… who had begged him to set down his arms. To rectify his war with Cromwell. Who had warned him that … there could be but a very tragic ending to it all.
1
“Imagine, if you will, the great laird of the castle! The MacNiall himself, famed and infamous, a figure to draw both fear and awe. Ahead of his time, he stood nearly six foot three, hair as black as pitch, eyes the silver gray of steel, capable of glinting like the devil’s own. Some say those orbs burned with the very fires of hell. His arms were knotted with muscle from the wielding of his sword, his ax, whatever weapon fell his way in the midst of battle. It was said that he could take down a dozen men in the opening moments of a fray. Passionate for king and country, he would fight any man who spoke to wrong either. Passionate in love, his anger could rage just as deeply against a woman, if he felt himself betrayed.
“Imagine, then, being his beloved, his bride, his wife, burdened with the most treacherous of advisors, men determined to find a way to bring down a man so great in battle, to further their own aims. Imagine her knowing that she had been betrayed, maligned, and that her laird husband was returning from the blood of the battlefield … intent upon a greater revenge. There … there! He would come to the great doors that gave entry to the hall.”
Toni stood at the railing of the second-floor balcony, pointing to the massive double doors, high on sheer exhilaration. A crowd of awed tourists were gathered below her in the great hall entry, staring up at her.
This was really too good, far more than they had imagined they could accomplish when she and the others had set their wild dream about procuring a run-down castle and creating a very special entertainment complex out of it. So far, David and Kevin had rallied their crowd magnificently by playing a pair of hapless minstrels in the reign of James IV, when the current structure had been built upon the Norman bastion begun by thirteenth-century kings. Ryan and Gina had done a fantastic job playing the daughter of the laird and the stable boy with whom she had fallen tragically in love during the reign of Mary, Queen of Scots. Thayer—the wild card in their sextet—had proved himself more than capable of portraying a laird accused of witchcraft in the time of James VI. And they had all run around as kitchen wenches or servants for one another.
Beyond a doubt, the crowd was into the show. Below, they waited. So Toni continued.
“Alas, it was right here, as I stand now, where, tragically, Annalise met with her husband, that great man of inestimable prowess and, unfortunately, jealousy and rage. Believing the stories regarding his beautiful wife, he curled his fingers around her throat, squeezing the life from her before tossing her callously down the staircase in a fit of uncontrollable wrath. Since he was the great laird of the castle, his servants helped him dispose of the body, and Laird MacNiall went on to fight another day. He was, however, to receive his own just rewards. Though he had bested many, and countless troops had been slaughtered beneath his leadership, Cromwell was to seize the man at last. He received the ultimate punishment: being castrated, disemboweled, decapitated, dismembered and dispersed. His pieces were then gathered by his descendants, and he now lies buried deep within the crypt of these very stone walls! Ah, yes, his mortal remains are buried here. But it’s said that his soul wanders, not just around the castle itself, but through the surrounding hills and braes, and he is known to haunt the forest just beyond the ruins of the old town wall.”
Her words were met with a collective “Ooh!” that was most encouraging. Toni flashed a smile to Gina, hovering in a room off the second-floor landing, watching. Any minute now, Ryan would come riding into the main hall.
“They say he roams his lands still, hunting for his wife, anxious to see her face, filled with love and lust … and a fury seizes him each time he would hold her in all her spectral beauty!”
She glanced at Gina, frowning. Ryan should have made his appearance by now.
Gina looked at her and shrugged, then lifted her hands, indicating that Toni should finish up, however she could manage.
“That night the great laird of the castle came bursting through his doorway!”
As if on cue, a fantastic flash of lightning suddenly tore through the darkness, followed by a massive roar of thunder.
The doors burst open … and a man appeared. Toni inhaled on a sharp breath of disbelief. It wasn’t Ryan. The man was on the biggest black stallion Toni had ever seen. She thought that the prancing animal might breathe fire at any instant.
And the rider … He was damp from the rain, but his hair appeared to be as black as pitch. And though he was atop the giant horse, he appeared massive himself. If his eyes had glowed like the devil’s just then, she didn’t think that she could have been any more surprised. He was the great Laird Bruce MacNiall, the warrior in mantle and kilt, just as she had described him.
Again lightning flashed and thunder rolled and roared.
Toni let out a startled scream, and a collective squawking rose from the audience.
Perfect! Toni thought. It was time to announce that the laird had come home, in all his glory—and wrath. But for once in her life, words failed her. Like the others, she was mesmerized, watching, afraid to breathe, thinking she must have conjured a ghost.
He dismounted from the stallion with such ease that anyone there with a question would still be in the dark as to what a Scotsman wore beneath his kilt. He looked around the great hall with dark, narrowed eyes and a jaw of concrete.
“Who is running this charade?” he demanded harshly.
The spellbound crowd still seemed to believe it was all part of an act.
David, down with the crowd, jumped to life. “The lady at the top of the stairs!” he informed the stranger, pointing up to Toni. Then he did his best to vacate the place as quickly as possible. “And there we are, at the end of the show. Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for your attention!” he said.
The crowd burst into applause, staring at the newcomer as they did so.
The stranger’s scowl deepened.
“Thank you again,” David said. “And now let’s adjourn into the kitchen, where we’ll have the promised tea and scones!”
As Toni watched the crowd disappear, she heard Gina whispering frantically to her. “What is it? What the hell …?” She stepped from the bedroom, moving out on the landing. “Is it Ryan? What on earth has he done now?”
“It’s not Ryan,” Toni murmured beneath her breath. Kevin had followed David and the crowd into the kitchen, but not before looking up the stairs and glaring at her, lifting his hands in a “what the hell …?” motion himself. Thayer must have gone out to help Ryan, since it appeared that Toni and Gina were alone with the irate stranger, who was now slowly striding his way up the stairs.
“Oh, God!” Gina breathed. “You said you made him up!”
“I did!”
“Then who or what is walking up the stairs? Never mind—I can tell you. It’s one very angry man.”
He was angry? Suddenly Toni, who had been so stunned and awed herself, was angry, as well. Who the hell was he, charging in on them? They had a lease option on the castle, and whatever he might be, Great Britain had laws, and he surely had no right here.
“Hello,” she said, determinedly putting ice and strength into her voice. “Can
