Waiting for the Laird Page 10

  “I dunno. But we live in Scotland, so we should have a big Scottish dog, shouldn’t we?”

  She set the knife aside and concentrated on her son. “And where have you seen a big Scottish dog to make you want one?”

  “Um, I dunno. Around.” Alex shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  Sure, around. “Where around?” In the old wing, perhaps?

  “Just around. Maybe one of the kids at school has one.”

  She crossed her arms. “Maybe? You’re not sure?”

  “No.” He went from giving her his best wide-eyed “poor me, I have no puppy” face to studying the floor.

  “We have a cat.” And maybe a mouse. “We don’t need a dog.”

  Alex straightened. “We do!”

  Lara leaned a hip against the counter. “Why not a little dog?” This ought to be good.

  “Because…a big dog would be better. And it would protect us, right?”

  Did Alex think they needed protection? “And who would take care of this big Scottish dog if we got one?”

  “We would. Amy and me.” Alex hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating, no doubt, his absent sister.

  “Amy and I.”

  “Amy and I.”

  Lara slid the potatoes into the pan and reached for a garlic bulb. “Like you take care of your room? And your sister’s is even worse. I don’t think so.” She freed a few cloves and smashed them with the flat of the knife to remove the skin, then started mincing. Their scent filled the air. Garlic was supposed to keep vampires away. Did it work on ghosts?

  “We’ll do better. We promise.”

  She paused and gave her son a direct look. “Do you think Amy wants you making promises for her without her knowledge and consent?”

  “What’s consent?”

  Just when she thought Alex was turning into a genius diabolical man-child, he turned back into a nine-year-old boy again. “Agreement.”

  “She agrees.”

  “Oh? How do you know that?” She mixed the minced garlic with the potatoes, some olive oil and salt, then slid the pan into the oven.

  “We talked about this right after…anyway, she knew you’d ask who’d take care of it and want us to keep our rooms clean, too.”

  After what? She let that slide. “If you both knew I’d ask, why aren’t you doing it already? You could have already convinced me you could handle the responsibility. Now you have to do better for a while and wait for me to notice.”

  Alex’s face fell. “Really? We can’t get a dog and then keep our rooms cleaner?”

  Lara shook her head, biting back a smile. “Nope. You have to prove to me you can handle the responsibility. Then I’ll think about it.”

  “But…”

  “Dinner’s in an hour. Is your homework finished?”

  “Not yet,” Alex muttered, looking down again.

  “Then I suggest you get busy.”

  Alex hurried away. Lara watched him go, torn between the urge to laugh at how cute he’d been and worry about where the idea had come from for a big dog. He’d just confirmed her suspicion that he and his sister had seen Fergus. Whether they’d seen the painting upstairs, as she suspected, or, as Alex had clearly hoped she’d believe, just a friend’s dog—which was also possible, she supposed—the twins had apparently decided no Scottish estate was complete without its resident deerhound, and Alex had been elected to broach the subject with her.

  Lara washed the oil and garlic off her hands, then pulled a stool out from under the granite island’s bar and settled on to it to think. No doubt, if they stayed here once the renovation was done, the subject would come up again. But the idea of getting a dog—any dog, any sized dog—meant commitment. Permanence. Putting down real roots. A dog—a real one, not a ghost—in the house implied this was home and always would be.

  She wasn’t ready for that kind of no-going-back decision. Since the notion had occurred to her, she’d sort of given herself until the renovation was finished to be totally, utterly certain she and the twins would stay in Scotland. As much as she missed her family and California, she was still fascinated with Scotland, its customs and its people. The twins were doing well in a good school. That was very important to her.

  And she was getting more and more fascinated with a certain Scotsman. She’d best be careful. Getting involved with him could result in a longer commitment than she’d ever have to make to a dog.

  Chapter Nine

  On Monday, Rollo and his crew arrived early to work on the south wall’s footings. By the time Lara returned from taking the kids to school, shouting and banging and motor noises filled the air.

