CursedLaird (7 page)

“A spell,” Caledonia clarified.

Aileen Kavanagh set the kitten on the floor, picked up the
hairbrush and began the task of untangling Caledonia’s hair as if she were
still a child. Caledonia didn’t stop her. She liked it. It not only helped
relax her, it made her momma happy by doing it.

“As I understand, curses are a form of black magic. They are
not to be used lightly.”

“Then you believe in them?”

“I believe there are many things in this world that are
unexplainable. They just happen without a valid reason behind them.” Momma
tugged her hair into three separate sections to braid. “Remember what happened
when you tried to dive in that Triangle. You believed that place to be cursed.
From what you told me, I never doubted your theory for a second.”

Her lungs tightened at the memory. Never had anything scared
her as badly as that dive. It almost made her quit the salvage business. Every
piece of her equipment stopped working the moment she slipped under the surface
of the warm Bermuda waters. No air reached her lungs. The water weighed her
down. Invisible hands grabbed ahold and tugged her toward the bottom. In a
battle that seemed like hours, she struggled for the surface only to find out
she’d been submerged for mere seconds.

A thorough inspection of the diving equipment showed no
evidence of damage or improper function. That was proof enough to her the
waters were cursed. She refused to dive again and that initiated the first of
many disputes with Kip. They canned the expedition because if she wasn’t
comfortable with a dive, the O’Reilly boys supported her decision and no one
dove.

Momma’s hand cupped her chin, tilting her face upward.
“What’s got you thinking on curses? Was it the spirit visitor you had last
night?”

Caledonia shouldn’t be surprised, but she was just a little
bit. “You knew?”

“Aye. I felt a presence in the air. Who came to visit?”

“A woman named Mary Campbell of Breadalbane. Have you ever
heard of her haunting this area?” Caledonia turned and watched Momma as she
lifted the kitten and settled it onto her lap when she sat on the bed.

“Mary,” she repeated softly.

Aileen’s brows pursed as she shuffled through her thoughts.
Caledonia liked the way her forehead crinkled when she was trying to recall a
memory buried deep in her vault of tales. As a child, her momma shared many
stories and tales of Scottish lore and myths at bedtime. Caledonia took a sip
of her tea. Maybe that’s why she traveled the globe in search of treasure.
She’d had a great dose of fantasy, romanticism and adventure instilled in her
soul from day one.

Her blue eyes brightened when her gaze leveled on Caledonia.
“When I was a lass, my grandma told me a tale of a young woman named Mary, who
once lived in the castle on the north end of the loch. She was bound in a
loveless marriage, which bore no children. She died young, spurring rumors of
poison at the hand of her husband for the lack of an heir. It’s been said her
ghost could be seen on occasion standing at the water’s edge as if waiting for
a lover’s return.”

“She is the very same,” Caledonia replied. “She explained
her death and why she walks this world instead of crossing over.”

“She mourns a lover,” Momma stated with heavy anticipation
in her tone. Always the romantic, Caledonia noted about her mother.

“Aye, there is some truth to the tale.” Caledonia paused. If
anyone would believe what Mary shared with her, it was Momma. “Her husband did
poison her because of no heir. But she doesn’t mourn a lover. She lingered to
protect one. The man she loves fell victim to a curse, which turned him to
stone.”

Her eyes widened. “The statue.”

“The statue.” Caledonia nodded.

Chapter Four

She stood outside the open doorway, looking in. The double
doors, which faced the dock, were both opened wide, filling the main room with
light. The sight of the statue in the morning sun gave her the chills. A
glorious warrior stood proudly, ready for battle with his hand upon his sword.
She soaked in the beauty of the greatest find of her life. A centuries-old
artifact, but did it hold a secret? Inside that solid wall of stone was there
really a cursed soul waiting for release?

The way the sun brushed across his face gave him a strikingly
handsome appeal. The eyes seemed to stare straight at her, which made her
uncomfortable. But not enough so that she looked away. She couldn’t. The
surprised sadness she read within them burrowed into her heart. If the words
Mary spoke were true, a man lay trapped within this cocoon of stone.

“Morning, lass. Did you get your rest?” Poppa’s voice
sounded as if it came from the statue. It was all she could do not to jump. She
didn’t see him until he peeked from behind it.

