Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

"I'm not questioning William's labors," Chancey continued, "but I've heard some strange tales. Stories that he's been seen riding like a bat out of hell all over the place late at night. Rycroft Black said he was coming home from the hospital late last night, and William jumped the fence into the road in front of him and almost caused a wreck."

  Mary kept her face impassive. "I doubt that it was William."

  "Mr. Black saw him clearly, and that horse. It's hard to miss that black devil with the white stockings and the streak down its face."

  That was an accurate description of William's pride and joy, Blaze. Mary said nothing, but she felt all the eyes in the room upon her. Only Sophie's held sympathy. She squared her shoulders.

  Abby broke the tension by entering with additional cups. The ritual of pouring the tea pushed the unpleasant subject of William's nightly rides to the side.

  "Mary has come up with the most wonderful idea for a wedding dress." Sophie rushed to fill the lack of conversation in the room once the cups were filled and the sugar and milk passed. "She's going to have a dressmaker copy the wedding dress worn by the first Lady MacEachern."

  There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed to stare into their teacups. "How interesting," Clarissa said, finally looking directly into Mary's eyes. "I presume neither of you are aware of the legend of Slaytor MacEachern and his lady bride?"

  Mary knew before she asked that she wasn't going to enjoy the story. But everyone was waiting for her response. "I'd love to hear it. I positively adore spooky old legends."

  "You'll love Mayfair," Chancey said sweetly as she took another scone. "Have one, Mary, you're going to need some muscle and bone to be able to live up to Mayfair standards."

  Clarissa shushed Chancey and put her cup on a table. "Now you know how tales grow and get twisted, but everyone hereabouts believes this for a fact. Ever since I was a child the story of Slaytor and Lisette MacEachern has captivated me. You see, Lisette was English bred, a lovely young girl that Slaytor had snatched on one of his raids across the border. She was a slip of a girl, hardly more than a child, and it was said that Slaytor fell in love with her before he could get her home to Mayfair. But Lisette would have nothing to do with him. She pined for her home and her relatives. No matter what he offered her, Slaytor couldn't win her heart or her interest." Clarissa paused. There was only the sound of teacups settling back into saucers.

  "When Slaytor saw that he couldn't win her with kind actions, he decided that brutality would eventually wear her down. So he locked her into the small room on the third floor of Mayfair."

  "Mother." Darren's voice held a warning. "William hates this story, and we are guests in his house. I think— "

  "Hush, Darren," Chancey said. "Let your mother finish the story. I've heard it a million times, but she always tells it best." She gave Mary a glance. "Besides, our little bride might want to hear the family history before she says 'I do."'

  Clarissa continued. "The sound of Lisette's weeping went on for five months, day and night. She ate only what she was forced to eat, and with each passing day, Slaytor's patience grew thinner and thinner. On the eve of Hallowmas, he ordered the women of the castle to prepare her for the bridal bed. Without benefit of clergy or the blessing of the Lord Almighty, he took her to his bed." Clarissa leaned forward, her voice dropping. "And she became pregnant.

  "That, my dear, is how he finally made her agree to marry. Lisette could not stand the idea that her child would bear the name bastard. To give her baby a name, she married the man who had kidnapped and tortured her."

  "And she bore him eight more children." William stepped into the room. His face was rigid with anger. "I had hoped the story of Lisette's abduction had long ago passed away from the local folklore. I can see that you're working hard to keep it alive, Clarissa. Perhaps I should contact the Scottish cultural department. I hear they're eager to record the oral stories of these parts. It takes someone with a passion for gossip and exaggeration to repeat that type of story with conviction."

  "William." Clarissa rose to her feet, followed swiftly by Chancey and Darren.

  "William." Chancey stepped in front of Clarissa and hurried forward to throw her arms around him in a warm embrace. "I've thought of you often. When I heard you were finally coming home, I couldn't believe it. Then I heard that you'd made arrangements to marry." There was a note of pain in her voice. "I wanted to come and give you my congratulations in person." Her voice lowered a bit, "Or condolences, as the case may be."

