Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle (28 page)

“You can’t see the branches as is,” he teased.

But there was sadness in his eyes at not being a part of this Falgannon tradition. After hearing about his childhood, she presumed Christmastime had been hard. Going to the bar, she fetched a box from under the counter. She held it out, fighting a tear as Des hesitated. This little boy lost hungered for that box; Desmond the man wouldn’t open himself to it.

Wee Gordie pushed Des forward. With a slight tremble, he finally accepted the white box from B.A. and pulled off the lid. A portrait of him from waist up with Dudley sitting in his lap was on the gleaming silver bulb.

Desmond couldn’t move. Never had he received so precious a gift. B.A. lifted the ornament by the hook and together they fastened it on the tree.

“You like?”

He nodded, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “Very much.”

Oona came over, admiring her handiwork. “I did a nice job, if I say so myself.”

“It’s beautiful,” Oddly, he felt like breaking down and crying—maybe crying as he never had his whole life. “Thank you, I’m chuffed.”

“Speaking of beautiful, did B.A. talk to you about me representing your castle drawings?”

Desmond blinked, confused. “My drawings?”

“Sorry, Oona, I keep forgetting.” B.A. smiled, embarrassed. “Oona wants to turn your drawings into lithographs and sell them through Falgannon Gallery.”

He scoffed, “No one would buy those.”

“They’d snap them up,” Oona assured him. “Come by the gallery when you have time.”

Desmond let out a gasp and whipped around, glaring at Oona as she sauntered away. “You’re sure she’s gay? She goosed me!”

“Take me out into the snow, Des.” B.A. dragged him to the door.

The ground was white, with more big flakes falling thickly. Dudley peeked out his cat door, sneezed, then scurried back inside. B.A. danced out into the road, allowing snowflakes to hit her face.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” She held her arms out, embracing the weather.

Desmond slowly walked to her. B.A. looked at him with those luminous, all-seeing eyes that bored straight to his soul. Then a sad smile crossed her mouth.

Leaning up, she brushed her lips across his. “Whatever causes the shadows, Des—it little matters. Nothing matters but us.”

Pulling her into his arms, Desmond held her tightly, wishing with all his heart he could believe that.

Desmond stretched out on the sofa, then crossed his legs at the ankles. He sipped hot cider while critiquing the tree B.A. and he had finished decorating for Lady Cottage. The crystal bubbling lights were the perfect accent for the French blue frosted bulbs. Elegant. But then, each tree she decked was unique.

B.A. picked up the empty boxes with the kitten under her feet. Dudley lay along the sofa’s back, eyeing the other cat with disdain. Like Desmond, he was a little jaded, since this was their fifth tree and another was in the offing. “It’s gorgeous. But then, so were the other four.”

“Going bah-humbug on me?” She dangled a ribbon for the kitten. “Rose Cottage will be the last. Thought I’d cook supper for LynneAnne, Julian and you. Then we could decorate the final tree and have a quiet Christmas Eve.”

Desmond’s eyebrows lifted in doubt. “Cooking?”

“You say that as if you think I can’t.”

“Tarn assures me I ‘won’t starve.’ From that I inferred, you’ve a lacking in the culinary arts.”

“You’ll see tomorrow.”

“You’re cooking, not serving up what Tarn sends over?” he teased.

“I’ll make you eat those words.” She tossed a throw pillow at him, missed and hit Dudley, knocking the cat off the sofa. The kitten jumped on Dudley’s neck and bulldogged him. The cat stared at Desmond in disgust, clearly saying,
This is all your fault
.

“Words?” He expelled a breath as she sat in his lap. “Not food? Haven’t you learned the way to a man’s heart? The lads tell you, but being a Montgomerie, do you listen?”

She leaned forward and kissed him until steam poured out his ears. “The
only
way, Des?”

He attempted to roll her under him, then instead tumbled them onto the thick rug before the fireplace. “I’ve always wanted to make love to a gorgeous blonde on a bearskin.”

“It’s not real bearskin.” She wrapped her arms around his neck as he loomed over her.

“Faux bearskin, but real blonde.” Kissing her, he shifted onto his hip so he could unbutton her sweater. Breaking the kiss, he stared at her teal brassiere. He flipped the snap. “Bet the inventor of front-closing bras was a man.”

He slid down her body to put his hot mouth to her breast. Not pausing for playfulness, he drew on it hard, causing her hips to arch in instant hunger.

“Maybe it was a woman… who couldn’t undress fast enough,” B.A. gasped. “I wish I could wiggle my nose and my clothes would disappear.” She grabbed his belt buckle.

A scream came. “B.A.!”

