Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  Dr. Faulkner had gone on a call to Chancey's barn, and the nurse at his clinic said the tests were inconclusive, so far. Not all of the results were in.

  "He's fine," Sophie said, picking up the cat. "Let's get him home and let Abby feed him."

  "He's a very picky eater," the nurse said. "Doesn't care for his dry food."

  "A picky eater? Not Familiar," Mary answered. "That cat eats twenty-four hours a day."

  "Yeah, salmon or cream or prawns or sirloin. He's spoiled rotten," Sophie added, but she stroked the cat's head.

  "Dr. Faulkner would like to see him in three days for a follow-up." The nurse gave Familiar a goodbye pat.

  "Meow."

  "Thanks." Mary paid the bill and hurried to the car.

  Familiar curled sleepily on Sophie's lap, and Mary drove slowly through the beautiful countryside.

  "Have you given any thoughts to your menu for Saturday?" Sophie asked.

  The dinner party had completely skipped Mary's mind. The fall from Shalimar and the incident with Familiar had wiped all thoughts of the approaching fete out of her brain.

  "Not a single idea, and you can be sure that everyone will be looking at the menu, the decor, and my clothing to find fault." She hated to sound so antagonistic, but Chancey had rubbed her nerves raw about fitting into the community. She knew how important it was to William that she be accepted as a suitable Lady MacEachern. Her marriage to William was more than a union of two people. It was part of a much larger tradition and community.

  "Are you going to play for them?"

  "I hadn't thought about that, either." Mary considered. She was an excellent cellist, and even though she hated the limelight of performing in a small group, it might help pass the evening.

  "I'll make a deal," Sophie said, her eyes bright. "You plan the musical menu and I'll take care of the food. With Mrs. Connery's help, of course."

  "Would you?" Mary felt her burden lighten considerably.

  "Sure. I like doing that sort of thing." She gave her friend a sidelong look. "I'm jealous that you'll be hosting parties and planning menus and entertaining on such a scale. I'll be back at the flat in Edinburgh trying to make the can opener work."

  "Hardly." At the sound of Mary's laughter, Familiar lifted his head and purred.

  "It's true." Sophie was smiling, but her tone was serious. "When I was a little girl, I dreamed of having a large estate where I could entertain. I loved the idea of china and crystal, polished tables and chandeliers. You're going to have all of that, Mary, and it doesn't mean a thing to you."

  "I never knew that was your secret dream." Mary brushed back one of her unruly curls. "I dreamed of living in foreign countries, of danger and excitement and finding lost treasure. I wanted to be an adventurer. Planning parties with matching candelabra and silver was the last thing I wanted to do."

  "Well, you'd better learn to enjoy it. As Lady MacEachern, I'll bet you'll be the center of the social whirl here."

  "You're probably right." Mary didn't sound enthusiastic. "But you can come and take care of all of that for me." Her voice bubbled again. "See, that's perfect. You love it, and you can do as much of it as you like."

  Sophie shook her head. "You'll get the knack of it. You'll see."

  "I'll do it for William," Mary said, making a martyred face. "But the sacrifices I'm going to make…" She burst out laughing, and Sophie joined her.

  When they pulled into the yard, William was waiting for them. He took Familiar in his arms and led them into the house. Once in the library, with Familiar perched contentedly in Mary's lap in front of the fire, William poured the women a sherry as he listened to the report on Familiar.

  "He does seem perfectly fine," William commented.

  "He does," Mary agreed, stroking his back.

  As she spoke, Familiar jumped from her lap and, with complete catlike dignity, walked out of the room.

  "Maybe he was tired of being talked about," Mary said.

  "Maybe." William refilled his glass of Scotch. "I'm just glad the black devil's fit and home. And I have a surprise for you two ladies."

  "What?" they asked in unison.

  "We're going to Killby's Tavern for dinner. There's an old friend of mine playing some tunes on the harp, and I thought it would do us good to spend an evening out."

