Forevermore (9 page)

“Ethan Arimus Munro,” a woman’s voice — with an accent just like mine — breaks the air. “Shame on you.”

The guys all erupt in chuckles.

“Och, wife,” Ethan says. “I’m no’ doin’ a thing wrong. Just tellin’ the lass here about a relative.”

“Well, I thought she came to see a fellow Charlestonian.” A tall, willowy blonde woman enters the room and walks up to Ethan.

“Ivy, I’m Amelia.” She smiles and inclines her head. She has almond-shaped blue-green eyes. “This lunkhead’s wife. Come on,” she says, and motions to me and Emma. “Let’s leave this chamber of testosterone, girls. I’ve something to show you.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud. “Sounds good to me,” I answer. Emma and I hastily trail behind Amelia.

She leads us through the tower house and up a set of spiral steps leading to an enormous library. Lining the walls are portraits of people from long ago.

“Impressive, aren’t they?” Amelia says. “Ethan’s younger brother, Gilchrist, painted them all. From memory.”

“That’s amazing,” I say. Meanwhile, I think,
From memory? Did Gilchrist
know
these clearly long-dead people?
The portraits look so real, and detailed.

Amelia then heads straight to a particular shelf and retrieves an old ledger. She moves to a desk and inclines her head for us to join her. Amelia opens the book and begins searching the pages.

“I heard you telling Ethan you’re interested in the family tree. This is our Munro clan history,” she says. “We’re not the only Munros in Scotia, so says my husband. Here.” She flips the book around in my direction and points to a section marked
1800–1900
. “Just as Ethan says, a boy was born to a Mirrah Munro, and disappeared without a trace eighteen years later.” She turns the book back and reads on. “Seems there was an uncle, Patrick Munro, who died a few weeks later. Mirrah’s brother.” She shakes her head. “His body was found at the base of the cliffs.” She raises her gaze. “At Glenmorrag Castle. It says he and his nephew had been hired as musicians for the laird and lady at the time.”

My heart’s beating a mile a minute as I stare at the written names and dates. This has to be some sort of clue. Was Logan’s death somehow linked to his uncle’s?

“That’s amazing, to have so much family history written in one book,” I say, and read on. “Wow. It says Logan’s mother died of natural causes at the ripe old age of eighty-three.”

Amelia points to one of the portraits on the wall. “We don’t have a portrait of Logan, unfortunately. But this one here is Patrick. And here …” She points to another one. “This is Mirrah. Very young, of course.”

I stare in disbelief.
I’m looking at Logan’s mother,
I say to myself. She’s beautiful, with long, dark curls and full lips. My gaze then moves to Mirrah’s brother, Logan’s uncle. Patrick. A handsome guy, with physical traits just like the other Munros.

As I stare at him, something strikes me as … familiar. I can’t put a finger on it.

“Lady Munro, may I use the loo?” Emma asks.

“Sure, sweetie,” Amelia says. “There’s one just up the hall.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, and grins at me. “Be right back.” She slips out the door.

“Ivy,” Amelia says after Emma leaves. I look at her, and her eyes are searching mine. “Do you notice anything … different about my husband and his kinsmen?”

I nod.

Amelia smiles. “Can you tell me what?”

I think about it. “It’s their speech. Their mannerisms. They don’t seem … modern. I guess.” I kind of laugh. “Like they’re extras that stepped out of the movie
Braveheart
.”

Her smile widens. “Let me fetch you another book.” She stands and heads to a different section of the library. I see an impressive row of books all with Amelia’s name on the spine. She plucks one such book off the shelf and brings it over to me.

“I know Serrus told you I’m an author,” she says with a modest smile. “Now, this may not be exactly your taste, but I think you might find this interesting. Try to read it with an open mind. And when you’re finished, we’ll talk again.”

The book is a copy of
Enchanted Love
. My eyes rise to meet hers.

“I was going to order a copy anyway,” I tell her, excited. “It sounds fantastic.”

Her gaze continues to search mine. “Have you seen Logan Munro?”

I almost jerk back at her blunt question. “I, um,” I stutter.

Amelia smiles and holds up her hand. “It’s okay. Seriously. Read the book. Then give me a call.” She jots her telephone number down on a piece of paper and hands it to me.

“I … don’t understand,” I say. I want to tell her, and Ethan,
Yes! Your cousin is haunting my castle!
but I just can’t. I’m not sure what stops me. Maybe it’s because I really don’t know Amelia. She seems nice and trustworthy, though.

“What’d I miss?” Emma says, walking back into the library.

Amelia grabs another copy of
Enchanted Love
and hands it to her. “In case you’d like to read it, too.”

