My Heart Stood Still Lynn Kurland (some good books to read TXT) 📖

was born in the Highlands. My sire was Malcolm MacLeod, my mother Moira Mac-Donnell. The year of my birth was 1358. Does that satisfy you?"

"No, but it's a start." In reality, he could hardly believe he'd gotten that much out of her. He wondered how much more she would talk if he got her to do something besides sit and parry questions with him. "Would you show me your castle?"

"My castle?" she asked with pursed lips. "I thought 'twas your castle."

"Your payment came at far greater cost than mine."

She considered, then looked at him. "Why will you see it? So you can decide where 'tis best to first wield your implements of destruction?"

He shook his head. "I won't do anything you don't want."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"And if I want nothing done at all?"

Well, she had him there. Damn. He'd have to be very careful what kind of mouthy promises he made in the future. He took a deep breath. "I'll have to do something with at least a part of it. I need a place to live."

"The inn looks passing comfortable to me."

This was not going as well as he'd planned. He took another deep breath. Hell, at this rate, he was going to be hyperventilating before long.

"I don't want to live at the inn."

She shifted on the bench to look at him fully. "Why did you buy this keep?"

There was no answer but the honest one.

"I was compelled," he answered.

"By what?"

"I have no idea."

She looked at him searchingly. "In truth? You had no reason at all in mind?"

"I had no reason that makes sense. It came up for sale, and I bought it without having seen it, without knowing anything about it. My sister sent me a picture, but I'd already dreamed of it before I saw it." He looked at her and smiled. "I climb mountains. I make money with other people's money. I never thought to own a castle."

"I see," she said thoughtfully.

"But I have no regrets about it," he said quickly.

"Don't you?" she asked, looking up at him with a half smile. "The MacDougal doesn't give you pause? Your friends with the songs outside the gates don't deter you?"

"I can ignore what's outside in favor of what's inside."

"Do you expect me to keep the garden blossoming for you, then?"

He shook his head with a smile. "I wasn't talking about the garden."

She looked vaguely perplexed, then her eyes widened and she looked at him in surprise. Then she stood up abruptly.

"I'll show you the keep," she said, walking away.

Thomas was no expert when it came to women. He'd spent years being baffled by his sisters. Even his mother made him shake his head now and then. That he was bewildered by this woman shouldn't have come as that big a surprise. Whatever he'd said had apparently sent her running. Maybe he should can the compliments until he was sure how they would be received. It was a good thought, one he'd consider later, after the tour.

"This was where they have, at times, kept horses, a garden, a poor wooden chapel, and the mews," she said, waving at the area to her left.

"Would you rather it be a garden?" he asked, but she had already turned and walked purposefully away.

"I'll show you the great hall," she said over her shoulder.

All right, so conversation would have to wait. He followed her under the arch in the gate and toward the great hall. There was a cluster of Scots loitering nearby. He looked at them and smiled. Several of them scowled in return, but a handful looked at him with what might have approximated pleasant expressions. At least Connor MacDougal wasn't there, brandishing a sword.

Thomas followed his guide obediently. Her explanations were limited to brief namings without elaboration.

First came the great hall, with its missing roof, then the alcoves built into the outer walls where men had, he supposed, first stored arrows, then munitions for use in keeping an enemy at bay. She showed him where the garrison hall had been at one time, then the kitchen with its modern marvel of a cistern to store clean rainwater for use in cooking. The well was still there, too, covered over but apparently not polluted.

There was a very large tower in one corner of the outer wall. Thomas stepped inside and looked up three stories to the still sound stone roof. He could see where the wooden floors had been, with niches in the walls to use for scaffolding. There were hearths with flues. The second floor was accessible from the parapet, and he could see where a set of stairs on the outside of the tower led one up to the third and final floor.

It was by far the largest and most usable space he'd seen so far. And it had a very pleasant feel to it. He looked to his right and saw his companion staring off into the distance. He clasped his hands behind his back in what he hoped was a nonthreatening pose.

"I really won't do anything if you're completely opposed to it," he began slowly, "but if you don't mind, I think I'd like to start here."

She sighed. "I suspected this might suit you."

"Would that bother you?"

She shook her head. "Nay. Nothing untoward ever happened here."

Thomas stepped back out into the sunshine and looked at the one corner of the keep where they had not been.

And a chill went through him.

"I will not go there," she said.

Thomas looked at her and felt the answer to his unasked question resonate in his soul. That was where she had lost her life. Hadn't she said as much the day before? It was also, oddly enough, the only part of the castle in perfect condition. It was as if that section of the keep had been sealed against the ravages of time.

"Have you never been back inside?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

"I imagine he's dead by now, don't you?"

She looked at him bleakly. "Does it matter?"

Well, he wasn't