Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
While Kell and Xan are going to Leeds and then across to Eastwood, Tommy and I climb the steps on the plane at Southampton for a relatively short flight into Inverness. From there, we’ll travel further north by car to Xan’s home near Loch Shinn, Barclay House. Xan is as bad if not worse in titles than Kellen for the number of titles in his family. According to Xan, his dad, also known as ‘Himself,’ is a clan chief as well as the Earl of Sutherland. Xander said his dad prefers all the Scottish titles he holds.
“Have you ever met Xander’s Dad?” Tommy asks.
“No, I don’t think I did. I can’t remember him, but we were young, and you don’t tend to bother with adults. I certainly avoided anyone staying in the house if at all possible. They all reminded me of Rowena, so, no,” I say shaking my head.
Tommy drives us to Barclay House and we arrive just as the dawn is breaking over the eastern side of the loch. It’s the most mystical sight. I gasp at the beauty of the rugged mountains in the background, the clear flat surface of the loch in the early light—it’s silent, but not somehow.
The house is not really a house, more a castle with a tall tower to the east with four turrets. It looks almost Disney-like, but the stone is grey. The house to the side is joined by a walkway, and it now has a glass roof. But obviously this is new, as the house has stood for three hundred years and would have been more a fortress to protect the locals rather than decorative. All six sets of windows are ivy covered, three story high, and the roof has windows in it at intervals as well.
The entrance is at the other end and has its own set of towers coming from it. It’s magnificent—pretty, dark, forbidding, welcoming.
Tarron Barclay stands filling the entrance and beckons us in. His well-worn, comfortable-looking kilt, dark blue with lighter blue stripes, swirls around him as he strides forward. Fit for an older man, grey flecks his still jet black hair. His eyes are exactly the same as Xan’s—the brightest blue, that I’m sure will be the same colour of the sky here in the Highlands. A similar height and build to Xander, and still a tour de force.
I go to shake his hand, but he ignores it, laughs, and pulls me to him to kiss both my cheeks and give me a hug.
“Family don’t shake hands, Evie. And from what my son tells me, you are definitely that.” He does however clasp forearms with Tommy, and I’m surprised to see Tommy nod at him, clearly impressed.
I mouth to Tommy, “What you doing?”
He points to the back of the Earl of Sutherland, and mouths, “Clan Chief.” I smile, amused with his behaviour. “I’ve never met one before,” he says quietly.
Tarron sorts the luggage and has it directed to our rooms. He turns to look us over and says, “Come on through. I”ve got food set up, and you may want a wee nap, but if not I can show you around.” We both smile at him and start to walk forward. “You look exactly the same, lassie.” His voice is a strange mix of incredibly posh English with a slight Scottish accent. With some very Scottish words thrown in.
I look at him in bafflement. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m sure I would have remembered you,” I say, frowning at him.
“Well we have, and I do remember you. How can you forget the girl who blew up her garden, and most of the surrounding area, with one of the Purcell boys. We definitely talked about you. Henry Russell was laughing for weeks about it. Poor Anthony was shell shocked, but he soon recovered and loved the attention, so I’m told.”
I stare at him before blurting out, “You were there that day?”
“Oh, yes. I’d called in to see Xan on my way back up from London. We were all out in the fields, having a look around, when the bomb went off.” He starts to laugh. Tommy is staring at me in wonder, shaking his head. “So you see, very memorable. I can still see you now, both of you, filthy black hair standing on end, with the Purcell boy clinging to your legs. I had to prise him off you. I think he cried for you for hours. Russell and Xan had to bribe him with ice cream, or he would have run back for you.”
“Oh,” I say faintly. “What an introduction.”
“Well, just to let you know, I have hidden all the dynamite, so no fun for you.” He laughs loudly with gusto and I find myself smiling back at him.
We walk under the entrance portico, it’s stone heaven. “You have a beautiful home,” I gesture to the house. It’s already chatting on, the building that is, so too the outbuildings, they are so loud. I put my hands to my ears, as if the sound is outside and not just in my head.
“Do you feel okay my dear? You look very pale all of a sudden. Come, sit in here, I’ll get tea. Xander called and told me what you liked.”
