by Claudy Conn
Shawna shook her head over the problem—she was encountering one problem after another. Well, at least he had made no effort to hide himself from her. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? If he were there as a spy, wouldn’t he have kept a lower profile?
She didn’t like that he knew she was in Scotland. Even if he didn’t mean her harm now, there was always the outside chance that Pentim might manage to enlist him at some later date.
She would have to do some investigating to determine Damon’s purpose for being in Inverness. She knew he liked to stay to the cities, rarely venturing into the country. She had watched his activities over the years and had thought she had made up her mind about Damon’s character in the mix of things. Perhaps she was wrong?
Damon was a vampire, but she wasn’t sure he used human blood to survive…she just wasn’t sure. Shawna’s investigations revealed that he wasn’t a killer, at least not that she had witnessed.
Shawna had often wondered how he had managed to retain some of the conscience that must have been his before his turning.
She knew that once a vampire took a victim it was next to impossible for him to stop feeding. Only the very disciplined knew the art of control and had the strength to leave their victims alive.
And recently, Shawna had a sense that he was using an alternative to blood. Damon was a mystery she had not figured out.
The road suddenly got complicated and required her attention. She had to study where she was going. She didn’t want to make any mistakes or ask directions. She had her GPS and concentrated on following its firm instructions.
She watched her rearview mirror, but there was no sign of Damon at her back, and her breathing steadied. Once, early in their acquaintance, after a chance encounter, he had sent her a whisper on the wind—calling her to wait for him.
He had approached her when she was in her last term at NYU.
Shawna felt him—saw him—at once and held her books closer to her body. Dusk was just hovering over the city, and she watched him take long, firm strides towards her. She knew who he was. He had never posed a threat in the past, but nor had he ever approached her so purposely before.
His presence filled her silver eyes. He had an alpha force, and his dark good looks drew attention to himself. There was no denying that her heart beat just a bit faster as he came to stand directly before and towering over her.
She had looked up into dark gold eyes and waited for him to speak, and when he did, she was surprised. She remembered the first time she had discovered that he was British. It always surprised her.
“Hello, Shawna.” His voice was quiet but strong and held her attention.
“Hello, Damon.” How odd, she thought, using their first names without ever being really introduced.
“Things are stirring up within the different clans. Don’t get caught in the middle.” His beautiful voice was soft, and although his words took on the shape of a command, there was a gentleness about it that once again surprised her.
“I never do.”
“It is different this time. Pentim Rawley wants more than control.”
“And what is it that he wants that could be more than control?”
“Genocide. He wants to eliminate all but a few clans, and he wants something else, Shawna.”
“What could that be?”
“I hear tell he is looking for his daughter. She is the only child he was ever able to father with a human, and he has only just recently discovered that she exists.”
“And who can this ‘daughter’ be?” Shawna fought the trembling that had started in her heart.
“He doesn’t know. He has sent his minions to fan out and find him any human who seems…different than the rest.” His gold-flecked dark eyes locked with her silver pools and wouldn’t let go.
Finally she broke free. “I don’t know why you felt moved to tell me this, Damon, but nevertheless, I thank you.”
“Indeed.” He inclined his handsome head. “You are most welcome.”
He left her abruptly, and she hadn’t seen him since that evening until now…
An hour later, thankful and blessing the Jeep’s GPS, Shawna stood before the cottage she had leased for the next six months.
* * *
Shawna had of course seen a picture of the dark-blue–roofed and charming cottage on the Internet, but nothing had prepared her for its old world charm.
It was made of creamy stucco on the outside, with shutters that matched the color of the blue roof, and the window boxes were overflowing with vibrant and colorful flowers.
The cottage stood alone at the peak of a rolling hillside full with scattered old and regal oak trees. There were no other homes within view. A flagstone path lined with flowers of every hue led to the oval-windowed oak front door.
The sound of a car on the road at her back brought her head round to watch as a middle-aged woman drove her yellow Volkswagen to a stop only a few feet from where Shawna stood.
