Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jillian was thrilled for Monty—he might finally be able to forgive himself for what had happened to Isobelle while he’d been head of their clan.
She wanted to sit down and have a good cry on his behalf, but there would be plenty of time for tears later.
For now, she had to keep from scaring the newcomers to death.
Remaining calm was essential. No use having them run, screaming, out of the cellars only to die of shock once they got a glimpse of someone talking on a cell phone.
“If there are witches and faeries in the world,” he’d said, “then anything might be possible.”
“And if Isobelle has allowed her hair to be cut,” said Morna, “then the world is not what any of us knew it to be, aye?”
They waited until Isobelle understood they were serious, then gave her a moment to accept it. With a firm hold on both Gaspar and Morna, she seemed ready to at least try.
With eleven people packed in the little room, they were all relieved when Isobelle and Gaspar were ready to be exposed to the future.
They filed out of the workroom and up into the hall.
The Muir sisters were followed by James, then Juliet and Quinn.
Morna and Ivar went before Isobelle and her handsome friend.
Jillian took Monty’s hand and brought up the rear, mostly because she was too pregnant to climb the stairs quickly.
It took just one good look at the drastic changes to the hall, with its red velvet tourist trappings and crumbling stones, to convince Isobelle.
As agreed beforehand, Jillian and the rest bit their tongues and resisted revealing too much too fast. Instead, they allowed the two newcomers to ask the questions.
They’d also agreed not to speak of cars and airplanes and television until necessary.
They figured computers could maybe wait a month.
To the disappointment of two dozen tourists, Castle Ross was closed for the day. And as someone who had once been a tourist of the castle, hoping to have a peek at the famous necklace of Isobelle Ross, Jillian felt truly sorry they had to be turned away.
But she had also helped Monty, Morna and Ivar adjust to the shock of the 21st century, and she knew the best thing for Isobelle and her man was to keep them inside the castle until some things had been explained.
It didn’t help matters that James hadn’t given them any warning.
It had all been decided long ago that seniority-wise, Montgomery was rightful Laird of Castle Ross, even though the clan now consisted of the immediate family.
So, since her husband was the head of the family, Jillian ducked outside and did her lady-of-the-castle duty--calling for supplies on her cell.
She figured they might be in for a long siege.
There was no telling how much time the couple would need to process each bit of information, and Jillian made it clear to the others there would be no rushing.
She wasn’t going to see her newly reclaimed sister-in-law end up in the loony bin.
The modern-though-ancient set of Muir sisters produced umbrellas and massive sunglasses from their car and sat in folding chairs at the entrance to the car park, prepared for whatever weather came up.
To be helpful, they sent the tourists away as gently as possible.
The excuse that upset the fewest people was to claim that an intervention was being staged for one of the family members with a drinking problem.
Most folks nodded in understanding and turned back without much grumbling.
For where better than Scotland might someone need help overcoming their love for good whiskey?
That explanation was much more palatable than Lorraine’s first suggestion—she’d wanted to tell everyone the castle was closed for the annual meeting of the local witch coven.
Montgomery threatened to cut out her tongue, and Loretta’s too, if she so much as mentioned witches.
He’d been suspected of being a witch one too many times that day, so Lorraine really should have known better than to tease him.
Jillian could tell Isobelle and Gaspar weren’t the only ones who would need adjusting since Monty couldn’t keep from glaring at the couple’s clasped hands. So she watched and waited, knowing there would be trouble, but confident she carried an ace up her sleeve for when that trouble came.
By the time the pizzas arrived, they’d covered the basics.
A bit of history, a lot of plumbing, and the circumstances that brought Morna and Ivar back together.
Jillian thought it best not to let Isobelle know that she and her sister, Juliet, were also, quite probably, Muir Witches.
They were still trying to wrap their own heads around it.
But she did admit to being the faery prophesied to reunite Morna and Ivar—though she insisted she wasn’t a true faery, just a woman who’d been put inside a tricky tomb.
Gaspar seemed relieved to hear it, but he often glanced between her and her sister Juliet, who resembled her in every way except her sister’s darker hair. The pink hair extension drew the man’s attention every few minutes, but he seemed afraid to ask.
For lack of chairs, they sat around on the floor while they ate.
Monty insisted Jillian at least sit on the edge of the dais.
The pizza didn’t seem to bother the new couple, and remembering what 15th century cuisine was like, Jillian wasn’t surprised.
James was eager to list an entire menu of things he intended to eat, in order of priority.
Morna shared what foodstuffs she missed the most, but admitted there were plenty of things to make up for the loss, like chocolate.
Food, it seemed, was a safe topic that eventually helped everyone relax—everyone except Montgomery.
“James,” Monty barked. “Let’s you and I take the old sisters something to eat.” He stood and started piling pizza on a paper plate.
Since Monty usually didn’t care if Loretta and Lorraine fell off the face of the earth, Jillian knew something was up. But he gave her a look that warned her not to meddle. She gave him a warning look of her own, but didn’t say anything as the two men left the hall.
She turned to find Gaspar looking at their disappearing forms. Then he turned his gaze directly at her.
His brows were slightly drawn together, and she felt that, deep beneath that calm and cool exterior, he was a shaking, nervous wreck.
She’d noticed how he’d kept Isobelle on his left side and his right hand near the hilt of his sword.
And she didn’t think all that wariness came from the fact that he’d just been plunged into completely foreign circumstances.
The man was afraid of Montgomery. But why?
She narrowed her eyes and asked him, silently.
In answer, he gave her a frighteningly vulnerable look, squeezed his eyes shut, then turned away.
The pizza did a somersault in her stomach and she looked around for Juliet. They exchanged a thought.
“Something is wrong here.”
And from a strange, inner distance, she heard another thought from the Muir sisters sitting outside.
“You must keep the dragon away from the tomb!”