He moves us to a smaller room, a kind of study, a working room, facing the front of the house. I think they used to be called a ‘speak a word room.’ There are papers strewn on the old, large, wooden desk. Books fill the shelves, some look legal in nature, and we sit on a very well-worn comfy sofa.
“I did have a more formal tea set up, but this room is nearer. Is it okay for you both? Sorry for the mess, but I work in here. The light is perfect all day.”
I know Xan’s dad was a lawyer of some standing, and still consults for both the English and Scottish governments on issues of law. The room, however, has a lived-in feel, and I find myself relaxing, smiling, chatting, filling Tarron in on events of the past few weeks, as we drink our tea and eat sandwiches.
I look out of the window, and I can’t see it but I can feel it. A building behind the trees, it’s literally shouting for me.
“What’s that building over there?” I ask Tarron as I stand and move to the window. The sun has risen and the sky is clearing to the brightest blue with no clouds. A rare day for Scotland. As the breeze moves the leaves, I catch a pink hue of stone flashing between the trees.
“How did you know one was there?” He looks at me with a challenge in his eye.
I shrug. “I thought I saw it when we came in,” I lie.
He comes to stand next to me. “Xander has told me all about you, Evie. Everything.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve known all about you since you met him aged nine. He was supposed to come to me in the summers, but I could not get him away from Eastwood. Russell, of course, but you and your brothers kept them going back.” He looks down at me.
“Evie, do you mind if I head to bed for an hour?” Tommy interjects. He’s been up for hours, and driven us up here.
I smile. “Of course, take your time. I may go up myself, in a bit.”
Tarron points in the direction we’re both now looking. “Let’s go meet it,” he says. The man is quirkier than Xander, but I definitely think Xan inherited his traits.
We move out of the ante room into the great hall, back through to the entrance portico, and veer to the right, moving down the path. Tarron points out landmarks as we go and we eventually move into the trees. I can see the pinkish stone peeking out through the leaves. It’s a carved archway into what looks like an old lodge and collection of buildings.
The pink stone archway opens into an old courtyard. Other buildings surround us, and an archway at the other end heads down to the loch. The buildings curve around to make a circle. The courtyard has sunlight at its centre, as it has risen sufficiently to shine over the lower walls at the back.
I turn my face up towards it, close my eyes, listening and smiling at the stories in my mind of what the building is telling me.
“They say this place was kissed by the Fairy Prince, a very powerful being. It’s that that turned the stone pink, and why we call it the Fairy House.” Tarron is stood, watching me, and he moves to stand next to me. “I think the seer lived here when the house was first built, maybe it’s that.”
He looks at me, grinning. “Oh, Xan has told me how you laugh when you tell them buildings talk to you, but I believe they do. We have connections with different things. For some people it’s people, for others animals, some trees, flowers, mountains, hills and lochs.” He sweeps his arms towards the hills in the background. “But some connections are strong and should never be laughed at or broken. They endure, they build, they love, they offer comfort, peace.”
He continues to watch and assess me. “Has my son and his idiot friend cocked it all up again? Are you leaving them after six months?” I gasp at his forthrightness. “As I said, I’ve known about you for a long time. Xander was so happy at Christmas, he didn’t come home. Your son was going to LA, they nearly bungled that one.” He shakes his head. “Young men, so foolish. I always say that youth is wasted on the young.”
I walk away from him, his scrutiny making me slightly uncomfortable, and seek the comfort of the building, touching the stone arch that goes down towards the loch. I feel the warmth of the stone, and the love from the building.
“They are both good men. Different in many ways,” he goes on, “but the same in others. They complement each other. Xander needed Russell when he was younger.
“His mother was not a nice woman, she didn’t want or love Xan. She married me as a convenience and debt to her family. Xander was an inconvenience she had to suffer. I tried my best to be there for him, but it was hard growing up when all around you see mothers with their children, and Xan had one that did not care.
“I know you helped him when she died, even though you were suffering yourself from your own grief. He told me about the graveyard, what you said to him. That was partly why I was at Eastwood that summer—to get a look at the girl who I feel saved my son. Then you blew up the countryside and I smiled the whole way home to Scotland, knowing he was in safe hands.”
