Chapter 8 A GhostTwo
Only the Clishams were having breakfast in the kitchen on the following morning, to Lizzie’s surprise.
“Good morning, Lady Lizzie,” Mrs Clisham cooed in her motherly tone. Lizzie had already asked the housekeeper a million times to call her just by her first name to no avail. Addressing her as Lady Lizzie was as much compromise as she would get.
“Good morning, Mrs Clisham,” then she turned to the groundskeeper sitting beside her, “Mr Clisham, how are you?”
Mr Clisham muttered his greetings in his usual quiet way and got up from his chair.
“I’m sorry, Lady Lizzie, but I was on my way to the orchard,” then he fixed his warm brown eyes on her, “Unless you need me for something else?”
After ten days in Glennloch, Lizzie was reasonably well acquainted with the manor’s routine, but she was nowhere near the level of Brun’s efficiency in managing the estate, therefore she would not dream of interfering with the Clishams’ tasks just yet. In fact, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she could not truly imagine herself managing Glennloch full time in the short term.
Or ever.
No, for the time being, she would be relying on Brun for everything. Well, everything related to Glennloch, of course. Not everything, everything…
She lifted her eyes, realising that Mr Clisham was still waiting for an answer while she was having a nonsensical ranting with herself.
“Thank you, Mr Clisham, no, I don’t need anything.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgement and after lightly pecking his wife on the cheek, left through the kitchen’s back door.
Lizzie sat down and reached for the jug of orange juice. One of the maids walked in from the kitchen door, greeted them and went to service rooms to change.
“Is Brun already in his office?”
Mrs Clisham shook her head, cleaning her mouth with a napkin.
“No, Lady Lizzie, he left very early for Edinburgh.”
The juice instantly soured in her stomach, “Edinburgh? Without saying anything–”
At least she cut herself before saying to me.
Notwithstanding her restrain, Mrs Clisham offered her a sympathetic look that made Lizzie wince.
“What is he doing in Edinburgh?” she lowered her gaze back to the table, reaching for the teapot and trying to sound casual.
From the way Mrs Clisham’s eyes glistened, Lizzie knew she had failed miserably.
“Doctor’s appointment,” Mrs Clisham offered, pushing the sugar in Lizzie’s direction almost purposely.
Her heart hammered in her chest, “Doctor? Is he okay?”
Mrs Clisham shrugged, “Routine appointment, as I understand.”
Without meeting Mrs Clisham’s eyes, Lizzie bobbed her head and stared into her cup of tea, hoping that the housekeeper would not see the distress on her face. Why had he said nothing to her about this appointment?
She dumped three hefty spoons of sugar in her tea and stirred it slowly, using the time to get her emotions under control. This crush is getting out of hand.
On her first night in Glennloch, Brun had been gallant and attentive, like the old school gentleman he was, and Lizzie had entertained the illusion that he was at least a littlebit attracted to her, but on the following day he had suggested they dismissed the formal dinner set up of the first night in favour of more relaxed meals in the kitchen together with the Clishams.
From then onwards, Brun had been all business. Still, although he liked to pose as a serious solicitor, he was a charming man and with a sharp sense of humour. His unfailingly calm manners had been paramount in helping her deal with everything and, despite feeling attracted to him, she had been able to follow his lead and keep their relationship strictly professional, albeit relaxed and friendly.
However, on the previous afternoon she had nearly passed out when his strong arms wrapped around her, preventing her from falling face down on the rocky lakeshore. He had stared hungrily at her mouth, but the moment blinked away quickly and the desire she saw in his eyes was replaced by an expression of sorrow and regret. In the next breath, he had pushed her away as if he could not put enough distance between them.
Did he really have a doctor’s appointment in Edinburgh or did this sudden trip have something to do with what had happened between them on the previous afternoon?
Nothing happened between us yesterday!She scolded herself sternly.
Lizzie sighed. Brun probably saw her as his boss, or worse, as a child, she reckoned bitterly.
She had not directly asked how old Brun was (she was not that clueless…) but guessed that he was some six or seven years older than her. He was a mature, sophisticated man who had travelled – not backpacked! – the world and who most certainly preferred mature and sophisticated women like him.
Mature and sophisticated women.
She bit her lips not to groan aloud in frustration.
