The Departed - J A Templeton Page 9

  I would never reveal his secret. I knew he had been ready to leave when he’d learned I was being sent away for the summer. But I had stopped him, and even lied and told him that I wished to go to Braemar, to see the MacKinnons. I knew they were good friends of the family, and even vaguely recalled the four children, but I had been very young when last we’d met.

  In the distance I saw the castle sitting on the small knoll, surrounded by tall fir trees. The castle wasn’t nearly as lovely as my own home, but I preferred the idyllic setting to the somewhat barren landscape of my family’s manor. The river would be a quick walk and I already anticipated I would be spending many hours there.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, I felt my father’s gaze and made eye contact.

  His brows instantly furrowed.

  I’d always been intimidated by him. A military man, he hated when anyone, particularly a woman, looked him straight in the eye. “For the love of God, Margot, sit up straight.”

  It seems I could never do anything right.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, doing as he asked while squeezing my gloved fingers together to keep from screaming.

  As the carriage rolled onto the gravel leading onto the castle drive, people stepped out of the castle’s doorway. They were all dressed far more casually than my father and I were, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief.

  “Now remember, you speak only when spoken to. You are the MacKinnons’ guest and you shall act accordingly. If I receive word that you are out of line in any way, I will send you to the closest nunnery and you will not see our family again. Is that understood?”

  I could not think of a worse fate than being sent to a nunnery. I respected those individuals who so willingly gave their lives to God, but it was not a life for me. I would spend my days yearning for more. I knew that and so as always, I would do as my father said. “Yes, sir.”

  I smoothed out the skirts of my floral gown—one of several new dresses my parents had given me, no doubt to impress the man that they wished for me to marry.

  My dad exited the carriage first and I could hear him share pleasantries with the MacKinnons.

  I forced a smile as I stepped from the carriage.

  A middle-aged man with dark hair and blue eyes approached. “Miss Murray. We are so very pleased to have you with us. It has been far too long. How lovely you are.”

  Lady MacKinnon was strikingly beautiful—her skin like porcelain, her dark hair worn up. She had such fine features and amazing eyes—brilliant blue eyes that radiated warmth and kindness. “May I call you Margot?” she asked, and I nodded, knowing already that we would get on well.

  Two girls ran out, one about my age, the other slightly younger, their smiles welcoming.

  “My sons are out hunting now, and you will meet them at dinner.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but my father beat me to it. “She is looking forward to meeting them.”

  “Please, come in,” Laird MacKinnon said as two servants rushed past us and picked up my trunk.

  Laird MacKinnon lifted a brow at my father. “Will you not be staying, Marcus?”

  My father shook his head. “Nay, I must return home immediately…though I do have time for a brandy.”

  Of course he had time for a brandy. He always had time to drink.

  The youngest MacKinnon daughter had given up her room during her visit, telling me that she was happy to share with her sister, and I was grateful for her generosity.

  As I settled into my room, I heard my father’s booming voice as he talked about himself. What did I expect? After all, he was his own favorite subject.

  I watched him leave an hour later. He had not even bothered to say goodbye.

  I stood at the window and watched as the carriage took him away, back home. It was strange how much relief I felt at seeing the carriage diminish into a spot on the horizon. I lay my hands against my tightly corseted waist and released the breath I’d been unconsciously holding.

  I nearly stepped away from the window when I saw two riders approach. They waved as they passed the carriage, and I watched with anticipation the closer they came. Both men carried bows and arrows, and had some kind of small animal hanging from the saddle. They were young men—both with dark hair, one wearing his tresses longer, rakishly.

  I smiled.

  Ian and Duncan. The beautiful MacKinnon brothers.

  Duncan glanced up at the window and my breath caught in my throat. I knew I should step away, but I didn’t. He lifted his hand and waved. Instinctively, I waved back. Following his gaze, Ian looked up at the window.

  He didn’t wave, but instead gave a curt nod…and flashed a smile that made my heart skip a beat.

  I could feel heat race up my neck to my cheeks.

  Anticipation rushing through me, I stepped away from the window and went to the wardrobe. Lady MacKinnon had said that supper would be at five o’clock. A servant had already come in and unloaded my things, putting my dresses in a wardrobe.

  I nearly wore the same gown I’d arrived in, but it was so crumpled that I changed, wearing a simple, yet stylish, light green dress.

  Ian’s youngest sister came to get me, and we walked into the dining room.

  Ian stood at the fireplace, talking to his brother.

  Dressed in charcoal breeches, knee-high black boots and a navy shirt, Ian looked the epitome of the son of the Scottish laird that he was. “Miss Murray, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, coming toward me in long strides. He lifted my hand and kissed the tops of my fingers.

  A delicious shiver rushed along my spine.

  I remembered every story I had ever heard about him. How at the age of fifteen he had seduced the very married twenty-one-year-old Duchess of Lancaster. The woman had taken one look at him and been tongue-tied all night. It was said the two had began a heated love affair. I had doubted the rumors before, but now I could understand how the young duchess could have fallen head over heels in love with the handsome young Scot. His brilliant blue eyes were amazing, in such contrast to the dark, nearly black hair that fell to his collar and curled. His lips curved, flashing a wolfish smile that revealed straight white teeth. He had the kind of face I yearned to stare at and study for hours on end.

