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  “What kind of room was this?” Emily asked, moving closer to touch the mural.

  “My first guess would be a morning room,” Tessa mused. “The light would be lovely in here with the window boards removed. I’ll bet you can see that big tree and bench from these windows.”

  A perfect sitting room for guests, she reasoned, leaving the library available as her private space. She sighed with pleasure. “So far, so good. Let’s go scout out the kitchen and see what we have to work with.”

  “Okay.” Emily turned away from the mural. “I hope there’s a room big enough for a huuuuge table.” She held her arms out as far as they would stretch.

  “Absolutely,” Tessa laughed.

  Several empty, dusty, non-descript rooms later, they walked into a large room perfect for Emily’s proposed table.

  “This is it,” Em declared, running to the middle to spin in dizzying circles, arms flung wide.

  Several small flurries of dust swirled around her, rising to trigger a sneezing fit. Odd, Tessa thought. One small child shouldn’t be able to disturb that much dust.

  “Let’s move on so we can get back to the library,” Tessa said huddling inside her jacket. “For some reason, it’s suddenly a lot colder in here than when we started. Hopefully, Darach’s had some luck with the fire.”

  “It is colder,” Emily agreed. “Maybe Jack Frost lives here and likes to keep things really cold.” She smiled up at Tessa. “He won’t like Darach building a fire, will he?”

  “There goes that imagination again,” Tess teased, heading to the next room. “Hopefully, Jack won’t begrudge us one measly room with a fire, to take the chill off.”

  When they passed through a small anteroom, into the large room at the back of the house, Tessa stopped short, sweeping the beam of her flashlight around the space. Her breath hitched when she saw the enormous walk-in fireplace and broad stone hearth. Splintered pieces of what might once have been a worktable littered the floor. Despite the charm of the centuries-old fireplace, she moaned her disappointment when all she saw were the remnants of plumbing, poking through one wall. It looked like someone had started a remodel, then abandoned it halfway through.

  The row of boarded windows promised good light, but right now it felt overwhelming to think of turning this cavern into a modern kitchen. Depressingly so. Maybe, if she wasn’t so cold, she could better envision the possibility.

  She needed to get Emily warmed up. Without more light, it was impossible to detect the source of the sudden icy draft of air swirling around them. She swore it had been warmer outside in the snow.

  “Come on, Em, it’s freezing! Let’s go see if Darach had any luck with a fire. After we thaw out, we can explore some more.”

  “Okay,” Em agreed, hunching into her coat.

  “Your teeth are chattering,” Tess teased. “Maybe we should consider living on a beach somewhere instead of this drafty old mausoleum.”

  “We just need hot chocolate,” Emily muttered, pressing her gloved fingers to her face. “We brought some from the hotel, didn’t we?”

  “We did. And I can’t think of anything that would taste better, right now.”

  “And then, after we warm up,” Emily urged, “we can go upstairs. I want to see the rooms so I can pick mine out.”

  “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” Tess laughed. “We haven’t decided to stay, yet.”

  Emily shrugged. “You always tell me it pays to plan ahead.”

  Darach added several more pieces of the broken window-board to the flames, satisfied the fire was coming along nicely. As soon as he had a good bed of embers, he’d add some coal.

  With the library doors closed, the room had begun to warm. Beams of light shot through the uncovered windows despite the grime, brightening the room while revealing its sad state of disrepair. Even so, ’twas still much grander than anything he’d experienced in his former life.

  He settled back against the carved wall panels and closed his eyes. Something about the warmth of the fire, and the coziness of the room soothed him into allowing thoughts of home, for the first time in centuries.

  Though his was the humblest of homes, he remembered most the vibrant life inside its walls. Ma had a way of filling the place with bounteous love. He’d grown up with the shared laughter of cousins, uncles, relatives and friends. All had been welcome, no’ only in his home, but to partake of whatever his mither had stewing in the pot. She had the uncanny ability to turn a single rabbit into a feast for a crowd.

