The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance) (4 page)

“When do you expect him back?” she asked with a slight edge to her words, as she continued to meet his eyes. It was turning into a staring contest she had no intention of letting him win.

“Not till quite…quite late, I’m afraid. He is with my Orianna and they keep rather…unusual…hours,” he told her silkily, as his eyes dropped, slowly, to her mouth.

Meg saved her from whatever might have happened next. “We need to see him right away. Would you tell him we’re here and staying at the manse?”

He turned his smile on Meg and she felt a flush of heat that could only mean she must be blushing like some schoolgirl. “I will tell him as soon as I see him next. Is there anything else you require, my lovely!” he asked with a sensual smile, as he slowly let his gaze drift down her body, lingering too long on her breasts.

‘My lovely’, Meg thought, she’d just been called
lovely
by the man of her dreams and she should have been flattered, but she didn’t feel flattered at all. He was a wolf in a kilt and way too sure of himself! And it wasn’t just that. There was something else about him…something she couldn’t quite put her finger on…that hit her like a bucket of cold water, effectively, extinguishing her blush.

“Please do,” she murmured coldly. Grabbing Charlie’s arm, she led her towards the door. “We’ll be leaving now.”

So the ‘guppy’ has teeth, Charlie thought fleetingly, then felt Meg’s hand tighten on her arm three times. Meg’s signal that something was wrong. What had she seen…felt? “Thank you for your hospitality. With the exception of Angus Mc Farland, there seems to be a sad lack of it elsewhere,” Charlie said, as they headed out the door.

“Perhaps they are just being careful with strangers…even those as beautiful as you. We are very isolated up here in many ways. Visitors can be
unsettling.”

“Whatever that means,” Meg muttered without moving her lips. Charlie smiled, remembering ten year-old Meg’s practice sessions in front of their bedroom mirror during her ventriloquist stage.

He walked them through the entry hall and then to their car, where he, attentively, helped them inside. “I would like it very much if you would come to supper tomorrow night. You’ll be sure to see your brother there, if you haven’t heard from him before then. Say 7PM? I’ll send the car for you.”

If it wasn’t for Allyn, they would have declined, but Charlie managed to say politely, “That would be lovely. See you then.” She started the car and drove the rest of the way around the drive and out through the gates.

Meg was the first to speak. “It was kind of like biting into the perfect apple and finding a worn inside, ” she sighed.

“Better than half a worm as they say! Your perfect apple is a ruthless, cunning man.”

“I know. As soon as he looked at me I felt his aura.”

“Please…you read auras now? When did this start?” Charlie asked wryly.

Meg grimaced thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t see colors and all that. It’s more of an impression…a feeling…you know how I am about that.”

“As though I could forget! What exactly were your feelings once you got past the guppy stage and that blush?” Charlie asked.

“Guppy?”

“You were practically drooling when you first saw him.”

“I was not! I was just interested in seeing his Highland garb. Do you think he was…well…you know…underneath?”

“I didn’t find him fascinating enough to speculate. What do you think?”

“Bare as a new born babe! And I wasn’t blushing…I was just overheated. The room was quite warm!” Meg protested vehemently.

Charlie was laughing so hard she nearly hit a sheep. Stopping the car she looked at Meg. “Enough! What did you think of him?”

“I agree with your assessment completely. Ruthless…cunning…and dark. I don’t like him and I don’t trust him and….”

“And we both want our baby brother out of that house!” Charlie finished for her

***

Supper that night at the manse was haggis, mashed neeps and tatties. Meg for one was glad the Scots appreciated a good rutabaga as much as she did, since that and the mashed tatties was about all she probably could eat.. She wasn’t at all sure about the haggis. Since Angus appeared to be dozing and Tilda was safely in the kitchen, she seized the moment to ask Charlie, “What exactly is this stuff?”

“As best I remember…are you really sure you want to know? Well, its sheep’s lungs, liver and heart mixed up with stuff and steamed in its own stomach. You can’t visit Scotland and not try it.”

