Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) (20 page)

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The weekend arrived without any further catastrophes. Evan had willingly repaired the stair tread without question. We’d sat at the kitchen table sipping tea and eating scones, while Mrs. Douglas vacuumed the reception rooms. I’d always referred to them in typical American terms as family or sitting rooms, I finally remembered that in Scotland they were called reception rooms, and the difference in terms made me smile.

“Your father now resides at Sutter’s Inn, eh?’ Evan asked.

“Since the step incident, he thought it wise to stick around,” I answered. “Do you think I have anything to fear from Gran’s secrets?”

He took his time in answering, chewed the scrumptious scone and sipped his tea. I waited, studied my hands and wanted the man to say what was on his mind.

“Yer Gran was a strong woman, Linty. She had secrets she refused to share and kept her own counsel. I know not what you’d be wanting me to tell ye, all I know is there wasn’t another woman on this estate for years, other than yer mum.” He slid the chair back, muttered he had to trim the rose bushes and left the room. The response had been so short and flat, I’d feared insisting on a better answer. Those days had to be put behind me now, I’d have to be brave enough to press whomever I wanted for answers and be damned over the consequences.

Before he left, he turned and asked, “Lass, what do you know about Vaughn and yer Gran?” His words hung in the air as he strode away. Alone, I pondered the question. Having waited too long to do a search of Vaughn’s background, I planned to dive into the Internet to see what I could find out about him and his business concerns. Though I’d asked, he’d been less than forthcoming and I had a need to know more than that he was Gran’s friend.

When the movers arrived, I showed them to the cottage, and instructed them where to unload their cargo. The driver backed close to the cottage door, and his two men started the process of moving stuff into the first room. Boxes of books, binding equipment, various quantities of materials needed for book covers, and the lot, were set where I directed they be placed. Magnifying lenses and other workshop tools scattered across tables as I unpacked what was brought in. I worked as hard and fast as the movers without stopping to rest.

My furniture had been brought in along with boxes of personal belongings that sat piled next to it. I had little in the way of furnishings since my flat had been small and was mainly a place where I’d slept. I had spent most of my time at the conservatory, working on book restoration. The job completed, I paid the crew, and gave them a tip for their good nature when taking instructions for moving things around again after I’d decided a change was needed. As they drove off, I breathed a sigh of relief for having gotten my work situated and then I marched toward the house.

I also felt a little more secure now that alarms had been installed in the house, the front gate, the garage, and the cottage. The property was now fully protected whenever needed and was one less worry I had.

The time lapse between dealing with the hidden bones and the movers had been spent with the book found with the bones located under the broken stair tread. In total disrepair, the deep burgundy leather binding was seriously cracked, and had initially been a brighter shade of the color, or so I thought upon investigation. I knew I was capable of bringing the volume back to its former glory, and a test of the material for a timeline of when the book was written lay in store for me. I relished the process, just as I did with every book that was sent to me for restoration.

Idly I sat at the desk next to Drake’s stand and wondered whether to immediately begin restoration or work on deciphering the secrets the book held. Heck, it could be an old storybook for all I knew. Other than being hidden away with the bones, I had no idea what lay written on its pages, even though Drake had said I could read it. Seemingly, I was the only one who thought I couldn’t.

“What do you think, Drake?” I asked the dragon softly.

No answer.

I reached out and touched his scales. His eyes glowed.
“Read the book.”

There was the answer I had been waiting for. The book was thick, wide, and as I took it from the dragon case, I noted it was well used. By whom? Who knew? When I touched it, my fingers tingled, sparks flew, and I quickly set it down before me. These electric jolts unsettled me, and I wondered if anyone else in the past had ever had the same reaction.

With a light touch, I turned page after page by their corner tips to study the script and the artistically scrolled beginnings of each new line of every chapter. Though they weren’t noted as chapters, they were clearly new sections. I turned back to the first page and stared at the words for a while. My head began to swim, my vision blurred a bit, and the words seemed to jump off the page and swirl in mid air.