  Caitlin showed up a few minutes later. “I hope they’re not going to keep that up all day,” she complained as she dropped a bag of scones on Lara’s kitchen table.

  Lara poured tea and shook her head. “We won’t get much done if they do.”

  She and Caitlin intended to finish the rough cataloging today. They still had to photograph about half of the artifacts on the top floor. Lara would do most of that, while Caitlin made notes describing the details of each item.

  Lara suspected, based on Caitlin’s expression as she examined each item and some comments mumbled to herself, Caitlin already knew enough about the contents of those rooms to piece together the story of why they were there. Which should give her some idea why they had been walled up in the first place. But so far, Caitlin wasn’t talking, even to answer Lara’s direct questions. Caitlin kept putting her off by saying she needed to consult with this person or that. Her hesitation might be a legitimate—maybe she wasn’t certain about what they were finding. Or it could be a well-intentioned ploy to keep Lara from getting her hopes up. Either way, if she’d shared any speculations with Ian, well, he wasn’t talking either.

  Ian. Lara sighed and let her attention wander to a much more pleasant topic. He was wonderful at the market Saturday. Not only had he carried her shopping basket, he kept the twins entertained and out of trouble. Once Ian joined them, they’d stuck close to him, and she’d been spared their buy me this duet.

  Best of all had been the looks Ian gave her over their heads. Though he kept the conversation light, there was something in his eyes. A hunger she hadn’t seen since the early years of her marriage to Angus. Those looks were exciting, and a little frightening, promising that later, when they were alone, Ian had things to say…and do…just to her. She couldn’t wait.

  Too bad Alex came down with a tummy ache, or dinner and the rest of her evening might have been much more fun. Instead of spending at least part of the night in Ian’s arms, she’d spent most of it cleaning up after and comforting her violently sick son. He’d finally emptied out and fallen asleep about three. But between concern for Alex, memories of Ian’s heated glances, and regret for the missed opportunity to find out if she was reading him right, Lara tossed and turned the rest of the night. Thankfully, Alex seemed completely over whatever it was the next morning. After crackers and tea, he’d demanded juice and a scone, then more water. By then he’d been fine. Amy never came down with Alex’s affliction, thank goodness!

  That afternoon, Lara had taken a nap and dreamed of Ian. He’d been a very naughty man. She’d awakened sweating and achingly empty where, in her dream, Ian had touched and licked and suckled, driving her mad until he’d taken her with one powerful thrust that left her gasping. Lara could only hope the reality, if it ever happened, would be half as good as she’d dreamed. Her sex life with Angus had been routine for years—satisfying, but a bit, frankly, boring. She almost giggled when “thinking of England” popped into her head. Fantasizing about Ian reminded her how good it could be to take a man to her bed. She had a feeling Ian would never allow staring at the ceiling.

  Her core clenched, and she dragged her attention back to Caitlin, who still complained about the racket Rollo’s crew was making.

  “They’ll scare old Fergus right out of wherever he’s hiding,” Caitlin declared.

  Lara’s j
aw dropped. “Fergus? Do you think the ghost is Fergus? A hound? Is that possible?” She shook her head. “What am I saying? I’m talking like the ghost is real.”

  Caitlin laughed. “Maybe it is. And if it is, maybe Fergus became a ghost. I think old Fergus can go wherever he likes. You said you thought the twins saw him and chased him back into the old wing after Ian broke in there. You’ll see him in here, sooner or later.”

  “I’d rather see him in the old wing—or not at all.”

  “Ach, the ghost is not supposed to be a bad sort.”

  “Really? You should have heard the tale the ironmonger told Alex at the market. The ghost is the laird’s most loyal warrior, and he’s got a broadsword twice as big as Alex and a battle cry that’ll freeze yer blood. Ugh. Now that I recall his story, I’m not sure we should go back in there.”

  “The tale he told you is crap,” Caitlin snorted, rolling the ‘r’ and giving the word an extra dollop of disgust. “According to the legend, the ghost won’t do anything at all, unless the laird wills it. Likely he’s just curious, having been closed up over there for so long.”