  Mary's teacup clattered as she put it on a table and rose to her feet. She'd had enough of Chancey Darnel and the entire ill-bred crowd. Only William's gaze stopped her from further action.

  "Thank you, Chancey. Your congratulations are accepted." He stepped out of her embrace. "Mary and I had hoped to have an engagement party." He motioned Mary to his side. "Perhaps we shall, yet. I want all of the people of the area to get to know my Mary. She's a rare one. A very special lady."

  "Mary's an incredible musician," Sophie inserted. "I know she hates to perform solo, but she's wonderful. Why don't you play something for us, Mary? You never want to show off, but it would make me feel so much better after that…story."

  "An excellent idea," William said. "I'll get your instrument."

  "I…" Mary realized that protest was useless. As much as she hated performing alone for a small group, she would have to this time. William's look said that he was counting on her.

  He went to get her cello, and Mary took a seat in a straight-backed chair.

  "Music may be fine for Edinburgh, but Mayfair requires a strong back and a healthy body." Chancey looked at William as he returned, as if to remind him that she had both.

  "I want a wife, Chancey, not an agricultural worker." His voice was gentle, but the words stung. His tone changed as he addressed Mary. "Here, my love, play the sonata that I like."

  Mary took the instrument from the case and held it between her knees. To steady herself, she drew in several deep breaths. Then she placed her fingers on the strings and slowly began to move through the first melancholy notes of the piece William had requested.

  The music seemed to fill the small room, and as Mary played, she watched the reaction on William's face. He loved this piece, but it always seemed to sadden him. As she concluded the first portion, she stopped.

  "I believe that's sufficient," she said, smiling. "Mrs. McLeod was eager to see you, William. I don't believe she came for a concert."

  "That was lovely, my dear," Clarissa said with great enthusiasm. "You don't look as if you'll ever really master a horse, but you can play."

  "Beautiful," Darren echoed, rising and walking over to Mary. "I love music. I hope you'll consider playing for us on a regular basis. Edinburgh isn't that far, but it would be wonderful to have our own musician."

  "Of course I'll play," Mary said, pleased at the look in William's eyes. Clarissa McLeod might be a battle-ax who controlled everything her son thought, and Chancey Darnel was a spiteful troublemaker, but Mary wasn't going to let the neighbors spoil her life at Mayfair.

  "Mayfair will be filled with the sound of music, laughter and children," William said. He was smiling, but his eyes also dared anyone to correct him. "Mary has agreed to marry me, and we intend to make our home here. Like the MacEacherns before us."

  "And what of Erick?" Darren's question was softly put. "Will he stay?"

  "Of course." William looked slightly bewildered. "Why wouldn't he? He's done a remarkable job here. I wouldn't want to try and manage without him."

  Darren gave William a crooked grin. "Good, then. It will be nice to have my old school chum back here. Maybe we can resume some of our adventuring in the woods here and about."

  William smiled. "We had some adventures." He went over to Mary and gently kissed her head. "Of course, now my Mary will have to join us on our tromps. I want her to learn to love this country as much as I do."

  "And I shall," Mary said gallantly. "I already do."

  "She t
ook a riding lesson," Sophie said. "I was watching from the window and she did quite well."

  William's smile lit his face. "That's my Mary," he said proudly.

  "Why don't we go for a ride together tomorrow?" Chancey spoke to William.

  "I'm sorry, Chancey. I have some business to take care of tomorrow. Maybe Mary would like to be my substitute. You could show her some of the town and surrounding area. Just leave Mayfair to me. I want to show it to her myself."

  Chancey's eyes hardened. "Of course. I'd be delighted to."

  "I don't know…" Mary had a sudden sense of dread. "I've only had one lesson. I'm not really good enough. I'll slow Chancey down and spoil her ride."

  "Of course you won't." Chancey was smiling now, but it wasn't friendly. "There's nothing I'd rather do than show William's bride-to-be around the area on horseback. It's all settled, then. I'll be here at one." Chancey caught and held Mary's gaze. "I'd better get home."

