop because one of her helpers was ill. Duncan had gone to Inverness on overnight business, and April was staying with a friend. Fiona had agreed to troubleshoot if it was needed while Mara and Duncan were away, but so far—thankfully—the hotel had run smoothly. She had spent much of her life alone, and she’d developed a fondness for solitude. Now, after just six weeks in Scotland, she was sorry to be sitting by herself. She had discovered she was a social creature at heart, happiest when she was with the people she loved.

  Happiest of all when she was with Andrew.

  “Miss Sinclair, one of the guests is unhappy with his room, and he wants to speak with you.”

  Fiona had been so immersed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Nancy approach. She was a young woman with a sweet face and congenial manner who tended the desk with the same love and care with which she tended her two young children. She was also experienced in handling difficult guests and rarely needed anyone to run interference for her.

  “What’s the problem?” Fiona asked.

  “It’s the pounding.” Nancy gestured toward the window. “He says that he can no’ work with the noise from the green. He’s a journalist for some paper or t’other. He’s the one who saw the creature, you know.”

  “Can’t you give him a room on the other side of the hotel?”

  “There’s no’ another room to be had. We’ve guests sharing as ‘tis who hardly know each other.”

  Fiona resigned herself to a confrontation, she who had once been too shy to start a conversation. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “I was hoping you would.” The man’s voice came from behind Fiona, and she turned. “I’m the guest in question,” he said. “David Gow, recently from London. And you sound like an American.”

 
; “Really, Mr. Gow.” Nancy said, “I expected you to wait for Miss Sinclair in the lobby.”

  “Fiona Sinclair.” Fiona held out her hand. “It’s okay,” she told Nancy. She started to get up, but David waved her down.

  “I don’t want to interrupt your supper. I just want to join you,” he said, with a smile that could recharge a battery.

  She liked him immediately. “Most irregular, Mr. Gow,” she said in her best imitation of an upper-class English dowager. She lifted one brow with an elegant quirk.

  “I’m afraid I am most unconventional. My family despairs of me.”

  She gestured to the chair in front of her. “If I offer you a seat, will you agree to stop complaining about the noise?”

  “Entirely possible.” He took the chair and pulled it close to the table. Muttering under her breath, Nancy left them alone.

  “It was all a ploy to meet you, you know,” he said with another high-voltage smile. “Although now that I have, I wonder, have we met before? Your name seems familiar, although I’m certain I’d have remembered the face.”

  “We haven’t met,” she assured him.

  “I’ve seen you around and inquired a bit.”

  “A detective in our midst. Why did you want to meet me? Are you doing a piece on hotels for your paper?”

  “Only a very intimate piece on beautiful hotel owners.”

  She saw he was serious—as serious as an obvious philanderer like David Gow could ever be. Six weeks ago his admiration might have puzzled her. It certainly would have dismayed her. Now she was simply intrigued. “What do you find beautiful about me?” she asked.

  He cocked his head, like a portrait artist assessing his newest model. The server arrived with Fiona’s tatties and mash, and David ordered a drink. He waited until they were alone again before he answered.

  “Some women are beautiful because of a feature or two. Lush, kissable lips, startling eyes.” He shrugged. “Some have no outstanding features, but their face is a perfect blend, a designer masterpiece. And some women, like you, Fiona, aren’t technically beautiful. No lips or eyes to build a temple to, no boring, vacuous symmetry of features. Just a strength of character and a feminine grace that transcends the ordinary.”

  “You are very good at this.” David’s words had given Fiona a warm glow. As practiced as they obviously were, they seemed to have been recited with sincerity.

  “Better than almost anyone.” He lifted his drink to her.

  She leaned forward. “Am I supposed to crumple at your feet now, or much later down the road?” She really wanted to know.

  “It would save us both a great deal of time if you crumpled immediately.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve never crumpled. I warn you, I might get it wrong.”

  His eyes sparkled seductively. “I would be pleased to assist in every way.”

  She laughed. She would never have believed that flirting with a man could be such fun. David Gow was handsome and charming, a lethal combination for a woman with no confidence. But Fiona had grown beyond that woman. She had unfurled her feminine wings, and even if she wasn’t confident enough to fly, she could flutter her wings provocatively.

  “You’re not taking this at all seriously, are you?” he asked.

  “Not one bit. But you’re a terrific ego boost.”

  “I’m pleased to be of service. Any service.”

  “Fiona.”

  Fiona turned at the sound of another voice. She watched Andrew approach from the rear of the dining room. The warm glow inside her ignited into something more exotic. “Well, hi. What are you doing here?”

  He nodded curtly at David, as if they had already met. “I’m looking for Duncan.”

  “He went to Inverness this afternoon, and he won’t be back until tomorrow.” She searched Andrew’s face. He looked tired, more tired than she had ever seen him. His hair was rumpled, and stubble carpeted his cheeks. Concern filled her, replacing the excitement she had felt at his arrival. “Are you all right?”

  He brushed off the question with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be going, then.” He nodded toward David and started out of the dining room.

  “Would you excuse me?” she asked David. She tossed her napkin on the table, and before he could answer, she started after Andrew.