Desmond dropped his forehead against hers. “B.A., what this isle needs is ritual sacrifice.” He struggled to re-snap her bra. “I think a green-eyed man should have that right.”

“B.A.!” The door flung open.

“You and unlocked doors.” Desmond glowered while she hurriedly buttoned her sweater, then offered his hand to help her stand.

Out of breath, Willie asked, “May we use the phone? Where’s the phone, B.A.?”

“Willie”—B.A. showed him to the hall table—“is someone hurt?”

“Och, no. Cassie needs to use it.”

“Cassie?” B.A. looked to see Willie’s girl standing outside the door, obviously cautious about entering uninvited. “Come in.”

Desmond muttered behind B.A.‘s back, “Yeah, everyone else does.”

“Sorry, B.A.” She wrung her hands. “But I wanted my mother to be the first to know, and the other phones aren’t working—”

Willie grabbed Cassie’s arms and danced her in a circle, his face aglow with excitement. “We’re getting married, B.A.!”

Cassie laughed. “Okay, mother’s third.”

“I’m happy for you.” B.A. hugged Cassie as Willie shook hands with Desmond.

“B.A., can we wed on New Year’s?” Willie inquired as Cassie placed her call.

“Sorry.” B.A. stepped into her study and picked up her day-by-day calendar. “I’ve downloaded Form M10. You both take it to the Registrar’s Office in Stornoway. Once the Registrar is satisfied, she’ll issue a marriage schedule.”

“What happened to saying ‘I will’ over an anvil?” Willie sulked.

“I’m sure Cassie will want a beautiful wedding,” B.A. hinted.

Cassie’s mother wanted to talk to Willie, so B.A. went to the bar and took out glasses and poured drams of whisky. Desmond, on the sofa arm, caught B.A. by the waist and tugged her back to him. Nuzzling her shoulder, he kept his voice low.

“It’s driving me nuts wondering if you have on a teal thong.”

“The delay in getting a permit to marry works out fine,” Willie said, coming back to the living room. “She wants to fly to Falgannon for the ceremony!”

B.A. passed everyone a drink. “To my first success at matchmaking.”

“To a match made in Heaven,” Desmond toasted. “And to a lock on that door.”

Willie beamed. “A match made on Falgannon—even more special.”

Desmond’s heart squeezed as B.A. looked at him with love in her eyes. “Much more special.”

Desmond walked down a long dark hall. Heart-wrenching sobs tore at his soul. He paused, helpless against the grief gripping his mother. Sometimes he wanted to lie back on his bed, close his eyes and never awaken. But who’d care for her and the twins?

As he moved forward, the darkness seemed to extend forever, the cries always just a little ahead. After his father’s death, they’d never lived in anyplace with more than a few rooms, so it seemed odd to walk this endless corridor.

Finally, he pushed open a door. His father sat, staring at a piece of paper, his face waxen. He lifted his head. “You’re the man of the family now, Desmond. Your mother needs you. Your brothers need you. Everything’s up to you.“His father raised the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Behind him, Desmond heard a scream. It reverberated through his head. His mother’s hand reached out, grasping his so tightly it was painful. The scream went on and on. Arm throbbing, he struggled to pull away. Still she held on, as if she let go there’d be no way back from the torment.

“Mother, you’re hurting.” She squeezed harder. He cried, afraid she’d break bones. “Please let go.”

Her claw-like grip increased. Growing lightheaded from the pain, he fought the darkness and passing out. The hand was no longer the beautiful hand of his mother. The flesh had wasted away to nothing, tissue thin skin over bone. His head jerked up, the staring face of Katlyn as he’d last seen her: bald, featureless, unrecognizable except for those green eyes dulled by the touch of death.

“You promised, Desmond, you promised.”

Soaking with sweat, Desmond jerked awake; his heart hurt. He closed his eyes, grimacing from the pain.

B.A. pushed Dudley and the kitten off her legs where they’d cuddled. Sleepy, they snuggled back down together without the cat noticing he cradled the kitten. She scooted behind Desmond, leaned her head against his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s exciting about Cassie and Willie. Can I talk you into wearing a kilt for the wedding?”

His tension eased as he realized she wasn’t going to ask about his dream. “Wanting to put me into a skirt again?”

Td think you dead sexy in a kilt.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you loved the leather breeks.”

“I do. Only, I think Willie wants you as his best man. I’m sure he’ll wear a kilt, so his best man will need one, too.”

“I’ve an ace up my sleeve.” He shifted so he could kiss her. A slow tender kiss. When he pulled back, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes you amaze me.”

“Amaze you good or amaze you bad?” She slid down the bed as he rose over her.