“Och, thanks,” Emma says, and stares at the cover. “Brilliant.”

“You’re welcome. Now, we best head back into the great hall before the laird comes looking for us,” Amelia says.

As we leave, I glance at the portraits once more. Patrick Munro stands tall, with his foot braced against a large rock.
He’s wearing dark brown pants, leather boots, a white long-sleeved shirt, and a vest. His hand is resting on his bent knee. Long mahogany hair flows over his shoulders. I study the portrait some more, and there’s still something that bugs me about it, but I can’t place what it is.

We find Ethan and the others, and get ready to leave. As I pass Aiden, he gives me a grin. “Be seein’ you ’round, lass,” he says quietly. I’m not really sure what to think of it, so I say nothing in return. It’s like they all know something. A secret. One that they enjoy keeping.

“Och, you each have a copy of the book,” Serrus says, inclining his head to the novel tucked under my arm. “Amelia’s great, aye?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” Amelia says, giving Serrus a hug. “This one here reads all of my work,” she says. The other Munros all chuckle.

Serrus’s cheeks turn red, and I notice him shoot a glance at Emma. I’m starting to suspect he likes her, and that my friend might share his affections.

“Och, leave the lad be,” Ethan says, and gives Serrus a gentle shove. “Dunna be a stranger ’round here, cousin.”

Serrus shakes his hand. “I willna. And thanks for having us over.”

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.” I look at Amelia and smile.

Amelia puts her hand up to her ear like a phone.
Call me
, she mouths.

My phone vibrates then, and it’s a text from Mom. They’re pulling into the Munro drive. Just in time. I follow Serrus and Emma out the door.

Niall and Mom pull up, and I get inside the Rover, my thoughts tumbling. Emma climbs on the back of Serrus’s motorcycle, and they wave to me. I can’t help but think they make a cute couple.

“What do you have there?” Niall asks after we’re down the driveway.

“Lady Munro gave me a copy of her book,” I answer, and already I know it’s way more than just a simple novel. “I’m going to start reading it tonight.”

“W
hat happened to you?” I ask Logan the second I see him outside my room in Glenmorrag. “Where’d you go?”

“I dunno,” he answers. “Once the laird’s Rover started to move, I … shifted out of it.”

“Maybe it has to do with physics and space and time,” I say, opening the door to my room. I’m not scared to enter anymore now that Logan has been standing guard. “Your intangible self can’t keep up with a moving vehicle. I don’t know, I’m guessing. What is so funny?”

“You missed me,” he says matter-of-factly, grinning. “Did you no’?”

I slip him a sideways glance. “Dunna be so cocky, boy,” I say.

Logan’s laugh is deep and resounding. “That’s a very nice brogue you have there, Ivy.”

I’m eager to tell Logan about my visit to the Munros. I set my copy of
Enchanted Love
on the writing desk, and then Logan and I sit side by side on my window seat.

“I found out some very interesting stuff at the Munros,” I tell him. I take a deep breath. “The Munros are your relatives, Logan. Cousins. Your name was in their family ledger. I saw a portrait of your mother, Mirrah. And of your uncle Patrick. He died a few weeks after you went missing, according to the family history. He was employed here at the castle, along with you. He died here.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Wha — how?”

“I guess an accident. His body was found at the base of the sea cliffs out back.”

“Saint’s blood,” he whispers.

I nod. “The ledger also says,” I add, a little quieter, “that you disappeared and were never found.”

“Aye,” he answers. Rubbing his jaw, he looks at me. “Anything about my mother?”

I smile. “She lived to be eighty-three.”

A broad smile breaks his handsome face in two. “You did a fine job, gell,” he says. “I thank you for it. And to
think …” He shakes his head. “I’ve family no’ too far from here. All this time, and I never knew.”

“Or, you just didn’t remember,” I offer. “Now you know, though. You can visit.”

“ ’Twouldna do a bit of good if they dunna believe in the unliving,” he says. “In me.”

“I don’t know why, Logan, but my gut tells me these Munros will believe. And if you have to remain here, on this — you know, this plane or whatever,” I continue, “then at least you can have a family again.”

Suddenly, the thought of not having Logan around really bothers me.

“Aye,” he agrees. “There is that.”

“Do you think your uncle Patrick’s spirit is here?” I ask.

Logan thinks a moment. “If it was, why wouldna he be in the same form as myself? Nay,” he decides. “I dunna think so, Ivy.” He looks at me. “We’ll figure it all out.”

“We will,” I agree. I glance at the digital clock on my nightstand. “I’d better get ready for bed. Not only is it school tomorrow, but it’s Halloween.”

A slow smile tips the corners of Logan’s mouth. “Aye, so it is. What sort of plans do you have cookin’ in that head of yours?”