Not unlike a book I’d restored in the past, the first word that filtered through my brain fuzziness was
sm ind
, a Gaelic term for ancient. The following word,
seun
, meant spell or charm. As the language took hold in my mind, a sense of this first
rann
, or portion, began to make itself clear. In my
ceòthach
,
misty, state of being, I realized the
rann
was a tale of dragons, and told of the death and destruction they reigned over humans. Even the
fae
couldn’t control them completely.

The sounds of hammering on the front door broke the
seun,
spell, that had come over me. I suddenly realized that the book had turned my hands bright pink from the electricity of it. What was my connection to the book that made it spark and tingle my skin? I tucked the book and the question away for later consideration and answered the summons. My father and Uncle Charles had come to visit. I opened the door, greeted them with a smile, and glanced past them for Aunt Elizabeth.

“Your aunt had to return to London, and I won’t be far behind her. I wanted to speak with you before I left,” Uncle Charles said in a brusque manner.

Oh boy.

“Come in,” I waved my arm to the living room without dragons and watched both men wistfully peek into the dragon room. What they expected to see, or expected at all, I had no idea, but they were not welcome in there, especially with the book in residence.

We’d settled in and I waited to hear what they really wanted. I found it unlikely that Uncle Charles would stop in to wish me goodbye. He’d made it plain that he wanted the dragons, and I’d announced that he couldn’t have them, not even one. I’d become unpopular with the man after that and hadn’t had a visit since then. We all need to be happy about something in our lives, and a day without Uncle Charles yammering at me was a very happy day indeed.

“We’d like to discuss your role as dragon keeper, Linty,” my father said cautiously.

“Again?”

Uncle Charles spoke up. “You’re young and have no idea what you’ve undertaken. Dragon keeping isn’t for the faint-hearted. I, uh, we believe you’re in grave danger. I think Mother was wrong to force you to take it on.”

“No one forced this upon me, I’m honored to be the dragon keeper, to protect them from those who would use and abuse them.” Good golly, I’d spoken of the dragons as if they were alive.
Careful, Linty, be very careful.
The whisper startled me, I glanced down at my hands and wondered whether my subconscious had spoken, or if Drake could hear our conversation and had issued a warning.

His eyes narrowed as he studied me, Uncle Charles then looked at my father and coughed lightly. “Don’t be daft. How would these statues be used or abused?”

“I have no idea. If not, why am I in danger?” I countered.

My father reached out to take my hands in his, but I folded my arms. “Linty, dear, be reasonable. You must get rid of the dragons, lend them to a museum, sell them, whatever it takes, but they must leave Dragon Hill if you plan to live here.”

“Why would I do as you wish? It’s crazy to think I’m in danger. I won’t even consider allowing the dragons to go to parts unknown. If my welfare is important to you both, why haven’t either of you shown interest in my well-being throughout my entire life. I can’t think about listening to you now.” I remarked irritably as I rose to stoke the fireplace. “What’s this really about?” I demanded.

Knowing looks passed between them and Uncle Charles gave my father a nod. Dad sat back, crossed his legs at the knee and asked, “Have you come across an old book?”

I shook my head, even though my heart pounded erratically.

“You’re sure there was no book with the bones you found?” Dad insisted.

“I’m sure,” I lied.

“Don’t lie to me, please. This is of major importance, Linty.”

With a vehement nod, Uncle Charles picked up where Dad had left off. “You’re on treacherous ground, especially if you’ve found the book and have read it. Gaelic has been spoken in this family down through the generations. I’m unaware if Gran taught you, Linty, though with your background in restoration and knowledge of so many languages and dialects, you might speak it and can read the book. I’m telling you not to if you’ve come across it. It contains things you shouldn’t know and would best be left alone.”

“How do you know the book, if there really is one, would be written in Gaelic? What would that information consist of?” I asked.

“The book tells of a key to the dragons. It will instruct anyone foolish enough to read it how to bring them to life,” Uncle Charles said.

