Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle (29 page)

“Can I open my eyes yet?” she asked.

“No, impatient woman.” He took her left hand.

Breath lodged in B.A.‘s throat. She thought,
Here it comes
. But instead of a ring on her third finger, he placed one on her pinkie. Her eyes opened, staring at the delicate ring. So convinced he would give her an engagement ring, she felt let down. But that faded as she read the Gaelic around the band—
Mo Anam Cara
. My soul mate.

Thrilled, she forgot about the necklace until she put a hand to her throat. Jumping up, she rushed to the mirror by the closet door to see. The delicate choker was two hearts. One platinum encircling a smaller golden heart with a diamond at the center.

Their eyes met in the glass reflection. “It pleases you?” he asked.

B.A. turned to kiss his mouth. He deepened it. Being in his arms felt so right.

My soul mate.
The ring said everything.

“Hey, do I get any presents or a lump of coal?” Julian called.

LynneAnne shoved her foot across the sofa and kicked him. “Bloody pirate.”

B.A. chuckled. Her hands clung to Des for a second, not keen on losing the closeness. Then returning to the tree, she took two large boxes and set them on Julian’s lap. She tapped LynneAnne’s auburn head. “Stop kicking Julian when he can’t kick back.”

Her sister made a face, and as she turned, B.A. spotted LynneAnne kick him again.

Julian shook his head. “She’s ticked because I won’t let her kiss me,” he said.

“You arrogant son of a shoat!” LynneAnne turned bright pink.

“Shoat? I won’t ask.” He opened his gifts from B.A., a fisherman’s knit sweater and knee boots—her hint that he belonged on her isle like Des. “Thank you, B.A.”

“She’s trying to make you a born-again Falgannonian,” Desmond warned, handing Julian two envelopes.

Julian sliced them open with his pocketknife. “I can think of worse fates,” he said. His hazel-green eyes skimmed the papers, clearly stunned.

“Planning to tell us what they say,
Jules?
” LynneAnne grumbled.

Julian flashed her a scowl. “Brat.”

“Pirate.”

“Whatever. The first envelop contains adoption papers.” He eyed his boss. “Desmond has… gifted me with ten percent of Mershan International.”

“He dunna believe in token gifts.” LynneAnne waited a minute then kicked his thigh again. “What’s the other say?”

B.A. observed the two men staring at each other. Julian looked overcome. “Thank you, Desmond.”

“Grrrrrrrrr. If you don’t spill it, Jules…” Again, LynneAnne pushed against his thigh with her socked foot in warning.

“The other is a promissory note.” Julian read the words from Desmond:” Anything you want, anytime, anywhere—just ask.’ Again, thank you.”

Desmond nodded. “No—thank you, Julian.”

Julian eyed LynneAnne stroking the bracelet. “You intend to put that on?” he asked.

She frowned.“Thank you. It’s beautiful, but I can’t keep it.”

Julian growled, “What? Afraid I’ll ask for sexual favors?”

She kicked him again. “Not bloody likely when you run from a kiss. I’m telling you, it’s because you wear that bloody earring in the right ear. I’ve heard about the
brotherhood
of pirates.”

“The right ear is left,” Julian said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, you have it in the left,” she sneered.

“My left is right.”

Desmond shoved a package between them, tired of the silliness. “Believe me, LynneAnne, Julian’s not gay. You should see the gorgeous string of blondes he’s dated.”

“Blondes?” LynneAnne growled.

Julian glanced at her sideways. “Yeah, I don’t like redheads.”

LynneAnne smiled at Desmond. “Thank you, the earrings are lovely.”

“They’ll go well with that bracelet Julian gave you,” Des replied.

“But I can’t keep that.” She looked sadly at the cuff in her lap.

“You keep his gift, but mine has to go back? Desmond…” Julian appealed.

Desmond turned to B.A. and said in the same tone, “B.A?”

B.A. laughed and did the same to her sister, “LynneAnne…”

“I don’t have a gift for Julian.” LynneAnne pouted. Then her expression brightened and she dashed upstairs.

“Bloody redhead,” Julian muttered.

Rushing back, LynneAnne crawled onto the sofa, leaning over Julian. “Hold still, Pirate.” Shaking, she removed the hoop earring from his ear. In its place she inserted a small diamond on a gold post. Julian held still while LynneAnne secured it. “There. I like that better. Now you’re a high-priced pirate.”

“You’ll accept the bracelet now?” he asked.

LynneAnne nodded, slipping it on her right wrist.

B.A. looked around to see the kitten chasing Dudley, Des holding his sword, and the squabbling Julian and LynneAnne. Her heart was so full of love and happiness, it hurt.