  She caught up with him in the lobby. “Andrew!” She put her hand on his arm. “What’s going on?”

  “I dinna want to interrupt your supper, Fiona.” There was no smile to soften the words.

  Despite the curtness of his tone she didn’t drop her hand. “It doesn’t matter. Is something wrong?”

  “I wanted to see Duncan, that’s all.”

  “Well, I’m in charge until he gets back. Can I help?”

  He looked more exhausted by the second. When his voice emerged, it was one decibel stronger than a rasp. “It’s been a night for good news and bad. And I wanted Duncan to help me deliver some of it.”

  She nodded, as if she understood, even though she didn’t. She felt emboldened by her concern and by the sheer pleasure of being in his presence again. “Well, will I do instead?”

  He opened his mouth as if to refuse. Then he clamped it shut. He stared at her for a moment. “You’ve left Gow sitting in the dining room.”

  She shrugged. She had already forgotten about David Gow. “I’ll apologize. No doubt he’ll attach himself to someone.”

  “What about your supper?”

  “You look like you could use some company. I’ll take it back to the kitchen and have Frances save it for me. I’m not even hungry.”

  “It’s a long drive.”

  She laughed. He was making excuses for her, but she was in no mood to accept them. “Good grief! I’ll take an apple.”

  He seemed torn. She touched his stubbly cheek. She tried to make her fingertips convey what her lips could only hint at. “It would give me the greatest pleasure to be able to do something for you for a change. May I do this?”

  “What about the hotel?”

  “Mara’s due back any moment. It will be fine.”

  “Come on, then,” he said, turning away from her. “I’ll wait for you in my car.”

  * * *

  His task to break the news to Carlton-Jones and Surrey. And his task to spend the evening with Fiona beside him. There was an incomparable sweetness to each, particularly the latter. Fiona sat in the seat next to his, her hair the same brash gold as the twilight horizon, and Andrew felt as if the sun had come to bide awhile beside him.

  He had been unaccountably upset to find her talking to Gow. He had nowt against the man—except that he was an obvious liar—but he wondered if Fiona realized that men like Gow devoured women for the sheer pleasure of it. She was a bairn when it came to men. She had no idea how voracious, how self-indulgent, they could be.

  Despite repeated evidence, she had no idea how much Andrew ached to indulge himself at her expense.

  “I haven’t been to Fort William before.” It was Fiona’s fourth try at conversation. Unsure what to say and confused by his own feelings, he had hardly responded to the other three. She seemed undaunted.

  “I’ve nowt against Fort William. It’s pleasant enough.”

  “But?”

  “There was no ‘but.’”

  “You don’t sound enthused. Andrew, are you ill?”

  He probably was. Andrew was beginning to realize that his throat was not just raw from exposure. He had to struggle to make himself heard. “I suppose my mind’s on what I’m about to do.”

  Fiona turned to watch him. He didn’t have to see to know. He could feel the subtle shifting of her body, hear the rustle of her clothing. The soft swish of fabric against upholstery, the soft whisper of one leg rubbing against the other.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s happening?” she said.

  He did, because it was easier than just sitting beside her, imagining each breath she took, each move she made. He planned just to give her the briefest overview, but she asked question
s, and he elaborated. When he got to the part about Kaye’s intentions to will him her property, Fiona whistled softly.

  “Andrew, what an incredible gift.”

  “I still dinna understand.” He was surprised to find he had relaxed considerably. Just the sound of Fiona’s voice was healing.

  “What don’t you understand? She wants you to have it. She knows that you won’t put up condos or build a shopping mall. It’s her way of preserving something that’s meant the world to her.”

  “But Iain would have bought the property from her at a fair price, and he would no’ have abused it.”

  “She wanted you to have it. Let’s face it, Iain owns most of the countryside. And Duncan has the largest and most valuable piece of the village proper.”

  “Duncan and you.”

  “The loch belongs to you, Andrew, and Kaye understands that. It’s your home and your heart.”

  He was silent, mulling over the things she had said. “Odd, is it no’, that the three of us—” He allowed himself one careful glance.

  “The infamous men of midnight,” she said with a grin.

  That grin, so unabashed and exuberant, touched something deep inside him. “Aye. The three of us, the ridiculous men of midnight, have so much of the village and beyond in our possession now.”

  “But not a one of you feels you really own it. It’s almost a sacred trust to each of you. Even Duncan. I know he had a chance to sell the hotel last year, but he held on to it, even though he swore he would never live in Scotland. It’s crazy, but it’s as if it was meant to happen this way.”

  “What about you, Fiona?”

  “Me?”

  “What are your plans? It seems as if Duncan will be staying here now. He and Mara are going to build a home. She has plans for her school….”

  She was silent for a long time. “I like it here,” she said at last.

  His breath rasped painfully in his chest. He let it out slowly. “Do you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She seemed genuinely puzzled and perhaps a little hurt. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t ask her if she planned to stay awhile, a decade, forever. The answer mattered too much.

  She snuggled down in her seat and closed her eyes. He felt that, too, as if the air in the car had changed somehow, as if molecules had been permanently rearranged. He swore he could hear her breathing slow, and in his mind’s eye he could see her breasts rise and fall in a deeper cadence.