She quickly cleared her throat and shook off the slight
start he had inadvertently given her. “Morning, Poppa.” Caledonia moved to his
side and kissed his cheek. “Aye, more than I needed.”

“Nay, you needed it.” He held an unlit cigar between his
fingers and a cleaning rag in the other hand. Caledonia snorted at the sight.
He’d given up smoking several years prior to appease Momma, but he claimed he
kept cigars handy to chew on the ends and pretend. But that was their little
secret. She liked the way his short, gray hair shimmered in the morning sun and
his blue eyes held a twinkle in them that hinted he was up to mischief. And he
was with that cigar in his hand. Caledonia grinned. If Momma caught him…

The back screen door flapped closed and echoed across the
yard. Neither had to look to know who headed their way. The scent of fresh
scones wafted on the breeze, announcing Momma’s approach. Poppa tucked the
cigar into a side pocket of his coveralls. Percy and Abel hurried up the dock,
carrying a large bucket of water from the loch between them. It was an everyday
practice they did for Aileen. She used it to water her garden.

“Thank you, boys,” Aileen said as they set the bucket in its
normal spot behind the shed. When she rounded the shed, she stopped beside
Caledonia. “So this is the statue.”

“Aye, it is,” Fin Kavanagh replied, and then moved to kiss
her cheek and acquired a scone in the process. After a bite, he proclaimed,
“Ummm, delicious, just like the woman who made them.”

Aileen’s cheeks flushed red. Her gaze never left Poppa’s.
Percy didn’t miss the chance to poke a jibe at her poppa like always. The
camaraderie between him and the O’Reillys was better than most fathers and
sons.

“Don’t be telling me that sort o’ dribble works on the
ladies,” Percy taunted with a wink at Aileen Kavanagh.

“If’n you and your brother learned a wee bit o’ dribble,
maybe you’d be as lucky as me and you wouldn’t still be living in your mother’s
house and sleeping alone.”

“Oh that hurts, Mr. Kavanagh,” Abel chimed in as he covered
his heart with his hand and pretended offense.

“And who says we’re sleeping alone?” Percy teased.

“Still sharing a bed with your brother, are you?” Fin
quipped without missing a beat and Caledonia burst out laughing.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on our side.” Abel shot a mock
frown her way.

Waving her hands in front of her, she laughingly begged,
“Leave me out of this one.”

“I set the kettle on before I came down here. What say you
men continue this discussion in the kitchen over tea?” Aileen suggested. When
they agreed, she gave a knowing nod to Caledonia and walked away.

Their playful argument continued as they strolled across the
backyard, following Aileen and her plate of scones to the house for tea.

Alone with Struan.

She sighed and stepped back. When had she started thinking
of the statue as Struan? That’s what Mary called him, Struan, and it must have
stuck in her head, she decided. She fumbled with the folded paper she tugged
from the back pocket of her jeans. Thanks to Mary, she felt she knew the
pronunciations well enough to speak the anti-curse. Lord knew Mary’s
persistence wouldn’t let her rest until she’d gotten it right last night. No
wonder she’d slept so late.

Caledonia peeked around the corner of the shed toward the
house. The men were safely occupied inside, thanks to Momma. Her fresh-baked
scones were the perfect ruse to draw them into the house for tea. It had been
her plan all along so Caledonia would have private access in order to complete
her task uninterrupted.

She swallowed, trying to quell the nerves crawling up her
spine, which threatened to take over her vocal cords and prevent her from
speech. A nervous laugh escaped. What if she got it wrong? Caledonia paced
around the solid stone being. A strange tingling bloomed in the pit of her
stomach and blossomed to spread across her abdomen and then stretched upward to
her nipples.

She licked her lips, took a breath then spoke in as steady
and clear a voice as she could. “
Ceum saor de clach. Be ye biast air duine.
Tis gaol dara slighe. Ge ye be mèinne. Dh’oidche mur dh’là.
”

Nothing happened. Was it supposed to be instantaneous?
Caledonia rolled her eyes. That was one thing she’d forgotten to ask. How long
would it take for the anti-curse to work?

“It will be the fall o’ night before ye see his handsome
face.”

