My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

"Better bragging than casting about for matches to be made," Fulbert grumbled, heading for the door. "Why he thinks that's a proper activity for us, I don't know." He disappeared through the wood with a final grumble and curse.

Thomas looked at Ambrose. "Matchmaking?"

"Would you care to hear about your ancestors?" Ambrose asked pleasantly. "I'm certain between the lass here and me, we can provide you with all the names you'd like. Fetch something to write with, and we'll begin."

Thomas knew the subject was being changed, but maybe that was for the best. He wasn't sure he wanted to know anything more about Ambrose's dabbling in his dreams. Or his matchmaking activities. For all he knew, he was one of the intended victims.

But if the match was to be made with the woman sitting next to him, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"Pen and paper, my lad," Ambrose said pointedly. "We'll give you such a list, genealogists worldwide will be green with envy."

Thomas rose with a sigh and dutifully retrieved what was requested. He sat back down and grabbed a book to use as a makeshift desk.

"Ready." He looked at Iolanthe. "What happened to your dad? Good end? Bad end?"

"You're determined to know, aren't you?" she asked, but she didn't look overly upset by it. "He's rotting in the Fergusson's dungeon, or so I hear. Good riddance to him." She looked at Ambrose. "And who else haunts the place with him? He can't be the only one starved to death in that pit."

"Ach, nay," Ambrose said pleasantly. "Many fine enemies, and a few allies as well, find themselves lingering there. And don't you know that Roger Fergusson still holds the key, even after all these centuries." He laughed. "Saints, but if that isn't a place to set a man's hair on end."

Thomas listened in fascination as they discussed the men of Iolanthe's day, allies and foes alike, as if they'd just seen them yesterday. And while he listened, when he could keep from staring at the woman sitting next to him who looked happier than he'd ever seen her, he made a list of whatever names they discussed. Ambrose was right. It was a genealogist's dream come true.

The conversation continued for quite some time as Ambrose and Iolanthe happily considered the nasty end of several people they apparently hadn't liked very much. They worked their way back past Iolanthe's father and then began to argue about who had been the first to discover the secret of her keep.

And then they apparently realized they weren't alone, because almost as one, they shut their mouths. Ambrose began to hum a cheerful tune, and Iolanthe looked around the room as if she strove to memorize every stick of furniture on the floor and every knickknack adorning every shelf.

So. There really was a secret to her keep.

Well, Thomas was no fool. There were several mountains he had climbed where the best route to the top was definitely not up the front face. He could sneak around the back just as skillfully as the next man.

"I think we forgot to list a few people," he said easily. "Iolanthe, you have siblings?"

She shot Ambrose a quick look, then turned to Thomas. She looked pathetically grateful to be talking about something else.

"Aye," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "And half-siblings."

"And their names?"

"Well, there was my next younger half-brother, Angus. A whoring, drinking, witless fool if there ever was one."

Thomas wrote Angus down, along with all the appropriate adjectives. "Any others?"

"My elder true brother, Alexandir," she said, less easily this time. "He died childless. He was murdered by our enemies, and Angus took his place."

Time to move on from there. Thomas didn't dawdle. "And your father's name was Malcolm, wasn't it?"

"Aye."

"And your grandfather?"

"William. A wonderful man. His father was Jesse." She hesitated and shot Ambrose a look before she carefully continued. "Jesse's father was James."

"How interesting," Thomas said, his nose twitching in appreciation of something definitely being up. So it had to do with James. But just what kind of secret could a Scottish keep have? He looked at them with a pleasant smile. "How about birth dates?" He would keep them talking, and sooner or later they would let something slip. He was betting on it.

"Mayhap close enough to serve you," Iolanthe said. She gave him several dates, which he dutifully wrote down.

"And death dates?" he asked. "Just for curiosity's sake."

He looked up to find Iolanthe and Ambrose looking at each other with what he couldn't quite term consternation, but it was definitely collusion.

"Ah," Ambrose said, "aye, we have those as well." He rattled off several dates, and Thomas wrote them down as well.

And then he realized they'd left one out.

"James?" he asked, looking up. "What about him?"

"Let us leave James in peace," Ambrose said smoothly. "Now, his son Jesse—"

"What's wrong with James?" Thomas asked.

The two were conspicuously silent.

"If you don't know when he died," Thomas said, "then just say you don't know."

Ambrose looked at Iolanthe, then at Thomas.

"We don't know when he died," Ambrose said firmly.

"You don't?"

"We've no idea."

Iolanthe snorted. "Nor will we for some time to come, I'll warrant."

Ambrose reached out and tugged sharply on her hair, then smiled pleasantly at Thomas.

"Any other questions, lad?"

Thomas looked at them both for several moments in silence. "I sense something very mysterious here."

"Too mysterious for tonight," Ambrose said. "You'd be better off to investigate the McKinnon side of your family first, my lad. Full of interesting characters."

There was obviously no more information forthcoming at present. Thomas looked at Iolanthe to find her industriously studying the fire. No help there.

"All right," Thomas said, "I'll give in. For the moment."

Ambrose rubbed his hands together. "Anyone for a tale or two of proper haunting?"

Not subtle, but effective just the same. Thomas considered the matter for a moment or two. There was no logical reason for them to be so reticent about when one of their ancestors had died. Even if he was a ghost, he would