The newcomer was wearing a gray pants suit and a camel-haired coat. She got out of her car with a flourish of smiles and waving extremities. “Welcome, dear, welcome.” She gave Shawna a once over and clucked her tongue. “Why you are the very slip of a girl…just look at you.”
The woman came barreling in Shawna’s direction as she extended her hand, took Shawna’s and drew her in for a bear hug.
Shawna laughed right out loud, as there didn’t seem to be anything else she could do but give over to the strange woman’s exuberance.
The woman released her as suddenly as she had hugged her, patted her shoulder, and introduced herself. “You know me, don’t you, child? I am Mrs. Carver. We exchanged emails, dear. I am your leasing agent for the cottage. I just wanted to be here with you when you arrived so that I could show you about and make sure everything was in order for you.”
“Ah, Mrs. Carver, yes of course—your picture was on the site…” Shawna smiled. “How kind of you to come out here, and yes, that would be so great.”
Mrs. Carver beamed, evidently well pleased with Shawna’s manners. She proceeded to give her a very thorough tour, wrapping up instructions as she stood by the small wood-burning stove. “That’s right, dear—you have all the wood you’ll need in the outside shed.”
The heavy clank of the metal doorknocker sounded at the front door, and both women turned to stare at the closed door before looking in inquiry at one another. Mrs. Carver was the first to comment. “Are you expecting anyone, dear?”
Shawna frowned and shook her head. “No…no, I am not.”
“Well, then…who can it be?” She walked to the door and firmly pulled it open.
Both Mrs. Carver and Shawna looked with surprise at the large man standing just a bit awkwardly at the open door. He was tall, lean, and pleasant looking. There was a reticence in his hazel eyes that made Shawna immediately think he was ‘shy’-natured.
It was, however, Mrs. Carver who broke the silence by clucking her tongue, and Shawna was surprised to witness an odd expression on the older woman’s face. She nodded at the man, but her demeanor changed, and she became suddenly quiet as she stepped aside and invited him in with a soft wave of her hand. “Aye, then, ’tis Squire MacDunn—how nice.” She then moved backwards into the room, and a half smile flitted over her face as she introduced him to Shawna.
The squire was staring at Shawna and holding up a bouquet of flowers towards her. Mrs. Carver stepped up to the plate and took the flowers. “Lovely—I’ll just put them in water.” She looked towards Shawna, and her lips tightened as she said, “Shawna MacBay…this is the owner of MacDunn Cottage, Squire Kenneth MacDunn.”
He closed the door at his back and stepped into the room. Shawna smiled as she looked into his hazel eyes, and Mrs. Carver arched her brow before she left them to fetch a vase for the yellow daffodils.
Shawna gave the young squire her hand and suppressed a giggle as she glanced towards Mrs. Carver, who had begun fussing because the vase wasn’t quite the right size. Shawna
waved her new guest inside. “I am very pleased to meet you, Squire Kenneth MacDunn. Please come in—sit.”
“No, no, I can’t really stay, and I realize that you must have a great deal to do, Ms. MacBay.”
Her new surname got stuck in her mind for a moment. How would she ever get used to it? She had chosen the Scottish name to fit in easily with the locals. She didn’t want any name that would stick out to someone who was searching about…
“Shawna, please,” she offered. She waved him to a chair. “I’m not busy at all. Come in, please, and sit with us.”
He reached for and took her hand and raised it to his lips, in an Old World style that made her feel as though everything was surreal. He bent over her fingers and with a soft Scottish burr murmured, “Shawna MacBay, a pleasant mixture of Irish and Scott, eh? I am very pleased to have you as my tenant and neighbor.”
“Neighbor is it?” Mrs. Carver sniffed as she set the vase of yellow daffodils on the coffee table. “The squire is too modest as usual.”
There was something less than a compliment behind Mrs. Carver’s words, and Shawna sensed it at once, although she didn’t notice the squire take umbrage.
