Bound by Dreams

by Christina Skye

  “I’m finished for now.” The brigadier flashed a last beam of light across the shadowed roof, casting tall shadows from the twisted spires of the abbey’s chimneys. “Easy to get lost up here,” he muttered. “One almost has the sense…” He cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

  Wind tossed gravel in small eddies at his feet as he motioned briskly to his aide. “The viscount will have my security assessment in two hours.” He shot a glance at Calan. “I trust that my distributor cap and wiring will be back in place by the time I reach my car.”

  “IT’S FEELS COLD all of a sudden. Or is it just me?” Agatha MacKay rested her elbows on the sink, staring out at the dark outline of the summerhouse.

  “It does feel a little colder. Why don’t we go back into the library?”

  “I’ll bring in the tea.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Kiera lifted the big tray, smiling. “I do the heavy work while you tell me about Calan. I want to know about his family, all the details.”

  “It’s always about family, isn’t it?” Agatha brushed back a strand of white hair from her immaculate red sweater. “I knit a new red sweater every year. I’ve done it for almost forty years now, starting with that first summer on Skye. I met Duncan at a little pub. Five minutes later he said he loved me in red, and I…” Her voice caught and she leaned down, helping Kiera to tea, homemade scones and tiny sandwiches with herb mayonnaise.

  Kiera didn’t push her for more details that would make her uncomfortable. “It’s a gorgeous sweater. But I’ve never seen that kind of cable before. It’s not a staghorn or a traditional Celtic style.”

  “No, it’s an old design. I’m told it was first made by Calan’s great-great-grandmother. Of course, that could be a legend. There are a great many tall tales where he comes from.” Her eyes took on a distant look again. “They are an unusual family.”

  “Unusual as in pirates, patriots and thieves?”

  “Worse.” Agatha handed Kiera another scone. “They can be a dark lot, broody and charming by turns. Duncan took me by storm that long-ago summer in Skye. Within a day I knew I was in love, and within a week I said yes.”

  “Yes to what?”

  Agatha’s cheeks took on a sudden flush. “To whatever the man wanted. Very fortunate for me that he was a gentleman, so what he wanted was marriage.” She gave a little sigh. “It’s often that way with the MacKay men. I warn you, if they set their minds on you, they’ll reel you in and very soon they convince you to want the same things they do.”

  “Like some kind of…” Kiera cleared her throat, feeling a little ridiculous. “Not some kind of mind control?”

  “Good heavens, no. It’s simple chemistry, the kind that a confident and powerful man uses without any thought. But it’s strong stuff just the same. And if you have half a love for Scotland, for the long summer twilights and the wild beaches of the far west, you could find yourself caught forever.” She toyed with a bit of her scone. “Just the way I was.”

  It all sounded a little Gothic, Kiera thought, unconvinced. “You mean, you fell in love with Scotland first and the man second?”

  “No.” The old woman shook her head vehemently. “That’s making it clear and simple, but it wasn’t simple. It wasn’t just the passion, though we had that, most definitely. He was handsome, but I’ve known men who were more attractive. It wasn’t anything I can explain neatly even now. I thought I had my whole life planned, from the place I would live to the kind of man I would live there with. But one look at Duncan and I knew it was all wrong, and I would follow him anywhere.” She stared at her untouched tea.

  “Just like that? As easy as one look?”

  “Who said anything about easy? Falling in love is the hardest—and the most frightening—thing in the world, my dear. We want things that come wrapped up in neat packages. We want clear explanations for what we think and feel. But life can have different plans in store.”

  Kiera frowned, remembering how Calan had used almost the same words to her that afternoon. That memory brought hot images of his hands as he’d brought her to stunning pleasure.

  She looked away, feeling an odd pressure at her chest. “I wouldn’t know anything about falling in love,” she said stiffly.

  “No? I see the way you look at his photo on the dresser over there. I’ve seen you glance down the driveway, as if you’re listening for his car.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  At least Kiera prayed she was. Love wasn’t anywhere in her monthly planner. She didn’t intend to toss away her logic, her independence or her careful plans for a man she barely knew.

