The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance) (7 page)

“She is willful, wild, sensual and has certain dark appetites,” he said with a shrug and a smile.

Meg gasped and rose half way out of her seat. “How can you just sit there and casually say that like you’re discussing the weather? What
dark appetites
do you meant?”

He laughed. “Please sit down, my dear. I only mean her passions are strong, little Meg. Nothing more than that I assure you.”

“Do you know anything about a White Lady walking on the moors?” Charlie asked, watching him closely.

“Ah…you have heard the legend of the Baobhan Sith…the Lady in White. Of course, everyone in these parts knows of her. She finds a likely lad and dances with him till he drops, then…well, then she drinks his blood.”

“Then she’s a vampire!” Meg cried in horror.

He laughed. “Yes…so it would seem. Thousands of years ago the Celtic tribes roamed Eastern Europe before they settled here. Reportedly, some of the clans were infected by vampires. The MacMorley’s being one of them.”

“But wouldn’t a vampire look different? Like a vampire? With fangs and such?” Meg asked, thinking that Orianna had very sharp claws, but no fangs that she had seen. Of course, she hadn’t gotten a really close look.

He smiled then, clearly amused. “I’m sure vampires look like ordinary people…like you, Meg…or me.”

“Like you?”

“If I really was the Laird of Blackcreag, I could be one you know and, if that was true, just how safe would you or your sister be? Not to mention Allyn, who has his own set of worries…some he’s not even aware of yet,” he said silkily.

Charlie was growing more and more irritated with their host. “I’m sure you are enjoying your little joke, Seth. Apparently, Orianna didn’t roll far from the tree. First you offer to let us stay here and then you tell us you
may
be a vampire. That we
may not
be safe. We will be happy to accept your offer to move up here, but fair warning, playing games with either of us could have very unfortunate results for you…Orianna…or anyone else.”

She hadn’t expected him to laugh, but he did. “Really, my dear, as they say around here ‘dinnae fash yerself’. I can scarcely be a vampire, when I am not even a MacMorley, so please forgive my verbal play. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

But, needless to say, the remainder of the meal was strained and both sisters were glad, when the Rolls Royce picked them up and they headed back down to the manse. Sitting in the back seat in the dark, Meg muttered, “I really…really don’t like her. And what’s up with Allyn? He looked like a robocopy of his former self. And since when has he taken to wearing an ascot unless there’s something he’s trying to hide.”

“Like what? Fang marks?” Charlie asked not so sure she wasn’t right.

“Could be! And didn’t she look like she could suck the life out of any man?”

“And then there’s Seth. What was all that vampire stuff about? If he was trying to scare us, he was wasting his time.”

“Speak for yourself. He scared me,” Meg told her. “Now what do we do?”

“Move in and try to rescue Allyn,” Charlie told her with a sigh.

“From the way she was hanging on to him that won’t be easy!” Meg replied. “Do you think Seth is a vampire, too? Maybe a Transylvania transplant with a name like Vladamir?”

Charlie laughed. “I think he’s big on theater. And we don’t really think Orianna is a vampire, do we?”

Meg was thoughtful for a long moment before she whispered. “If not a vampire, she certainly is a bitch! But, then again, she could be both, couldn’t she?”

“The bitch part I have no argument with!”

***

They stood by the window in the darkened room. “I let you see your precious sisters, Allyn. In fact, there they go, heading back to the manse. Your sister…Charlie is it?…is very aggressive and could be more of a problem than I thought,” Orianna told him thoughtfully, scraping a red tipped finger down the side of his cheek till it drew blood.

“Leave my sisters alone or…..” he muttered thickly.

“Or what? If you’re willful, my darling, you won’t get what you need and I may be forced to hurt them…rather badly. Now you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He sighed and shook his head, then mumbled a strangled, “No!”

She slid her hand up his back with the slow slither of a snake climbing a tree. Her laugh was dark and sultry. “You don’t want them here! Say it, Allyn! You don’t want them here!”

