Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters (10 page)

And that was just her face.
Her body, he knew, was equally alluring. He had held her in his arms, carrying
her up the steep castle stairs and putting her to bed as gently as he could,
afraid to waken her. But she had slept peacefully despite the ordeal of being
abducted by the Zrakon.

“The single malt is local,”
he said, endeavoring to keep his voice steady. Just looking at her made his
cock jerk in his pants. “It’s a good deal stronger than anything that’s sold
commercially.”

“I’d expect to have one
helluva hangover, but I feel pretty good.” She sounded cheerful. He had noticed
yesterday that she had a pleasant way of interacting with people. She was a
genuinely friendly and outgoing person. He couldn’t say the same about himself.

“So why did you change your
mind? About having me here, I mean?”

He tried a smile. “I couldn’t
just leave you passed out on the beach.”

“So that’s where you found
me? On the beach?”

He nodded. He meant a
different stretch of sand than she remembered, though. At least he hoped she
didn’t remember anything after she and the villagers had been gathered on the
mainland beach, awaiting the arrival of the local monster. “Do you have any
recollection of the festivities last night?”

She looked uneasy. “I
remember that everybody thought some creature from the sea was going to make
one of the townswomen his fuck buddy. And that she appeared to be quite willing—the
result, I suppose, of drinking too much of that homegrown brew.”

Ross cleared his throat. “You
did tell me you were gathering information about local folklore.”

“And you told me there wasn’t
any local folklore.”

“Oh aye. But perhaps you can
see now why we don’t want this legend known. The annual sea monster fucking
ceremony is the sort of thing that would bring the press down upon us. Television.
The international tabloids. It would be all over YouTube in minutes. Every year
the villagers take a vote. Never has there been even a single endorsement for revealing
our secret to outsiders. That secret has been guarded for centuries.”

“Which makes me rather
inconvenient, doesn’t it? What are you going to do? Slit my throat with that
dirk you were brandishing yesterday?”

From deep inside him a roar
erupted. “
No!
” Ross felt his body shudder, and for a few seconds he
thought he might lose control. Shit, it was getting stronger.
She is mine
,
the Zrakon reminded him.
I want her.

“On the contrary,” he gritted
out. “If what you told me yesterday about your grandparents is correct, you might
not be an outsider. I don’t think you’d have been allowed to remain in the
village last night if you were, and you certainly wouldn’t have slept peacefully
here. Crazy though it seems, I believe this place is protected by some sort of
magic. It literally doesn’t let outlanders in. If they do wander by, it plants
in them a strong suggestion to leave.”

She frowned as she considered
this. “What about the Rev. John Lambeth? He told me he would be witnessing the
festival for the first time.”

“He was born here. He has
lived elsewhere for most of his life, but he is one of us.”

“Well, I’ve lived in Boston,
Mass., USA for all of my life and my parents are Americans. It’s only my
grandparents who came from this corner of Scotland.”

The Zrakon has claimed you
as his own, and that makes you one of us.

But of course, he couldn’t
tell her that. Not yet.

“This is the opportunity I’ve
decided to offer you, Ms. Beaton. I kicked you off the island yesterday, and
that was rude. I’d like to make up for it by offering you a place to stay while
you conduct that research you mentioned. We have a remarkable library here. I
will give you the run of the place. Perhaps you will discover more about your
family.

“All I ask in return is that
you don’t speak or write about this to anybody. If you want to tell our story
in some heavily disguised way, as fiction, that might be allowed. Perhaps a
fantasy novel that’s set in some invented world?”

She returned his look with a
level green gaze. “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.” She paused, and
then added, “So I’m not a prisoner here, right?”

“Of course not.” He smiled
reassuringly. “What an absurd idea.”

He couldn’t tell her the truth,
which was that the Zrakon was unlikely ever to let her leave.

Chapter Seven

The Mallochbirn library was a treasure trove. It was
full of wonderful volumes from earlier centuries, gilded and bound in leather.
Kate was careful when handling the books, wearing the thin gloves Ross had
provided so she wouldn’t leave oily fingerprints. Most of the books were
novels, biographies, histories and poetry. There were many that she suspected
were valuable first editions.

A considerable number of books were written in other
languages, including French, Italian, Gaelic, German, Latin and Ancient Greek.
There were a few in Russian, and several in a language that she presumed, from
its script, to be Persian, Arabic, or Ottoman Turkish.