  And apparently I was staring, because I heard Ian’s sisters giggle.

  “It is a pleasure, sir,” I said after too long a pause.

  “Please, let there be no formality between us. Call me Ian.”

  I nodded. “Very well, Ian.”

  “And may I call you Margot?”

  “You may.”

  His brother approached and gave a formal bow. He was handsome as well—his hair not quite as dark nor as long, and his eyes a forest green.

  “Welcome to Braemar Castle.”

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  A servant walked in, a lovely girl with long brown hair and mysterious dark eyes. Seeing me, she hesitated, and then forced a smile. When our gazes met, I could see the anger there, and felt hatred coming off her in waves.

  “Laria,” another servant hissed at the girl, and she blinked and moved quickly, pouring wine into the goblets.

  Laria watched me closely, something I was unaccustomed to in my household, where my father made sure the servants used a separate entrance and were to be “invisible” to family and guests. A flogging would be in place for any servant who did otherwise. This servant would have been released from duty immediately.

  I tried to remember if I had seen her before when the family had come to visit, but I did not recall her.

  The way she watched Ian though made me realize where the anger came from.

  She desired Ian.

  “Riley.”

  I woke up. The sheets were tangled around my hips, and it was morning.

  Anne Marie sat at the edge of my bed, her form nearly transparent. I could see straight through her.

  “Anne Marie,” I whispered.

  “Hello, my dear.”

  Tea
rs burned the backs of my eyes.

  “Do you remember?” Anne Marie asked. “Do you remember when you were Margot Murray?”

  The information hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been Margot Murray during Ian’s lifetime? No wonder I had felt so drawn to the castle upon coming to Braemar. I’d felt an unmistakable pull that I’d never quite understood. In fact, I’d been drawn to the castle the first day, where I had cut myself on the very lawns…and where Ian had made himself known to me in this lifetime.

  No wonder we’d had such chemistry.

  My mind raced. And I had known Laria in that life. I wish I wouldn’t have woken up. I wish I could have seen more.

  “When you go to sleep at night, ask for the information to come,” Anne Marie said with a soft smile. “Ask to see more of that life, to answer questions you may have.”

  Was it really that simple? I wondered, remembering the connection we’d had back in that life. It was the same feeling I’d had when I had met Kade.

  Chapter 11

  Megan sat a bowl of chocolate ice cream in front of her little brother. Only five years old, he looked nothing at all like Megan. He had platinum blond hair and clear blue eyes, and they also had different last names. In fact, he looked like he could be Cass’s little brother instead of Megan’s.

  Her mom had been getting ready for work in the only bathroom in the trailer that sat on the family friend’s property. I could tell Megan was embarrassed the second we walked in, grabbing three empty beer bottles off the coffee table, and emptying an overflowing ashtray into the full trashcan. “Jesus, like it would bloody kill her to clean up after herself.”

  Her brother glanced at her, large blue eyes wide. “You want me to help you clean?”

  She ruffled his hair and smiled. “No, you just eat your ice cream.”

  Immediately, he relaxed, sitting back on the well-worn orange couch and digging into his ice cream.

  She motioned for me to follow her into the dining room, where I took a seat in one of the three chairs at the small table. Megan decided her house would be the best place to discuss the specifics about Saturday’s search for Laria’s grave. Plus, she had to watch her little brother again while her mom worked.

  “I’m glad we have a few minutes before everyone else shows up,” she said, taking a seat across from me, glancing toward her brother, who was completely consumed with the cartoon he was watching.

  “I’m freaking out a bit, and I had some questions for you. Questions I’ve been afraid to ask until now.”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “Can she kill me?” she blurted, keeping her voice low enough that her brother couldn’t hear.

  I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s hardly reassuring.”

  I wasn’t going to lie to her. All my friends had seen what had happened at the football game last night.

  Something hit the floor with a bang in another room. “Motherfucker,” a woman shouted, and my eyes widened.

  Megan closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s so embarrassing.”

  “I can’t find a goddamn thing in this house!” her mom shouted. “What bloody time is it, Megan?”

  “Quarter ’til, Mum.”

  This was the first time I was meeting Megan’s mom and I was anxious. She hadn’t talked about her much.

  A petite, overly-tanned woman, with thin bleached hair that fell to the middle of her back, walked out into the dining room wearing skin-tight jeans and a white wife-beater with a black bra underneath. A pair of black motorcycle boots finished off the outfit.

  “You’re wearing my jeans again,” Megan said, sounding disgusted.

  I’d always been amused when I saw an older woman trying to look younger by wearing clothes from the junior department, but I’d never really known that mom personally…until now. Megan had forewarned me about her mom acting like she was young. In her prime, she must have been a total hottie, but time and a hard life had caught up with her.

  She grabbed a pack of menthol cigarettes off the kitchen counter, pulled a cigarette out with a French manicured finger and lit it. She breathed the smoke in deeply and released it through her nose.

  She didn’t exactly scream class.