And God help him, he echoed her words. “I don’t want them here!” He watched the Rolls Royce’s tail lights grow dim with distance and a cold wave of fear closed around his heart like a clenched fist before he slid to the floor.

***

The next morning, after making a sizeable donation for “the puir an’ needy”, they said their good-byes to Angus who wasn’t at all keen about their decision to move to the manor. “Ah’m afeart fer ye. Ye’re makin’ a big mistake. Nothin’ Ah can put a name tae, but Ah’m worried aboot ye. Ye’ll be safer here wi’ me at the manse.” Tilda didn’t add anything to the conversation except a brusque nod before she headed back to the kitchen.

“We’ll be fine, Angus,” Charlie said. “It’s the best way to stay close to Allyn. Thank you for all your hospitality. You’ve been kind and I’m sure we will be seeing you again soon.”

Meg gave the little man a warm hug. “Good-bye, Angus. You have been almost the only friend we’ve found here and we’ll be back to visit.” They didn’t look back but both sensed his disapproval hanging over them like a dark cloud. One without a silver lining!

It was a cool morning, as they loaded their bags in their car. A strong breeze was blowing off the sea and the sun had not yet cleared the high peaks to the east. “Ready?” Charlie asked. They had spent most of the night talking over what they had seen and had decided they were doing the right thing. This was their best and, quite probably, their only way to stay in touch with Allyn.

Meg smiled wanly. “‘Damn the torpedoes’, etc.,” she told her, but didn’t tell her that she was having one of her feelings again. She would save it for later. Charlie had enough on her mind just then.

Which she did! At that very moment, she was thinking that Allyn had looked awful at dinner last night, which was understating what they both had seen. There were other words…words like ‘undead’. She shook her head and grimaced. Now she was being ridiculous! There was no such thing as a vampire…the undead…bah! Then she remembered the spirits that haunted their home at Hensley Hall and smiled. She hadn’t believed in them either and how very wrong she had been!

They climbed in the car and Charlie started the engine. Both were quiet on the drive up. They passed through the open gates and parked in front of the massive doors, where a maid in a black and white was sweeping the broad steps. “Good day to you,” she said with a bright smile, as she bobbed a curtsey.

Meg was amazed. “I didn’t know people still did that!”

“It seems Seth Marley is relishing his role as lord of the manor and the staff is trained accordingly,” Charlie replied as she slid out of her seat and met Meg at the bottom of the steps. They were about to bang the heavy brass doorknocker when it opened and Seth stood there, dressed in an impeccably tailored business suit. He looked down at them and smiled. To Charlie it looked like the very smile a spider would wear when his favored flies walked into his parlor. She shuddered reflexively and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

His smile shifted almost imperceptibly as he said, “Good morning, ladies. Perfect timing! I wanted to catch you before I left for Inverness. Business you know. No kilt today, just the required attire for an international meeting. Have you had your breakfast?”

“Thank you, yes. We ate at the manse,” Meg replied, looking around with a combination of anticipation and apprehension.

“If you give me your car keys, I’ll have someone bring in your luggage and park your car in the garage. I have alerted the staff that you will be staying with us for as long as it pleases you to stay. I really must leave now. The flight isn’t all that long, but some of my…associates…are sticklers for punctuality. Johns will show you to your rooms. They are an adjoining suite with a view of the sea, castle and mountains beyond.”

“I’m sure you’ve thought of everything,” Charlie murmured politely. “Quite probably more than we might have wanted.”

He raised one brow and smiled sardonically. “You would be surprised I think, but then again maybe not,” he told her as he met her gray eyes. “By the way…I hope you’ll forgive my talk of vampires last night at supper. The MacMorleys do indeed have that reputation. In fact, the castle was renamed Bluid or Blood Castle a number of centuries ago. But, let me assure you, I am not a vampire. The idea is quite ridiculous, when you consider it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Meg answered for both of them. “I’m not so sure,” she told him with a thoughtful frown, which he found quite amusing.