  “And after all these years, who is the laird he’d obey?”

  Caitlin drummed her fingers on the tabletop and stared off into space. In a moment, she stopped, glanced at Lara and told her, “Why, you, I imagine, since you own this place now.”

  “So if I will the ghost to go away? To move on to wherever ghosts go when they finish haunting—or whatever they’re supposed to do while still on this dimension…?”

  “I dinna ken. That might be the one thing not possible. After all, we really don’t know who or what it is or why it’s still here, do we?”

  “I can’t believe I’m sitting here having a serious conversation about a ghost. Maybe even a ghost dog, for crying out loud.”

  “Not just a dog. A hound, he is,” Caitlin corrected, “and a fierce and proud one at that, judging by the painting we found. Much loved and respected, I’d wager. Maybe that’s why it’s a friendly ghost.”

  Lara grunted. “Is there such a thing?”

  Caitlin smiled. “You’re in Scotland, lass. Many things are possible here that are believed to be impossible anywhere else.”

  Lara flinched from a sudden vision of the stag staring at the old wing before bolting into the woods. Deerhounds were bred to chase and bring down deer. In hindsight, as weird as it seemed, Lara couldn’t help but think somehow that stag had been aware of Fergus’s presence. “Do you think the ghost…Fergus…will do anything on Halloween?” She shuddered.

  “I can’t say.” Caitlin shrugged and finished her tea. “But as laird, I expect you can.” She stood. “Come on, let’s try to get some work done.”

  A loud thump, followed by Rollo swearing, got them moving.

  Lara stood and picked up her camera. “Maybe it’ll be quieter up there.”

  ****

  Ian arrived at Cairn Dubh in time to see the bucket of a bobcat, which was supposed to be trenching around the outside of the old wing, overextend and bang into the wall. Ian jumped out of his car and jogged over, waving his arms to catch the operator’s attention.

  “What in hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The machine made so much racket, Ian was certain the man could not hear a word he said, but he must’ve read his lips. He gave a two fingered salute and backed the bobcat away from the wall. Rollo appeared from around the corner and rapped on the driver’s door. The driver cut the motor.

  “Easy there, lad,” Rollo said, his voice loud in the sudden silence. “We’re trying to preserve the grand old thing, not knock it down.”

  “Sorry, mate,” the man answered. “The track rolled over a buried rock and shifted the whole damn ’cat.”

  Ian narrowed his eyes at Rollo, who told the man, “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Pay attention to what you’re doing.”

  The man nodded, restarted the engine, and went back to work.

  Ian and Rollo watched him start to clear some ground outside of the existing trench to expose whatever had caught the ’cat’s track, then Rollo beckoned for Ian to follow him.

  Once they got away from the source of the noise, Rollo pointed out the scar the bobcat had left on the outside of the north wall. “Opposite here is where we found those loose slate tiles. Anything look amiss on the outside to you?”

  “Now that you mention it, it looks like the wall has been repaired right about there.”

  “Maybe we should do a little digging on the other side of this wall.”

  “Agree. The floor was disturbed for a reason.”

  They both grabbed shovels and a pry bar out of the pile of well-used tools in Rollo’s lorry. Inside the structure, the thick stone walls muted, somewhat, the roar of the bobcat outside. He recognized Lara and Caitlin’s voices bouncing down the stairs. Their echo distorted them enough, he could not understand what they were saying, but hearing Lara’s voice warmed him.

  Rollo led him to the spot where the slate floor tiles lay askew. “Let’s lift these away,” he said and propped his shovel against the nearby wall.

  Ian did the same and bent to work the pry bar under the edge of the stone. With some effort, it lifted. “It’s a bloody good thing these aren’t any larger, or we’d need equipment in here to move them,” he huffed as Rollo got the other side up and they propped the stone against the wall, out of their way.

  “I’d say we need to remove these three,” Rollo pointed out, “and we’ll have enough room to trench along the outer wall.”

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  They moved the second stone and started on the third when the lasses came down the stairs.

  “We thought we heard voices down here,” Caitlin said.