  She stood up, determined to shift the conversation to a safer topic.

  But the old woman reached out, clasping Kiera’shands. “If you need a friend, I’ll be here for advice or just to listen. If this thing between you is meant to happen, it will, though you can fight it all you like. But remember this. Once you find a good and true man who wants to share his life with you, don’t let him go. Not for career. Nor for family. Not even for fear you’ll lose yourself. I almost did that.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Walk on glass and don’t mind the pain, not for a good and true man. Otherwise you’ll always regret it, my dear.”

  “Did you…did that happen to you?”

  “Almost. My family thought I’d lost my mind to run off with Duncan. And his family was completely opposed.” She frowned. “There were other things in our way, too. The rituals. The Calling. The three tests.”

  Kiera frowned. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Oh, dear.” Agatha sat up straighter. “I shouldn’t have…” She reached for the teapot with fingers that shook.

  “But you said—”

  “Never mind what I said. I’m an old woman. Sometimes my mind wanders.” Agatha stood up, straightening her sweater, touching the linked cables slowly, one by one. “They call it the binding cable. It was the first sweater a girl learned how to knit. So beautiful.” Outside in the hall the old clock began to chime.

  “I—I must go. I had no idea it was so late. My number is there by the phone. Please call me if you need anything.”

  Kiera followed her out into the bright light of the alcove. “Let me drive you back. I’ll walk home. I could use the exercise.”

  “It’s kind of you, but there’s no need. I’m quite able—” Agatha’s head tilted. She took a slow step, staring at Kiera under the bright light of the chandelier. Her eyes widened.

  “That mouth.” She put one hand to her chest. “Dear heavens, but you almost look…”

  She made a little breathless sound, raising Kiera’s chin, staring at the lines of her face beneath the chandelier.

  “Who are you?”

  SHADOWS GATHERED ON the abbey’s granite roof. A bird called shrilly from the woods.

  Something moved, space taking shape.

  Specks of light gathered. Lace cuffs formed, caught by elegant sleeves of black velvet. As clouds raced across the waning moon, the abbey ghost strode from the shadows.

  At his feet a great gray cat ghosted over the cold stone.

  “Again the danger. Again the intrusions. We are never permitted our rest, my friend. Such penances.”

  Adrian Draycott stared out beyond the moat, where uniformed men flashed strange electrical sensors. “If one of them dares to harm these ancient walls, I’ll materialize and smite them all, by heaven.”

  At his feet the gray cat gave a low growl.

  “Of course I know they are here to protect my abbey. Were they not, I’d have sent them bolting long ago. But their anger and distrust rub against all my senses. And the Scotsman at the center of it.”

  The cat’s tail flicked from side to side.

  “The woman? Yes, I’ve seen what you tell me. Her blood is Draycott.” Adrian stared out at the swans on the moat. “So much sadness she carries. The memories haunt me still. I could not save Elena, though I tried. Had she stayed, maybe…” He shook his head. “Now the daughter and her Scotsman must find
their way, tested gravely. I’ve planted what seeds I may, but their bonds call out. Even I may not interfere.”

  The cat’s eyes gleamed as he stared up at his oldest friend.

  “Yes, bound they will be. Already it has begun. Their hearts call out and if they turn away, they will regret it most bitterly. All their days they will feel the loss.” Adrian rested one boot on the parapet, brooding. “But the choice must be theirs.” His face hardened as he watched the Scotsman talking with a tall man in a dark uniform. “And the danger draws closer. He hunts well, Gideon. But he will need all his skills as the net closes around him.”

  Adrian Draycott stiffened as one of the soldiers trampled on a young rosebush. “Let them touch another of my roses and I’ll smite them all down. Some powers are left to me.”

  Gideon meowed softly, perched beside him on the roof.

  Guarding as he always did, loyal to death and beyond.