“Wanna bet? I can’t even look at it let alone stick it in my mouth!”

“Well, you’re probably going to offend Tilda even more if you don’t eat every bite,” Charlie told her.

“Like even
more
is even
possible.
I wish Freddie was under the table. He’d eat it. He ate everything!” Meg said wistfully.

Charlie only nodded, remembering the many UFOs or Unidentified Fried Objects Meg had cooked that she’d been forced to slide under the table to her dog.

Tilda took that moment to resume her seat at one end of the refectory table opposite Angus, who looked up as though he just realized where he was. “Ah must haf been woolgatherin’. Ah must be gettin’ auld and daft. Wha’ did ye lasses do up at the manor? Did ye meet up wi’ yer brither?”

“No, he was out with this Orianna…Mr. Marley’s daughter,” Meg told him, as she poked the haggis with an exploratory fork.

“Och! Thare are those tha’ think she is not frae this wurld. Meself? Ah’m not ready to believe it unless Ah see it wi’ my own eyes.”

“Allyn told us she was a vampire. Of course, that’s impossible,” Charlie said, watching for his reaction.

Tilda rose from the table and left the room after throwing a dark look in their direction. “Seems like Tilda doesn’t like us mentioning the vampire thing,” Meg said.

“Aye…and dinnae mention it agin’. Ye waud do well to git yer brither oot of thare. But tis enough of me bletherin’,” Angus told them.

“We’ve been invited to dinner tomorrow night…7PM. Mr. Marley is sending a car for us,” Charlie told him.

“Twil be a formal occasion ye ken? All fancy like. He’s the high heid mon in thase parts,” Angus said around a forkful of mashed neeps. “Ah’ll haf to leave ye lasses after we’ve supped tonight. A crofter is in verra bad shape and needin’ a wee bit of mah help. Thare’s a library at the end of the hall, but not much thare to interest lasses like ye.”

“We’ll be fine. We thought maybe we’d walk down to the pub later,” Meg told him, as Tilda marched back in and began clearing the plates. Her mouth was set in a grim line as she looked at Meg’s untouched haggis.

Meg flushed guiltily. “I really wasn’t hungry enough to do it justice. Maybe you could save it for me and I’ll have it later?”

“Ye’ll haf it for yer breakfast!” Tilda told her with a snort.

After they had escaped into the hall, Meg asked Charlie, “For breakfast? Now what am I going to do? And what was all that stuff Angus was saying? I haven’t quite got the hang of this brogue thing.”

Charlie smiled and replied, “The dinner tomorrow is formal. Mr. Marley is the head man…or boss…around here and he likes all the ceremony attached to his rank. Angus is headed out to help one of the farmers and offers us the use of the manse’s library.”

“Which won’t be of much interest to ‘lasses like us’. That part I got. Why don’t we find Tilda and offer to help with the dishes. Maybe that will soften her up.”

“That would be like poking a snake with a stick, but I’m willing to risk it,” Charlie said. They found Tilda in the kitchen scraping plates. Their offer of help was answered with another snort and something totally incomprehensible that neither sister believed was complimentary.

Once they were safely on the other side of the swinging door, Meg said, “I sure wish there was some other place to stay. Tilda doesn’t improve any on longer acquaintance.”

“Oh? You’re forgetting the heart of gold Angus said was in that little bundle of venom?”

Meg sighed. “I always do try to look for the good in people, but my patience with Tilda’s attitude is wearing a bit thin.”

“Maybe we will be out of here tomorrow. Did you pack something to wear to this formal occasion?” Charlie asked looking down at their jeans and tanktops and grimacing. “You know how much I hate dressing up.”

“I brought a little blue number that should do fine with a little shaking out. What did you pack?”

“A simple black dress that Rayne tossed at me before she left. We’re almost exactly the same size, though complete opposites in every other way.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Charlie. Under all that fluff, I think there’s a lot more to our baby sister that we’ve found so far.”