  Many a discussion of weather, crops, livestock and ultimately the Jacobite cause, had taken place over her rabbit stew in the evening or a spot of oatmeal in the morning. He’d often awakened to sleeping forms wrapped in clan colors, sprawled on their floor in front of the hearth.

  ’Twas in that verra room he’d hatched the idea of talking his two best friends into joining him in that bold quest to defeat the British and come back heroes, bursting with tales of valor to boast over, for years to come.

  And all the while he plotted his daring deeds, his ma worked silently to see to his needs. Ne’er a complaint. Ne’er a thought for herself.

  How could he have been so blind? So selfish?

  Och! How he missed her. The ache inside him for abandoning her for the sake of glory was a raw, wretched thing. If he had a life left to give, he’d give it to ken what happened to her when he dinnae return.

  Or to his friends’ ailing mither. He hadna brought her sons back to her, as promised. Instead, he’d coaxed them to their deaths and watched them spill their blood onto the muddy moor—gasping their shock, lost hopes and last breaths, as snow and their fellow warriors fell steadily around them.

  As the light faded from their eyes, the searing, gut-wrenching pain of a musket ball had torn through Darach’s chest, throwing him back, away from them, denying him the opportunity to die beside them.

  His brothers. No’ by birth, but by choice.

  They trusted me, and I betrayed them.

  He’d had nearly three centuries to consider a proper atonement for leading two innocents to their deaths and leaving two grieving widows childless and alone in a time when Jacobite families paid the price for the sins of their husbands, sons and fathers.

  He’d found only one answer in all that time. He deserved the worst punishment Hell had to offer. And even then, he dinnae ken it would be enough.

  Tessa and Emily’s voices drawing nearer, pulled Darach out of the past and back to the strange place Soncerae had sent him. The right circumstances are already in play, she’d said. What could she have meant? There was no one to save and naught to save them from. How then, was he to accomplish an act of heroism in order to get on with the penance he deserved?

  Surely, the warming up of two lassies foolish enough to think this rotting manor could be a proper home, wouldnae win him a boon.

  How hard must a man work to go to Hell? He hadna considered the process to be so complicated.

  Could he no’ work for his prize somewhere else? He dinnae wish to stay here! No’ where a child could steal the heart out of a man before he could blink. And Tessa… Och! Such a bonnie lass, with a heavier burden than was right for her to bear. ’Twas a vulnerability beneath her boldness that made him want to shelter her inside his embrace and protect her. Though he couldnae ken from what.

  He dinnae want to care about them. He dinnae want to care about anyone, or anything, ever again. And no one should care about him. His judgment was flawed. It had been tested with disastrous results. Soncerae should ken that.

  “Ye misjudged my usefulness here, Soncerae,” Darach growled into the empty room. Surely, she’d realize her mistake and come get him. ’Twas no point in prolonging his ultimate destination.

  A sudden down-draft, strong enough to blow sparks and cinders onto the wooden floor from the fireplace, startled him. He rushed to scoop them back into the hearth before they caught hold on the dry, aged floor and set the place ablaze.

  Odd, he thought
, scraping them back into the flames. The chimney had been drawing very well. No smoke or downdrafts, until now. ’Twould surely need more careful attention. Especially if Tessa and Emily actually decided to stay here tonight.

  If so, mayhap he’d best stay to keep watch over them, for the night at least. If Soni had no’ come for him by morning, he’d leave on his own and seek out whatever lay in store for him. Anything, anywhere, as long as he dinnae have to care.

  Sounds of laughter preceded Tessa and Emily into the room, and Darach smiled despite himself.

  “It feels wonderful in here,” Tess said, closing the door behind them before rubbing her hands together. “We’re both freezing. I don’t know why, but the farther we ventured into the house, the colder it became. Maybe there’s a broken window or something, letting in a draft.”

  She escorted Emily to the fire and stayed beside her, turning her every few minutes like a roasting hare.

  “I’m warm enough, Aunt Tess,” Emily finally objected. “Can we have the hot chocolate now?”

