Fear Familiar Bundle (102 page)

"Does something ail you?" William asked suddenly.

"No. I'm tired from the ride."

"A bonny lass like yourself, tired from an adventure in the night." William squeezed her. "Am I not worth a bit of an effort, Lisette?"

"You are, indeed," Mary answered. William would never know the irony of this moment.

"'Tis only a short ride back to Mayfair." William's voice rang with pride. "I've a room prepared, and it shall be as you asked. We'll say you are my prisoner." He pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. "A prisoner by day, my own true love while the moon reigns."

Mary leaned against him, wondering about the man Slaytor MacEachern and his kidnapped bride. Whatever part of history William was playing out, it didn't seem as if Lisette were an unwilling victim. She'd met him halfway, at least, for her own kidnapping.

"Do you think this plan will work, Lisette? If your father firmly believes you've been taken against your will, then he will forgive you if you marry me?"

Mary couldn't think of an answer. She allowed William to assist her back to where Blaze remained, perfectly willing to stand and wait for his beloved master.

"I judge by your silence that you are not sure." William sighed. "Would that there was another way, my love. But he'll never give his permission for us to wed. Not willingly. Not even Mayfair could make him change his mind about me."

"Let us forget the future." Mary could hear the quiver in her own voice. What was she saying? Had she gone completely mad trying to delve into some historical hallucination that William was having? Psychosis could be extremely dangerous, to the person and to everyone around him. By encouraging William, she might do permanent damage. Yet it was the only way Mary could obtain enough information to try to help him.

"You're right." He pulled her to him with such force that she felt her feet leave the ground. But his strong arms held her safely, and he put her down as soon as he'd kissed her.

"To Mayfair," Mary said, breathless and shaken. She had to get him home.

"To Mayfair." He kissed her again with a passion that went straight through her. He broke the kiss with a hungry laugh and swung her up onto Shalimar's back in an almost single motion.

"We'll ride like the wind, my love. And when we get home, there'll be a raging fire for you and some food."

Shalimar danced under Mary. She acted as if William's mere presence made her nervous. "Don't ride too fast," Mary said, trying hard not to sound afraid.

"Aye, I don't want to wear you out on a horseback ride," William answered with a chuckle. "I have other plans for you. Now home!"

The clatter of hooves let Mary know that he was mounted and on his way to Mayfair. Trusting to Shalimar's superior vision, Mary forced her protesting body into rhythm with the horse. She had to get him home to Mayfair. She'd find help. There had to be someone who knew what was happening to William, someone who could diagnose his illness and give him a cure.

Mary no longer doubted the fact that something terrible was happening. And it was much more frightening than she'd even dreamed. She'd thought William was getting better, but he was much worse. The only good thing was that now she could tell him exactly what he did and how he acted. Once she could talk to him— when he returned to being her William— then he would surely agree to find the right medical help.

A thought far worse than any she'd had made her gasp. What if he didn't change back? What if he was truly possessed? What if, this time, he didn't come around?

You'd think someone in this establishment would consider putting on a few night-lights for wandering guests in search of the kitchen. These stairs are treacherous, especially when there's the off chance that a ghost is going to pop out of nowhere.

Mary and William took off into the night. I have to give my little pixie credit. She's got a will of iron and a constitution to match. Whoever said not to judge a book by its cover was thinking of her. She looks fragile, but she is one tough cookie. Not many women would follow their man out into the wild Scottish night on horseback.

I've got to figure out what's going on around this place. I've spent some time thinking about my seizure and subsequent trip to the vet. I've never experienced anything like that before in my life. There would seem to be two possibilities. A supernatural source or— hateful thought— something I ate. But what?

Having exposed myself to all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's masterpieces, I know Sherlock would start at the obvious and work out in a tight circle. A bit of a cynic, he would put the ghostly aspects of this business aside to examine the portions where human intervention seems more likely. So, to the past evening's menu. I was perfectly fine through dinner. Abby gave me a few slices of the pheasant she'd prepared. Delicious with those mushrooms and shallots. I had a taste of that pungent cheese that's made locally, and Kevin slipped me a few dollops of that heavenly custard. I was feeling perfectly fine.