  "As should we." Clarissa rose, and Darren stepped to assist her with her wrap but she shrugged him away. She turned to Mary and scooped up her hand, drawing her away from the others. "Just remember, if you hear crying coming from the turret on the third floor, spare a little pity for the beautiful Lisette. The MacEachern men can be a headstrong and brutal lot."

  Chapter Three

  Mary buried her face in the cat's warm black fur and tried to forget the story of Lisette and Slaytor that Clarissa McLeod had told her. "It was only a tale," she whispered to Familiar, but she couldn't shake the idea that it was a bit of bloody history that was very much a part of William's heritage. Strange, but she'd never connected him with such a family. She thought back to the days— and nights— in Edinburgh when they'd dined and danced their way through the summer. Even further back were the letters she'd received from a young man gifted in the art of writing and humor. He'd of course mentioned Mayfair, but never in any way that made the reality of the castle and the family holdings seem more than the average home where Mary had grown up. It wasn't that William had hidden anything from her, it was just that he was his own person— not a prisoner of his past or his possessions. If only they could step back in time, back to the days of lunches and the nights of dancing and long, sweet kisses that had driven her nearly mad with desire.

  "Mary?"

  William's voice echoed along the third floor, and Mary started guiltily. Curiosity, morbid curiosity, had driven her up to the turret room that Clarissa had described. And what had she discovered? Only that the door to the chamber was locked, and that she was a fool for listening to the tales of Clarissa McLeod. Worst of all, William would easily ascertain her motives in searching out the room— and he would be further upset.

  "Come on, Familiar." She set the cat down and hurried toward the stairs. Perhaps she could meet him on the second floor.

  "Mary?"

  His voice was concerned.

  "I'm coming, William." She hurried down as fast as she could, breathless when she finally met him on the second-floor landing.

  "What were you about?" He smiled as he brushed a curl from her cheek. "You look capable of magic, a beautiful fairy."

  "Exploring," she answered, smiling herself. "Learning all about Mayfair is going to be great fun. There are so many rooms. And I'll bet there are secret passageways and— "

  "I don't know of a single one, but I'll have them built to please you." He took her hand, turning her to face him. "You played beautifully today. I'm so proud that you're going to be my wife. I should have taken you around to visit the neighbors sooner. It's rather embarrassing that they had to come here, to Mayfair, to see my bride."

  "They're an interesting…group." She stumbled. She didn't like any of them, but if they were his neighbors, she would do her best. "What about your friend, Darren? Did you really grow up together?"

  "We did. Up until I was sent away to England. Darren and I spent almost every day, after we'd done with our separate chores, tromping around the woods. He liked to fish, and I liked to daydream." William was smiling as he remembered the happy days of his boyhood, but a scowl quickly followed. "I begged Father not to send me away, but it was the MacEachern tradition to go to school abroad. And God knows, my father loved tradition." He shrugged away the bitterness as he turned to her and lifted her hand to his lips. "I swear to you, Mary, that when our children are born, I won't send them away from Mayfair or from us."

  Caught by the passion of his vow, Mary smiled. This was the William she knew and loved. "No, we'll keep the whole brood here until we die of old age." She leaned forward and kissed his chin. Even so, she had to stand on tiptoe. Her breath rushed out as his fingers closed around her small waist. With almost no effort, he lifted her against him.

  His kiss was neither hesitant nor timid. His lips demanded a response. And Mary gave it to him. It had been such a long time since he'd allowed himself to show his passion for her. He'd been afraid— not for himself, but of somehow hurting her. That restraint, coupled with the turmoil of the past month, intensified the pleasure of each touch, each sensation.

  Mary felt her knees weaken. She'd dreamed of making love to William, of learning every inch of his body and knowing exactly what pleased him. His marriage proposal, the fairy-tale visit to Mayfair, all had been part of her dream, and that included the physical relationship that his embraces had made her desire. Mary's love had grown from satisfaction in a few romantic kisses to a searing physical need. As his arms held her and his lips claimed hers, she told herself to ignore all of the doubts that had grown between them. The man holding her was William, her William, and whatever happened between them, he would protect her.