After tidying up the papers and serving mulled cider, B.A. slumped to the sofa, reclining against Desmond. It was a perfect Christmas Eve. Well, almost. If only Desmond had asked her to marry him. She stared at the twinkling amber stone of the soul mate ring, satisfied nonetheless.

Take the silly man prisoner and keep him until he gets down on his knee!
Devil B.A. sniffed in disdain at B.A.‘s lack of foresight.

She toyed with that option. A vision danced through her head, not of sugarplums, but of Desmond chained to her bed.

Angel B.A. whispered,
Leap year is coming
.

Yeah, that was the ticket. B.A. brightened. In 1288, Scotland passed a law allowing women to propose marriage to the man of her choice on February 29. Desmond had until then or she’d ask the silly man!

Sometimes the world can be a bloody beautiful place,
B.A. decided as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Images of Desmond bare-chested, in leather pants and chained to the bed in Lady Cottage, filled her dreams.

Sighing, she thought she heard an angel singing a Christmas carol. She smiled when she realized it was just Devil B.A. singing the B-52’s”Love Shack.”

Chapter 27

At dawn’s first rays, B.A. slipped out to head for the Lady Stone. Today being St. Brid’s Day, she turned her mind to what she’d avoided for over three months. Had the rose planted on Halloween survived? She was scared, but this was a bridge she needed to cross alone.

During the holidays and then while planning Willie and Cassie’s wedding, she hadn’t found time to sneak away. Curiosity had nagged, but she’d focused on preparations for the first wedding stemming from her Web site, and Hogmanay—the Scottish New Year.

The lads voted Desmond to be the
first-footer
. Scots lore said if a black-haired man crossed your threshold after the stroke of midnight on Hogmanay, good luck would be granted for the year. Hedging their bets, Scots always shoved a black-haired man out into the night with a bottle to keep him company, and no one else could come in until he’d put his first foot over the threshold after the stroke of twelve. Desmond protested his selection, pointing out the Frasers had black hair, and with twins they’d double the luck. The lads remained adamant the privilege fall to the Viking prince. When put that way, Desmond couldn’t resist. He’d grabbed a second bottle, shoved it at Julian and swore, “You’re black-headed. Misery loves company.”

Such times were seared into B.A.‘s memory, cherished, for she knew how precious they were.

After New Year’s, the islanders had thrown themselves the wedding. B.A. had cried, naturally. Willie was in his cowboy hat, chaps and boots. Desmond winked at B.A. saying, “Told you—no kilts!”

But now the time had come to find out if the rose lived. No longer able to find excuses, B.A. escaped to the Frasers’ barn at first light. She saddled the white mare and rode toward Falgannon’s stone ring. Still a bit of a pagan at heart, the symbolism of this day wasn’t lost on her. The world awakened from its long winter slumber. Life began anew.

High upon the hill the breeze was brisk and unseasonably warm. Spring had come early to the island. She dismounted, looking around. Patches of mist stirred, restless ghosts on the dawn horizon. Desmond was right. You
could
see forever from here. Taking the small pack from her shoulder, she removed the bottle of water.

“What do you think, Angel and Devil B.A.? Will it be green?” she whispered in the stillness, her eyes closed. Afraid to see.

Shaking, she lifted her lids.

Strange, she put so much stock into Falgannon’s lore. A modern woman, she considered herself a logical person. Yet with The Curse and how she was bound to this isle, she’d found herself accepting it unreservedly.

The clouds broke and a sunbeam shone like a spotlight on Lady Rock. Light-headed, she stared at the small rose bush. Trying to breathe, she feared her mind conjured the island magic. Yes, the weather had been unusually warm for weeks, but this was a miracle. Kneeling before it, her shaking hand caressed the green leaves, and finally the tiny start of a bud. The rose would bloom soon. In her heart she’d prayed to find it alive, but never had she anticipated this beautiful wonder.

“Thank you, Lady Anne,” she whispered to the silent rock, the penitent woman forever frozen in time. She wiped away tears of joy with the backs of her hands.

After watering the growing rose, B.A. returned to mount the mare. It was an effort to keep from setting the horse to run back. She wanted to ride to the castle and awaken Desmond with the wonderful news. Only, she knew Brian and Ian would have her hide for not cooling the mare.

As she cantered to the stable, Brian strolled out. “You’re up early this fine morn.”

She dismounted, rushed to him and bussed his cheek. “You sexy man, cool the horse for me and I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You rode her, rub her down.” But a twinkle in his eye said he’d do it.

“Oh, Brian, the
Samhaine
planting… is a bush. There’s a bud that could bloom in a couple weeks!”

Brian’s smiled widened. “Why dinna you say? Run tell our Desmond the news!”

She did just that—ran the whole way to the castle.

Desmond wiped the shave cream from the mirror and looked into his haunted green eyes. Each day saw the lies between B.A. and him eating away at his soul.