  “Yes, let’s.” Tess pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her pocket. “Maybe if we warm up our insides, the shivers will stop.”

  While Emily dug through their belongings, Darach grabbed a blanket and draped it over Tessa’s shoulders. “This will help ’till ye’re warmed through.”

  Moments later, realizing he stood far too close, and had actually begun rubbing her shoulders, he jerked back and bent to put some coal on the fire.

  Heat warmed his neck and cheeks. From the fire, surely. He just needed to move away, find some cooler air and a little space.

  And mayhap, a wee bit of indifference.

  Chapter Six

  “Now, can we go upstairs?” Emily asked, her head tipped at an impatient angle.

  “I kind of hate to leave this warm room.” Tess set her empty plate on the blanket they’d used for their picnic and held up the thermos. “More hot chocolate, anyone?”

  “Aunt Tess!”

  “Okay,” Tess laughed. “Help me clear this away and then bundle up. It’s going to seem even colder after being so warm in here.”

  “Are you coming?” Emily asked Darach. “We might see Jack Frost!” A look of concern replaced the excitement in her eyes. “Do you think he’ll be mad at us for warming up part of his house?”

  “I thought ’twas your house.” Darach looked questioningly from Emily to Tessa.

  Tess noted the confused look on Darach’s face. Maybe they called the personification of winter by some other name in Scotland. “You’re not familiar with Jack Frost? Also known as Old Man Winter? You know, the one who puts frost on the windows? Ice in the air?”

  “Ahh,” Darach nodded.

  Tess smiled, still unsure if he knew who they were talking about. But who knows what folklore and traditions he was raised with. She literally knew nothing about him.

  So, shouldn’t she be feeling at least a little wary? Oddly, she wasn’t. Being with Darach seemed more like slipping on a warm sweater. He made her feel comforted and cared for.

  Not exactly true, Tessa!

  Not if she admitted to the unsettling attraction she couldn’t shake and her too-frequent stealthy glances in his direction. It couldn’t lead to anything, so what did it matter? He’d already made it clear he was only staying a day or two and she had no room for such frivolity, anyway. She had a niece to raise, a life and home to rebuild for both of them, and a career that needed constant attention to remain marketable. The last thing she had time or energy for was an attraction, let alone an actual flirtation or…more. Even with a man as appealing as the one sitting beside her.

  “Come on!” Emily urged, putting on her coat and gloves. “We’re supposed to be on an adventure, remember?”

  “We certainly are,” Tess agreed, preparing to get up.

  Before she could stand, Darach was on his feet, reaching down to give her a hand up. “Shall we go banish the coldhearted Jack, then, and send him outside to wreak his icy havoc?”

  There it was again. That magnetic smile that caused a hitch in her breath and a tingle in her belly. She slipped her hand into his, feeling his warmth and strength as he drew her to her feet and almost to his chest. “Yes,” she replied, gaining her balance just in time. “It’s a big house, but we need all our available space for invited guests.”

  She shared a playful smile with Darach as he helped her into her coat. After adding a small piece of coal to the fire, he adjusted the length of his plaid around his shoulders and nodded to Emily. “Lead the way, lass.”

  Like a tour guide, Em handed each of them a flashlight and led them from the warm library into the frigid foyer. “Wait!” Tess called before Em could race up the stairs. “We don’t know if those stairs are as solid as they look.”

  “I’ll go first.” Darach gave Emily a conspiratorial wink. “That way I can be on the lookout for Jack.”

  Em glanced cautiously up the curved stairway, into the shadows. “Tell him we think he’ll like it better outside,” she whispered.

  Like a slow train, they moved single file up the stairs. Tess trailed a little behind, using her light to study the intricate workmanship on the bannister and balusters. If she could ever manage to restore this stately old lady to her former glory, she and Emily would not only have a beautiful home, but one steeped in family history and historical significance.

  She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for her ancestors to abandon this house to escape the aftermath of Culloden and Cumberland’s order of no quarter for Jacobite sympathizers.