“Don’t be silly, they’re only statues, isn’t that what you said? Good Lord, you sound as if your cheese has fallen off your cracker, Uncle Charles.”

Taken aback by the remark, he asked, “My what?”

“You sound nuts,” I said flatly. “I think you want the dragons for yourself, to sell them, and get rich.”

He opened his mouth, but I waved away any lies he might have offered. “Do you not know those gaunt looking people have been here? They’ve come by a couple of times, and they’re quite creepy. I won’t let them in, refuse to discuss a deal with them, and the dragons will remain on this estate. That’s final.”

“Be reasonable,” Dad urged. “You have work that you enjoy, a life to live, and you won’t have either if you’re a keeper. Mother lost all sense of reality, you know it, and so do we. Even Smythe mentioned it when we spoke to him earlier today.”

I leaned back, gave them a narrow glare and asked, “Why would you speak with Mr. Smythe?”

“We met in passing, is all,” Uncle Charles blustered.

“Liar, you sought him out to see if you could break the will. Be honest, for heaven’s sake,” I demanded.

In an effort to own up, Dad said, “All right, fine, we only did so in an effort to relieve you of this burden.”

“I don’t see it as a burden,” I remarked smoothly and watched a car glide to a stop alongside my father’s. Cullen had arrived, oh my.

“Excuse me,” I said and left to open the door before Cullen could knock. He took one look at my face, and his lips compressed. “You’ve got company,” he murmured.

“Dad and Uncle Charles. Very unpleasant, too,” I whispered.

With a wide smile and cheerful voice, he asked, “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Not at all,” I answered in a cheerful tone, and walked into the room with him at my side. Charles and Dad had their heads close together. I glanced at Cullen and then said, “Look who’s here.”

Neither man appeared thrilled over the new arrival, especially as they were fighting a losing battle that would likely be a definite loss if Cullen had his way. It gave me pause to wonder what these three men’s motives truly were. Cullen wanted the book and possibly the dragons. Dad, well, who knew what he wanted. And as for Uncle Charles—he merely wanted to sell the dragons and make a fortune, that much, I was certain of.

The small sofa I’d been seated on was now filled arm-to-arm by Cullen and me. A team ready to fend off our opposition. I had no intention of acknowledging that the book existed, and as far as I could tell, Cullen wouldn’t either. If anything, when we were alone, he’d try to convince me to read it aloud and translate what was written. Reluctant to do that for myself, let alone for him, I held fast when Dad began to insist once again.

“Surely you must want to return to Edinburgh, lass?” Dad asked.

“It’s too late for that. All my belongings and work-related materials have been delivered. I’ve set the cottage up as an office. I’m currently at work on a project that was almost finished before I went to America.”

The news took both men by surprise. I wondered why they hadn’t known; lately everyone knew what I was doing, but me. “You weren’t aware of that? I’m surprised, Mrs. Douglas has said everyone in the village talks of nothing else except my book restoration cottage industry.”

“We weren’t aware,” Dad uttered with a touch of disappointment.

Uncle Charles added, “Surely it won’t be convenient for you to work here, Linty. How will you meet your clients?”

“I’m sure you realize the Internet has all sorts of ways to communicate with people, Uncle Charles. Good grief, I skyped with a client just this morning.”

“Skyped?”

“Yes, we spoke face-to-face over the Internet. My client and the book she wants restored will arrive within the next day or two. I’ll meet her in Aberdeen and we’ll transact our business at that point.”

“Who’ll be with the dragons while you’re away?” They wanted to know.

I grinned and thumbed toward Cullen. “Cullen has offered to dragon-sit. I won’t be gone long, several hours should be enough time to discuss business. Besides, with the security system I’ve had installed, there would be little opportunity for anyone to get away with entering the house without the police being notified.”

Upset, Uncle Charles blustered, while my father shook his head. “That’s unacceptable. The dragons must be watched over by family. I should be the one to do so, Cullen’s presence here is unnecessary.”

“That’s your opinion, and you’ve a right to it, but I’m in charge of the dragons, not you. Now if you don’t mind, I must return to work.”