  For the weeks of her visit, William had forced himself not to dwell on his desire for Mary. She was in Mayfair, learning the routines of his family's ancient home. When he caught sight of her walking down one of the long corridors, her face lighted by the arched windows, his need for her almost made him insane with desire. But it was the very thought of madness that had prevented him from taking her into his arms and carrying her off to his bedroom.

  After his first episode, he'd been afraid to pull Mary any deeper into his problems. She loved him, that he didn't doubt. But if he was mad, if he was losing his mind, he could not drag her down with him. They were not yet married. She was still a free woman, and if something tragic happened, she could pick up the threads of her life and move on, unencumbered by a madman for a husband.

  He'd asked her to marry and had brought her to Mayfair to make certain that she could— would want to— fit into his future. The life of Lady MacEachern, surrounded by the duties that the title brought with it, might be too isolated for her, too different from her life as a symphony cellist and city girl. Once he'd seen her at Mayfair, though, his doubts had disappeared. Mary was perfect for life in the country, and more importantly, she was perfect for him. He could not imagine a future without her.

  His need for her had finally outstripped his desire to protect her. He slid his arm beneath her legs and lifted. She was as light as a feather in his arms. Sometimes, when she was out in one of the fields and walking in the sun, she seemed like a sprite. With her red hair afire in the sunlight and her tiny figure running across the green yard, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Now, she was completely woman. Her breasts pressed against him and her fingers clutched at his back.

  "Take me to your room, William," she whispered in his ear. "For pity's sake, take me now."

  "I will," he answered, pushing his own concerns aside. For an hour or two, he wouldn't allow the uncertainty of the future to mar his love for Mary. He would have her, and he would take care of her.

  There was the sound of rapid footsteps coming up the stairs, and the sudden intake of breath as Sophie caught sight of the lovers. Mary was in William's arms, her body pressing upward to claim his lips.

  "Excuse me." A red flush touched Sophie's cheeks and neck. She turned and started to rush back down the steps.

  "Sophie," William called after her. She'd look
ed so shocked. He started down the steps, Mary still in his arms. "Wait a minute."

  "Terribly sorry," she called back over her shoulder. "I'm always blundering into other people's private business. I…I…" She reached the foot of the stairs and stopped.

  "Sophie." Mary had refocused on her surroundings. William placed her deftly on her feet, and she started to run after her friend. "Let me talk with her a minute," she called back to William with a grimace of regret. She didn't wait for an answer, but turned and ran after her friend. "My lord, Sophie, it was a kiss. Quit acting like you've seen something shocking."

  Mary couldn't help the impatience in her voice. Sometimes Sophie acted like such a goose. It was the late-twentieth century, and Edinburgh was certainly not a backward city. Sophie had seen and heard plenty in the movies, in magazines, from her friends. A kiss shouldn't drive her into flight like a terrified rabbit.

  "Sophie!" Mary let impatience twine with regret in her voice. "Sophie Emerson, you'd better stop and talk to me or…or…or I'm going to tell Abby not to make another single batch of scones." They'd run almost to the kitchen, and Mary heard the sound of footsteps halting.

  "Whatever has happened to you to make you act so foolish?" Mary regretted the harshness of her tone, but she was aggravated. Sophie, unintentionally, had interrupted the first private, passionate moment she'd had with William in over a month. They'd made that physical connection and were on the verge of moving their relationship to a different plane— a plane that Mary felt would help William through his time of trouble. Sophie's presence had shattered the moment between them.

  It was the harshness that finally stopped Sophie. She was at the kitchen door, hand on the knob, when she turned around to face Mary. "It's nothing important."

  Her voice trembled so badly she could hardly speak. Mary felt a lightning bolt of regret at her harsh tone. "What is it, Sophie? I'm sorry I was short, but it's just that William and I haven't had a lot of time lately…."

  "I know how much you want to be with him, Mary." Sophie stepped forward. Her eyes were enormous in the slightly darkened room.