  "That sounds wonderful." Mary was enchanted with the idea. Since they'd been at Mayfair, and since William's behavior had been so erratic, she'd given up all thoughts of going out. Now, though, an evening of music and fun sounded perfect.

  "You two go." Sophie stood and put her empty glass on the table. "I have a slight headache, and I don't think I could take the smoke or the music."

  "Sophie!" Mary's voice was wheedling. "It'll be fun."

  "No doubt, Mary, but it will be more fun for both of you if I'm not along complaining and whining about my head." She tapped her forehead lightly. "How could anything so empty ache?"

  "Are you sure, Sophie?" William asked.

  "I'm sure." She smiled at Mary, then William. "Besides, I like the idea of the two of you out together. It's like a date, of sorts. Romantic."

  Before Mary could protest any more, Sophie hurried from the room.

  "I don't think her head is hurting at all," Mary said.

  "I don't think it is, either. But I think she's very wise for one so young." He slipped his arms around Mary and pulled her against him. "I'd love to take this lovely woman for a date, and I think it will be far more romantic if it's just the two of us."

  "Do you think you know me well enough to take me out with you?" Mary asked, her voice soft, teasing.

  "Aye, and I have intentions of knowing you even better before the night is over."

  Mary stood on tiptoe and offered her lips for a kiss.

  "Now run along and get dressed, before I have to change my plans and stay home," William said. He gave her bottom a friendly pat.

  Warmed by his kiss, Mary hesitated. The idea of staying home sounded better and better. "Maybe we shouldn't leave Familiar."

  William touched her cheek. "He's fine, Mary. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'd like to leave him in your bedroom while we're gone."

  "He'll probably sleep," Mary agreed. She felt a momentary reluctance to leave the cat.

  "Abby's in the kitchen now, poaching some salmon for him." William ran his fingers down Mary's cheekbone. "I'm sure Eleanor and Peter aren't going to want him back. He'll be too spoiled."

  "I think he was spoiled when he arrived," Mary retorted. "I've never known a cat who made himself at home quite so easily."

  "Then we're agreed. Familiar is perfectly fine, and we're going out."

  "We're agreed." She turned on her toe, gracefully leapt away from William, pirouetted and bowed. "I'll be ready in half an hour, Lord MacEachern."

  "See that you are," he said, making his voice gruff and stern. "I'll not be waiting for a mere woman."

  Mary rushed up the stone steps, taking them two at a time in her exhilaration. William was completely back to normal! She felt as if she'd been freed of a terrible burden, and the future spread out before her was as wonderful and magical as she'd imagined it when William had first proposed.

  Her footsteps echoed on the stones, reminding her that Mayfair was still old, big, and very drafty, but she was undaunted. She would learn to ride, and she would learn to entertain— as befitted Lady MacEachern. She would help William in his struggles to run the gigantic estate, and together they would raise their family.

  Panting, Mary stopped halfway down the hall and settled into a more dignified walk. As nervous as Sophie was, if she heard running footsteps outside her door, she'd jump to the conclusion that the castle was on fire.

  Thinking about her jumpy friend, Mary was smiling when she caught a sudden movement in the shadows at the end of the hall.

  "Familiar?"

  She paused for a few seconds, wondering if her eyes had played a trick on her. The movement had been sudden, like a cat slinking from sh
adow to shadow.

  "Kitty, kitty."

  She waited, but there was no response. If it was Familiar, he'd chosen to explore in another area.

  Mary walked on to her room. Slightly nervous, she kept glancing down the hallway, but there was nothing. Not a whisper of sound or movement. It had obviously been a shift of light.

  As she opened the door, her fingers felt the delicate chain that had been draped over the heavy knob. In the dimness of the hallway she disentangled the chain and drew it to her. At the sight of the beautiful ring dangling on the end, she gave an exclamation of surprise.

  She stood staring at the ring, then burst into her room and turned on the bedside light.

  The emerald was exquisite. Cut in a pear design, it was at least two carats, and the deep green of the stone was pure and brilliant. The gold setting bore a tiny crest of the MacEachern clan, and it was dangling from the most beautiful of fine gold chains.

