The Promise (Highland Lairds of the Crest #4)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

It wasn’t at all unusual for Aidan to be met by Duncan upon his arrival. What was unusual, however, was the news he brought with him: an O’Roarke, here in residence, and awaiting escort to the O’Roarkes at Dunhill Proper. Aidan tried to reconcile the information, so far from anything he expected—although, what he had expected had involved a portal between realms and the warnings of a powerful enchantress, which was rather unusual too. The boys, already eager to see their new home, shrieked excitedly, running ahead to meet their kin (blood relation or not, according to Gwen and Maggie they were all family just the same), Isabelle close behind.

Aidan listened as Duncan updated him on the men who’d been sent to meet Gavin, confirming they’d arrived at the port on schedule, and that their progress toward Abersoch was already well underway. He would still be an hour or so on the ride, mayhap more with their fares, though far less effort than using the steep path.

Standing in the courtyard, surveying the castle’s exterior and the final details, finished in his absence, Aidan was struck with an immense feeling of satisfaction. It was done, well and truly. He knew that the interior was likely to be shining too, the staff, though small in number had been hired for their excellence, as well as their discretion. When Gavin arrived with the rest of the family’s belongings, their mission at Abersoch would be complete, and his time here done.

Aidan clapped Duncan on the back, feeling a bit victorious, as they walked through the courtyard and up the steps. He heard gleeful chatter as he opened the doors and stepped inside, smiling as he took in the scene. The three boys gathered excitedly around who Aidan assumed must be their would-be cousin—the mysterious O’Roarke guest. The first thing he noticed was how pretty she was, with a lovely smile, warm eyes, and long, straight hair.

“An O’Roarke, you’re sure?” Aidan asked Duncan. All the O’Roarkes he knew—save a small few by marriage, had thick, unruly hair.

The woman in question turned to Isabelle and curtsied then as if she were queen. At this, Aidan suppressed a smile. Aye, an O’Roarke indeed, and no doubt close in relation to Margret.

Duncan chuckled. “What do you think?”

When Isabelle noticed Aidan’s presence, she took the woman’s hand and brought her forward, clearly having already made her acquaintance. “Come, let me introduce you,” she said excitedly.

The O’Roarke woman met his gaze squarely, her head tilting back as she neared, her startling blue eyes framed with thick lashes. Aidan had to admit they were O’Roarke eyes—almost exactly the same as Callum’s, save the sharpness of his gaze. Her hair was wrong, but her eyes…her eyes fit.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Montgomery,” she said.

“Oh, oh no, no, no,” Isabelle laughed softly, “This isn’t my husband, Brianna. This is Mr. Aidan Sinclair.”

The woman looked confused at first, but he would swear recognition flashed in her eyes at the mention of his name. While Isabelle explained Gavin’s temporary absence, Aidan wracked his memory, trying to recall mention of a Brianna O’Roarke, but came up with naught. Aidan decided he’d have to ask Callum from which part of the family she hailed.

“Forgive me, Mr. Sinclair,” the woman— Brianna , demurred.

“What brings you to Castle Abersoch?” Aidan asked, wishing to hear her speak again as another thought crossed his mind. And frankly, if not for Duncan informing him that she was an O’Roarke from the onset, it would have been his first, especially on the heels of Esmerelda’s warning.

She stared at him for a long moment, which meant that she was either reticent about her answer, or was choosing what to answer, either of which might confirm she was exactly what Aidan suspected. Unless he were being foolish, and it was nothing of the sort. Regardless, after so many days in residence, one would expect a ready answer to such a simple question. Finally, she said, “Family.”

Puzzled by her hesitation and the possible motivation behind it, Aidan pressed. “Family? Is that so? I know of no O’Roarkes in this vicinity. In fact, you’re a long way from Ireland, lass.”

Her eyes widened momentarily, perhaps surprised by his scrutiny before she quickly demurred. “Indeed, sir. But my family settled in Northern Scotland some years ago.”

Isabelle elbowed his side, pasting a rather mad smile on her face, clearly urging him to change his tone. Right, a guest. Supposed family. Blood kin, no less. Until he could speak with Gavin, and question Duncan, and perhaps the staff, he let it go.

As the children continued to run in circles, the staff gathered what belongings they could, and Aidan and the men (Duncan, Henry, and Richard) took the rest and made their way upstairs. The boys, still taken with their guest, followed, chatting incessantly all the way to their new chambers, where they quickly lost interest in her as children are wont to do. Leaving Isabelle and the boys to settle, Aidan continued down the corridor, walking behind Miss O’Roarke. She turned after a few steps.

“Are you following me?”

He was, but to her, he said only, “My chamber lies beyond yours.”