  Adrian saw the light gather at his hands, tingling sharply at his wrist and ankle. “Fading so soon. There is no more I can do, in truth. It is their choice, to go or stay. The Scotsman must beware the Change, for there his testing will begin.” Adrian’s eyes closed. He remembered his own choices, and the love he had found only after the gravest testing.

  Wind played through his hair. She waited for him even now, waited for his duties to be done and one more penance completed. What would remain to fill his soul without her?

  Leaves spun up at his feet. Wind gusted over the granite roof.

  I’m coming, Adrian thought, casting the words out to the night.

  Lace cuffs fluttered.

  The moon spread out a veil of silver behind cold clouds. And then the roof was empty.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CALAN STARED at the darkness.

  Something seemed to brush his shoulders. He moved to the window, suddenly restless.

  Outside a tree branch tapped at the window.

  Izzy looked up from the wiring diagram he was studying. “Something wrong?”

  Calan didn’t answer right away. He probed the night for dangers, letting his senses play out, reaching for anything out of place.

  Smells teased. Sounds seemed muffled. Nothing was as clear as it should have been. The Change called to him.

  His muscles tightened. In the space of a heartbeat he could read the shadows…with every sense sharpened by the hunt.

  Too dangerous.

  “MacKay?” Izzy was staring at him. “I just asked if you heard something outside?”

  Calan felt the sense of danger recede. “No. It was just an…instinct.”

  “Never good to ignore an instinct.” Izzy put down his papers and glanced outside. “You think the brigadier’s back? Maybe some of his men?”

  “It’s possible. I’m going out to check.”

  “Want me to tag along?”

  Calan shook his head. He required privacy for the search he had in mind. “No need. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  Izzy nodded. “Fine. It’s going to take me an hour to go through these diagrams anyway.” He drummed his fingers on a big sheet of paper. “Did Nicholas mention any wiring upgrades to you?”

  “Only the backup generator and its feed to the house near the kitchen.”

  “I saw that.” Izzy rubbed his neck. “But there are a few changes in the upstairs switch wiring that don’t make sense. It’s not like him to skip over a detail like that.” After a moment he pulled out his cell phone. “I want to know why.”

  ANGER AND ACCUSATION burned in Agatha MacKay’s eyes.

  “Well? I think I’m entitled to an answer.”

  Kiera sat very still, her heart pounding. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The old woman’s teacup rattled loudly as she set it on the side table. “In the daylight I would have noticed immediately. You—your face. The resemblance to Elena is unmistakable now. Maybe you will explain that to me.”

  Kiera looked down. Her hands were laced as she searched for answers, for a way to avoid lies that would give extra pain. But the search was like trying to pick her way through quicksand, with the ground sliding away beneath her. “You…knew Elena Draycott?”

  “Of course I knew her. I knew her mother and her father. I know Nicholas.” She took a breath. “She and my eldest daughter were—” Her voice broke. “Why did you come here, Ms. Morissey? Or should I call you Ms. Draycott? You would save us both a good deal of time and pain if you told the truth.”

  How could she start? And where would it all end, Kiera wondered. Something twisted inside her. She was tired of lies and denials. “Elena was…my mother.”

  It hurt to say the words. But the shadows of her mother’s past could not be avoided any longer.

  “She’s dead. She died several months ago.”

  “What we were told was a lie?” Agitated, the old woman stood up and walked to the fire. Her back was stiff. “So many years. So many questions we had. And now…to find out like this. Where were you born?”

  Kiera looked at the old books, feeling the deep peace of Calan’s house. In its quiet way the house seemed to demand her honesty. Kiera took a deep breath and told Calan’s great-aunt all of her mother’s story, from the night she left Draycott Abbey, to her marriage and finally to her death.

  The old woman shook her head. “France. So close and yet all these years, we never knew.” She turned abruptly. “Does Calan know?”

  Kiera sat up straighter. “He knows who I am.”

  “Good. Because he knew Elena, too. Not as well as I did, of course. My daughter and she…” Her fingers opened and closed. “It hurts to remember, even now.” She seemed to force out the words.