  "William." Mary felt a rush of pleasure at the thought that he'd entrusted her with a family heirloom. And what a beautiful way to surprise her, hanging the ring on her door for her to find. It was just like him to give such a magnificent gift in such an unconventional way.

  She slipped the ring on her finger, admiring the brilliant stone against her pale hand. It was a ring designed for Lady MacEachern. She would wear it as William's bride, and as his wife.

  The sound of footsteps outside her door made her leap to her feet in anticipation. William was waiting for her to discover his gift.

  Running to the door, she threw it open.

  "Thank you!" she cried before she realized the hallway was empty.

  Expecting to find William standing there, Mary brought herself up short. She'd definitely heard footsteps outside her door.

  Looking down the long length of the arched stone hall, she felt sure no one could have disappeared so suddenly. It had been maybe three seconds from the sound of the steps until she'd opened the door. No one could disappear in three seconds!

  She stepped into the hall, wondering if William was playing a prank by hiding in some tiny alcove. In the poor lighting, it would be easy to miss him.

  "William?" She called his name and realized how frightened she sounded. "William?"

  "Lisette."

  The name echoed back at her, and she felt her stomach clench with such a fierceness that she thought she might be sick.

  "Lisette."

  The name was a whisper spoken by someone in pain.

  "I'll wait for you, Lisette. Forever. There is no escape."

  A noise at the far end of the hall made Mary cry out as she whirled around. From the dark shadows a small black shape hurled itself down the hallway. Remembering the ferociousness of Familiar's attack the night before, Mary involuntarily stepped back. But the cat streaked past her without stopping and ran to the end of the hallway.

  Tail twitching, he stopped at the stairs and looked up, up toward the third floor turret room where Lady Lisette MacEachern had been held prisoner.

  Chapter Seven

  Mary's first impulse was to run into her room and slam the door, but that was quickly replaced by a desire to rush forward, to see who was speaking so plaintively into the darkened hall. The voice was familiar. Still, she could not positively identify it. It seemed to float out from the very stones of the castle walls. She felt goose bumps invade her skin, even as she fought against the notion of the supernatural.

  That thought spurred her into action, and she hurried to where Familiar stood. If there was someone playing pranks in the halls of Mayfair, it was time he revealed himself.

  At the stairs where Familiar waited, his steady gaze intently watching up the stairs, she hesitated. The man, or creature, who'd spoken in the hallway had probably gone up the stairs. Mary's inclination was to go down, down to safety and to the library where she prayed she'd find William. He had to be in the library. That would prove that he had nothing to do with the events that were happening on the second floor. She wanted to find who was tormenting her; she wanted to prove that William was innocent. Even if it meant confronting a ghost.

  "Meow." Familiar, back arched, started up to the third floor.

  "Familiar," she whispered. "Come with me."

  The cat ignored her, going on up the stairs. Mary hesitated for a second more before she darted headlong down the stairs.

  She found herself creeping as she neared the library. William would be sitting in his favorite leather chair, poring over a book as he waited for her to change clothes. She visualized him doing just that as she made it to the library door.

  The huge oak door was closed. With the gentlest of pressures, she opened it and peeped inside. The room was empty. Doubt struck her with such force that she felt an acute pain in her chest.

  Was it possible William had been on the second floor landing calling softly into the night? Was he playing some joke on her? Her doubts grew to staggering proportions in a few brief seconds. Worst of all, she wondered if William was sick, sicker than she'd ever imagined.

  "Mary."

  William's voice made her scream as she jumped away from him and into the library.

  "I thought you were going up to get dressed. What's going on?"

  He stood behind her in the hallway, a leather-bound volume in one hand and a glass of port in the other.

  "William." His name escaped her lips, a plea.

  "What is it?" Concern washed over his face. "You're pale as a ghost. What happened?" He went to her and guided her toward the sofa in front of the fire.