“I don’t know. Emma’s coming over. If she doesn’t meet you soon, I think she’ll self-combust. And the MacLeod twins are coming, too. Not sure if they’ll believe, but they’re cool.” Logan’s stare is making me blush again. “I think we’re going to carve pumpkins and tell spooky stories or something.”

“Well,” he says, and stands. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he grins. “What better way to have a spooky All Hallows’ Eve than to have a real spirit tell the tale, aye?”

I grin. “We’ll see about that. Have a good night, Logan.”

With a low bow, Logan smiles. “I’ll be just out the door if you need me.”

I blink, and he’s gone.

Quickly, I change into some warm sweatpants and a thermal top, grab my copy of
Enchanted Love
, and climb beneath the covers. Flipping past the first few pages, I read the dedication.

For my very own enchanted knight, Ethan. And to your kinsmen. By the by …

Interesting. Then I begin to read. Very quickly, I get completely lost in the story.

Enchanted Love
seems to have a lot of similarities to reality. It’s the story of an American author with writer’s block who goes to stay in a supposedly haunted Scottish tower house for inspiration. What she finds there is a group of handsome guys led by their clan leader, whom the American falls in love with. The men have been enchanted for centuries. They walk as spirits during the day, but during the gloaming hour — that space of time between dusk and darkness — they gain substance and are mortal. The whole while I’m reading, I see Amelia as the heroine, and Ethan as the hero. It seems so … real. Fantastically so.

I read and read until my eyes can’t stay open anymore. Finally, I drift off with the book still in my hands.

When I wake up, it’s six
A.M
. I’ve only slept for four hours. With a groan, I climb out of bed, grab my clean uniform for the day, and slip out the door to go shower. Logan is sitting in the corridor, back against the wall, knees pulled up. His arms are resting atop them. Our eyes meet, and he leaps to his feet.

“You’re up early,” he says, grinning.

“I didn’t go to sleep until two,” I yawn, and start toward the bathroom. “I was so into Amelia’s book.”

“Och, girl, you’ll be sorry you did that about midday,” he jokes.

“I know,” I sigh.

I shower quickly and am just stepping out of the tub, wrapped in a large white towel, when I hear a dull thud come from the small window by the sink.

I jump in reaction to the noise, but when I glance at the window, nothing is there.

I shrug. With the heel of my palm, I wipe the moisture from the mirror and peer at my image. Straight, sopping-wet blonde hair. Pale skin. Wide, light eyes. Nothing special or exotic. But I wonder what Logan thinks when he looks at me. I smile.

Thud.

This time, the noise is louder, sharper, and I scoot backward to glance up. A large black shape fills the window.

Thud! Thud thud thud thud thud!

A gasp escapes my throat. Over and over the dark shape smashes against the pane of glass until it breaks through. As the black object hurls across the bathroom, I let out a scream.

It hits the wall and falls to the floor.

Logan materializes beside me.

“Ivy!” he says, inching closer, hand out to calm me. “What’s the matter, lass?”

Wet hair falls in my face, and I push it back. The object on the floor is still moving.

“There,” I say, pointing.

“Och,” Logan says. “ ’Tis a raven.”

My heart is beating like crazy in my chest, but I crouch beside the raven. In its mouth is a small piece of bark, or maybe a torn branch. “Shh,” I croon to the injured bird. Slowly, I reach out and remove the twig. The inky bird stares at me with its yellow eye, and I try stroking its head with my finger.

Then the raven instantly squawks, hops up, and flies out the broken window.

“Whoa!” I say, reeling back.

“Are you all right?” Logan asks, looking over at me. I’m suddenly aware I’m still in just a towel.

“I’m fine!” I announce, my skin flushing. “I’m not dressed —”

“I can see that, lass,” he says, grinning.

“Out!” I demand, but can’t help but smile back.

The moment he disappears, I set the twig on the counter, dry off as fast as I can, and put on my uniform, confused and terrified by my encounter with the raven.

In the corridor, Logan awaits me.

“What was in its mouth?” he asks.

I hold out the twig. “I don’t know. It looks like a piece of a tree.”

Logan nods. “Rowan. ’Tis the same as that bundle you found under your bed, remember? ’Tis cursed, Ivy. Put it down.”

“Oh,” I answer, and set it on a hall table. I stare at the dark brown woody scrap. “That’s just … great.”

Logan frowns. “What are the chances of a raven picking up a rowan twig and bashing through your window just to give it to you?” He shakes his head. “I dunna like this.”

I shiver. Neither do I. “It’s so weird that as soon as I took the twig, the raven flew away. It’s almost as if it came specifically for me. Like someone was controlling it.”

