The Presence

The answer was a little slow. An ironic smile seemed to twitch MacNiall’s lips. “With the ancestral home filled with unbelievers? Indeed.”

“Want me to see to the horse? I did some work in the stables. He isn’t usually there, is he?” Ryan asked. “I only ask because the stables were in serious disrepair, and this fellow is so obviously well tended.”

“He was boarded in my absence.”

“How long were you gone? Twenty years?” Toni muttered.

Once again Gina jabbed her fiercely in the ribs.

“I’ll take him out, bed him down,” Ryan offered.

Toni wanted to knock him in the head for the offer, but she knew that he wasn’t being subservient. Ryan simply loved horses. And she had to admit that the animal was magnificent.

“Sure,” MacNiall said. “Thanks. His name is Shaunessy.”

“Shaunessy?” Toni couldn’t quite help herself. “Not Thor, Thunder or King?” Gina’s third strike against her rib cage nearly caused her to cry out. She winced. “Shaunessy,” she said. “Great name.”

Ryan came to lead the horse out. “I’ll give you a hand!” Kevin offered quickly, and they departed.

“There’s tea!” David said suddenly into the awkward silence. “And scones. Great little scones.”

“Wow, tea! I’d love tea!” Gina said. “You’d love tea, too, Toni!” Gina grabbed Toni’s hand. “And we’d love for Laird MacNiall to join us so we can explain about how and why we rented the place … talk about all the work we’ve done here, and find out about Laird MacNiall, while we’re at it?” She looked at him hopefully.

“Since you’ve been so kind to let us stay while we get to the bottom of this, would you be willing to join us, Lord MacNiall?” Thayer asked.

“Thanks. I had a long flight in today, a lot of business and a long drive, only to find out that the castle had been … inhabited,” MacNiall said. “I’ll just retire for the night, if you don’t mind. Please feel free to enjoy your tea, however. And the hospitality. Until Monday.”

“Until Monday?” Toni said, and her reward was a final jab from Gina. This time she protested, staring at Gina. “Ow!”

“Good night!” Gina said, “And thank you.”

“Your papers,” MacNiall said, handing them back to Gina.

“Thank you,” Gina said again. “And thank you for … for letting us stay until Monday. Until this is all straightened out. I don’t know where we’d go, especially at this hour.”

He inclined his head. “I sympathize with your situation,” he said. “Good night, then.” He took one long last look at Toni and turned away.

Toni opened her mouth, about to speak, but Gina clamped a hand over her mouth, desperately whispering, “Just say, ‘Good night, Laird MacNiall!'”

MacNiall looked back, all six feet three inches of him. His eyes now appeared to be more of a true blue, and as sharp as a summer’s sky. Something strange

ripped through Toni. She was caught, frozen. She felt as if she knew him, knew the way that he looked at her. Had known him before. And would know him again. A tremor ran down her spine. Ice. Fire. She had invented him!

He was just a man, she told herself—irritating, superior and angry that they were in his house.

Not true. If his hair were a little longer, his clothing a bit different, just a bit different … “Good night,” he said.

The ice and fire, and a feeling of foreboding so intense she trembled, became too much, far too intense. She turned herself and hurried down the stairs. Ran. Yet a voice whispered to her all the while. You can’t run away. You can’t run away. And something even softer, an afterthought. Not this time …

2

Gina caught up with Toni at the bottom of the stairs.

“What are you doing?” she asked in dismay.

“What am I doing?” Toni echoed. Now that she was away from him, from the way that he looked at her, the trembling had stopped. The strange moment was gone. He was just a man. Tall, wired, muscled, imposing—and irate that they were in what he claimed to be his property.

“Gina!” she said, determined that they would not be groveling idiots, no matter what the situation turned out to be. “Do you hear yourself? You’re thanking him for throwing us out on Monday, after all this!”

“Shh!”

Gina pulled her along, anxious that Laird MacNiall not hear any more of her comments. They moved from the great hall, through a vast dining area and then through another door to the kitchen, a large area where a huge hearth with antique accoutrements still occupied most of the north wall.

There were concessions to the present, however, including the modern stove, freezer, refrigerator and microwave. The huge island counter in the center of the room, set beneath hanging pots and pans, was surely original, and at one time had certainly hosted huge sides of venison, boar and beef. Now cleaned and scrubbed, it was a dining table with a multitude of chairs around it.

The fact that MacNiall hadn’t joined them had opened the floodgates of emotion. Thayer, Gina and Kevin all accosted Toni immediately.

“How the hell did this happen?” Kevin demanded.

“We all saw the agreements! And signed them,” Toni reminded them. She looked around. These were her friends, her very best friends. Gina and Ryan, whom she’d met three years ago while working at a Florida tourist attraction. And David Fulton! Tall, dark and handsome, with the deepest dimples and warmest smile in both hemispheres, David had been Toni’s friend in college. Brokenhearted by the loss of a lover, he’d quickly rallied when he and Toni had gone to a concert with Gina and Ryan, and he had met Kevin—who had immediately fit in.

Toni had been the loner in their group, but in a strange way that had changed when they had come to Scotland together six months ago. They had visited a castle bought by some of its clan members, who had then opened the house to visitors for whatever money they could bring in, thus affording to restore the place. And their wild scheme had hatched. If others had done it, why couldn’t they? It was possible if they pooled their resources.

And that was where Thayer had come into the picture to complete their group of six. Thayer was her cousin, a Fraser. A distant cousin, Toni assumed, since their respective grandfathers had been cousins, which made Thayer … exactly what, she wasn’t sure. He was certainly intelligent and attractive, but he was something even more important to their enterprise—an authentic Scot. Not only was he fluent in Gaelic, he understood the customs and the nuances of doing business in the small community. He acted as their interpreter—in more ways than one.

Her friends and her kin stared at her, almost accusingly. She stared straight back.

“Think about it! Maybe he doesn’t have a right to be here. We just don’t really know, do we?”

“Well, not positively,” David murmured, but he spoke without conviction.

That MacNiall might be in the wrong, and they were the ones with the right to the place, was a nice hope. Unfortunately, none of them really seemed to believe it. Toni didn’t even believe it herself.

“The constable said that MacNiall owned the place,” Thayer reminded her wearily.

“So? Constable Tavish is a local. He has loyalties to an old family name. We really don’t know the truth. Our lawyer may be American, but he still knows the law. We need to get more serious legal advice, and get it fast.”

“Legal advice from the States may not help us now,” Kevin reminded her. “Thayer?” Toni said.

He shrugged, shaking his head. “I saw the ads for the place in Glasgow, and I saw the same thing on the Internet that you did. And yes, I read the rental agreements, just as we all did. Gina, can I see the papers?” he asked.

Gina set them down before him.

“Even Laird MacNiall said that they look real or proper or … whatever!” Toni murmured.

“Yeah, they look legal,” Ryan said bitterly. “Tons of small print.”

“We actually rented from Uxbridge Corporation,” Thayer murmured. “We’re going to have to trace it down. When you sent the euro-check, Toni, was there an exact address?”