They stepped into the entry hall, while he gave last minute instructions to Johns and disappeared toward the back of the house. “This way if you please!” Johns intoned coldly, then led them up the left staircase and along the portrait gallery, where the dead Lairds of Blackcreag hung along with their ladies, offspring, horses and hounds either singly or in various combinations.

Meg grimaced and whispered. “Wanna bet there’s more than one vampire in that lot? Look at that one with the burning eyes and cruel mouth. Remind you of anyone we’ve met at Hensley Hall?”

Charlie knew exactly who she meant, but preferred not to remember what had almost cost Meg her life. “They look like a lot of self-indulgent, pampered not all that happy people to me, whose legacy is the vampire story our host entertained us with last night,” she told Meg.

“Then you don’t believe in any of it?”

“I won’t say that. I learned to suspend my disbelief quite recently as you may recall.”

“I’m glad you learned your lesson….” Meg began, then stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the portrait in front of her.

It was a Highlander, staring arrogantly at the viewer with shadowed gray eyes and a smile that was both mocking and so-o-o very sensual. His black hair was long, brushing the top of his billowy saffron colored shirt. His muscular legs were bare below his kilt and the plaid he wore over his shoulder was a simple design secured with the same silver and amethyst brooch they had seen Seth wear at dinner. He sat astride a restless black stallion whose mane and tail were feathered by the wind. In the background, Blood Castle loomed on its dark crag with stark, gray foreboding.

Meg was only able to utter one heartfelt “Wow!”

Charlie couldn’t have said it better. He was a “wow” and then some. “I wonder who he is? The date is 1469. The artist is exceptional. This should be in a museum somewhere!”

“It belongs right here!” Meg said. “This is his home, or rather the castle must have been his home, since this house hadn’t been built yet. And look over there. There’s another fine portrait by the same artist, if I don’t miss my guess. No stiff formal poses like the others. These two practically breathe!”

Charlie studied the portrait of a young girl sitting against a tree with a small white dog in her lap. She was very beautiful with honey blonde hair and an ethereal quality the artist had managed to capture. She seemed to have one foot in another world.

“Remind you of anyone?” Meg asked, moving closer for a better look. “And doesn’t that dog look a lot like Freddie?”

“Yes and no. Yes…she reminds me of Breanna Hensley, because of her expression, and…no…he doesn’t look like Freddie.”

“They must be related. Sister maybe? I don’t want him to be married so she better not be his wife,” Meg said dividing her attention between the two portraits.

“And that would be because?”

Meg uttered what came frighteningly close to a giggle. “He’s even more devilishly attractive if unattached and available.”

“For what exactly? Meg, sometimes you actually scare me! And wasn’t that how you felt about Seth in the beginning?”

“That’s before I got to know him. Besides, he’s a pale shadow of this one. This one is…..”

“Wicked, wild and very dangerous to any woman’s heart…especially your overly romantic one,” Charlie finished for her. “Thank heavens it’s just a painting or I might have to lock you up!”

At the far end of the hall, Johns coughed, impatiently, interrupting any further speculation on the character of the long dead laird. They had been so absorbed in the portraits that they had completely forgotten they were supposed to be following him!

He waited for them to catch up, then led them on down the hall until he stopped before a door, where he bowed them inside. Charlie entered first and looked around, as Meg ducked under her arm and spun about excitedly. “This is really cool! It’s like we just stepped into the world of the Bronte sisters or Jane Austen. Look at that bed! It even has tassel-corded hangings. And isn’t that a view you could just die for!”

“Let’s hope not,” Charlie said, dryly, but she had to admit it was a beautiful room with its richly paneled walls, gold and blue bed hangings, drapes and coverlet. An antique Oriental rug lay across the polished wide planked floor. The furniture periods were mixed…the bed a Tudor style…while the armoire, dressing table and side chairs were from a later period. She sighed and wished, not for he first time, she knew more about antiques.