What if that was the real reason for this sudden trip? To meet with a woman?
Brun was very reserved about his private life, but a man like him could not possible be single. Surely he had a girlfriend, a lover, or even a booty call somewhere…
The idea of Brun with another woman hurt her more than she thought possible for a simple crush.
Surely it was something else? Maybe she was feeling annoyed because he had not warned her of his trip? But what right did she have over his comings and goings? Brun was grown man and more importantly, there was nothing between them other than Glennloch.
There is nothing between us. There is nothing between us.
“Lady Lizzie? Are you all right?”
Mrs Clisham’s voice snapped her back to the present. Lizzie looked at the housekeeper, feeling her cheeks burning.
“Yes, of course, Mrs Clisham” she slurped her tea noisily, “I was just thinking that since I have an unexpected day off, I might do a little sightseeing of my own and relax a little.”
Mrs Clisham’s face lit up with a bright smile, “Oh you do that, Lady Lizzie! Mr MacLugh has been working you to the bone!” then she peered out of the kitchen window and stood up, “Looks like good weather today. I’ll fetch a map and mark some good spots for you to visit.”
Checkinghis watch again, Brun huffed. It was only midday and he had already finished everything he had to do in Edinburgh.
Well, all the last minute excuses he had come up with on the previous night to make this trip. He had visited banks, sorted out pending documents, had a coffee with a few clients and chatted with potential suppliers – all of which he could have done over the phone or via teleconference.
There was no reason left for him not to return to Glennloch. Every fibre in his body was screaming at him to jump in his car and drive back, yet he could not muster the courage to do so, not after what happened between him and Lizzie.
And what happened, pray tell?
Nothing had happened, and yet a world of meaning had transpired in that brief moment when he held Lizzie in his arms.
He was attracted to her, that much was clear. He had been attracted to her from the moment he saw her in Aberfeldy and that feeling was only getting stronger.
What was not clear was whether he was attracted to Lizzie or simply to the breathing, talking, walking image of Triarell.
The most likely answer to this conundrum – the one which had been robbing him of sleep because of its wrongness – was that his desire for Lizzie was nothing other than an echo of his ancient feelings for Triarell. He had loved Triarell for four hundred years and had mourned her for half of his life. Surely any normal person would feel distraught and confused should they saw themselves face to face with someone who strongly resembled a deceased loved one.
Not a strong resemblance: a bloody doppelganger!
He combed his hair with his fingers and blinked. His feet had taken him to the Princes Street Gardens. He shrugged and kept walking, reckoning that a couple of hours in the park could help him clear his head.
The sensible thing to do was to stick to his plan and leave as soon as possible.
There was much work to do though. He had to make sure Lizzie was well settled first, that the estate would keep thriving after he was gone, because other people depended on Glennloch: tenants, employees, and the local community. He would need to help her hire a new administrator, make sure this person was competent and trustworthy first… It would probably take months before he could resign from his post.
He groaned. The perspective of being under the same roof with Lizzie for months sounded daunting.
Strictly speaking, he did not need to live in Glennloch. He had his own wealth and could easily purchase a house for himself somewhere nearby.
In fact, it would be the proper thing to do: surely Lizzie’s parents would not be pleased to hear that their daughter was living with a single man.
In a manor with twenty bedrooms. In the twenty first century…
Still, the honourable thing to do was to put a safe distance between them.
Yes, that was a good plan. He would move out of Glennloch as soon as possible.
Brun checked his watch again. Ten minutes past twelve.
He could not return to Glennloch just yet. He needed more time away from Lizzie to put an order to his unruly thoughts and recover his self-control.
Just another couple of weeks in Glennloch.
He could do that.
Lizzieparked her car(because, of course, there were a few extra cars in Glennloch’s garage at her disposal) at the centre of Aberfeldy and climbed out slowly, happy to be stretching her legs. It was past two o’clock and she was starving.
She had followed pretty much every touristic suggestion Mrs Clisham had given her: she had visited the Crannog Centre, the Castle Menzies, and St David’s Well, and then had explored the beautiful landscape surrounding Loch Tay, hiking over hills and nearby groves. The Highlands were absolutely stunning.
She was physically tired, and all that fresh air had helped improve her mood, and yet…
And yet she could not stop picturing Brun in the arms of some gorgeous, sophisticated, tall and well-dressed woman in Edinburgh.
