Forevermore (13 page)

W
e spend the rest of the day at the Munro keep. After lunch, Amelia, Ethan, and the rest of the clan walk us out to the forest behind the old tower house.

The sun has disappeared once more, and gloom and mist settle over the Highlands. The air is still sweet, though, and cold and crisp as we follow the Munros down a well-beaten path. Logan walks beside me, and we exchange several glances. His eyes glimmer like quicksilver.

The deeper into the forest we go, the more shadowy it becomes. Long wisps of mist slip over the ground and through the trees towering overhead. The spicy scent of Scotch pine fills the air, and somewhere above, a raven caws.

Finally, at the end of the path, a small clearing.

In that clearing, a tree. An ancient, gnarled tree. And as we grow closer, I see an inscription, carved deep into the wood.

Ethan loves Amelia. By the by …

“Och,” Emma breathes. “Just like in the book.”

The guys all erupt into laughter.

“Exactly like the book,” Amelia says, and casts her gaze to me and Logan. “Ethan carved that in the fourteenth century. Anything’s possible, Ivy.”

Ethan pulls his wife toward him and kisses the top of her head. Even though Amelia is tall, Ethan towers over her.

They make the perfect pair.

Ethan slowly releases Amelia, then steps up to the tree and pulls a Swiss Army knife from his pocket.

“You know what sort of tree this is, aye, cousin?” he says to Logan.

Logan nods. “ ’Tis a yew.”

Ethan carves off a small branch with his blade. “And you know about yew, dunna you, boy?”

“Aye,” Logan says. “Like the rowan is cursed, the yew is opposite. ’Tis protective. Mystically so.”

Ethan whittles off four slivers, smooths them with the side of his knife, and hands two to me, one to Emma, and one to Serrus. “Keep it with you always, and secure it so it doesna fall out. Just in case.” He then walks to Logan and looks down at him. Silver eyes meet silver eyes. “Me and my kin, we were out o’ place in time,” Ethan says. “Once our enchantment had been broken, there was nowhere else for us tae be, save here, in this time. We’d been missing in history all those centuries.” He shakes his head, but his eyes never leave Logan’s. “I dunna know your destiny, cousin, but no matter what it might be, we’re your kin. You’ve a place here, if you want it. Live or dead.”

A sigh escapes Logan’s throat, but I’m pretty sure only I hear it. “Thank you,” he says, and looks down at me. “I’ve got tae make it safe for Ivy at Glenmorrag first.”

A slow smile, so much like Logan’s, lifts the corners of Ethan’s mouth. “I’d expect nothin’ less of you, boy,” he says. “You’re a Munro, after all.”

Logan’s smile matches Ethan’s. “That I am.”

Ethan turns his silvery gaze on me. “Lass, if you need anything at all, you call.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I will.”

Logan takes his ancient footpath across the wood back to MacAllister land, and I pray he makes it there without any problems. Serrus and Emma say good-bye and head off on Serrus’s bike. Amelia drives me back to Glenmorrag, and on the way we talk about Charleston, fried shrimp and crab cakes, and hot, sticky, balmy nights of the South. I tell her about my dad, and since Serrus had already bragged about my music, she makes me promise to come back to the Munro keep to play for everyone. I do.

Just as I step into the foyer of Glenmorrag Castle, the drizzle begins again. Inside the great hall, the tall suit of armor is a little more terrifying than when the sunshine was streaming in upon the metal earlier.

As soon as I close the door behind me and turn around, I see Niall is there.

“Is my mother okay?” I ask, noticing the worry on his face.

“She was awake earlier,” he says, his brows furrowed, “and asked me to let you know she will be fine.” He scrubs his jaw with his hand. “But I couldna find you.”

“Oh,” I say. “Sorry. I stayed at the Munros for a while.”

Niall studies me. Half of his face is cast in shadow. I can’t help but wonder if he knows anything about his grandmother, or the ring. Maybe I should ask him?

Before I can, though, he says, “The physician came by, and warned us that your mum is highly susceptible to germs at this point. It’s probably best if she doesn’t have too many visitors to her bedside, Ivy.” He holds my gaze. “Trust me, girl. I’ll take ever so much great care of her and the baby. I promise. This all has me baffled, too.”

