Chisholm Read online

  Tessa’s breath hitched as she glanced at the car. Too far away. They’d never make it. The only thing she had to defend Emily or herself with, was the house key and her car keys. She curled the fingers of her left hand around the big house key, ready to wield its ragged end if necessary, and poked the car ignition key between the second and third fingers of her right hand, like she’d seen someone do in a movie. She prayed for the courage to jab his eyes, if necessary.

  Her stomach fluttered. Could she actually do that?

  What was he doing here? Had he followed them? But from where? She looked around for his car, or any mode of transportation. Nothing.

  His clothes, his kilt and shirt looked old and decidedly worn. A vagrant, perhaps? She hadn’t anticipated that to be one of the problems she’d face, if they decided to stay. He really didn’t look well. But she couldn’t let that influence her actions until she knew his intentions.

  Even though the man’s elbows were propped on his knees, his head in his hands, in a completely unthreatening manner, she marched forward with all the bravado she could muster. Which wasn’t much.

  “This is private property, mister.” She winced at the tremor in her voice. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Darach’s head buzzed as he waited for the dizziness to fade. Eyes closed, he focused instead on the long-forgotten feeling of dragging breath into his lungs and pushing it back out. The entire process took far more effort than he remembered.

  But what captured his attention was the cold sharpness of the air. He’d forgotten what a wonderfully delicious sensation that was. He grinned and raised his face, eyes closed, to the heavens, letting the feathery snowflakes land and melt on his face. His warm face!

  He wanted to laugh out loud. He couldnae remember anything, ever, feeling so good.

  Finally, the scents of dew-dampened grass, bark, leaf, and rich, moist earth, entered his consciousness, followed by the moldy odor of dead and decaying vegetation. After centuries of nothing, ’twas almost overwhelming.

  No’ quite what he’d expected Hell to smell like. Or sound like.

  Finally, he opened his eyes to see where Soni had sent him. The ghost of a long-forgotten garden surrounded an equally neglected house, in direct contrast to the nearby call of a bird and cattle lowing, in the distance. The parallel of something out of the past colliding with the present was no’ lost on him.

  He dropped his gaze to the ground, watching the snowflakes build, one atop the other and puzzled over Soni’s decision to send him here. She’d mentioned fate and circumstance already in play. What could she possibly have meant? Was all this intended as a torment, mayhap to remind him what mortality felt like, before takin’ the mortal sensations away, forever?

  Sounds of outrage, filtered through his thoughts, becoming louder, clearer.

  “I asked you what you’re doing here!”

  His head snapped up. From his vantage point, the tall, raven-haired woman striding toward him looked to be an interesting foe, indeed. But no’ a terribly threatening one.

  Quickly, he glanced around, seeing nothing that posed the slightest danger, save the lovely lass with the long legs, eating up the ground between them.

  She stopped just out of reach. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Och! American! He recognized the accent from observing the American tourists who’d visited the moor. ’Twas a bonny one, to be sure. More so, he imagined, if she’d stop scowling long enough for him to get a better look.

  Though this wasnae the moor, he was sure ’twas still Scotland. The land looked and smelled like Scotland. After nearly three centuries on her soil, he felt confident he’d ken the difference, if ’twere no’.

  ’Twas most definitely no’ Hell, either.

  Wherever he’d landed, he was positive he wasnae supposed to be here. The lass kenned it, too. He started to rise when she pointed the tip of an old rusty key at him.

  “Stay right where you are!”

  “Aye,” he said, sinking back onto the bench, grateful for the order. His legs were a bit shaky, yet. “I mean ye no harm, lass.”

  “Then why were you hiding?” she demanded.

  “Hiding?” he repeated, distracted by her remarkable eyes. Large and intensely green, they were. Like the ferns that grew beside the stream, back home.

  “Moments ago, this bench was empty. And mere seconds later, here you are. So, you must have been hiding. You couldn’t have scaled the wall or come down the walk that fast.” She pointed her absurd key at him, again. “So, for the last time, who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  “May I stand? ’Twould be awkward and in poor taste tae introduce m’self sittin’ down.”