There were account books from the estate and registers
of land deeds and rental contracts. Reports from gamekeepers and fisheries,
distilleries and lumber mills. Malloch had invited her to examine whatever she
wanted, and she took him up on that, although the sheer volume of the material
was such that she could only look at a fraction of it.

She found several historical accounts of events in the
Mallochbirn lands, including some information about the tenants. There were
several references to the Buchanan family, whom she believed to be her
ancestors. It appeared that the Buchanans had been living on the estate for
many generations. There was even a record of a marriage between a Malloch and a
Buchanan back in the nineteenth century. One Catriona Isabel Buchanan had
married the laird at the time, Angus Charles Malloch.

That was amusing. Catriona was her own given name. The
Napoleonic Age Catriona had probably been her ancestor. If so, she and the
current laird were distantly related, sharing some miniscule percentage of
their DNA.

Maybe I do indeed belong here, she mused. What a
peculiar and fascinating idea.

She felt oddly content. She had fallen in love with
the rough, craggy scenery— rolling hills and rugged mountains,
wildflowers dotting the landscape, the jagged coastline, the many lochs, the
fiercely pounding sea. It called to her. Her spirit seemed to have found its
home.

One of the last documents Kate examined before the
darkening sky outside told her that it was time to break for supper was the
diagram of the castle and its grounds. There were several interesting things
about the keep—it had a dungeon, for example. Probably a relic from
medieval times. She hoped it wasn’t still being used!

There were also references to an underground cavern.
When she read about this, she experienced a strange flash of deja vu. A cavern
under the castle? Why did that sound familiar to her?

The final castle feature that intrigued her was in the
garden—a maze. She loved mazes. It had been built in the late eighteenth
century when such things were all the rage. Its hedgerows were intricately laid
out. The puzzle was complex. But as she looked at the maze map, she saw the
patterns there. She was good at pattern detection. She also had a near
photographic memory, which she made use of as she memorized the maze and its
solution.

A mischievous notion occurred to her, and she pondered
how to put it in practice.

* * *

Mrs. Dumfries beamed as she carried a tray of
delicious smelling roast leg of lamb into the Mallochbirn Castle dining room.
On the friendly cook’s advice, Kate had dressed for dinner. She did have one garment
suitable for eveningwear. It was a simple black dress made of a knit material
that bounced back surprisingly well from being rolled up and tucked into
corners of overnight bags.

It was flattering too, clinging to her curves and
falling a bit short on her long, slim legs. She didn’t have a pair of heels in
the backpack, but her sandals looked okay with the dress. It was summer, after
all.

The dining room was quite elegant, with a huge dining
table set with fine china and silver. Large portraits of Scots—probably
former lairds of Mallochbirn—dominated each of the walls. There were
four places set. Ross stood at the head. He indicated that she should take the
seat on his left. A man she hadn’t met carried in another tray with streaming
vegetables and other side dishes.

“Kate, this is my steward, Hamish,” said Ross. “He
takes care of all sorts of things around the keep and the estate. Hamish, meet
Catriona Beaton, my guest.”

Hamish, a wiry middle-aged man with greying red hair
and a dour expression, nodded to her. Mrs. Dumfries, all smiles, added, “We don’t
know what we would do around here without Hamish. He’s our rock.”

Hamish looked embarrassed and said nothing. Kate
smiled at him and held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.” Hamish’s grip was
firm but quick, as if he didn’t want to intrude on her by touching her hand for
more than a split second.

“Is this the entire household?” she asked.

“No, there’s also Jamie Dumfries, Mrs. Dumfries’ son,
but he’s probably out chatting up the local lasses. He’s seventeen,” Ross
added, as if that explained everything. Which it probably did.

“But he’s a good lad,” his mum said, smiling
beneficently. “There’s also Annie, a girl from the village who’s here three
days a week to help with the cleaning and shopping and such. But she goes home
at night.”

“And of course, there’s Cameron,” Ross added. “He’s
not around much these days, though.”

“Who is Cameron?”

“My brother. He spends most of his time in Edinburgh.
Or even farther afield.”

“I didn’t realize you had a brother.”

“I have three brothers and a sister. We have a family
house in Edinburgh, and those wretches escape to the city as often as possible.”

“Cameron is his twin brother, Miss,” Mrs. Dumfries
chimed in, “They look so much alike that even those of us who have been with
the family forever can hardly tell them apart.”

Good lord, there were
two
of them? And other
siblings as well?

“Twins run in my family,” Ross said. “They show up
every few generations. My father wasn’t a twin, but my grandfather was.”