Lizzie’s fingers had been itching for the best part of the morning with the will of calling him. Only the fear of making a complete fool of herself had stopped her from reaching her mobile and once more she promised that after the summer break, she would put some serious effort into finding a boyfriend. She had been single for too long, and being constantly in the company of a handsome man like Brun did not help.
In fairness, he had not done or said anything to even hint at a romantic intention. Brun had been all work and business from day one. He was of course a fun man, always very courteous. A true gentleman…
And your bloody head is full of him!
She groaned aloud at the intrusive thought and yelped when she bumped into someone.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry I was dis–”
Lizzie swallowed the words when she saw herself standing in front of the last man she was expecting to find in the hinterlands of Scotland or anywhere in the world.
“Finn?” she cried in surprise.
Finn Duncan, her former boyfriend, smiled down at her not looking half as surprised as she was. His honey-coloured hair fell casually over his blue eyes.
“Hello Lizzie, long time no see. How are you?”
She was slack-jawed.
He was casually dressed in worn-jeans, T-shirt and a leather biker jacket which made her frown. Lizzie remembered him using jeans and T-shirt – very much like she did – but had never seen him using anything other than hoodies.
Then again, she had not seen Finn in six years, not since…
A dry lump formed in her throat. Finn had been her first serious boyfriend and although their relationship had progressed, it had a disheartening end and it had taken Lizzie a fair amount of time to recover from the heartbreak.
Not willing to delve into those memories in that particular moment, she lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest.
“What are you doing here?” she questioned by way of reply, making no effort to sound polite.
Pushing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans as if he were standing on the porch of his house, Finn shrugged, “Well, my family is from this area,” he made an ample gesture that seem to encompass the whole Highlands, “I am visiting them. What about you?” his eyes studied her from head to toe, “Are you doing some tourism?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, not feeling particularly eager to share any details about Glennloch, “I, huh…, well, I received an inheritance and I am sorting out some paperwork.”
His eyes narrowed, but his smile did not fade and in that moment that smile caused her an unsettling sensation.
“Listen, I need to go now…” she started.
He took a step closer, towering above her and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Finn was probably as tall as Brun and equally broad-shouldered. She swallowed hard, shrinking away from his touch, finding it utterly repulsive.
“Lizzie, I know that things between us ended on an awkward note–”
Her eyes flared with outrage, “Awkward note?” she repeated in disbelief, “Things never ended between us because you vanished! After…” she swallowed the knot in her throat, striving to control her emotions, “After that night, you’re gone. You did not even leave a note! You are a textbook jerk!”
He cast his eyes down, disconcerted, but she did not believe in his remorse.
“I know, I’m sorry…” he apologised without lifting his eyes from the curb, “but it’s not easy to explain…”
“Oh, shut up Finn!” she hissed at him and Finn took a step back, surprised at her tone. Maybe it was the air in the Highlands, but she was feeling a surge of strength unknown to her. The sensation was exhilarating, “Spare me of any cliché excuses! You got what you wanted and left. It’s that simple. Just man up and stop lying!”
Finn stared at her, flabbergasted. Then he opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it.
“Now, if you excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.”
She turned on her heels and marched back to her car without looking back.
It waspast midnight when Brun walked into the manor.
He had spent most of the day walking. He had walked till his legs ached and begged for rest, but the alone time had been beneficial to help him put his thoughts in order and regain mastery of his emotions.
He had even started to search possible properties nearby Glennloch for him to purchase and when he drove through the gate minutes before, he was satisfied with the plans he had drawn.
Brun was at the foot of the staircase, determined to go straight to his bedroom when he caught sight of soft glow with the corner of his eyes. Down the corridor, the library door was ajar.
Frowning, he turned in that direction. It was not like Mrs Clisham to forget lights on at night.
Very slowly he pushed the door open and the air was punched out of his lungs when he saw Lizzie inside.
She was fast asleep, half curled on one of the sofas, a hand tucked under her cheek. A book (Jane Eyre, he read on the cover and recalled she mentioning it was one of her favourite classics) was lying open on the rug. Her glasses were askew over her nose and a cold cup of tea was long forgotten on the coffee table along with her mobile phone.
