Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) (12 page)

Read Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) Online

Authors: J.M Griffin,Kristina Paglio

BOOK: Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series)
9.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Leisurely, I flipped through the pages of one album I hadn’t viewed. Quietness pervaded the house, the night, and my mind. My eyes grew heavy and I must have drifted off. How long I slept wasn’t important, but the thump when the album hit the floor woke me with a start. I heard a tinkle as something tumbled across the floor and landed under the sofa. I leaned forward, felt for what had slipped from the album and touched the edge of metal.

I crouched down on my knees and stuck my hand farther under the sofa to bring forward what felt like a key. I stared at the old fashioned skeleton key that I turned over and over in my hand. Was this the key to the door? I stumbled back as I stood up, took the stairs two at a time and ran full-tilt down the hallway, flicking each light switch as I went.

The sturdy oak door loomed ahead. I shoved the key into the lock, gave it a swift turn and listened to the lock tumble. I hit the switch and bright light illuminated the dustiest room I’d ever seen. It was filled to the brink with boxes and crates stacked high, along with furniture and more oddments than I thought could possibly be stored in an area this small.

A narrow path traveled maze-like through the many objects stored within. I brushed off my clothes as I made my way past dusty covers sloped haphazardly over various objects. Boxes with discolored tags and postmarks from foreign shores were stacked atop one another in a crazy zigzag way. It would take time to search all of this. Surely one of these precious finds would hold the book, right?

As exhaustion settled over me, I moved toward the door, shut off the lights and closed up behind me. I leaned back against the solid oak, wondered what hid in the boxes and bins, and felt a chill that made the hairs on my arms stand straight out.

Chapter 9

Blankets lay twisted and jumbled around my body and left me to wonder if I’d gotten any sleep. I’d tossed and turned into the wee hours and now watched sunlight stream through the windows. I disentangled myself and prepared for another suspense-filled day. An exploration topped my list. The room at the end of the hall held history and hopefully, the book I so desperately sought.

After a quick breakfast, I once again unlocked the oak door and closed it behind me. The window at the end of the room offered dim light and I flicked the light switch before I started to search through loads of boxes, three chests of drawers, and a multitude of bags that had flopped open. Instantly, I’d become covered in dust.

 Half an hour later, clouds of dust particles floated through the air and I coughed and hacked as if a lung was trying to escape my chest. I propped the window open to let fresh air in, which only made the dust fly everywhere and made the cloud even denser. I gave up for a while and returned to the first floor to sit on the patio. Breathing in the fresh scent of pine trees, I thought hard about the direction my life had taken.

Questions without satisfactory answers filled my head to the brink of bursting. Why had I, of all people, been allotted the role of dragon keeper? I liked to think Gran considered me capable, though she could have thought I was more likely to accept the challenge than the others, who would surely have gotten rid of the dragons and opened the world up to complete chaos. Would I become besieged by those who thought me an easy mark, one who would willingly give up the dragons with little or no thought at all, especially if the price was right? That answer came fast and furious. I would be overwhelmed with offers, threats, cajoling, and then the seekers would turn into enemies who’d do what they must without conscience, in order to attain the dragon they needed to complete their set. What were Vaughn’s intentions? He’d just met me and had already taken on the role of protector, or had he? No reasonable answer for that one. I shook my head, left the patio, and wandered onto the grounds.

The cottage sat a short distance from the house. I wondered if it was used for storage or a guest house of sorts. With the amount of bedrooms in the main building, I would have thought there’d be no need for a guest house. I peered through windows that wound around the structure and noted the rooms were empty of furnishings. Bare floors were dust laden and most likely hadn’t been cleaned in eons, nor had anything else. The windows were grimy, making it hard to discern how dirty the place actually was.

I turned back to the house and found Evan Cairn standing a few feet away, staring at me, a half smile on his face. His brogue thick, he asked, “Something I can do for ye, lass?”

“Where’s the key to this building?”

“Above the door, though it’s not been locked in all the years I’ve worked the grounds, Miss.”

“Call me Linty,” I said as I drew closer to him. I turned to give the place a once over. “What was it used for? I don’t recollect its use from my visits to the estate.” It might need a new roof and some serious cleaning, but then, what would I use it for? I had no friends to invite for a stay and didn’t want the family to interfere with my life. They’d never been concerned before, why let them in now?