Logan nods. “Aye. Like a live spell.”

“Perfect way to start Halloween off, huh?” I say.

Logan’s expression grows serious. “Be careful today. All Hallows’ Eve is more than just dressing up and pinching
sweets. ’Tis Samhain. At the bewitching hour, the bridge between the living and the dead closes. ’Tis a gap easily gained by either.”

I can’t help but shiver again.

Outside the school, Emma is pacing at the drop-off line, waiting for me. I’m glad to see her — it takes my mind off the crazy raven incident.

“So,” Emma says as we weave through the kids flocking to class, “I brought clothes to change into for later. Are you sure your mum doesna mind the lot of us coming over tonight?”

“Nope, not at all. My mother loves Halloween as much as she loves Christmas. I have a feeling by the time we get to the castle she’ll have black paper bats hanging through the great hall.”

“I’d like to see her get that past old Lady MacAllister,” Emma laughs, and I groan. I’ve been trying not to think about Elizabeth too much lately.

The day passes quickly. Though there are no paper bats and jack-o’-lanterns in the classrooms, there’s a definite feel of Halloween in the air. The misty wind outside
adds to the spookiness. I get a twinge of excitement, along with a ping of dread.

After school, I can tell Emma is very eager to meet Logan, though she keeps quiet about it in the car with my mom and Niall. The Rover is barely at a full stop when Emma leaps from the car, pulling me along with her.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” Emma calls to Mom and Niall.

“Anytime, sweetie,” Mom replies. “Burgers and fries tonight, girls! A real American meal. And Niall is heading off now to get the pumpkins.”

“Brilliant!” Emma says, and together we go through the door and head up the stairs. Emma is two steps ahead of me. Nearly dragging me.

“Okay, okay!” I say, laughing. “Hold your horses.”

All of a sudden I slam straight into Emma’s back. If she didn’t have the death grip on my arm, I would stumble right back down.

“Em, watch it —”

Steadying myself, I move next to her and look straight ahead. Logan is there, shoulder against the wall, one booted foot crossed over the other.

I all but lose my breath.

He is
so
handsome.

“Logan,” I say, and look at Emma, whose eyes are as round as saucers. “This is my friend Emma. Who obviously totally believes in spirits. Emma, Logan.”

Logan gives Emma a slight nod. “My pleasure.”

Emma blinks. And says nothing.

“Emma!” I say.

“Right,” she says, finding her voice. “Hiya.”

I laugh. “Wow, something to hold Emma’s tongue. It’s a miracle.”

Emma doesn’t take her eyes off Logan, even as he falls into pace with us in the hallway. I lead us into my room, but I halt Logan.

“We’ll change, and then go out to the rectory,” I say with a grin. “Wait right here.”

Logan’s eyes are piercing. “I’m glad you’re home. ’Tis a long day whilst you’re gone.”

My heart skips as I shut the door.

Emma immediately grabs me. “You didna tell me he was gorgeous!”

“He’s a ghost,” I say. “But he can still hear you.”

A chuckle comes from the other side of the door.

Emma gives me a long look.

I frown. “What?”

“You fancy him,” she whispers. “Dunna ya?”

The chuckles from the doorway stop.

I bite my lip.

“I can see it in your eyes,” she continues.

“Emma,” I start warningly, but lucky for her, her cell phone buzzes. She reaches into her pocket and from her smile and blush, I can tell it’s Serrus. She tells me he’s coming over later, too, and now it’s my turn to tease her a little. “Look who’s blushing now,” I say. Emma just grins.

We change quickly — I put on distressed jeans and an orange-and-black long-sleeved button-down shirt. Emma wears a pair of jeans, and an orange shirt that has a black cat wearing a striped, pointy witch’s hat on it.

“Cute,” I say, grabbing my violin and bow. Together, we head out.

Logan is waiting in the corridor. He focuses on me, and Emma focuses on him.

“The twins and Serrus won’t be here for a couple of hours,” I say. “Wanna go to the rectory?”

“Will you play some?” Logan asks.

“Sure,” I answer, and suppress a giggle as I notice Emma still staring.

“I’ll meet you both there,” Logan says, and vanishes. Emma gasps out loud at the sight. I don’t think her mouth closes fully until we’re outside the castle doors.

The wind is sharp and chilly, and it leaves a barren feeling in its wake. Emma and I make our way to the rectory and duck through the broken archway.

“Where is he?” Emma says, glancing around.

“You girls move fast,” Logan says, materializing from the shadows.

Emma squelches a holler.

“Logan,” I scold. “She’s not used to you yet.”

He gives Emma a quick grin. “Sorry ’bout that.”