Julian and he had worked these past weeks to find alternatives. He wished he could stop the project, but feared that avenue might not be an option. Whatever choices, he had to tell B.A. The dread that she’d discover his deceit was more than he could handle.

The nightmares were worse. Pains now rippled through his chest after waking, taking an hour for them to ease. It frightened him.

He needed to confer with the Trident transition team, bring them up to speed on alternatives he now considered. When he flew to London next week, he’d check with a doctor, run some tests to be on the safe side… maybe even talk to a psychiatrist. The dreams were of the past, but they hurt him physically.

Stepping into the steaming shower, he was resolute. He had to face B.A. Every time he touched her, he felt guilty for not being honest. He exhaled, girding himself for the coming storm. Tonight he’d do it—enlighten her about his plans, what had brought him to Falgannon. The driving force of his whole life.

Then he’d get down on his knees and beg her not to leave him.

Shrill ringing greeted her upon entering the cottage, and her impulse was to ignore the phone. Only, her inner voice said she didn’t want to answer it; she
had
to.” ‘Lo?” she panted.

“B.A.? Thank God.”

“Catlyn?” She glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning, wondering why her sister would call so early. “Is everyone all right?”

“No… yes…” Cat paused. “Desmond Mershan has two brothers, I believe?”

“Something’s happened to them? What, Cat? Tell me.” Panic surged in her.

“Nothing’s happened yet. Trevelyn and Jago? Those are their names?”

“Yes, dammit Cat, if you dunna tell me—”

“This isn’t easy. Raven’s involved with a Trev Sinclair. She’s in love with him. Last night they had an argument after she discovered something about Trident Ventures.”

“The group threatening the takeover?”

“Trident also bought—”

“Valinor.” B.A. recalled how puzzled Cian had been about that.

“Yes. They paid a good price, too.”

B.A. was light-headed. Trevelyn was in England, using the name Trevelyn Sinclair? He had connections to Trident and they’d bought the farm in Kentucky—where Asha was. “You asked about Desmond’s other brother. Jago.”

“We learned from Liam this morning that Asha’s fallen for a Jago Fitzgerald.”

B.A.‘s stomach knotted. “That’s their mother’s maiden name.”

“I thought… you might talk with Desmond.”

“Desmond?” she echoed. Then reality set in. “Yes, Desmond.”

“B.A.” Cat’s voice broke. “I’m sorry. The Mershans are using Asha, Raven and you. Somehow. It can’t be a coincidence—”

Phone slipping from her hand, B.A. felt her knees give way. She didn’t faint, instead crumpled like a rag doll. Barely able to breathe, she felt her head fill with a strange buzzing. She needed stand and face the music, but her legs wouldn’t obey.

She finally comprehended the shower was running in the upstairs bathroom—why Desmond hadn’t heard the phone.

She rose, slowly considering what she needed to do. Why was that so hard? Desmond’s attache wasn’t here. He kept it and his computer in his new office. The sound of the shower shutting off propelled her outside and down the castle steps. B.A. didn’t stop until she opened the door at Rose Cottage. Ignoring her burning lungs, she headed to the office with quiet steps, hoping not to wake Julian or LynneAnne.

She clicked the banker’s lamp on the oak desk and sat down. Lifting the laptop lid, she pushed the power button, then clicked Desmond’s avatar—a chess piece.

“How fitting.”

Trying to log in, her fingers shakily typed Sinclair as a password. Nope. Dudley. Nothing. “Well, piss. Same thing for lying, two-faced pirate.”

After two dozen tries, she shifted her attention to the briefcase. Silly, it was a three-number combination lock—it only kept honest people out. Her first attempt was 666.

“Guess he dinna want to be obvious,” she muttered to herself. “What do you think? 1-2-3? Too simple for a man so complex?”

Her idiot brother Cian kept his set to 000. Desmond would never take that chance. Nor would he use his birth month and day. Out of ideas, she tested one last time. 1-0-1. October 1. The day he’d come to Falgannon. The day they’d met.
Snap.
The catches released.

A tear welled in her eye. “Oh, Des—you shouldn’t be so sentimental for a lying Viking pirate.”

With a fortifying breath, she opened the attache. Maps were easily recognizable as Falgannon. She put them aside, along with dozens of complicated blueprints. Unfolding a file labeled Trident, she hit paydirt with a single sheet of paper.
The key.

On letterhead for Trident Ventures and addressed to Desmond, it confirmed everything would be kept under the table until Trident’s takeover of Montgomerie Enterprises. Afterward, announcements would be released that Mershan International was buying out Trident. In essence, Desmond would be CEO of a company, with Trident Ventures and Montgomerie Enterprises as subsidiaries.