  “No.”

  “Well then,” he dipped his head in deference. “Please forgive me if I dinnae make a proper bow. I am Darach Chisholm. At yer service, lass.”

  “And?” She wielded her key once more. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…uh…” he looked around, searching for a plausible reason to be sitting here.

  Blast ye, Soncerae, for dumping me here, unwarned.

  “I’m…looking for…uh…employment?”

  He nearly groaned aloud. What made him blurt that out? ’Twas doubtful the lass was looking for a crofter, or a two-day warrior with dubious sword-wielding skills. And, since his experience dinnae go beyond that, he’d only the brawn of his back to offer should she actually believe him. But he’d already put his foot in it, so he’d have to play it through.

  “Are ye hirin’, by chance?”

  Chapter Three

  Tessa took a closer look at the man sitting on her bench. His kilt and accessories looked so authentic he could have sprung from another time. Every detail, right down to the aged leather cord he’d used to tie the top of his shoulder-length hair back, painted a picture of a centuries-old highland warrior.

  The wardrobe department for a movie might go to such lengths to create a genuine-looking reproduction, or a reenactment group, but why would a transient laborer go to such extremes? Maybe he thought the clothing gave him an edge—as if he needed one with his looks. Why would someone like him—size, strength, ruggedly handsome face; the whole package—need to beg for work? Especially out here?

  So, what was he doing here?

  Tessa pinned him with a suspicious glower. “We’re six miles from the nearest town and I don’t see a vehicle. Are you telling me you walked here just to ask for a job?”

  The man appeared as confused as she. She tipped her head and studied him through narrowed eyes. “This estate has stood empty for years. You couldn’t possibly have known anyone was around, so what made you think you’d find work here? If, that’s really the reason you’re trespassing on private property?”

  He shrugged. “I dinnae actually plan tae come tae this exact house. I’ll no’ be in this area more than a couple o’ days, so ’twas no use seeking permanent work in the village. I’d hoped tae find a place that would trade a meal and a dry bed for some odd jobs and thought tae have better luck with that, out here…somewhere. When I saw ye, I decided tae take a chance. But I dinnae wish tae interrupt yer conversation with the wee lass.” He nodded toward the house. “I’m terribly sorry if I startled ye.”

  “Aunt Tess?”

  Tess whirled around. “I told you to stay put.”

  “I know,” Emily replied, “but…” she motioned Tessa closer. “…is he hurt?” she whispered.

  “No,” Tessa answered, keeping her voice low and her eyes on the stranger. “He’s looking for a couple of days of work.”

  Emily brightened. “Cool! Maybe we’ll need help with something.”

  Tessa sighed and tugged her niece a few feet away, so they couldn’t be overheard. “It’s not that simple, Em. We don’t know anything about him. You just don’t invite strangers into your home. Besides, we don’t even know if we’re staying.”

  “I know, but…” she peeked around Tessa, at the man. “We are g
oing inside the house, and he looks so cold.” She gave Tessa a pleading look. “I’ll bet he’s hungry, too. Couldn’t we at least let him get out of the snow for a little while?”

  The imploring tone of those last words had the effect she was sure Em was going for. Tessa sighed. She wouldn’t hesitate to let a stray dog in, out of the weather, so how could she do less for this vagrant?

  “All right. But just for a little while. But be careful. We don’t know anything about him.”

  Emily grinned, and waved the man over before Tessa could stop her.

  “Just a minute,” Tessa warned, as the man stood and wobbled a bit before finding his balance. He really did seem rather weak. Perhaps Emily was right. Maybe he just needed a break from the weather and something to eat. “You can come inside and warm up, but as soon as the storm passes, you’re on your way. But I warn you,” she brandished her big skeleton key, again. “Don’t try anything.” “You won’t like the consequences!”

  “Aye, lass. I thank ye.” She watched him struggle to contain a smile, without success.