“So you’re the oldest brother? And the elder twin?
That’s why you’re the laird?”

“Firstborn child and older twin. By eight minutes,
aye. Lucky me.” He sounded as if he didn’t really consider it lucky at all.

“They’re a fine family, Miss,” Mrs. Dumfries said. “You
should see them making merry when they all get together.”

“Holidays are quite a lark around here,” Ross agreed.

The food was delicious. Kate complimented Mrs.
Dumfries as she tasted all the dishes, and that lady beamed with the praise.

Kate couldn’t help stealing glances at Ross Malloch
even when she was addressing a comment to one of the others at the table.
Everything he did seemed sexy to her—carving the roast, spooning potatoes
and spinach, cutting his meat and spearing it with his fork, carrying his fork
to his lips. She had to swallow the laughter that kept bubbling up inside her.
If it turned her on to watch him eating, just imagine how exciting it would be
to touch him, kiss him, lie down beside him...

Even more thrilling, he seemed to be reacting the same
way toward her. More often than not, when she glanced at him, he was already
looking at her. When their eyes met, sparks flew, and erotic visions danced in
her head. Chemistry was present in the room, and all the crazy protons and
electrons in her cells seemed to be yearning to bond and exchange atomic bits
with his. Or something. She had never been too good at chemistry.

There was a good deal of friendly chatter at the
dining table, inspired by Mrs. Dumfries, who was both affable and inquisitive,
and Kate, who was naturally outgoing. Hamish didn’t have much to say, but when
he did speak, his wit was dry and gentle. Kate liked him. Ross was genial
enough, too, although he sometimes seemed a little distant, as if his attention
kept wandering.

“So you said I could explore the keep, right?” she
asked him. “I found a couple of volumes on your island’s history in the
library. And I’m fascinated by old castles.”

“Aye, but be careful. The family has tried to keep it
well-maintained over the years, but it’s a huge task. There are areas that need
renovation. The main tower is solid and its battlements are safe, but some of
the sections along the western walls need reinforcing.”

“What about the dungeon? Has that been renovated?”

He gave her a long look, and then grinned. “No. What a
good idea. I should look into bringing my dungeon up to contemporary standards.”

Did he mean...yes he did! She flushed. The hot Scot
was getting hotter every minute.

“I also read something about a cavern under the keep.
Is that safe for me to explore?”

His expression darkened as if a light had been
switched off. “No. There are some old caves down there somewhere, but they
flooded long ago. The passageways through the stone foundations are blocked
off. Don’t go down there.” He seemed to realize that he had spoken sharply. “It’s
dangerous,” he added. “Try to stay above the ground, Ms. Beaton.”

“Please call me Kate.” She looked around the table, grinning
at everyone. “I’m not used to such formality. Please. Just Kate is fine.”

“Kate it is,” Ross agreed.

They had finished the main course and were waiting for
Mrs. Dumfries to bring out the pudding when a young man Kate hadn’t met hurried
into the dining room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but Miz Macdonald from the
village sent me to tell you Daisy’s in labor and squealing and carrying on in great
distress. She can’t seem to give birth. Could you come and see if there’s
anything wrong?”

“Of course,” said Ross, immediately getting up from
the table.

Daisy? Who was Daisy? Did Ross have a woman in the
village? A mistress?

“That old sow is getting a bit old for this,” he said.
“Get my bag from my office, Jamie, and let’s see what we can do for her.” He
smiled at Kate and added, “I hope you’ll excuse me for a little while. I need
to attend to this. By the way, this is young Jamie Dumfries. Jamie, bid welcome
to my guest, Kate Beaton.”

Jamie, an anxious-looking teenager, nodded to Kate.
She smiled back and asked, “Who is Daisy?” She wondered if there was a village
custom that the laird be present at all births.

“Daisy is a pig, Kate. And I am the local vet.”

He hurried out, leaving Kate staring after him in surprise.
Ross Malloch was a veterinarian? She felt like a fool for not realizing that a
modern man must have something more important to do all day than sit in his
ancient keep and laird about the place.

A vet. Wow. With her natural empathy for animals, she
had once dreamed of being a vet herself, but her lack of aptitude for
chemistry, biology and mathematics had scuttled that dream.

Malloch hadn’t returned when Kate went to bed that
night. She had wanted to wait up for this man, whom she found increasingly
fascinating. But a curious lassitude set in after the big dinner. When she went
up to her room to change into something more casual, she lay down for a quick nap,
and didn’t awaken until morning.