  She should feel grateful, she supposed, that some British notable confiscated this estate as his personal headquarters instead of burning it to the ground as they had so many others. Tess’s father had told her what a great deal of time, effort and money her great-grandparents and finally her grandparents, had invested to finally clear the title. But by then, her grandparents were too aged and ill to make the trip and with both her parents still entrenched in their careers, they’d placed the property with an estate administrator who’d seen to some renovations and modernizations so it could be rented. But oddly, none of the tenants ever stayed long.

  Now it was hers and Emily’s, to save or sell. She blinked away the burn behind her eyes, remembering last Christmas when her father had announced his plan to bring their three generations back here for a reclamation celebration. Her grandparents had passed away and her parents were finally thinking of retirement. They’d decided to make this their home.

  But first, they’d agreed to accompany Tess’s sister and her husband on an anniversary trip. None of them could have anticipated the horrific outcome of hiring that small, private puddle-jumper to take them from island to island.

  It took their lives, instead.

  She tried to swallow past the painful lump in her throat. She, Emily and this stranger were not quite the homecoming party her father had envisioned.

  Oh, how she missed her family!

  Darach stopped short and stared at the closed door just beyond the upper landing, unwilling to trust what he’d just seen. Soncerae had no’ mentioned sending another ghost to this spot, though he was sure ’twas no’ one of The 79 he’d seen. He felt it, right down to his weighty bones.

  “Was that him?” Emily whispered, moving closer to Darach to tuck her hand inside his. “Did you see him?”

  “See who? What?” Tess asked, catching up with them.

  “I think it was Jack,” Emily continued to whisper.

  Darach glanced over his shoulder at Tess, unsure what to say. Had she seen the ghost, too? Darach dinnae ken what Tess wished him to tell the child, but there had sure enough been a ghost slipping through that door.

  “What makes you think so, Em?” Tess asked, an amused look on her face.

  “There was a man standing over there, watching us, and then he disappeared right through that door!” Emily said excitedly. “But he was dressed like Darach, not like the pictures I’ve seen of Jack Frost. Does
Scotland have a different Jack Frost than we do, Aunt Tess?”

  Tess’ gaze shifted to him as if expecting him to discount what Emily had said. When he didn’t, she gave him an exasperated look.

  “No, I don’t think so, honey. Are you sure you saw something? Not just a trick of the shadows and your flashlight?”

  “Nope. He was real.” Emily insisted.

  Darach watched the frustration on Tess’ face as she struggled to respond to Emily’s persistence. Finally, she leaned down to Emily’s level and gave her an indulgent smile. “Sweetie, I think you’re mistaken. Whatever you thought you saw, certainly wasn’t real. Just an illusion. You know what an illusion is, don’t you, Em?”

  Emily stared at her for the space of several seconds. “Jack Frost isn’t real?”

  Darach winced at the slight quiver in Emily’s voice. Her entire belief system seemed to hang on Tess’ answer.

  He held his own breath. He dinnae want either of them to ken a ghost resided in their house, but if Tess said Jack Frost wasn’t real, what would that do to the child’s belief in other things, like Father Christmas or any of her other childhood fantasies?

  ’Twas far better for her to think Jack Frost slipped through that door, than the reality of an actual ghost—no’ just one on temporary mortal leave like himself—residing in the very place they intended to make their home.

  But apparently, convincin’ Tess to agree could prove difficult, indeed. ’Twas a no-nonsense lass, that one.

  The swift tug of regret that he dinnae have the right, nor the time to convince her otherwise, brought him up short. What about his determination to get to Hell and begin his penance? And what of the annoyance he’d felt when Soncerae sent him here, even for two wee days?

  Now, he wanted more time to peel away the layers and shields Tessa wore as protection, expose what lay beneath. He’d find hurt and vulnerability, he was sure, but was else? Compassion? He’d observed that. Resilience? That, too. Determination? Absolutely. And…?