  "Where have you been?" Mary could hear how choppy her words were. He stood while she sat.

  "I went to get a glass of port. I thought you'd gone up to change your clothes." He stared at her. "Whatever happened? Is it Familiar?"

  "No." Mary could feel her heart rate slowing. "No, it's not Familiar. There was someone in the hallway."

  "Who?" William was instantly alert.

  "I don't know."

  "Did you see someone? What did he look like?"

  Mary hesitated. How did William know it was a he? "I didn't get a clear look."

  "What did you see?" William's voice held a tiny note of exasperation.

  "Nothing, really. It was what I heard."

  "Mary, what are you talking about?"

  She saw the frustration in his eyes and she knew suddenly that he was changing. The shift was so subtle, so fine, that no one would notice it other than herself.

  "Someone was in the hallway. He whispered 'Lisette.' And then he said he would wait for her forever. That there was no escape."

  Mary watched the dawning of awareness on William's face, but it was overlaid with something else, a terrible struggle. She knew he was slipping away from her, deep into that black abyss where he was bedeviled and tormented.

  "Ye speak as if ye knew Lisette." The gray eyes assessed her as the features hardened. "How would it be that ye know my Lisette?" The question was a warning and a challenge.

  Mary reached out her hand and stroked William's forehead. He was burning hot, a dry heat that seared her very soul with despair.

  "William, it's me, Mary. Look at me, love." She made her voice strong, willing William to hold on to her voice and touch.

  "Mary?" William's face turned into a frown of concentration. "Mary." A more modern inflection made the name sound more familiar, and a fraction of recognition washed over his features only to be replaced with confusion.

  "Yes, it's me. Mary, your bride." She placed her palm flat on his cheek, ignoring his fever and encouraging him to look into her eyes. "Stay with me, William. Don't leave me."

  He lifted his hand, as if to stroke her face. But suddenly his face broke into an anguished mask; the effort to control was too great. He slammed his fist into the pillow beside her head, and Mary flinched, ducking her face into the soft cushion of the sofa.

  When she looked up, there was no trace of the William she knew. The man who stood in front of her was surveying her with insolence and contempt.
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  "You'd seduce me with your soft words and kind glances, would ye, lady?" He gave her a knowing look. "The bed of Slaytor MacEachern has been sought by more than a few. But he'll wed only one. Do ye know her?" He gave Mary a sly glance.

  "I— I know William…" She faltered.

  "William?" The man who stood in front of her was puzzled. "William was killed at Loch Bane. Ten years gone. How did you know my brother?"

  Mary knew then that William had lost all touch with reality. He was adrift, spinning back into the past, into a history she did not know, but was suddenly determined to discover.

  "I was his friend," she said softly. "I love him to this day."

  "Aye, he did inspire love, and loyalty. Twenty men died beside him, and not a one of them tried to run. It was a glorious slaughter, and they took more than four dozen of the MacAdams with them. Aye."

  Mary shivered. William had never stayed in the room with her when he suffered an attack. In every other instance, he would become volatile, and then he would run away. But he seemed in no hurry to leave. He downed the port, cast a glance at the glass as if he'd never seen it, and carefully placed it on the table.

  "Would you like something else to drink?" Mary asked. "I could get you something."

  "Aye, not that sweet wine. It tastes like syrup gone bitter. I want something with some body, some heart." He picked up the glass and flung it into the fire, laughing as he did so. "Makes a pretty noise, doesn't it?" he asked, turning back to Mary.

  "Lovely," she answered. It had been Waterford crystal from Ireland. William had said his great-grandmother had collected it. "I'll get you something more appropriate," she said, rising on unsteady legs. She started toward the door before she realized he'd moved to stand behind her. She ignored his presence as she reached for the door, but his hand caught her wrist.

  "Where are ye from, lassie?" he asked softly, so close that his breath whispered against her hair.

  Mary hesitated. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn't sure what to say. "France." She finally decided on that country as the safest. At one time, if she remembered any of her history correctly, France had been an ally of Scotland.