His boyish grin brings a lump to my throat, and tears to my eyes.
I’m holding onto the stonework. “This building loves him,” I say sincerely. “They all do.” I gesture around.
“Of course they do. And he loves them. He was happiest here. She never came here—only to give birth to him, then never stepped foot back in the place—but Xander loved it. You see, if you are born here, or even conceived here, you will always belong here. No matter where else in the world you go, it will always call you back.”
He gives me a cheeky grin, then says in a low whisper, “It’s the fairies, the prince is so strong,” and looks furtively around. “Come back up to the house when you’re ready, we can have more tea, or you can sleep. If you stay up, I can take you around the loch. I know Xan will want to show you some of his favourite places, but I would love to show you some of mine.”
I kiss him on the cheek, and as he turns and heads back to the house, I set off for the loch at the bottom of the path. There’s a small beach, boulders sticking to the sand and into the water. The lapping of the small waves are soothing. I sit watching birds soar in the sky and feel the heat of the day notch up. It”s so peaceful here, other than the buildings that are not shutting up.
I hop off my boulder and meander back towards the building. “I’ll get you a new roof, just be quiet will you,” I tell it, touching the arch as I go past. I laugh. “You have a bigger ego than both Kellen and Xander combined,” I say to the fairy prince, and walk on smiling.
I decide sleep is for wimps and tell Tommy such when he reappears.
“We’ll see tonight,” he says as we load ourselves into an old Land Rover Defender. It has no creature comforts and makes my bones shake and my teeth rattle.
We head out to look around the estate. A mix of hills, mountains, some farming and fisheries, they also own most of a village that has a whisky distillery on it. I feel like Scotland is not Scotland without some connection to whisky.
I’m not quite run out of town when I mention Marshall and his family business in Ireland. Tarron asks if it’s the O’Clery family without prompting, so I assume they’re competitors and Xan has spoken about the whiskey he drinks in Devon.
We are then dragged to the pub to sample every whisky they have. Tommy, the poor soul, sees how Himself is knocking back the whisky and asks for a soda water. He’s definitely driving back. It’s still light at nearly 11 p.m., and I remark on it when we finally leave the pub.
Tarron answers, “It’s the summer solstice in a day or so. We have a big party at the house. Xan usually comes for his birthday and stays for it, Russell too. I assume you will all be staying?”
I shrug. “No idea, but I assume so. We’re not due anywhere until the twenty-second.”
I fall into bed, my body bone-deep tired and my mind seeking sweet oblivion. I sleep for hours and wake as the bright mid-morning light is desperately trying to get through the heavy brocade of the curtains. I shower and dress then wander down to the large kitchen and find Aileen, the housekeeper, fussing over brunch for me, and lunch for everyone else.
I opt to sit in the bright kitchen at the table and listen to Tarron talk about the estate with his estate manager. They have some plans out for restoration work to a couple of Bothies and have Heritage Scotland coming out next week to ensure the plans are okay. It appears Tarron is branching out into holiday type accommodation and has plans for some other buildings scattered around the estate. I take my phone out and send Xan a message.
Me
Happy Birthday, Xander. Lots of love C U later hopefully xx
Xan
Thanks Kitten. Yes not long and we are setting off. Kell killing Giles.
Then later
Kell
On our way. Should be there by tonight, but late
I spend the day looking round old buildings. I am in heaven. The plans in my hands, before long I’m discussing how to renovate and restore rather than change. I get back and set about the plans, working through what I think should be done that doesn’t change the fabric of these very special buildings.
Working until late, and calling Tarron and the estate manager to come have a look, I see Tarron’s sharp mind kick into gear. A lot of money can be saved by repurposing and using existing features for the interiors.
“I did not ask you to come here so you could work for me, but these are amazing. I feel I should give you a fee for consultancy. I don’t think anyone else could have seen what you have with these.”
I smile gently at him. “I know you didn’t, and I don’t want to overstep my status as a friend, but I’ve also got some interior ideas. I can work with your designer if you’d let me, and I really don’t want paying. This is Xan’s home, we don’t charge family.”