Caledonia turned to see Mary hovered inside the shed
directly behind Struan’s statue. “Why nightfall?”

“It is the way o’ the curse of the gargoyle. Man by night.
Stone by day.”

That explained
though ye be mine by night if not by day
—sort
of. Curse of the gargoyle. Weren’t those mythical creatures that were stone by
day and alive at night? She made a mental note to check that out later.
Gargoyles weren’t exactly on the top of her list of important things to study,
so she didn’t know much about them, if anything.

“Are you sure it worked?” Caledonia whispered, stepping
inside the shed, closing the distance between them.

“Nay,” Mary stated as she shook her head. “We shall see come
nightfall.”

The back screen door slammed, causing Caledonia to jump.
Mary vanished. Male voices sounded and got louder as they moved closer. Great.
She sat on a stool and stared at the statue. This was going to be the longest
day of her life.

* * * * *

Through binoculars he watched. She acted oddly the moment
the men went into the house. But it didn’t matter. She was probably overly
excited about her success. With the double doors facing the dock opened, the
view of her prize was spectacular from his position opposite the loch.

From this distance, it wasn’t easily discernable as to the
era from which the statue came. It appeared to be some sort of Scotsman, which
made sense. She did retrieve it from a Scottish loch. But who was it supposed
to be? Had she stumbled upon a sculpture of a famous Scottish warrior, like Rob
Roy or maybe William Wallace? Wouldn’t that be grand? he mused.

If it turned out to be one of them, then its value would
double. Maybe even triple. He let the binoculars drop to hang around his neck.
Now that he knew what she’d found, all he needed was a buyer. Taking it from
her wouldn’t be hard, considering where she stored it. A shed in the backyard
of her parents’ home didn’t exactly equal a high-security vault.

* * * * *

For once in her life, she was right. The day dragged. Every
time she thought she heard something odd, like a creak or a snap, she studied
the statue for a crack. To the others, her actions must have seemed strange,
but none commented if they noticed. She tried to remain calm, but she couldn’t.
She’d spoken the words and the closer it got to nightfall, her heartbeat increased
and anticipation captured her imagination.

Was this real? In the afternoon, she’d taken the time to
read up on the gargoyle legends. Most were guardians of man. Some were evil,
while others remained neutral. But all suffered the same fate at sunrise. No
matter where they were or what they were doing, they turned to stone.

Would that be Struan’s fate? Would he return to stone every
day at sunrise?

Caledonia paced the dock. When had she accepted this curse
as truth? She snorted. She knew when. Between the appearance of Mary, her
convincing story and Momma’s beliefs that anything unexplainable was possible,
she’d been suckered into this mystical realm of distorted magic. She stared out
over the loch.

In the distance she saw two fishing boats bobbing on the
water. She knew her parents were in one of those boats, spending the late
afternoon into the early evening, spinning tales and drowning bait with some of
their lifelong pals. Poppa always said Momma was a true one of a kind when he
met her. On their first date, they went fishing and still routinely fished the
loch together.

Caledonia knew her mother planned this sudden fishing
afternoon to get Poppa out of the way. In case the curse were true, Aileen had
whispered to her right before they left. She also knew the tradition of their
fishing jaunts ended by docking at the Thistle Pub for drinks and dinner. Those
two wouldn’t be back until long after the sun went down.

A half-smile twisted her lips as she shook her head and
released a soft sigh. It was good to be home, doing what she enjoyed with the
people she loved. She turned on her heel and couldn’t help but level her gaze
on the statue. From where she stood, it looked like a heap of stone, its
features undistinguishable in the growing shadows of the fading day.

Earlier, after the final cleaning of the statue, the men
took the afternoon off and left her alone. Poppa and the O’Reillys hadn’t
understood her desire to wait a day or two before contacting the press. But
they’d respected her wishes. Hell, she didn’t even understand why she held off.
If she were Kip…

She hugged herself tight against that thought, knowing she
wasn’t like Kip. He’d have plastered his find on the antiquities websites,
notified an auction house and scoured the world for the highest bidder. Finding
relics was a joy to be shared as a part of history, not hidden in some rich
man’s collection. Caledonia shivered though there was no wind.