“Or she’s found. Let’s get some sweaters and head to the pub. It’s the best place to learn what is going on here.”

***

The shadows were lengthening, as they took the short cut through the graveyard. Wandering among the stones, they couldn’t resist reading the epitaphs. “Look! That one’s so old I can’t even make out the inscription, but this one is quite recent…a Thomas Argyle…only twenty years old. I wonder what happened to him?” Meg called to Charlie.

“And this one is only thirty and died just six months ago,” Charlie called back. Meg joined her and they both looked down at the simple granite slab. “Maybe a farm accident? I forget the statistics, but farming can be very dangerous occupation.”

“We’ll ask Angus when we get back to the manse,” Meg replied. “Let’s go take a closer look at that mausoleum. It’s really gorgeous if you like that kind of thing.”

It was exactly like a small squat granite house…a house for the dead…without windows except for the stained glass panels just under the eaves over the double doors. The name MacMorley was worked into the stone fretwork.

Charlie climbed up the steps and tried the doors. They were locked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Meg called up to her. “Get down from there before we’re both thrown into whatever passes for a jail around here!”

Charlie laughed. “I was just checking it out. They must be stacked to the ceiling in there!”

“I don’t think that’s even remotely funny! They’re probably listening to you at this very minute and who is sleeping closest to the window that overlooks this very spot?”

“You! We could change beds if that will make you feel better.”

Muttering under her breath, she marched up the steps, grabbed Charlie’s arm and yanked her down. “We are going to the pub now as planned. No more poking around here, especially since it’s almost dark.”

Charlie linked her arm with Meg’s. “Okay…okay…let’s go find something, or someone, a little more lively!”

But, as it turned out, the pub was almost as dead as the graveyard. A hush had fallen over the room that smelled of stale beer and pipe smoke, as they crossed the stained wide planked floor. Several old men were playing cards along the back wall…one was wearing a kilt Meg noted…while two others leaned on the bar talking with the publican. “Whit will ye hae?” the barman called to them, his tone was more neutral than hostile.

“Two pints of whatever you have on tap,” Charlie said with the warmest smile she could muster. “And some chips if you have any.”

“The fryer isnae on. Hae a seat and Ah’ll get yer pints, but ye hae to pay up nou.”

They paid for their drinks, then crossed to the nearest table and sat down. Slowly, they looked around the room. The low-beamed ceiling was dark with age and years of smoke from the blackened fireplace that took up most of the side wall. The bar itself was highly polished oak with carved panels along the back, depicting stags locked in deadly combat. The light from the low hanging brass lamps, hanging from the rafter above it, glinted off a row of glasses dangling from a long wooden rack.

At a signal from the barman, one of the card players scrambled to his feet and left the pub hurriedly. Not more than five minutes later two men entered.

They were the youngest men they’d seen in the village so far. One was small and dark, while the other was tall and sandy haired. Both were dressed in jeans and t-shirts and, if their swagger was any indication, they considered themselves the catch of the night.

“Oh…oh! Would be stud alert!” Meg whispered. “They make the word
cocksure
a double entendre. Let’s hope they’re looking for their girl friends and leave us alone.”

But they weren’t that lucky…they made straight for their table.

“Care if we join you ladies? You seem to be here all by your lonesome and look like you could use a little male company. I’m Vic and this here is John,” the blond stranger drawled, as he pulled up another chair and plunked down.

“Apparently, we have no choice,
Vic.
That’s a Texas drawl you have there. What are you doing way up here in the wilds of Scotland?” Charlie asked with a smile that she hoped seemed friendly. These two galoots might be useful. There were a whole lot of holes in the sketchy information they had about the place, but there was only so much a girl could stand even for a good cause and these guys had already pushed a lot of her ‘wrong’ buttons.

“Yep. Texas it is, though I call these parts home now a days,” he told her with a slow smile she just knew he thought was sexy. “And just what are you two pretty ladies doing here, where nobody ever comes?”