Every resolve he had built that day dissolved away while he stared at her, feeling his control crumble all over again. Any effort he had put into disciplining himself had been for naught.
She seemed so vulnerable and beautiful in her sleep. Not even in her death bed had Triarell looked that fragile. Even as life waned out of her, Triarell had kept her aura of power, had maintained her inhuman quality, whereas in her sleep, Lizzie made every protective fibre in his body hum with renewed purpose. In her presence he ceased to be Brun MacLugh and was again The Protector of the Endellys.
Heavens, when will I ever be free?
As if hearing his thoughts, Lizzie stirred, but did not wake up, and Brun crouched beside her, debating on what to do.
The safest plan was to pretend he had never walked into the library, leave her there and lock the door of his bedroom away from temptation.
The least safe course of action was to scoop Lizzie in his arms and bring her upstairs. The risk was that she should wake up and if she stared at him with those beautiful green eyes, he would be lost.
Maybe a middle ground would be to just cover her with a blanket.
He reached for a blanket but hesitated. If she woke up stiff with a wryneck on the next day, he would curse himself for his negligence.
I should just wake her up and she will walk to her room by herself.
“Brun?” Lizzie’s croaky voice snapped him out of his internal debate and he nearly fell on his bottom.
Her eyes were humid with sleep and trained on him. As he had feared, any rational thoughts melted away.
Holding her in his arms on the day before had done more damage than he had initially thought.
“You fell asleep,” he stated the obvious after clearing his throat, struggling to find anything intelligent to say.
She yawned and a small tear ran down her cheek. He trembled with the need to stretch a finger and wipe it out of her face.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” she croaked again and the sleepy huskiness of her voice made every muscle in his body tense, “Sorry, I thought of reading a little before heading to bed, but lost track of time…” she explained, stretching her arms out like a little girl, the gesture pushing her breasts against her T-shirt.
Before doing something he would regret, Brun jumped to his feet and put a safe distance between them.
“You do not need to apologise, this is your home,” he made an ample gesture around to move his eyes away from her, “You can sleep anywhere you like.”
My bedroom for example.
He nearly slapped himself on the face to erase the insane thought.
She is not Triarell! She is not Triarell! She is not Triarell!
She smiled shyly at him, “Thanks, that is good to know.”
Brun perked at her tone. She would often make witty remarks, heavens save him, but he sensed a hint of bitterness in her tone.
“Is there something wrong?”
Shestared at Brun surprised that he had noticed her foul mood. After the upsetting encounter with Finn in Aberfeldy, she had arrived back in Glennloch still fuming with anger and her mood had not improved when learning that Brun had not yet returned. She had tea with Mrs Clisham (though she had replied to the housekeeper’s conversation with nothing more than monosyllables), done two extra sessions of Yoga and then had gone to the library to read.
And to wait for Brun.
But he never arrived. Supper was served and finished. She had showered, had paced in her room and then given up and returned to the library.
She glanced at the big grandfather clock next to the fireplace and frowned. It was nearly one in the morning.
Where in the bloody hell had he been?
The question almost slipped through her lips, but she swallowed the words just in time, realising the ridiculousness of her feelings. He was grown man and owed her no explanation.
“Nothing is wrong,” she lied, and from the way Brun’s brows creased, she knew he had not believed her, “I just…” she exhaled, “I met someone in Aberfeldy today and it was not pleasant…”
He straightened up, “Someone who? What happened?” he interrogated her, crossing his arms over his chest.
She gritted her teeth, but from the expression on his face, Brun was not going to let the subject drop, “A former… a former boyfriend of sorts.”
Something flashed in his eyes. His irises went from blue to stormy gray and she took a step back, shocked by the darkness on his face.
He crossed the distance between them, towering above her like Finn had done, only Brun caused in her a different sensation. Instead of scaring her, it made her feel inexplicably safe.
There must be something like ‘Highlands’ Madness’ in the medical annals.
“What happened?” he thundered, his arms were stiff at his sides and his hands were balled into fists, “What did this man do? Was he… improper with you?”
She nearly guffawed at the Jane-Austen-style question, while at the same time Brun’s protectiveness made all the ugly and annoying feelings she had been mulling over since meeting Finn disappear.