She nodded and remained silent down the hallway until she reached her door, then turned. “Mr. Sinclair, I only wish for safe passage to Dunhill,” she said. He noted a slight desperation in her tone, which once again stirred his suspicions. “When Mr. Montgomery arrives, I’ll inquire about a suitable escort.”

“Indeed, Miss O’Roarke,” he said, inclining his head, leaving off that suitable or not, he was her escort.

Aidan did not see her again until dinner. Yet from the time they’d parted until the moment he laid eyes on her again, he thought of little else. Something about Miss Brianna O’Roarke continued to gnaw at him—something not quite right, though he had yet to determine what. He’d questioned Duncan about her arrival and was told that a small vessel had been spotted close to shore the same day she’d arrived but wasn’t certain whether Miss O’Roarke had been aboard. She’d seemed skittish, Duncan said, and had given no indication of having arrived by boat—or by any means at all, for that matter. This raised more questions than it answered for Aidan. For one: why would someone want to pose as an O’Roarke? Other than the use of the tide pools, which he was nearly certain no one else beyond the Brotherhood knew about, what reason was there for anyone to infiltrate Abersoch? He thought momentarily of the Fitzgerald brothers, but dismissed the notion just as quickly—they were far from clever enough to contrive anything of the sort. And, while Miss O’Roarke’s reticence rightly made him suspicious, it was her odd and perfectly timed arrival that truly set him off .

He considered, too, whether she might be from the twenty-first century, like Maggie and Gwen. She was found upon the shore after all, with no evident means of transportation. But, again, he dismissed the idea—not only had he heard from the staff that she spoke Scots Gaelic flawlessly, but the cadence of her words and her accent placed her here, in both time and place, as did her personal belongings, taken (without objection, he’d been told) and laundered upon her arrival. The refined quality of the fabric and the impeccable stitching of the garments, even the delicate lettering of her name, discreetly embroidered on each piece, had been appreciatively noted. He was surprised by his disappointment at the realization that she couldn’t be from the future. Suspicions aside, she was beautiful, and clearly had her wits about her. In truth, were Miss O’Roarke—if she was who she said she was—to be his match, it would be no hardship. She seemed immediately more plausible than Judith Fitzgerald, who he hadn’t given one moment’s thought to in days.

Aidan recalled Esmeralda’s warnings again and wondered if perhaps Miss O’Roarke was merely another obstacle to be dealt with, a necessary distraction from the tide pools and the possibility of the woman he was supposed to fall in love with. Some roadblock fate tossed in his way. Or, he considered again— was her reason for being here something more perilous? It seemed more and more unlikely that she had arrived under truly nefarious auspices, though still, something tugged at him.

When Aidan entered the great room that evening, he saw Miss O’Roarke seated by the fireplace with Gavin and Isabelle, speaking cheerfully. None of them had noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to pause for a moment in the doorway to observe her. She was lovely, with hair the color of honey, and a fair complexion, near perfect, save an appealing sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She laughed softly then, a pleasing sound and for the moment, he laid aside his doubts.

“Ah, there he is,” Gavin said, spotting Aidan and waving him in, “Come, a well-deserved toast.”

As Aidan stepped forward, his smile came easily; Isabelle looked so happy. Gavin, too. When they all stood, he couldn’t help but notice Miss O’Roarke’s gown, a stunning piece that indeed spoke wealth. She wore it well, regally even. Surely that counted for something.

He accepted the drink Gavin offered, and the heartfelt praise that accompanied it. “’Twas an honor, my friend. Nothing less,” he said, humbled.

Miss O’Roarke had been looking around the room with a keen eye, then turned to him. “What you’ve accomplished in such a short period, Mr. Sinclair is truly remarkable,” she said. Her praise seemed genuine, her smile, too. “I consider it a privilege to have explored it first-hand, the attention to detail and quality of work—it’s all well above the standard.”

“Are you familiar with architecture, Miss O’Roarke?” he asked. An odd look, perhaps surprise, flickered across her face, though why she would be suddenly surprised by a topic she’d begun herself made no sense. Unless, of course, she was hiding something—again, he wondered if her appearance was as innocent as she claimed.

“Ah, well, yes, I…” She trailed off, her eyes growing wide for a moment before she collected herself. “It’s just that growing up with such a grand example of what’s possible, perhaps, has given me a bit of an appreciation.”

Unconvinced, Aidan raised an eyebrow. He’d known many who had grown up in grand estates who still knew nothing of the craft.

Miss O’Roarke must have noted his skepticism, because she spoke again, this time more quickly.

“Well, Fergus, my great-uncle, did build Dunhill Proper, a castle for his queen, after all. And I must confess, Mr. Sinclair, when I saw Abersoch for the first time, it reminded me of another castle, one that captivated me from the first, in fact, the words ‘shining beacon’ flashed through my mind at the very sight of it,” she said charmingly, her slender fingers dancing through the air.