It was a bit excessive to eat the second custard my two little lovebirds left in the bathroom, but no harm done. No, if food is the source of the problem, it had to do with what I ate, not how much. And I suspect that whoever has been running around this castle in the dead of night can tell me what I want to know.

Mary was just going into her room when I heard a male voice calling for Lisette. My immediate reaction was that someone was setting her up. But when I went up to the third floor and she went to the first, I found nothing and she left with William. Someone had to be there. And if that person was flesh and blood, where did he go? I've searched every nook and cranny of this old moldering pile of stones, and there is no one on the third floor.

If I weren't a more sophisticated cat, I'd begin to believe that Mayfair might really be haunted. If William is possessed by some ancient and barbaric ancestor, then it stands to reason that I was possessed by some ancient and savage family cat. Is possession contagious?

S
HALIMAR UNERRINGLY
found her way home and, in a rare burst of moonlight, Mary was never so glad to see the walls of Mayfair. She heard Blaze in front of her; William was already in the stables. As she slid from the saddle to the ground, she heard someone fall with a groan.

"William!" She rushed to the light switches and flooded the barn with illumination.

His face gray, William was lying on his back only a few inches from Blaze. His chest rose and fell in fast, shallow breaths.

"William." Mary dropped her reins and rushed to him, finding a weak and rapid pulse in his carotid artery. Even though he was sweating profusely, his skin was cool to the touch.

With no time to lose, Mary dashed to the Connerys' stone cottage. There were grooms somewhere in the barn, but she wasn't certain where they slept, and she knew where Kevin, John and Abby could be found.

Wrapped in a warm robe, Abby answered her urgent knock. In less than a minute, Kevin and John were dressed and at the barn. Picking William up between them, they carried him into the house. The stairs were too difficult to negotiate, so they placed him on the sofa in the library. John set to work to build a fire.

"Looks deathly," Kevin said in an awed voice.

"Aye," John Connery answered. "We should get a doctor immediately."

"Hush!" Abby warned them as she pushed them away. "You sound like he's all but dead." She looked at Mary and gave a reassuring smile. "He looks bad, but he's a stout man with a strong physique." She turned to her husband. "Now without terrifying Mary more than necessary, call Dr. Sloan. Tell him to come at once."

John nodded, but kept his opinions to himself.

"I'll take care of the horses," Kevin said. There was an unspoken question in his statement.

Mary looked from Kevin to Abby. She didn't understand what passed between them, but they were undoubtedly concerned about William and what he had been doing. She had to think of something to protect him, some way to explain what he'd been up to without revealing the depth of her concerns.

"William has been…troubled," she began. Gossip spread so quickly around the small community that she schooled herself from saying more. The Connery family had been with Mayfair for years, but Mary recognized the land mines ahead of her. If William was insane, if he was suffering from some terrible mental illness, then everything and everyone at Mayfair would be in jeopardy. Before she got them all worked up and excited, it would be better to find out what was wrong with William.

"He's been riding a lot at night. A dangerous habit," Kevin said evenly.

"Dr. Sloan should be here in the next fifteen minutes," Abby said briskly. "Now, Mary, help me get his shoes off and some warm blankets piled on him. Kevin, tend to your chores in the barn. And put a kettle on for some tea on your way out. William is sick, but Mary looks as if she could use a spot of something warm to drink."

In the bustle of Abby's orders, Mary found a respite. William's color was better, and the terrible sweating had diminished. She reached under the blankets Abby was piling on him and took his hand. There was a tiny degree of warmth in it.

Once he was better, she would make him confront the issue of his strange behavior. She'd waited, more patiently than most, to allow him time to work through the shifts in personality in his own way. She was no fool, though. He had to seek professional help. No matter that Mayfair and his inheritance might be at stake. Bother the estate and all that went with it. His health, and their future, was all that really mattered. Somehow she'd make him see that.