  “You’d better sit down. Please. Right here at the fire.” Kiera helped the old woman into a big wing chair, then spread a blanket over her lap. “I’m sorry to shock you with all this. I don’t know much about my mother’s past in England. She…never spoke of it.”

  Agatha stared into the fire. “For two years she and my Maeve were inseparable. Dance classes. Drawing lessons. Then Maeve was accepted at art school in London. It hurt Elena, I think. And a few months later, Maeve—” The old woman took a hard breath. “She was killed in a car accident as she was coming home for her first break.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “A lorry went out of control. The driver died, too.” Agatha’s voice was rough. “For a while, I was cut off from everything, everyone. I tried to call Elena, but she never phoned back. I understood that there were some difficulties, and since Nicholas was off in Thailand then, I drove to Draycott. But she wasn’t there. No one knew when she would be back. There seemed to be nothing more to be done.” Agatha frowned. “I wonder if she was too proud to see me. She was never one to reveal her emotions easily, Maeve said. But if I hadn’t lost touch with her…” She lifted her hands to the fire, shivering as if struck with cold. “A few months after the accident I lost Duncan to cancer. Everything was a terrible muddle. When I was stronger, I called the abbey to ask Elena to come stay with me here. Yet again I had no answer. It was all very peculiar. Then we learned she had been in a hotel fire in the Philippines. Someone from the embassy brought her passport and a few belongings that were found.” Agatha frowned. “It wasn’t true.”

  Kiera didn’t move. “No, it wasn’t.”

  The old woman continued to study the fire. “Why did she pretend such a thing?”

  “My mother wanted the past buried. When the fire left so many dead, she saw her chance. She had already met my father and she had no reason to come back to England,” Kiera said flatly.

  “Not even for Nicholas?”

  “He didn’t answer her letters. When she phoned—well, he left the message he wanted nothing to do with her.”

  “I don’t believe it. But then Nicholas came back from Thailand so very, very changed. So many terrible memories.”

  Kiera felt every word slam at her heart. “Thailand?”

  “Didn’t you know? He was held captive there for month
s, beaten terribly and starved. He nearly died before the government got him out. When he came back home, he was…not the same.”

  Another explanation fell into place, though Kiera fought to deny it. Her uncle hadn’t turned his back on his sister. He had been busy fighting his own battle to survive.

  This had to be the key, somewhere in that time of shadows. How could she possibly sort out so many missed chances?

  So much pain and misunderstanding.

  Down the hall the old clock began to chime.

  Agatha stood up. Her fingers tightened on the linked cables of her sweater. “In those terrible weeks after I lost Maeve, I made one of these sweaters for your mother, but I never saw her again to give it to her. I still have it somewhere. I must remember where.” She looked sad. “Maybe it was lost. So much was lost.” She shook her head, as if to free painful memories. “I must go. It is very late and I’m too tired to think clearly. I’ve left several packages for Calan when he returns. They’re important, even if I don’t like to think about it.”

  As the clock continued to chime, she took Kiera’s hands, staring into her face. “You are beautiful, as your mother was. Maybe you are as proud, too. Pride can be a dangerous thing, especially when you are young.”

  Kiera felt new emotions twist and whirl until it was painful to breathe. “Let me drive you back.”

  “There’s no need. It’s only a few minutes to the cottage. I could find my way blindfolded. Besides, I need to think tonight, and I’ll do that best alone.” She touched Kiera’s cheek. “Dear girl. Elena’s daughter. Remember what I said. We all want our days measured out quietly, in neat packages. We want clear explanations for what we think and feel. But life usually has different plans in store. It did for me, and it did for your mother. I think it will be the same for you.”

  She squeezed Kiera’s hand and then left, her face tired.

  Did it all come down to this? Kiera wondered. Could the real problems her mother faced have been made far worse by her pride? Had her mother closed the doors to her past because the truth was too painful to bear—or because she was too stubborn to ask for help?