“Oh, Des, how could you?” The final nail in his coffin—the envelope she’d thought she mailed to her brother weeks ago with the proxies. Without them, Cian could only vote forty-four percent of M.E. stock. Desmond had offered to take it to the ferry. He’d kept them instead.

“Bugger!” B.A. made a sour face. She wanted to cry. Wanted to scream. She wanted to take her Pictish knife and play tic-tac-toe on all the Mershan brothers. “Bloody friggin’ pirates. The whole lot of them.”

Needing time to clear her mind, she rammed the papers into the briefcase, little caring they crumpled. She had to get away, to calm down to be able to fight Desmond.

“I don’t care what plans for Falgannon the low-down, lily-livered varmint has in mind,”—only Willie’s western patter fit—“I’m going to make him sorry he thought to use my beautiful isle for his oily schemes.”

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she rushed to get out of the room.

Julian came through the door. “Desmond, you’re…” He pulled up short. “B.A.”

“No, it’s
not
your lying, two-faced boss,” she choked out.

Julian’s arms caught her, his solid body blocking the door. Deep sorrow filled his eyes. “Why don’t you sit, B.A.? Let me fetch Desmond.”

“Let go of me,” she growled.

“B.A., let Desmond explain—”

“That he’s a bloody pirate out to ruin my island? Bad enough he wants to screw my family over, the Mershans sink to screwing my sisters and me—literally. You picked the wrong man to call boss and the wrong woman to placate.” She grabbed his nose between two fingers, giving it a twist.

“Damn it, B.A.!” He sounded funny with his nostrils clamped. “That hurts.”

Busy trying to pry her hand away from his nose without hurting her, he was easy prey. She slammed her knee into his groin. Turning purple then green in the face, he doubled over, emitting a horrible retching noise. “I like you, Julian, hate being mean to you, but that’s what you get for having a pirate for a boss.”

As she pushed by him, she heard LynneAnne call out then ask Julian, “What did you do to my sister?”

B.A. didn’t slow. She fled Rose Cottage as though the devil was after her. “That’s silly. The devil is atop the castle.”

She stared at the castle, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Wrapping his towel about his waist, Desmond walked from the hot bathroom into the chilly bedroom. The drop in temperature was noticeable. Reaching for his robe, he headed downstairs to build up the fire. Halfway down the steps, he noticed light shining oddly into the living room. Alarm bells sounded as he rounded the banister and saw the open door and the phone off the hook.

Going to the door, he stared across the roof. The only thing stirring in the breeze was her pennant. He yelled, “B.A.!”

Footsteps sounded up the staircase, then Julian’s head popped into view. “B.A.‘s been in your briefcase,” his friend called out.

Desmond’s knees nearly buckled. “What did she see? Where is she? What did she say? Damn! The proxies!”

“No idea where she is. Your lass is a dirty fighter. She nearly ripped my nose off, then busted my balls. I’m doing my best not to puke, and LynneAnne gives me this
‘What-did-you-do-to-my-sister’
stuff. I couldn’t reply, so the witch kicked me in the arse. I want hazard pay, Des!”

Not listening, Desmond pulled on pants and a sweater. Dudley jumped on the dresser, watching him dress. “She can beat the bloody hell out of me, Fuzzball,” Des promised, “as long as she doesn’t chuck me into the peat bog. Come on, Dudley, let’s run her to ground.”

He spent the whole day chasing B.A.

First she’d hidden at Willie’s empty house. Willie and Cassie were in Vegas on their honeymoon—Desmond’s wedding present to them. She’d gone out the back as he came through the front door. Phelan suggested he try Morag’s. She wasn’t there, but the third teacup in the kitchen said he’d missed her again.

That was the pattern of the whole day.

Cresting the knoll, Desmond heard music coming from The Green Man, confirming what Ian told him: B.A. had headed this way. Stepping onto the porch, he noted the windows vibrated from the force of the music. Inside must be deafening. He twisted the knob, knowing it would be unlocked.

Turning the corner, he spotted B.A. She danced in beat-up ballet slippers, her long hair swirling around her. Madonna’s poignant ballad “You’ll See,” about a woman wronged, filled the pub. The fine hairs on his neck prickled. She seemed at peace, dancing within the heartrending song. Yet, something was wrong.

B.A. mesmerized him, her movements were sheer poetry torn from her soul. She mourned. And it scared the bloody hell out of him. Blood draining from his face, it was as if he’d taken a blow to the chest. Did she already grieve for something she perceived as dead?

The tune switched to “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt. He didn’t dare breathe, fearing she’d sense him. B.A. danced to blow off everything, seeking solace in the frantic movement. The tune started slow and soft, then flowed into something harder that carried her away. Her dancing conveyed the edgy pain of fearing to lose someone you love. B.A. was sensual, ethereal—her every step was etched with emotion she both embraced and rejected.