  “I have other…weapons,” Tessa quickly informed him.

  This time his grin was not only unmistakable but irritatingly attractive. “I assure ye, lass. Ye’ll have no’ need o’ ’em.”

  The swift, unbidden urge to see that smile again, annoyed her. “You go ahead of us,” she said, stepping back and pulling Em with her.

  “I’m Emily,” Em grinned up at him as he came toward them. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Darach,” he replied, giving her a formal bow. “Thank ye for invitin’ me intae yer home.”

  Before Tessa could stop her, Emily had fallen into step with the stranger, slipping her small hand inside his large one. Tessa noticed his small jolt of surprise, then watched him relax and gently curl his large fingers around hers.

  “That’s my aunt Tessa,” Emily offered, still gazing in awe at the man trying awkwardly to match his long strides to Em’s shorter ones. “This is my lots-and-lots-of-greats-grandpa’s house. We’re going to make it into a B&B.”

  Behind them, Tessa groaned. Em had no filter. Who knew what personal information she’d blurt out next?

  “What is a B&B?” The man asked Em, his brow furrowed.

  Tessa’s brow scrunched as well. Where had this guy been, that he didn’t know what a B&B was? They were all over Scotland.

  “Well,” Emily’s eyes narrowed in concentration, “it’s sort of like if a house and a hotel get married and then they have a kid. You stay there like in a hotel, but you get breakfast and stuff like when you’re home, only you don’t have to cook it. It’s called a Bed-and-Breakfast. I’m going to make banana-bread muffins for it. And Aunt Tess is a really good cook. Her omelets are so good you don’t even care that she stuff’s ’em full of veggies and junk.”

  “That’s a very worthy recommendation,” Darach nodded, as they reached the alcove.

  Tessa moved to the door and held out the key. “Do you want to do the honors, Em?”

  “Gosh, it’s heavy,” Emily said, fumbling a little as she tried to insert the key into the lock. Finally, after a couple of tries, they heard a loud click. Em pressed the latch and pushed, but the door didn’t budge. Tessa joined her and they both put their shoulders to the task. Still nothing.

  “May I?” Darach asked.

  They moved back and Darach applied his bulk. After a couple of moments, the door gave a light pop, shifted, and opened in a flourish of dust.

  The cavernous cold inside seemed chillier than the temperature outside. Stirred-up dust motes floated in the shafts of light stealing through cracks in the boarded-up windows.

  Timidly, Tessa stepped inside what must have been a grand entry hall at one time. The ceiling rose two stories where a large candelabrum had presumably hung.

  “Wow, cool,” Emily exclaimed, running for the broad, curved stairway. “It’s like Beauty and the Beast’s house.”

  “Stop, Em!” Tessa called. “We don’t know how safe those stairs are.”

  “Beast?” Darach echoed, squinting into the shadows.

  Emily reluctantly stopped on the bottom step but lingered to trace her fingers along the curved volute at the end of the handrail.

  Tessa shivered and pulled her coat tighter. “So much for thinking it would be warmer in here.”

  “Mayhap we can fix that. Surely, there’s a fireplace, somewhere,” Darach said, moving through tall double doors, into the room on their right.

  “Come with me, Em,” Tessa said, following Darach into what must have been a library. Her sigh of pleasure was instant.

  The room would have been stunning in its day. Banks of ornate shelves rose to the high ceiling on either side of a huge fireplace, all unfortunately showing the ravages of time. Wood panels lined the walls beside a wide bank of windows. The view from here into the garden would have been lovely, easing the pressures of the day.

  She pictured her ancestor working behind a large, rectangular desk with two wingback chairs facing the fireplace.

  But, if it were hers, she’d choose something lighter. Softer. Working on her illustrations in here, with all this light, would be amazing.

  Although this room couldn’t be more perfect for B&B guests to enjoy a relaxing evening, she couldn’t shake the greedy desire to make it her own. After all, she’d need to continue working to support Emily and herself.