  “Mum, my paycheck paid for those jeans. I’d appreciate it if you’d take them off, especially since you look ready to bust a seam.”

  “They fit me just fine, thank you very much,” she said, barely sliding her fingers into the pocket as she tried to make a point. “And for your information, my paycheck goes toward the roof over your head and the food in your belly, so if I want to wear your damn jeans, I bloody well will.”

  “I’m seventeen. It’s your job to put a roof over my head.”

  She stuck out her tongue and picked a piece of tobacco off the tip, then flicked it at Megan.

  “Sick,” Megan said, looking ready to cry.

  I wanted to escape out the back door, especially since her mom hadn’t bothered to acknowledge me at all. Maybe she’d already decided she didn’t like me without meeting me. Unless, Megan had told her about what was going on.

  “Seriously, Mum, those jeans are new and I don’t want them all stretched out. I don’t wear your clothes.”

  “Fucking hell,” Megan’s mom said, balancing her cigarette on the edge of the side table, removing her boots by the heel-toe method, and then unbuttoning and unzipping the jeans, before wriggling out of them. Before I could blink she stood in hot pink lace panties. Throwing the jeans at Megan’s head, she left the room with a final “bitch” comment, and stormed off. A large heart with angel wings was tattooed on her lower back and disappeared into her panties. She had a banging body for her age, I’d give her that.

  “Kill me,” Megan said, rolling the jeans up in a ball and walking toward the laundry room off of the kitchen. She reappeared a second later. “You’re so lucky you have Miss A.”

  I was lucky to have Miss Akin, but I’d give anything to have my mom back. I wanted to tell her that, and maybe to add that she should appreciate her mom while she was here, but I didn’t want to go there. My mom had never called me a bitch, or wore my clothes, or made me babysit my brother. I get why Megan was exhausted by the relationship and was already excited to attend university. I would be, too.

  Megan’s mom walked out a few minutes later, wearing a leather vest over the wife-beater, a pair of black pants that didn’t fit nearly as tightly, and a pair of four-inch heels. She reached down, picked up the motorcycle boots, and huffed them toward what I assumed was her bedroom.

  “By the way, Mum—this is my friend Riley,” Megan said. “Ri, this is my mom, Lena.”

  For the first time since I’d arrived, her mom actually looked at me. She had the same brown eyes as Megan.

  “Hello, Riley,” she said, her gaze shifting over me, and I had the feeling she was taking in everything at a glance. I didn’t want to head-tap, but a part of me couldn’t help it. I was curious.

  She had been used by men a lot in her life, and I got the feeling she wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who had a lot of close girlfriends, either. She was more comfortable in the company of men and took a lot of care in her appearance because she thrived on men’s compliments.

  “Ice cream before dinner. Really?” Lena glanced at her son, before tossing the lighter into her crochet purse.

  “It’s a snack, Mum. I probably won’t make dinner until after six o’clock tonight. Remember, I told you my friends were dropping by.”

  “Only for an hour or two. After that, you need to get your homework finished.” Lena glanced at me. “You hear that, Riley?” Her voice was firm, but there was a quirk to her lips.

  I nodded.

  Someone knocked at the door and then walked in before Lena could answer it.

  “Come in, why don’t you,” Lena said, scowling at Cass.

  Cass stopped and gave Lena the once-over. “Uh, the 70s called—and they want their outfit back.”

 
“Bitch,” Lena said.

  “Sllllluuuuuttt,” Cass replied.

  My eyes widened, but Lena just laughed and slapped Cass on the butt.

  Cait walked in and Lena smiled tightly. “Cait.”

  “Lena,” Cait said, taking a seat to my right.

  “I’ll be home at three,” Lena said, opening the closet door and taking a long sweater off a wire hanger. She said goodbye to her son and was out the door a second later.

  “She seems nice,” I said.

  Megan lifted her brows but said nothing.

  Cass was already going through the cupboards. “I’m so freaking hungry.”

  “I thought you were on a diet.” This came from Megan, who smoothed her hair back from her face and released a loud yawn.

  Slamming the cupboard doors closed, Cass walked back to the chair and fell into it. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  Beside me, Cait snickered. “Cass, you’re always on a diet.”

  “Nice,” Cass said.

  “You look incredible,” Cait replied, and she meant it. “And Johan doesn’t seem to be complaining.”

  Cass completely blew off the last comment. She’d been quiet since announcing at Milo’s party that Johan wanted to hook up. There didn’t seem to be a lot of dating going on, but Cass didn’t seem to be complaining.

  “My birthday party is coming up in a couple of weeks and I want to look good.”

  Megan got us all some tea, and we were talking when Milo walked in. “Ladies,” he said.

  Cass looked at Megan with a frown. “Really? I thought we were going to discuss some things.”

  Milo slapped a hand over his heart. “Jesus, Cass…it’s nice to see you, too.”

  Cass rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Whatever,” he said with a grin. “I know you love me.”

  “Milo, you want to play video games in my room?” Megan’s little brother asked.

  “Let’s play, kid.” Milo picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder. He glanced at Megan. “Don’t be too long. I have to be home by five.”