The Chieftain's Yule Bride - a Highland Christmas novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #10) (14 page)

The lass had just described MacKrannan Castle's Vault with its Books of Tradition in all the colors of the spectrum and more beyond.  None but the Elders and the bloodline had ever known the extent of the network of chambers leading off from it, nor how to get into any part of it.  His clansfolk knew of its existence under the castle, no more, and none would ever tell of it if they wanted to sleep at night ever again – or so the Elders told him, and he was inclined to believe them.  The only outsider he knew of who'd been down there in all the clan's history was a lady whose true lineage was MacKrannan, contrary to her royal pedigree chart forged for appearances when she'd married the Scots king.

"Symond tell you about that, did he, lass?  Was it somewhere he'd been himself?"

"I wouldn't know, but I don't
think
so.  It's hard to tell whether they're showing you the past, present or future – theirs or yours – or just a symbolic something that's important to you or will be.  I'm really out of practise.  I thought it had something to do with you because it came after the singing chant voices of
your
ancestors."

His choice here was to confirm it or lie about it, and he did no' want to lie to Freya.  A text from Robbie this morning told him the archive had been found with note of the minstrel's visit and the portrait, and did Callum want the content sent to him?  Quick text back – NO.

"I'm aware of a place matching that description.  Will you trust me that I can say no more than that, but that I'll tell you more soon?"

"Okay.  Linked to you for definite.  It's a tick off my list."

"What are the rest?"

"There's a second portrait somewhere."

"Is there now... who's in it?"

"Don't know.  It was like being shown the
fact
that two portraits existed in different places, if you can understand that, but I didn't get to see either of them.  I'm assuming one was mine but these could even be two new ones.  Can we go now, please?  Here – I've ringed the next place on the map."

Glad he was to start the car and leave.  How any of the fey folk could bear having that going on in their heads on a daily basis was beyond him.  Different if you were born with the Sight, he supposed.  Shepherding up the spirits for looking after was no' his best talent, though he'd done the task plenty at Traditions.  Enough for him to keep so many of the living happy and contented.

"A farm, is it?"

"Yes. It's the one my great-grandparents had until after the war when she inherited the Monlachan one."

Callum stayed quiet on this longer drive, letting her talk when she wanted to, and sneaking a glance once in a while at the chart she taking notes from.  Seemed she'd met up with quite a few of her ancestors for she was copying over some names and dates onto her pad and then writing descriptions.

She grew agitated as they turned up the entrance road, and worse when they got to the house.  Even he could feel the unrest about this place.  A lack of any visible residents.  Windows dirty and no curtains. Garden solid weeds.  Barns used for storing feedstuffs only.

"Turn around.  Please, Callum, just
go."

He did no' argue.  She was bent over, clutching at her head, and he raced back to the main road and found a lay-by a mile distant.  Freya got out the car before he'd cut the engine.

Furious, she was.  "If you could have seen what went on in there..."

"The Harpers?"

"No! 
With the people who just
left!"

He leaned against the car as she stomped backwards and forwards.  The flashes of the miseries suffered by the woman in that house were no' pretty to listen to, and Freya's anger at what she'd seen got targeted at the nearest man.

"This
is why I didn't want the Sight back!  I opened myself up to the history of that house and
wham,
I'm loaded to breaking with the bit that left the biggest mark on it, and I can't fight past it to reach my ancestors because I'm too long out of practise at something I never wanted to go back to doing!  This is
your
fault, Callum!  I might not even need to
do
any of this if you'd just
tell me what you know!
  Out with it!"

"I would, if I thought it would help you."

"So you
do
know other stuff!  And who do you think you are to make decisions for me?"

"It's no' like that, lass..."

She near wrenched the car door off its hinges then.  "Fine!  Let's go back to Monlachan and I'll ask Auntie to look – and I'll
make
her tell me!"

The ride back to the cottage was chilly, and the packing up there worse.  The fire was nearly out and no' worth the adding to, and the memories of the hearth and the shower and the bed hung heavy.

He left some banknotes on the kitchen counter for the cleaner's extra work, for the breakfast table was as they'd left it.  He'd never felt less like standing at a kitchen sink, and Freya Harper and breakable dishes would no' be a good combination just now.

Her eyes were red when she eventually came through from the bedroom, bag in hand.  This lass had been the calmest of any he'd known before she saw that portrait.  Dammit to all hell... this had to be about more than the Second Sight, more than any guilt about what they'd done.  He was no' the only one holding things back here and he was beginning to suspect what had set her off.

"Flights are booked, Freya.  Will you take a minute to sit with me first?"

A sniffle, and then a nod.  She was closed off to him like a stranger now.  He waited until she'd sat down on the sofa, and then sat right beside her and took her hand into his own.