  Her last job had garnered recommendations to two successful graphic novelists. Once she and Em were settled, she’d need to pursue those contracts, and seek others in order to provide a steady income stream.

  Thankfully, as a concept illustrator, she could work from anywhere, or she couldn’t have tried to give Emily this new start away from the stark emptiness of her childhood home and all it represented.

  Six months into the convoluted process of legal guardianship, estate settlements and finances, Tessa’s head was still spinning. What money there might be from Emily’s parent’s estate must be set aside for Em’s education. What came from Tessa’s parent’s estate, once everything was settled, would fund part of the renovation costs if they decided to go ahead with the bed and breakfast. Tessa’s savings would supply another portion, but it was up to her to earn the rest.

  Regardless of the hoops she’d need to jump through, she intended to provide a secure, healthy and happy future for Emily. There’d been far too much tragedy in her young life.

  Shaking off the melancholy, Tessa walked around the room, touching the mantel, the walls, and realized it was more what she felt in this room, than what she saw, or imagined, that called to her. She was sure, at some point in history, someone in her family had made this room their sanctuary. They’d been happy here and she wanted to bring that back. A gift to the house of her ancestors.

  “What are you looking for?” Emily asked, trying to mimic Darach as he knelt on one knee inside the huge fireplace, to peer up the chimney.

  “Sunlight,” he replied.

  “Why?”

  “So, I’ll ken if there’re bird’s nests, or animals or parts o’ the chimney that might’ve caved in, that could block smoke from getting out, if I build a fire.”

  “What if there’s babies in the nests?” Em looked horrified. “You’d cook them!”

  Darach shifted his broad shoulders out of the fireplace but stayed on his knee to speak to Emily. “Dinnae fash, lassie. There aren’t any nests, and if there were, we’d get ’em out first.”

  “How?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “With yer help, o’course,” he smiled and touched her cheek, leaving a black smudge. “I ken if I had ye helping me, we could do most anything.”

  “Let’s do something now,” she suggested, excitement lighting up her wide, brown eyes.

  Darach nodded. “Aye, then. Shall we look for something tae burn before that icicle on yer nose gets any bigger?”

  Emily’s hand went straight to her nose to check, before giggling. “You’re teasing.”

  He shook his
head, his expression serious. “Nae, lass. I’m an expert at icicles. I can tell when one’s about tae form. So, let’s see what we can do about a fire tae warm ye, and yer Aunt Tessa.”

  When he shifted his gaze to Tess, that disarming smile from earlier was back. She felt an odd jolt. Like an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. She looked away, determined to be indifferent.

  A handsome face and a great smile don’t automatically imply trustworthiness. Just the opposite, more than likely.

  But even logic couldn’t discount the traitorous tingle along her skin.

  “Do ye ken what a treasure hunt is, lass?” Darach asked the child.

  “Yes.” The light in Emily’s eyes dimmed before she ducked her head and fussed with a glove. “I used to play it all the time, with my mom, before…” Her breath hitched and she took several shaky breaths. “She’d hide things and I’d find them. Sometimes my dad played, too, but he wasn’t as good at hiding stuff.”

  Darach gave Tess a quick questioning look, before understanding and a sense of helplessness filled his eyes.

  Tessa choked back the image of her sister, laughing and playing abandonedly with Emily. She’d adored her daughter. Both she and Tom had been amazing parents. How could she ever be half the mother to Emily, Allison had been?

  Tessa drew Em into a tight hug. “Those are very special memories, honey. Hold on to them.” She pulled back and wiped the sooty smudge from the little girl’s cheek. “But I think Darach is talking about a different kind of treasure hunt. We could be a team, if you’d like,” she smiled, trying to put the excitement back in Em’s eyes. “We’re looking for…wood for the fire?” She turned to Darach, noting the concern pinching his face.

  “Oh! Aye,” he said with a little too much enthusiasm. “Some wood. Or, anything else that will burn. And the reward will be…” he looked around the room before he shrugged. “…warm noses?” he laughed. “Can I count on your help, lass?”