Chapter Two #4
“Hey! They get it. Ethan knows. He’s not a stupid man. Anyone who loves you can see the burden you carry. We just don’t know how to carry it for you.”
Did he?
She wasn’t sure.
“It’s different with Callen and Chris. We didn’t have a disagreement. We parted ways in good standing. I didn’t get to make that right before I raced out of there. I regret that. I really do.”
Getting up, he went to her and held her.
“He knows, Mom. He knows.”
She hoped so.
That was one more thing she was carrying, and probably the heaviest. She and Ethan had been at odds once before. It was when he told her to leave, and that their marriage was over.
Now, here she was, across the ocean, and he had to be freaking the fuck out. The last thing she wanted to do was stress any of them out.
“Worry about you. The rest will fall into place.”
She needed to know.
“Promise?” she asked.
He ran his hand up and down her back.
“On my life.”
Well, she would have to put faith in that because she was worried about so many things.
“What’s next?” she asked, needing to keep going for her sanity's sake.
At that, he escorted her out.
“The dining room and library are next, and that’s one single stop. They connect if you open some French doors.”
As they headed down the gray stone floors, she took in the tapestries, the antique chairs, and sconces. While it looked normal, it felt…off again.
Now, she had to know.
“Is it getting colder in here?” she asked.
Oh, he felt it too, but he was hoping there was a simple explanation. For now, he wasn’t willing to tell her what he suspected.
Why freak her out?
“We’re moving underground. The castle was built deep into the mountain to make way for the crypt.”
At his words, she did one thing.
Elizabeth laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
Oh, the universe was a bitch.
“Of course, I’m going to marry a bunch of men who think…know what my wife needs? A crypt in a castle. Why not move the bodies from the morgue to where I rest?”
Michael snorted.
“I mean, it’s the gift that keeps on giving. When you kill them, you have a place to put them. Who needs to call an ME? You can just drag them down and leave them there.”
She was amused.
Luckily for them, she was over the whole castle thing. In the end, it worked out. Michael got a place to guard, and now, she had a place to hide. This hadn’t ended as badly as she thought it would.
In fact, the men nailed it.
As they reached the dining room, the place was big, and the table?
“Holy shit!” she muttered.
It was fit for a king.
Michael laughed.
“I know. That’s one hell of a table. Chris had it specially made to fit all of the family. Every kid, every husband, every family member. He wanted it to be a place we could all go for a meal.”
She only hoped that they’d be able to use it one day as a family.
All of them.
“I’m pretty sure we could have the wedding AT that table," she admitted.
Oh, well, they might be able to do that, too. Honestly, it was Ian and Gryphen’s choice.
As she stared out the wall of windows, she saw some flakes of snow. It was beginning to fall, and all around the hot tub that was out there on the patio.
Oh, she loved a hot tub. That had to be Chris’ homage to the one they had in Georgetown when they lived there in their early years.
He loved a hot tub too, and for one sexy reason.
“Is this early for snow?” she asked, not going there. It just made her miss the men she loved.
He shook his head.
“No. Graham tells me that any time after September, it can go from monsoon to snowstorm in the mountains. Don’t worry, though, we have enough wood chopped to heat the whole place and all one hundred fireplaces.”
Well, that was good to know.
When she glanced over at the fireplace, as she was thinking about it, that’s when she saw the painting hanging over it.
“Who is he?” she asked.
Michael headed there with her as Elizabeth followed right behind him.
“That’s Duncan Granndach. Lord Duncan if you’re nasty,” he joked. “Or Gryphen.”
She didn’t pay attention. Instead, she was staring at him. His eyes were a dark blue, and he looked…fierce.
There was a scar down his cheek, and it was clear someone had seen battle. There was that hardened look in his eye, like he’d seen too much shit.
Been there.
Done that.
“Spooky,” she said. “He seems to follow you in the room,” she added, moving around to get different perspectives.
Yeah, he was aware.