Mrs. Carver went on to say, “The squire is a bit more than your neighbor, dear. He owns this cottage and all the land bordering it as well. His is the beautiful manor you might have seen on your way down Darby Road.”
“Oh…” Shawna was surprised. “Yes, I did notice a gated driveway….”
“Aye then, that was MacDunn Manor.” Mrs. Carver nodded, but there was no smile on her face or in her eyes as she came to stand beside Shawna.
Shawna smiled tentatively, unsure what was behind the woman’s sudden mood swing. However, the squire seemed oblivious or unconcerned as he took up a place at the far end of the sofa. A quick survey of the squire had registered the notion with Shawna that he was too young to harbor all the sorrow that seemed to temper his demeanor.
Another glance at him told her that he was probably in his late twenties, that his hair, a pale shade of brown, was already tinged with gray, and that his hazel eyes were soft and shaded with quiet.
He wore a simple navy wool blazer over a heavy pale blue sweater and jeans, and as she brought her silver eyes back up to his face, she saw that a smile of amusement was curving his lips. Apparently he had been taken stock of her as well.
She immediately decided there was certainly something very appealing about the squire. She turned around to find Mrs. Carver still frowning.
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to bear down on you when you first arrived, but I wanted to welcome you to the cottage and extend an invitation to you to enjoy the trails and bridle paths if walking and riding are pastimes that might be your inclination,” the squire offered into the sudden silence.
“Thank you, but riding? Is there a stable nearby that leases horses?” It was one of the things Shawna had been missing in the last six months.
“Yes, there is, but you needn’t bother with a hack horse. I have wonderful horses at the manor. You are welcome to come up and speak with my stableman about fitting you to a mount. My mother used to ride…” He frowned and looked away, and then he scanned the room with a sad smile. “It’s been a long time since this cottage had a tenant.”
“Why is that? This place is beautiful…” Shawna was surprised. “I would have thought it would stay occupied year round.”
He inclined his head. “My mother lived here—but, I lost her a little over a year ago.”
“Oh—I am sorry…”
He gave her a slight inclination of his head, and Mrs. Carver apparently decided it was time to change the subject. “Where are my manners? May we offer you some tea, Squire?” She moved off towards the kitchen again. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, dear, after your long journey?”
“Do I have tea and biscuits in the place?” Shawna laughed.
“Aye, enough groceries to keep you a few days—I didn’t want you to come to an empty house and have to go shopping right off.”
“You are a dream, Mrs. Carver.”
“Aye, so my family knows but won’t tell me.”
Shawna laughed and turned to the squire. “Well then, thanks to Mrs. Carver, tea and biscuits.”
He laughed. “Apparently.”
“So all this land belongs to you?” Shawna’s eyes opened slightly with her interest.
“Aye, right up to the south road into town.”
Shawna almost snorted but checked herself. “What, only the south? Not the east, west, and north?”
“Och no, ’tisn’t I that owns all that…” His face took on an odd expression.
Shawna’s mind started working—a rival? There had been something in the way the Squire’s eye had twitched ever so slightly when he spoke. Did people with so much land still fight for more? Old feuds?
He laughed it all away with a flick of his hand. “My estate lands have been in the family for centuries. I take no credit for their acquisition and have little interest in adding any more taxable land to my deeds.”
She imagined it would take crafty economic sense to maintain so much land, and something told her he wasn’t being honest about how he felt about it. ‘Old feud’ question clicked in her mind again. She shrugged it off. He was a stranger. Why should he open up to her in the first five minutes of their meeting—and why should she care? Was it because she found him attractive?
Mrs. Carver arrived with a tray of tea and cookies and set it on the coffee table in front of Shawna. “There, dear…” Obviously she expected Shawna to serve, and with a twinkle, Shawna began the old world tradition.
Mrs. Carver rattled on casually about various things she felt Shawna should know about the refrigerator, the village, the weather, and anything else that popped into her busy brain. However, there was something behind it all—something forced, as though she were purposely being more polite than normal. Shawna filed this for later thought.