"I think he's coming around," Mary said. William's lips parted and closed, soft words were mumbled under his breath. Hands and legs moved beneath the blankets. A new worry nagged at Mary. Would he wake up in this reality, or the past?

She saw his eyelids begin to shift. They opened, revealing unfocused gray eyes. He looked at Mary and then around the room. "I'm near frozen to death," he said, his teeth chattering to prove it.

"You'll be warm soon," Mary said. She clung to his hand. "William, you scared half a lifetime out of me." She spoke softly, but she couldn't help the tension in her voice. "And everyone else here at Mayfair."

"What happened?" William's glance took in Abby, who'd left the room and was now returning with a tray laden with tea and biscuits.

"Ah, a little food might be the best thing for you," Abby said as she put the tray down beside the sofa. "I was thinking you'd come around as soon as we got you warm."

"I feel like I've been taken to the north country and left during a blizzard." William's smile was rueful.

"You've been riding that horse through the fog and chill. And your bride-to-be followed along like a foolish pup," Abby said, but her tone belied her stinging words. "What is it you seek in the night?" Her question was softly put and loaded with worry.

"I don't know." William's answer was equally soft, and puzzled.

The sound of John letting Dr. Sloan in ended the conversation.

"I think I'm well enough to go to my room," William said, swinging his feet off the sofa. "I'm sorry you were called, Dr. Sloan. I'm feeling perfectly fine."

"Have a cup of tea with the doctor," Abby suggested. "You'll feel better, and so will he." She pressed a cup into his hand before he could resist. Just as efficiently, she served Dr. Sloan and Mary, and then quickly left the room.

Mary cleared her throat. "William, you must talk with the doctor."

"I'm fine, now," William argued.

"For the moment." She went to sit beside him. "We have to talk with Dr. Sloan. Trust me, now. This can't go on. The next time…"

The resistance left William's eyes. "I was hoping there wouldn't be a next time. I thought it was done. Over. But it isn't, is it, Mary?"

"No, my love." She kissed his cheek, then gave him a smile as he started to speak to the doctor.

Together they told Dr. Sloan about the episodes William had been experiencing.

"It's far from my expertise," Dr. Sloan said, his deep concern clear in the furrows of his forehead. "I was your doctor when you were a lad, and a healthier, happier boy could not be found anywhere in Scotland. But stress and worry can manifest themselves in peculiar ways. And that's not to rule out some chemical or mental malfunction." His clear eyes caught William's gaze and held it steady. "It could be stress, or it could be something far worse, William. You have to find out. It isn't just your future, or that of your lovely bride-to-be. The community depends on Mayfair and your stewardship of it. You know that. Should you fall ill, there could be grave consequences."

"I know." William leaned forward so that his elbows were on his knees.

"I think I'll make us another pot of tea," Mary said tactfully. She wanted to give the men time to talk. William would eventually tell her everything, but he needed a chance to express his worries and concerns to his doctor.

She closed the library door and felt once again the chill of the night in the drafty hallway. It was as if a hand from the grave had slipped down her spine.

When she felt something brush against her leg, she almost screamed before she recognized Familiar.

"So, you and William are up to taking turns to make sure I go crazy with worry," she said, stooping to pick up the cat. He was fully recovered from his illness. "When do I get a chance to show my other side and drive the two of you crazy?"

Familiar took a graceful leap out of her arms. She was too tired to chuckle at his antics as he rolled on the floor. "I've a pot of tea to make, my fine, black friend. You'll have to wait until later for a belly rub."

As she started to the kitchen, Familiar grabbed her leg with his claws. He didn't break the skin, but held firm.

"Familiar." She shook her leg gently to disengage him, but he only clung harder.

"Give it up, my furry friend." When she bent down to untangle him, he jumped to his feet and meowed. Looking back at her, he led the way down the hall to the back door.