I fight back tears. I hate that Mom is sick. “Okay. But please tell her I love her. And when she wakes up again, I just want to … stand at the door and tell her myself. Okay?”

“Aye,” he answers. “I will do that.” He turns to leave.

I go upstairs and pace my room, worrying about Mom, until Logan at last returns. He has successfully taken the path back from the Munro keep, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been happier to see him. The moment he appears in my room, I announce, “Let’s go find Jonas. He might have some answers about the ring we saw in the portrait.”

“Aye,” he agrees, and we go.

Jonas is preparing supper in the kitchen, and in a low voice, I start out by asking him if he has a memory of
Elizabeth not being so cruel. I want to see if he gives the same answers as Ian, about the storm. Or if he mentions the ring.

Jonas stares at me, his watery blue eyes soft, alert. But there’s something else there, too. I recognize it. It’s fear.

“Let me think. It was probably about thirty years ago. Funny,” he muses to himself. “Seems like ever since that storm hit, she’s changed.” He looks at me. “ ’Twas overnight, or so it seems.”

“What about the ring?” I share a look with Logan.

“That big ruby ring she wears? Aye. She actually found it the night of the storm. The moment she slipped it on, she didna want to take it off. ” He looks at me. “Passing odd.”

“Logan’s uncle, his mom’s brother, had that same ring,” I admit.

“Are you positive, lad?” Jonas asks Logan.

Logan nods. “Aye.”

“It means something,” I say, and lean against the counter. “The storm. The ring. Her behavior change.” I look at Logan. “It’s all linked.”

Logan nods. “Aye, I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll find out. I promise. Let’s go call Ethan.” I look at Jonas. “Thanks for helping us.” We turn to leave.

“Miss Ivy?” he says as we’re almost to the door. We both turn.

“Please, dear,” he warns. “You know not where your questioning will lead. There are dangers lurking.” He pauses. “Take care.”

“We will,” Logan says firmly.

Jonas gives a single nod.

Logan and I walk out in silence.

“Let’s go to the rectory,” Logan suggests. “Bundle up, get your instrument, and come. Call Ethan and Amelia from there. Play for me. You’ve got tae practice anyway.”

I look at the ghostly boy before me and know there’s nothing more I can do until we talk to the Munros. And there’s nothing more I’d rather do right now than be with Logan. His mystery has lasted almost two centuries. Another evening won’t hurt.

“Okay,” I answer, smiling despite myself.

“Meet me there in fifteen minutes,” Logan says excitedly. “Not a second earlier!”

With one brow lifted in question, I stare at him.

“Promise me, not a second earlier?” he says.

“All right, then,” I answer. “See you in fifteen.”

Logan’s smile stretches from one ear to the other. “Wait! Make it twenty!”

And as he fades, the whites of his teeth are the last to disappear. Sort of his trademark, I guess. I like it.

I have no idea what he’s up to, but I know one thing.

I’m falling for him. Hard.

I turn and run up the steps to my room. I’ll grab my strings and my phone and come back down to put on my coat. At the second-floor landing, though, I pause, and glance down the dim corridor. Toward my mother’s room. Before I realize it, my feet are moving in that direction. It’s then that I notice the shadows are long in the hall, obscuring the antiques and medieval works of art on the walls. It’s nothing but darkness. My pace slows. At once, something shifts in the shadows. Rather, the shadows move. Panic seizes me. My vision becomes hazy, my legs weak….

“Ivy? Is that you?”

Niall is looking out of Mom’s room. Elizabeth stands beside him, peering at me. My eyes fly to that hideous ring she’s twisting around and around her finger.

“Yes, it’s me,” I say, taking a deep breath. I glance at that particular spot in the shadows. Nothing is there. Maybe I was having a panic attack. “I was hoping Mom could —”

“Not right now,” Elizabeth says sharply. “She has just drifted off to sleep after a restless bit. The last thing she needs is more worry.”