“Oh, my,” Isabelle remarked. “High praise indeed.”

“As intended, truly,” Miss O’Roarke said, raising her drink.

Aidan joined in with the others in salute, but still, something nettled at him. “You never said, but how did you come to be here, Miss O’Roarke?” he asked.

He watched her closely, how she swirled her brandy for several long seconds before looking up. “ Ah, well, I…I was ferried here,” she said, with a decisive nod.

While that confirmed what he’d been told by Duncan, Aidan wondered at her hesitation, as well as the odd manner in which she described her journey. As a guarded look crossed between them, a trill of laughter from Isabelle drew his attention.

“’Tis the funniest story, Aidan.” Isabelle laughed and reached for Miss O’Roarke’s hand. “When Brianna told the children she was ferried here, they thought she’d said faerie’d , as in a fairy magically brought her to us.” Isabelle laughed again. “You should have seen the way she indulged them, pulling faces, and telling them a tale about being on a quest for a lost family treasure, then pleading with them to keep her secret. Oh, they loved it!”

As Aidan turned back to Miss O’Roarke, the oddest feeling came over him. “A quest for treasure? Faerie’d, Miss O’Roarke?” he said, resisting the urge to alight his digits as she had done.

Her distinctive deep blue eyes held his, and she shrugged, then waved her fingers again, as a smile and blush spread across her face. Plausible indeed.

“’Twas kind of you to play along, Brianna,” Gavin said, the slow cadence of realization in his delivery, barely detectable. “You know how silly children can be.”

Aidan glanced his way, and when he met his friend’s eyes, he noted that Gavin had a curious look about him, too. Looking back to Isabelle, he saw the realization cross her face as well, and it was then that all eyes shot to their guest. The very plausible Miss O’Roarke, quite possibly faerie’d here from the future.

Miss O’Roarke shifted in her seat under the weight of their stares.

“Do you believe that’s possible, Miss O’Roarke?” Aidan asked, his tone light, yet he was oh so curious at her answer. “Faeries, I mean?”

“I’ve come to believe that anything is possible, Mr. Sinclair. Even magic. I was recently reminded, and rightly so, that we O’Roarkes must believe, if only a wee bit,” she demurred. A vague and clever answer, timely too as dinner was served. “Oh, it smells divine,” she said, changing the subject. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s the same meal I had my first night here.”

“A favorite of mine,” Aidan said, which was true. What he was curious about was whether she knew the twenty-first-century approach that Gwen had introduced them all to. “Are you familiar with the dish?”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, so quickly he might have missed it, then looked at him curiously. “Meat and vegetables? I am, I’m quite partial to both.”

“ Pot roast ,” Aidan said, watching her closely.

She held his gaze a moment, then looked down at her plate. “What an interesting choice. Clever, too.” She smiled, clearly amused, but then quickly turned her attention to Isabelle like the subject had little meaning to her.

Stymied, Aidan continued to observe her throughout dinner. She was a mystery, intriguing and fascinating with a quick wit, and though he was still harboring suspicions, he also found her rather exceptional. She was impeccably well-mannered, and more knowledgeable of both artifacts and commonplace items than anyone he’d ever come across in his life. She marveled over a covered dish as if it rivaled the discovery of fire, then cooed about a silver platter and even served praise to a linen square, that frankly he was never sure served a purpose to begin with. She did this with almost everything at her fingertips and within sight. She grew more and more animated with each detail she pointed out, admired, and described. She even spotted a collection of wooden chests, clear across the room, declaring them O’Roarkes , and excitedly telling them all where one would look to find the unique insignia. She was correct, of course—Callum had made those chests for Gavin and Isabelle in celebration of their new home. So, there was something off about her, that was to be sure, but she also seemed so entirely delighted by her surroundings, that Aidan could no longer conclude that she posed a threat or had ill intent of any kind.

As the table was cleared, they decided it was best to retire. After such a long day, not to mention the journey itself, Isabelle was nearly asleep at the table. “Come, Bella. Time for bed, love.” Gavin said softly, gently rousing his wife before helping her up.

Aidan turned his attention to Miss O’Roarke, who was watching Gavin and Isabelle with a somewhat wistful expression. Unthinkingly, he shared a candid smile with her, which she returned. He still wasn’t altogether sure what to make of their guest, and as the group made its way upstairs in a quiet procession, he began to sort it through. He was acutely aware of her walking beside him, but so deep in thought he hadn’t realized they’d arrived at her door until she stopped.

“Good night, Mr. Sinclair,” she said.

“Good night, Miss O’Roarke.”