“You don’t push. I thought women drove men nuts with questions.” His pale eyes searched hers in the dim light of dawn.

“I’m curious, even nosy. But living on an island of men I’ve learned you can’t prod them into things. Try, and they’ll get stubborn. I bide my time. All good things come to those who wait.’”

Desmond slid over her. “Let’s see how good I can be when I make you come.”

Chapter 26

“What did he do to my sister?” B.A. stared at Desmond and Julian as LynneAnne sailed by them. When neither man answered, she pecked Des on the cheek and headed down the steps. “Bloody pirate,” she tossed over her shoulder at Julian. She paused, tugging on the handle of the car several times before it finally opened. “Des, this damn thing is sticking again. “

“Wulf’s ordered a replacement.”

B.A. glared at Julian again, then climbed into the navy Rover on the way to fetch groceries.

Julian appeared bored. “They’re in agreement of their opinion of me, it seems.”

With a smile, Desmond watched B.A. reverse the car and slam out of the driveway.

“I’m not sure you should’ve given B.A. the Rover. She drives like a bat out of hell,” Julian commented.

“She makes love the same way… lucky me.” Desmond turned to him. “So what
did
you do to LynneAnne?”

“Nothing.” Julian leaned back against the porch railing.

“She doesn’t want to cut out your liver and feed it to The Escape Artists for
nothing
”

“Escape Artists?” Julian queried.

Desmond pointed at the pack of foxhounds.

“Ah, The Escape Artists—long-legged beagles. Are they “The Dog” something or other?”

“Only Dudley gets a personal ‘the.’ Now stop avoiding my question.”

Julian insisted, “
Nothing
happened.”

“Ah…” Desmond smirked. “The big nothing.”

Julian tapped the end of his nose with his index finger.

“Losing your touch? Never knew a woman to turn down a night in your bed.”

Julian stared impassively. “Actually… I did the turning down. Figured you wouldn’t want me playing tag with B.A.‘s sister.”

“You’re adults.”

Julian shrugged. “I tried to be honorable, but little LynneAnne wanted to play knick-knack on my drum.”

“As in knick-knack-paddy-whack, give the dog a bone?” Desmond laughed.

“So now she’s back to accusing me of wearing the earring in the wrong ear.”

Desmond tapped his friend’s upper arm. “Come on, while they raid the store, Patrick’s letting us in through the back of his jewelry shop. I want to buy LynneAnne a present.”

“A bribe?” Julian accused. “Smart idea. Maybe I’ll buy something as well. Might keep her from using a meat fork on me.”

Climbing out of the Rover, B.A. eyed her sullen sibling.

Something had occurred between Julian and her sister last night. She liked Starkadder, but wasn’t sure he was brother-in-law material. Still, love struck and you either grinned like an idiot or ran like hell.

Which piqued B.A.‘s inquisitiveness. LynneAnne was neither grinning nor running.

They ran a gauntlet of silly dogs and pushed into the store. Dudley rushed to the stack of Kookamunga Catnip Treats and meowed as B.A. passed. Shooting her a glare when she ignored him, he knocked over a tub, bit into the plastic lid and ripped it off. B.A. chuckled.

LynneAnne glanced at Dudley. “The hog in fur is eating the inventory,” she remarked.

B.A. placed honey in the basket. “Aye. I let him steal them. Makes them taste twice as good.”

“I don’t think
taste
comes into Dudley’s decision-making process.”

B.A. cut to the point. “Planning to tell me what Julian did?”

“Nothing.” LynneAnne stared at the cans. “Anyone eat this stuff, or do you sell it for doorstops? I mean,
canned
haggis?” She shuddered.

“Kitty loves it.”

“B.A., that’s not a recommendation.”

B.A. fixed LynneAnne with a glare. “What did Julian do?”

“I told you: Nothing!”

“Ah. Nothing.” B.A. worked to hide her smile. “Details?”

LynneAnne threw up her hands. “Watching Desmond and you made me…
itchy
.”

“So you decided to let Julian scratch?”

“You and Mr. Dark-and-Sexy give off enough pheromones to raise the dead. Seeing Starkadder’s a bloody pirate with a stupid earring, I figured he’d be up to a little yo-ho-ho.” She picked up the haggis, pretending to read the minimum daily requirements.

“And was he up?”

LynneAnne slammed the can down. Dudley jumped. B.A. figured the poor dear probably experienced a flashback to the night of Desmond’s arrival.

She loaded everything she wanted to buy into her basket. “So?”

“It’s embarrassing.” Opening a jar, LynneAnne took out a sucker. “He’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He looked so wicked, yet so innocent. I went over and kissed him. Oh, boy! He kissed me back. Slow, deep and like he wanted to climb into my skin. Tears came to my eyes.”