I glare at Elizabeth. “The last thing she needs is you,” I say, not caring if I sound disrespectful. “I’ll see my mother. When she wakes up, I’ll be back —”

“Ivy, sweetie?” my mom calls out.

I poke my head into the room. “Hi, Mom. How are you feeling?”

She is propped up in bed, her face wan. This seems like something more than morning sickness. Deep concern twists in my gut.

“Like a weakling,” she answers, trying to smile, “but I’m okay. Honest, sweetheart. Niall’s looking after me like a champion.”

“Okay,” I say. But she looks … wasted away. Like the life is being sucked right out of her. I draw a deep breath to hide my fear. “I love you.”

“I love you, baby,” she answers. “We’ll chat tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay, Mom.” I’m almost in tears now.

Cutting between Niall and Elizabeth, I quit the corridor and head upstairs. I’m shaking, I’m so mad and unnerved, and all I want right now is to find Logan at the rectory. And call the Munros. I hurry into my room, grab my case and cell phone, and leave.

Downstairs, I pull on my coat, then head out. I’m not even sure if it’s been twenty minutes, or longer. For a moment, I stop, allowing the cold damp air to rush over me in the courtyard. I take several deep breaths in, and exhale. Above me, hidden within the canopy of trees, the peacocks stare down at me. Their soft cooing floats on a breeze, barely audible.

Something
had been hiding in the shadows on the second floor. Who, or what, had it been? I’ll call Amelia and Ethan, and tell them what’s happened. They’ll know what to do. Something isn’t right, and I’ve got to stop it.

The moment the rectory comes into view, I notice an amber flicker of light inside. I barely make it to the archway when Logan’s voice sounds at my ear.

“Close your eyes.”

The way his
r
’s roll with his accent is absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. For a moment, I’m able to forget about my mom’s sickness and the dark shadows in the castle.

“Close ’em, lass.”

“You’re crazy,” I say.

“Aye,” Logan says. “Crazy about you. Now close ’em.”

My stomach does a flip and I close my eyes.

“Step right straight ahead, easy,” he whispers. I do as he says. “Keep goin’.”

The crackle of fire sounds in my ear, and a sweet scent permeates the usual old, wet stone smell.

“Keep goin’. Easy.”

An impatient sigh escapes me, and I hear Logan’s triumphant chuckle that he’s truly gotten one over on me.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly, I do. My gaze moves over the once barren rectory, and my mouth drops open in surprise.

Candles — no fewer than twenty — are perched and flickering on every existing surface. A small peat fire burns in the hearth. And at our double window seat, where I always play, is a thick woolen plaid blanket, and a small
table. On the table, there’s a big vase of humongous pink flowers.

“So,” Logan says softly beside me. “What do you think?”

“It’s … I love it,” I say, and turn to meet his gaze. Never in my life has anyone done anything remotely this romantic for me. “It’s perfect.”

Logan’s silver eyes drop to my mouth, then slowly back up. “I’ve decided,” he begins, his voice steady, a bit raspy, “that it’s been well worth being a lost soul for almost two centuries.” He comes close to me and traces his hand against my jaw. “If it means havin’ you in the end, Ivy Calhoun.”

“I can feel your touch against my face,” I say, my voice quivering. “It’s a faint tingle, but I feel it. It’s … you.” My heart is beating so hard, I’m sure it can be seen through my shirt.

“Aye,” Logan answers, and I’m frozen in time. “ ’Tis me, Ivy.”

In the golden-lit rectory we stand almost touching, looking at each other.

“I’m so verra glad to have met you,” he whispers, and slowly, Logan dips his head toward me. He slants his
mouth to mine and leans in, gently. My knees weaken, and my erratic heart skips a beat or two.

“Is ann riut a bha mo dhùil a riamh,”
he says softly, moving the words against my lips. “
Mairidh mo ghaol gu siorraidh
, Ivy Calhoun,” he whispers.

“What does that mean?” I manage to whisper back.

“I have waited for you my whole life,” he says, his eyes searing into mine. “I’ll love you forever.”

“I love you, Logan Munro,” I answer, my voice cracking. Then I lose myself in the sensation of his ghostly lips hovering over mine.