"Tell me why that farmhouse got to you this much."

He felt her flinch.  Bull's-eye.  She took a shuddering breath and let it out on a sigh.  "No, I won't tell you, but you're right... it was the farmhouse really.  Sorry I put all the blame onto you..."  She turned defensive then, taking her hand away.  "But you did have some of it coming."

"I know that, and long overdue it was, and still nothing I can do about it."  Here was the one bit he could give her.  "Might change sooner than you think.  The entry about the minstrel's visit has been found in the archives."

She near jumped off the sofa.  "What does it say?"

"I don't know yet.  I told the historian no' to send it to me."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because I believe that you finding things out for yourself is part of the whole thing, lass, maybe a bigger part than either of us realized at the start."

This time she did jump up.  "Give me your phone, please... who's the historian? Oh wait...
I know
who it is!  I can see him in the Celtic room!  The Events Manager, right?  What's his name again?"

"Robbie MacKrannan."

He'd never been surer yet that this Fair Lass of Monlachan was his destiny.  The clan were going to love her.

"Please – your phone."  Her hand was out for it, and he refused.

"That's no' the method your ancestors would have in mind.  Look for yourself.  Fine you know it'll be nothing to hurt you."

"I'll just wait, thank you."  A challenge he'd laid down to remind her of the good that could come from her Sight but she was unready for accepting such.  "Do you mind if I put some logs on?  It's freezing in here without the fire."

Thoughts of a warm quilt in front of it only yesterday were but memories to keep.

"There's only one flight today and we've got the car to return.  The airport will be warm enough."

"I suppose so."

A wistful note there, or maybe he just wished for it.

Freya's regret began the moment the keys fell through the letterbox and every stage of the journey grew it.  She should have stayed another day, or a week.  Pushed past all the negative bits that she could do nothing about, and focus on what she was searching for. 
Focus. 
Always the word during her training.  You got nowhere without disciplining your own mind.

Back at Inverness Airport, Callum handed her the keys to his four-by-four and got on the connecting flight to Glasgow.  So much for her Second Sight – she hadn't seen
that
coming.  No kiss goodbye, no handshake, just a very tall and darkly gorgeous Highlander saying he'd see her back at the castle and to take her time driving back, and then walking away.  The only backward glances were from other women ogling him.

Her feet wouldn't reach the pedals in his car and it took her some time to adjust the driver's seat.  His personal possessions were in it.  The scent of him too.  Disciplining her mind started now.  She turned on the radio and tried to blot him out.

And what was she supposed to do with the portrait?  Did he expect her to withstand it for five hours tomorrow or had he forgotten it was at Monlachan?

Being with him was supposed to have been a physical thing, a calling of the deities, a raising of energies and no more.  But Callum had given her far more than that.  She knew the difference.  He'd given of himself, of his emotions and his good heart, and she hadn't been able to help herself responding.  A man like him could take his pick of women whether they'd had their portrait painted or not, yet he'd treated her as someone special to him.  And that
'I claim you'
was never a phrase he would be saying to a one night stand.

She'd learned much from her time away with him, lots about him, but far more about herself.

Auntie didn't react one way or the other to her arriving back alone.  Just gave her a long swaying hug and asked if she'd got anything at the cemetery, as if it had a Gift Shop, which Freya supposed it did in a way.  They sat in the parlor and started going over the list, with Auntie's eyes growing wider by the second.

"Oilskin!  Oh aye, you still have the Sight, my girl.  Far more than I do.  What's the next bit?"

The tea-leaves and the empty cup got a big response too.

"See now, the finger moving the tea-leaves is about a destiny getting changed on purpose.  Not a meddling thing, you understand.  A helpful gesture.  Did you see who?"

"Haven't a clue."

"Ach,
Freya!"

"Don't say it... I should have kept up with the basics in case I ever need it.  Doesn't help me now.  Onto the next item!  Oh wait, I've missed one.  I saw two portraits with a distance between them."

Auntie said nothing.  Just sat and stared at her awhile.

"You're reading me, Auntie."

"I am not.  I'm wondering if you're ready for something yet, so I'll ask you, are you still thinking on marrying that London chap?"

"His name's Zavier," she started defensively and then gave in.  If anyone deserved the truth it was Isla Harper who had loved her unconditionally all her life and taken the place of two parents.  "Auntie... I slept with Callum and it was my idea."

"Of course you did, and I'm thinking it was both your ideas from the first you met."

"It was a Celtic goddess thing, you know?  Raising the energies for the quest?  I just knew I had to.  So I'm not sure any more about Zavier, but funnily enough it's not only because of cheating on him.  I got shown something at another Harper place.  Long story. Nothing to do with our lot, but I was definitely meant to see it."