“Years ago, the Laird had guests and the family entertained quite a lot. As successors passed on, entertaining lessened, and then only your grandmother lived here. If you don’t mind my asking, lass, why didn’t you live here with her? She talked proudly of you and your education, and the like.”

Surprised at the revelation, and his question, I didn’t immediately answer him. When I glanced up, I saw a gleam of interest in his eyes and glanced away.

“I was sent to America for my education, to boarding schools, and such. I returned to Scotland on holiday vacations, but was never invited to stay on a permanent basis.” I stared at the ground, then at my fingernails, and the dirt on my hands from fumbling through boxes and bins in the oak room, and suddenly wondered if I was an entire mess.

“Excuse me, I must get back to work,” I said. Before I walked away, I asked, “When was the last time the grounds were dealt with?”

“Months and months ago, lass. Yer Gran gave me the boot, I know not why. Where would you like me to start?”

I chuckled, “Why, at the beginning of course, cut the grass, trim the hedges, and keep going.” I shook my head in dismay. “The grounds are a mess.”

He grinned. “Right, I’ll get started.”

I nodded, sauntered toward the house and went up the servants’ staircase from the kitchen to the second floor and on into the oak room. The name for the locked room had taken hold and I liked the reference, especially since I hadn’t had to watch a YouTube video on lock picking. I snickered at the thought, and began to search once again. The room needed a thorough cleaning, and figured I would do it myself rather than ask Mrs. Douglas and cause unwanted speculation over why I wanted it done or what I was looking for.

Three hours passed without a sound from downstairs. Mrs. Douglas hadn’t shown up, which left me to my own devices. If she had been here, I’d have been hard pressed to stay upstairs without her wondering why and poking her nose into things I wasn’t sure I wanted her to know. The thought had just popped into my head when I heard her voice from the bottom of the back staircase.

“Linty, are you coming down for lunch? I’ve made a salad and sandwich for you.”

I heard her shoes on the stair treads as she climbed them. Hurriedly, I closed the door, raced into my room and stood stock still as I gaped at myself covered in dirt and dust. I fled into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes as she came into the bedroom.

“Linty,” she called.

“Yes?”

“Your lunch is ready. Come along down when you’re done in there.”

“Okay,” I called and scrubbed away the grime that covered me from head-to-toe. I dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen.

A keen look followed me as I crossed the room. I gathered the food onto a tray and said I’d eat on the patio since the day was glorious. The housekeeper smiled and said she’d bring some iced tea out for me.

I sat in the sun, ate the food and drank the tea Mrs. Douglas had prepared in the pitcher she had left for me. The patio was enormous, made of flat stones, and held a few loungers and chairs, but no tables.

I glanced up when Mrs. Douglas came outside to ask if I wanted more food. “Is there no table and chairs for this patio?”

“They were in desperate disrepair and your Gran got rid of them. Grant Gentile has a shop in the village where you can find a new set if you’re of a mind.”

“Perfect. I’ll take a ride down later. Evan is here, at work on the grounds. I’d like to get the estate back in shape, but I think he might need a hand or it will be winter again before he makes a dent in what needs doing. Maybe I should ask him if he has anyone in mind to help him out.”

“Do that, lass. He likes to work alone, but this place is in sad condition, and more than what one man can handle at present.” Mrs. Douglas gave me a nod, gathered my lunch leftovers, and took them into the house.

Midday had come and gone, the lawns looked better as I strolled the grounds, and noticed Cairn trimming the edges of what had once been flowerbeds. He turned when I approached and watched in silence with one brow raised.

“I was thinking you could use some help. Is there someone, or a few people you’d be willing to allow in to give you a hand to put things to rights?”

“That would be costly, lass. Are ye sure you want to do that? I could use a few more pairs of hands to help out.”

I grinned, remembering how frugal the Scots were. I realized that I had truly developed an American lifestyle during my time there. If a job needed doing, and it was a big one, why not pay others to do it and cut costs by way of saving time? Yes, it was American, for sure. “Not to worry. Get two or three workers to give you a hand and assign them jobs that have priority.” I turned and then stopped. Over my shoulder I asked, “How long will it take to get the basics done?”