“No!” she scoffed, trying to make light of it, “He was a… jerk to me a long time ago, and he… he was trying to apologise and all, but I, well, I was not very nice to him.”
Brun stared at her as if he was trying to read her soul.
“So,” he started after a very long pause, crossing his arms over his chest again, “Did you put this man in his place?”
She cocked her head, suddenly not feeling ashamed anymore at how rude she had been to Finn.
“Oh yeah, you can say that. I don’t think he will be calling any time soon.”
His frown eased and even his shoulders relaxed. On the previous minute she thought he was about to take a gun out of a drawer and go after Finn to shoot his arse.
Not entirely a bad idea…
Now he smiled proudly, “Excellent, I’m happy you took care of it.”
Lizzie blinked at him, unsure of what to reply.
“And how was your trip to Edinburgh?”
His face fell, “Ah it was fine… I had a… doctor’s appointment and then I… well, it was just boring business meetings.”
Her eyes narrowed even as her stomach sank, because she was absolutely sure he was lying to her.
“There is something I’ve been meaning to mention,” he added fast, and then gestured towards the door, “If you are not too tired, we could talk about it over a late cup of tea?”
Lizzie blinked again. The sudden change of subject threw her off. He was lying and knew she was very much aware of it.
I’m truly a stupid child!
Feeling dejected, she acquiesced in silence, and followed him to the kitchen.
He moved efficiently in that space and before long he set two mugs of steaming liquid between them.
Peppermint tea. She inhaled the steam deeply, finding the aroma soothing.
“Every year Glennloch Village hosts a harvest event called the Lammas Fair. In the olden days, this Fair was traditionally opened by the Viscountess Lochellen.”
The cup nearly fell from her hand and her stomach did a triple back flip.
“Opened? As in, cutting a red ribbon with oversized scissors?”
He bobbed his head, “More like with a wee speech and a toast.”
Lizzie swallowed hard, “Yes, but surely after two hundred and fifty years since the previous Viscountess Lochellen did that, this tradition has died out?”
He snorted, taking a big sip of his tea, “Clearly you don’t know much about the Scots…”
“Are you saying that they actually want me to open the Fair?” she hated the panicked pitch of her voice.
He sipped again – annoyingly slow – before replying.
“The village has heard about your arrival and they are very excited about rekindling this tradition,” then he beheld her expression, “You don’t need to look as if they are planning to burn you at the stake! Surely we can skip the speech and toast if that makes you too uncomfortable…”
She started to let her shoulders slump in relief when he added, “You just need to put on a dress, smile a little, shake a few hands and kiss some children.”
Her stomach did some pretty daredevil acrobatics.
“I think I prefer the stake…” she grumbled.
To her chagrin, Brun burst into laughter.
“Lizzie, you will be fine,” he assured her, reaching for a biscuit tin, “Why don’t you take the chance to invite your parents over to support you? It’s about time you show them Glennloch anyway.”
Brun did not know, but to her the words your parents and support did not belong in the same sentence.
“I definitely would prefer the stake…” she muttered, but he paid her no mind.
“And I would be honoured to be your escort if you allow me,” he added casually.
Her eyes flew to his face, but Brun was hungrily inspecting the biscuits and Lizzie sighed, disappointed. He was only trying to ease her into that new side of her life which she would need to learn how to navigate, however surreal it sounded.
And possibly he was also trying to be nice after hearing about her unfortunate encounter with an ex-boyfriend.
A pity date then…
“When is this thing happening?” she replied with a resigned sigh that only those sentenced to death would utter.
“Sunday,” he replied while voraciously munching biscuits as if he had not eaten in days.
She nearly choked.
“This Sunday? As in, in six days?”
“Aye. Is there a problem?” he asked, his face filled with curiosity, “I can make all the arrangements for your parents’ trip if that is helpful. Perhaps your grandmother would like to come as well?”
“No, no problem,” she replied between gritted teeth, wishing now she could burn him at the stake. Then she had an afterthought, “My best friend is due to return from her holidays today or tomorrow. I’d love for her to be here too.”
He nodded, and reached for another biscuit, “Is there… anyone else, you would like to invite over, maybe a… a boyfriend…”
She blinked at him, but Brun was not meeting her eyes, clearly uncomfortable.
“No,” she swallowed a dry lump, “There’s no one else.”