“And?” B.A. hefted her basket, then flipped off the lights.

LynneAnne followed her and climbed into the car. “He said, ‘I don’t know you and you don’t know me, maybe we should leave it at that.’ Then he went upstairs to his bedroom and closed the door. Have I acquired leprosy?”

B.A. sighed. “Likely he’s keeping his distance because he’s Desmond’s employee.”

“What’s working for Desmond have to do with the price of canned haggis?” And LynneAnne fell into a sulky silence.

B.A. knew her sister. This wouldn’t be the end of the matter. Of course, if LynneAnne decided to set her cap for Julian, maybe they’d settle on Falgannon. Smiling, she took the curve in the road.

The silver Rover pulled into the drive ahead of them, and the two sexy males got out. “Men hard on a woman’s heart,” B.A. sighed.

LynneAnne exhaled noisily. “Bloody pirates.”

B.A. basted the goose while Dudley and Annie meowed at the tantalizing aroma. Desmond came in, laughing.

“Dinner!” he said.

“Where’d you go earlier?” she asked, pushing the bird partway back into the oven.

He opened the refrigerator to fix a lemon squeezy. “We dashed to The Hanged Man, mooching some real grub from Tarn to tide us over until the
ceilidh
.”

She waved her baster at him. “You’ll have a helping of crow with supper.”

“That’s crow? I thought it was a goose.” He sniffed the bird, then tried to snag a wing, only to have his knuckles slapped.

“You’ll get worms.” Replacing the foil, she shoved it back into the oven. “I’m doing a Yank Christmas supper—goose, dressing, yams, cranberry sauce, rolls and pumpkin cheesecake.”

“Mustn’t forget the cheesecake. Fine Yank tradition.” Desmond took her wrists, hauling her against him. “Can I bribe you to wear that apron for me later?”

“If you grovel for insulting my cooking.”

He lowered his head to kiss her, only the phone rang. He groaned. “What is it, B.A.? Some microchip alarm hidden at the back of your neck goes off every time I touch you?”

B.A. untangled herself to take the call, heard her brother’s voice. “Cian, are you calling to wish us a merry ho-ho?”

“Christmas? Oh yes—Merry Christmas, B.A.”

“You sound distracted.” She accepted the lemonade from Desmond.

Cian sighed. “That’s putting it mildly. I’m tracking down siblings.”

To her delight, Desmond massaged her shoulders as she talked. “Aren’t they at Colford?”

“LynneAnne’s with you. Asha and Liam are in Kentucky. I’m sending proxies for LynneAnne and you to sign. Trident Ventures is gearing up for a hostile takeover. They bought up a big block of stock—near forty percent. I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.”

“The family holds fifty-one percent—”

“Father owns eleven percent, as do I. The remainder is spread among grandchildren. You have five percent and our brothers and sisters each have two. LynneAnne, Asha, Liam and you own eleven percent of the stock. I
need
those proxies.”

“You’ll get them.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas, little sister. Wish the same to everyone from me.”

“Nollaig chridheil huibh
to all from Falgannon.”

Hanging up the phone she paused, lost in thought.

Desmond smoothed the furrow in her brow with his thumb. “Keep frowning like that and Dudley and I will cart you to the mainland for Botox injections. Something wrong?”

B.A. looked at him, unease filling her, yet not certain why. “Do you know anything about Trident Ventures?”

*

Desmond stared at the goose on his plate, sick to his stomach. He feared he’d vomit if he took the first bite. He needed a scotch to steady his nerves.

B.A. had nearly taken him out at the knees with her earlier question about Trident. For a breathless instant he’d thought she knew everything. When she said she didn’t understand how a takeover bid worked, he drew air again. He’d mumbled an ambiguous reply, which satisfied her, though he couldn’t recall what he’d said.

“Des,” he finally realized B.A. was saying. “Is something wrong with the food?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s great.”

“You haven’t taken a bite.” She kissed him lightly. “Please eat. You worry me when you go spacey.”

He took a bite of goose, not tasting it. “Just a slight headache.”

Ever solicitous, Julian jumped up and fetched aspirin. Desmond thankfully accepted the pills and whisky, welcoming the alcohol’s warmth.

Julian sat and ate. “B.A., this is delicious.”

She stuck her tongue out at Desmond.

The front door burst open and a racket ensued. The cats hissed and ran under the table as Ian and Brian came in. Unfortunately, The Escape Artists sandwiched themselves between the twins and nearly bowled Ian over.

B.A. headed them off.“Eegits! Evict the hounds from hell.”