“Not too long, lass. With help, maybe a week or so, then I can handle the rest on my own.” He dipped his head, and I left him to it.

“Perfect, go ahead, then,” I said.

 

*    *    *

 

I’d walked to the front of the house when a car pulled to a stop in the drive. I guessed the gates had been left open and grimaced when a deathly pale looking man slid from the front seat and approached me. A thought flew through my head, and I nearly giggled.  He reminded me of a vampire—thin, reedy, and pale. Good grief, I’d been in a room with a slew of these gaunt-like people when Cullen had taken me to dinner, and now I would be inundated with visits by them all. I knew it in my bones.

“Good morning, Miss Dragon.” He reached out a hand, and reluctantly, I shook it. The parchment paper sensation of his skin made me want to run screaming as far away as I could get from him.

“What brings you by today, Mr. . . . ?” I asked in a curious voice.

“Turnstill, Vernon Turnstill. I wondered if we might chat a bit about your dragons. You are the new dragon keeper of the Dragon family collection, are you not?”

His British accent was of the educated type. His clothing expensive, as was the Bentley he drove. He seemed to reek of old money. It was evident, he was a man of extreme means, and was possibly deadly, as well.

“What about the dragons?” I asked as we stood in the sun.

Perspiration glistened on his brow as warm sunshine beat upon us. I ushered him along the drive to the rear of the house and onto the shaded patio. It wasn’t in my nature to be mean. Hallowed ground, or not, I didn’t want the man to enter the house, or to get near the dragons. God only knew how Drake would respond.

Settled comfortably on the patio, I waited for him to begin. A soft breeze cooled the heat of the sunshine and created comfort for the man as we sat in the shade of the house.

“Your grandmother was a great woman, who took her position as dragon keeper very seriously. I’m sure you will do so as well, though before you become entrenched in that, I would like to know if you’re interested in breaking up the collection that the Dragon family has amassed over the centuries?”

His pleasant demeanor was short lived when I graciously smiled and said, “No matter what the offer, the dragons will stay where they are, and in my keep. It’s not up for debate, discussion, or anything of that sort.” I stood and waited for him to rise.

His face was a mask of patience that had started to slip as I caught the gleam in his narrowed eyes. I could tell he wasn’t happy with my abrupt response. Again, blame the attitude on my American brethren, who were all too willing to efficiently cut one short at the knees if it was deemed necessary. My dismissal of him and his query would most likely be taken back to others he knew, and that’s when my job would become more difficult. I had to find that book.

“Can we not at least discuss this before you refuse to hear me out?” Turnstill pleaded in a gentle tone.

“There’s nothing to discuss, I simply don’t wish to break up the collection, and that’s final. The dragon keeper’s job is to make certain the dragons stay in my family, to remain secure and cared for. I take that to heart, as by now, I’m sure you realize.

His lips pressed together, the only other sign of discontent, and he moved toward the drive.

We’d rounded the corner of the house when Cullen pulled up next to the Bentley. A nod to me and a chilling greeting for Turnstill was all that came from him. I gave Cullen a warm smile, turned to Turnstill, and thanked him for stopping by.

“It was good of you to come. You do understand my position in the matter, don’t you?

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I do. Until we meet again, then?” His smile was polite, his manner frigid, and his pale eyes colder still.

He maneuvered the car out of the parking spot and drove from view as we watched. I sighed and said, “That was my first visit from the seekers’ group. He wants a dragon or more, which he won’t be getting. I made it clear, he didn’t like it, and I do believe I’ve made my first enemy, outside the family, that is.” I snickered at how Uncle Charles would have jumped at the chance to make money off the dragons.

“Lass, know that you did the right thing. You’ll be tested over and over while protecting the beasties.”

Other books

Slaughter's way by Edson, John Thomas
Call of the Siren by Rosalie Lario
Forgiven by Vanessa Miller
Nebula by Howard Marsh
Emancipation Day by Wayne Grady
Shattered Image by J.F. Margos
Fire In the Kitchen by Donna Allen