  “You found us,” Ian replied, his gaze on Lara. She smiled, then frowned at the exposed dirt behind him.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ian assumed the answer was obvious. “We’re going to see what’s under here.”

  “Oooh,” Caitlin cooed, “What if it’s treasure?” Then she laughed.

  Ian agreed with the laugh. They had enough treasure upstairs.

  “Most likely a trash midden, if ye ask me,” Rollo interjected.

  Rollo had seen all of the hidden rooms’ contents—he’d strung the lights in them and on the rest of the top two floors—but Ian was not concerned he’d gossip about what he’d seen, or about anything they found. And with a treasure hidden upstairs, Ian doubted they’d find another one buried here.

  “Well?” Caitlin tapped her foot. “Get on with it.”

  Ian grabbed a shovel and offered it to her. “Why don’t you start?”

  While Lara snickered, Caitlin wiped her hands as if brushing off dirt. “Nay, laddie. Digging is man’s work.”

  Ian grinned at Lara, then pushed the shovel toward his cousin again. “Are ye sure? There might be gold and diamonds.”

  “Or medieval indoor plumbing. No thank ye. Besides, Lara and I still have aplenty to do upstairs. We just came down to see what you were up to. But give us a shout if ye find anything interesting.”

  Ian stabbed the point of the shovel in the dirt. “Aye, we’ll be sure to do that, we will.”

  Caitlin tossed her head and waved for Lara to follow, then headed back upstairs.

  “You can stay if you like,” Ian told her. Most lasses liked to watch a man work, after all. If it helped Lara act on her attraction to him, he’d dig all the way to China.

  “I’d better go help your cousin,” she demurred. “But I can’t wait to see what you find.”

  “If anything…”

  “Yes, well. I’ll see you later. Rollo.” Lara nodded to his companion and turned away.

  Rollo nodded and started to loosen the dirt around the edges.

  Once Lara was far enough up the stairs he could no longer see her, Ian dug in beside him.

  Rollo glanced at the stairs, then back at Ian, cocked a speculative eyebrow and grinned.

  “Knock it off,” Ian warned him. />
  They worked side by side in silence, careful in case they did encounter anything of interest, removing the soil layer by layer. Two feet down, Rollo crouched and smoothed away dirt and crumbled mortar a few inches from the front facade of the wall. Then he stilled and rocked back on his heels. “Ach, bollocks. Take a look and tell me what you see here.”

  Ian crouched beside him and brushed at the dirt, exposing more of what had caught Rollo’s eye. “Christ, is that what I think it is?”

  “Aye, I’m wondering the same, lad. And if it’s human, we’ve got a problem.”

  “Surely they didn’t bury some poor unfortunate soul in here.”

  “We won’t ken until we move more of this dirt.”

  Ian huffed out a breath. “Let’s clear a bit more over this way. If it’s an animal, maybe we’ll find a skull pretty quickly.”

  As they worked, Ian found squared-off border stones running vertically and realized the skeleton had been placed in a walled-up portal that must have once been a ground floor doorway to the outside. He pointed them out to Rollo. “What do you want to bet the rock the bobcat got caught on was a threshold stone just outside of here.”

  “I won’t take that bet. I think you’re right. We can check outside later.”

  They dug some more, moving away from the wall about a foot, and found a long leg bone. “We need to lift the next slate,” Ian said, pointing. “The body seems to lie in that direction, toward the wall.”

  They moved the slate. Now they knew what they were digging for, they made quick work of excavating and carefully exposed the profile of the rest of the skeleton.

  “Holy Mary,” Rollo muttered. “Someone buried an animal in this room. That’s better than a person, I guess.”

  The girls came down the stairs chatting about lunch, and Ian called them over.

  “What do ye make of this?”

  “That looks like a coyote or wolf’s skull,” Lara announced, bending over to study the visible bone. “We studied them in a zoology class I took in college.”

  Caitlin crouched in front of her and pointed a finger at the midline of the skeleton. “And look at how carefully it’s stretched out and positioned. That’s meticulous work.”