“Sorry, lass.” Brian laughed as a foxhound knocked him onto the sofa.“‘Tis Ian’s fault. He was to lock them in the kennels.”

Ian had two hounds by the collars, dragging them out the door. He glared at his brother. “Och, you dirty liar! It’s your turn to tuck them up.”

Angus came in, holding a large jar above his head. “Out of me way!” He fussed at the dogs, who were jumping to grab his eggnog. “B.A., ashamed you should be. The Escape Artists will give the kitties tiny livestock.”

“Tiny livestock?” Julian choked.

“Fleas.” Desmond said with a laugh. He welcomed this typical Falgannon chaos, used it to mask his panic.

After much ado, the dogs were ejected and the door shut firmly.

“How did those dogs earn their nickname?” Julian asked.

Ian explained. “They learnt to flip handles with their noses, so they’re always out.”

Desmond pulled up chairs for the newcomers. “Ever consider a
lock
on the kennels? Locking doors keeps all sorts of things in—and out.” His eyes flashed at B.A. in a private joke.

Ian came forward, holding an empty plate. “Endless apologies, B.A. We brought a haggis to contribute, but the pups got it.”

Desmond sniggered. “There is a God.”

Angus eyed the goose and trimmings, then winked. “Glad to see our B.A. learnt the way to a man’s heart. Must be the first time a Montgomerie
ever
listened to anyone.”

The Frasers and Angus departed, complaining they’d eaten too much. It had been a lovely family supper. Laughing, teasing—plenty of food and eggnog. Even the kitties had Angus’s nog. Passed out, both lay before the fire. At one point the kitten stretched, resettled, cuddled up against Dudley. The cat opened an eye, glared, then went back to sleep.

B.A. was on one sofa, head contentedly in Desmond’s lap. LynneAnne curled up with a pillow on the other couch, pretending to drowse. But B.A. noticed her sister tracked Julian like a hawk. Julian slouched in a recliner, feigning interest in a DVD. His hooded eyes shifted to LynneAnne when she wasn’t looking.

B.A. sensed a torrid romance brewing.

The clock on the mantel chimed midnight. Hooking her arms around Desmond’s neck, she moaned, “I’m too cozy to move.”

Julian rose and went to the tree, poking around until he found two small gifts. He squatted before B.A. and held out a box wrapped in gold foil. “Merry Christmas, BarbaraAnne.”

B.A. undid the bow and paper. Inside the box was a pair of white gold earrings, Pictish in design. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Julian, they’re lovely.”

Covetously observing B.A. and the earrings, LynneAnne didn’t notice Julian turn and hold out a box to her. He tapped her arm twice to attract her attention.

“For me?” She looked up at him, surprised.

Julian rolled his eyes. “No, the cat.” He rattled the box. “Cripes, it’s not ticking.”

LynneAnne unknotted the red bow. In the box was a gold cuff bracelet with Pictish drawings. Lovingly, her fingers traced the intricate patterns on the metal.

“Do you like it?” Julian asked.

B.A. grumbled when Des made her move. He got to his feet and patted Julian on the shoulder. “Down boy.”

Barely containing her excitement, B.A. had hidden the sword at the back of the tree, so she had to work to get it out. The kitten joined in the fun, dashing in among the presents and then straight up to the treetop, peeking out—a live Christmas angel.

Shaking, she held her box out for Des. She couldn’t breathe as Desmond carefully undid the tartan bow, the gold foil paper and finally the lid. He sat frozen, staring at the magic crafted by Skylar’s skill. Angel and Devil B.A. both screamed,
Does he like it or not?
B.A. bit back the urge to tell them to put a sock in it. “Des, say something or I’ll pass out.”

He put his hands around the pommel of the sword and lifted it. “This… is…”

“Is what, Des?” She stared at the man she so loved, holding in his hands the sword forged for him. He looked perfect gripping the weapon, her modern-day warrior.

He answered, “Words fall short for what I see in this.”

You see my love,
her mind whispered.

He leaned to kiss her, but she held up the small box to make her gifts to him complete.
“I’m
opening this one.” She laughed. Hand shaking, she ripped the beautiful paper. Reaching out, she took his left hand and slid the ring matching the sword onto his index finger. “Merry Christmas, Des.”

He put the sword down and brushed a kiss against her lips. “I’ve never received presents so special.”

Needing reassurance, she searched his eyes. She wanted desperately for this Christmas to make up for all the sad ones he’d ever faced. He pushed her to sit on the footrest.

“Close your eyes.”

B.A. vibrated with anticipation as Desmond sat behind her. He lifted her hair over one shoulder. Then he draped a chain around her neck and fastened a catch.