The emotion behind his eyes as he looks at me is impossibly clear. “My son is a very lucky man to have you in his life, Evie Greystone. I shall remind him of that every day.”
We end the day in the pub, and I’m seeing a pattern here as Tarron has his usual stool kept free for him at the bar. A folk band starts up in the corner and every toe in the pub is tapping away to the tunes.
“Can you dance, Evie?” Tarron asks me, holding out his hand.
I smile at him and admit, “Not well, but I’ll give it a go.”
A few others get up and are doing a reel type thing which I join in with, Tarron leading me through it. It’s so good to spin and whirl, laugh and smile without a care. I plop into my chair out of breath, impressed Tarron is still going strong with a few of the local ladies.
“He’s murder. You can’t get him to sit down once he’s up,” one of the locals informs us above the music. He sure is fit for an older guy. “It’s the good Scottish air, and lots of walking,” says the local flexing his own muscles.
I laugh with them, and watch the flying Lord take yet more ladies onto the dancefloor. “All this Scottish air is wearing me out,” I yawn.
“We can go if you like,” says Tommy.
“I suppose it depends on what time Himself wants to go.” I point to the flying clan chief, who has three more ladies on the go at once, keeping them all busy.
“The pub will close at whatever time, there may be stragglers coming in. It’s not fully dark till late this time of year. We don”t have to wait for Himself, he can find his own way home,” Tommy tells me. “This lot will sort him out.”
We manage to get out of the pub within the hour, I feel like a local. It’s not totally dark outside when we leave, and the sky is the oddest shade of blue/black. I clamber into the Land Rover and prepare myself for the bumpy ride home.
“Doesn’t look like the boys have got here yet.” I state the obvious as we pull up to the house and it’s still in darkness.
Bidding Tommy sweet dreams, I climb the stairs to my room. The curtains have been drawn and a lamp is on, giving the room a cosy feel. The thick rugs are cool under my feet, but I bet in winter are the most welcome things in the house.
I climb into bed, intending to try to stay awake and wait for Kellen to come, but I don’t last. I fall into a dreamless sleep, from which I’m awoken with kisses on my face, and my whole body.
He’s here. I breathe in his scent, and breathe out a sigh of pure pleasure.
“I like that sound,” he murmurs to me, and continues to kiss me awake, loving my body with gentle skims and caresses.
Totally naked, he’s pushed all the covers from me and moves my sleep shorts down my legs, kissing their path downwards. I watch his body in the dim light, his muscles moving into and out of the shadows. Never have I seen anything so beautiful.
His skin feels like silk under my fingers, and I hear him groan out, “Touch me, Kitten, touch me. I’ve missed you.”
I run my hands over his back and shoulders, tracing the tattoo on his shoulder and down his arms. He’s growling at the back of his throat, and I feel his fingertips opening my legs to touch me inside.
Moving down the bed, he breathes me in, gently rubbing his stubbled chin on my inner thighs. God, I want him there. I mewl a sound, but no words are coming. I feel him smile, then gently put his tongue on me. I literally convulse off the bed, arching into him.
“You’ve missed me, too,” he says and kisses my clit, my folds. He licks me around and around, then pulls himself up and moves to kiss my breasts. “Oh, God, I love these tits. Hey babies, have you missed me?” he says quietly to them, making me laugh then groan as he gently runs his hands over them. “I know, Kitten. I’ll make it better, promise,” he murmurs to me as he pushes inside me.
No thrusting, no frantic pace, just long and slow, hard then soft. Grinding his hips then pulling out until only the tip is at my entrance then pushing back in.
“Feel me love you, Evie,” he says into my mouth, my hair, as he kisses up my neck. No hard bites, just soft nips, nuzzling, and gentle licking.
I feel like my body has been taken over as he continually pushes us both towards heaven. I want him to speed up, can feel his piercing gliding in and out, all the way, grinding deep inside.
“Kell.” Nothing else is coming through. “Please.” I have no idea what I’m begging for, I don’t really want it to end. He’s playing my body like his most precious instrument. Loving it, loving me. Memories of how I felt in that black tent flood my mind—no end and no beginning, just us.