“He watches over the castle here. His first wife, Ceit, watches over the entryway in the grand foyer where her painting hangs,” he offered.
Oh, and he knew he was softening the blow of what would be coming.
She was curious.
“His MUCH younger wife?” she asked.
He was amused.
“In his defense, it was the sixteen hundreds, and people died at thirty. They married younger, too.”
She still didn’t like the idea that his wife had been sent here. What if she had a life before that?
What if she didn’t want to be married?
God knew men were work.
“How old was she again?” she asked.
He remembered because they’d spoken about it when they were on the hunt to figure out who was in the lake.
“She was seventeen. You can read up on all of it if you like,” he said. “There’s books and journals in the library through that door.”
She turned.
“Where?” she asked. For some reason, she was curious, and it wasn’t like she had anything else here to do but scare some goats and lay low.
He led her there and opened the doors. When he swung them open, she walked in.
There was a big leather couch in front of the fire, and the room was full of books.
“Wow.”
He agreed.
“Graham is a reader. He’s working his way through them all. He should have them done in about two hundred and twenty years, he joked.
Oh, well, she could see that.
The shelves were filled.
Michael picked up the journal and books to show her which ones they were. Then, he placed them on the desk.
“In case you want to read.”
She appreciated that, but the only mystery she wanted to work on was who she was.
“The office screamed Chris, but this room screams Callen. I’m going to bet he designed it.”
The man nodded.
“He did. He, like Graham, are book lovers.”
Yeah, she knew that to be a fact. Not only did he read them, but he wrote them too.
“What’s next? The men outdid themselves, and I can’t imagine what is next on the tour.”
Yeah, they did. Only, he didn’t think she’d care about a tour of each bedroom. That would take a long-ass time.
“Do you want to see the foyer or the crypt?” he asked, knowing either was going to horrify her, but for different reasons.
She stared at him like he’d lost his goddamn mind.
“Uh, I don’t really want to acknowledge that there is a crypt, Saint Michael. I’m sad, not insane. I don’t plan on EVER going down there.”
He snorted.
“The grand entrance foyer it is. As we head there, let me tell you a little story, and then, you’ll see it.”
She was curious.
“See what?”
He knew it was time. He’d brought her in the back way for a reason.
A painting.
“Well, before I got here, Gabby and the people who were handling the mess here sent the painting out to be rehabbed. It was covered in another painting. Someone, and I’m assuming Duncan, painted over the original.
Maybe it was to hide something, or maybe it was to show his love for his heir.
Only, the team saw something under that one, and were curious. ”
She listened as they headed back toward the upper levels of the castle. The incline was slightly noticeable.
“And?”
He kept talking.
“The painting was delivered, and when we saw it, something about it stood out.”
Oh, that was an understatement.
A.
HUGE.
ONE.
What stood out was that the woman in the painting, Ceit Granndach, resembled Elizabeth.
To a T.
From her eyes to the hair.
Only, there was no way that was possible. At first, he believed it was a mistake, or someone was fucking with them—like the man who refurbished it.
But how did he know?
How did he know Elizabeth was tied to that very painting and the castle?
He.
Wouldn’t.
After mulling over a million possibilities, and none of them panning out, the last big mystery here was not about a body, but instead about a piece of art that had been covered up.
Likely by Duncan.
Or possibly by his son.
It wasn’t like he’d remember his mother. She died when he was an infant—and by died, he meant murdered.
She was confused.
“What stood out?” she asked, as they entered the foyer, and he pointed at the fireplace that sat there, greeting everyone who came into the castle.
It was the biggest one, and the most prominent. Over it, they’d hung the painting because…well, why not?
That’s when Elizabeth stepped closer, and that’s when she saw it.
And gasped.
For a good ten seconds, not a single word was said as she stared at the painting.
Finally, she broke her silence.
Oh, and it was telling.
“Saint Michael, why the hell is there an oil painting of me hanging over the fireplace in this castle? Is this a joke?”
Oh, he could promise her it wasn’t.
What it was…It was a mystery.