All at once, Mrs. Carver looked at her watched and jumped to her feet. “Och, but look at the time. I have an appointment to show someone a house and must rush. Don’t get up…I’ll just show myself out.” She bent to Shawna and gave her arm a squeeze as she dropped a kiss on her cheek. “There now, dear, you need anything, you call me. My card is on your little desk over there…” She indicated with her chin, and then with a bustle and a laugh she was gone.
The young squire and Shawna looked at one another and burst out laughing together. Shawna hadn’t had a good laugh like that in ages. She was still tickled when she said, “She is fantastic, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is very thorough in her work, although I fear she does not approve of me.”
“But why wouldn’t she?” Shawna’s delicate brows were up.
He got to his feet and. with his hands up, said “Probably because I am a bachelor with a reputation.” He chuckled over this and sighed. “Well then, before I overstay my welcome, I thank you and Mrs. Carver for the tea and welcome you most heartily to MacDunn cottage, Ms. MacBay….”
“Shawna—please, and thanks for stopping by, and the flowers…”
She was surprised then to see his eyes slowly glance over her body before they came back to her face. It was done unobtrusively, and it was done with quiet admiration, yet Shawna took a mental step away.
Oh, she liked the squire, but she didn’t need or want a romantic entanglement.
He reached for her hand and clasped it warmly in both of his, taking a moment before he offered on a low note, “Please…Ms. MacBay…if you need anything—call.” He looked right into her eyes before he slowly released her hand. He reached into an inner pocket. “I prepared this for you. It has both my cell and my home phone. Don’t forget, you call.”
He was looking for an invitation to do the same. She ignored it. She just couldn’t become attached to anyone—no matter how attractive that ‘anyone’ was. Her time there was temporary. Without reminding him to call her Shawna, she took the piece of paper he handed her, and waved it sl
ightly. “Thanks.”
~ Five ~
AN HOUR AFTER the squire and Mrs. Carver left, the house phone rang and Shawna nearly jumped out of her skin. She had not asked for a phone to be installed, but evidently there was one—somewhere.
She followed the sound and found it on the kitchen wall. Picking up the receiver, she said tentatively, “Hello?”
“Hello, dear, Mrs. Carver here.”
Shawna’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “Mrs. Carver?”
“That’s right, it’s me. I thought that I should tell you one or two things more you might be needing to know.”
“That is very nice, Mrs. Carver—but this phone—I did not ask for…”
“No—you didn’t, dear, but don’t worry. It isn’t yours to maintain. The squire never had it removed. It is still in his mother’s name, which brings us to the subject. I thought you should know about the squire’s mother. She was very highly regarded here in the village—the very broth of a woman. She liked to keep to herself and didn’t have any close friends. However, she was quite the grand lady in spite of rumors. The squire was her only child, and they were very close. He was more than a little distraught when she became so gravely ill. He brought in every specialist there was to be had, but no one was able to stop the inevitable. He took it very hard.”
Shawna frowned to herself. Why was Mrs. Carver telling her this? Idle gossip? “Thank you, Mrs. Carver, for letting me know.”
“Aye, surprised he even mentioned her at all—doesn’t as a rule. And then to offer up her horses—well, my dear, that is quite something.”
“Perhaps he just wants to see them exercised…”
“Och no—I think he was very taken with you.”
Clearly her tone indicated that while she was impressed she was not pleased. Shawna puzzled over this. Just what was the woman trying to tell her? “He was just being kind,” Shawna offered.
“Was he? I don’t know about that. He doesn’t mingle with the locals. Much like his mother, he keeps to himself, and I have never seen him bother with any of our pretties here in Stockton Village—even before…” She lowered her voice. “But I have friends in Inverness, and I’m told he has a woman for every night of the week when he is there. It is, in fact, where he has been most of the year—in Inverness...cavorting as it were.”
