My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

for revenge onthe man who killed her and her husband just a week after theymarried.”

“What’s going on, Mikes?” Kris askedworriedly, grasping her arm and pulling her to a halt before theyreached their room. “Is it the painting?”

“I want to leave,” she said. “This was all amistake. A big mistake.”

Kris only shook his head. “I don’t think itwas. I think you needed to do this.”

“Needed to do what?” she hissed painfully.“Needed to see my life passed off to strangers before my very eyes?Needed to see things that once meant so much mean so little?”

“No,” he said, pulling her into his arms, “Ithink you needed to realize that all the things in the world aren’tgoing to give you what you want. You needed to accept that nothingis going to bring him back to you. And you did, didn’t you?”

“God, you’re such a bastard,” Mikah sniffedand buried her face in his shoulder, hugging him desperately.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss tothe top of her head.

“Can we go now?”

“Sure. Just one last thing.”

“Oh, Lord, what now?”

Chapter Forty

“You’re kidding, right?” Mikah said as Krisled her out the doors of the library that led to the easternterrace.

“Not even a little.”

“Where are ye off to?” Reggie Smith askedfrom behind them. Apparently the hotel owner had been curiousenough about their departure to follow them down. His eyes studiedMikah seriously, giving the impression that he saw more than he leton. “Ye’ll miss the rest of the auction.”

“She’s making me take a walk,” Kriscomplained good-naturedly as he tightened his scarf around hisneck, “even though it’s freezing out.”

Mikah snorted at that before turning toSmith. The hotel owner was a short, portly man with a balding headand a warm demeanor. He’d never met a stranger, she would wager, agood quality in a man who had made his living by dealing with them.“I just thought we would take a little walk before we leave in themorning.”

“Leave?” he asked. “The auction’s justbegun.”

“That’s all right. I got what I wanted.”

Smith still looked concerned. “There’s notmuch to see this time of year.”

“Isn’t there a cemetery south of the castle?”Kris asked. “A family plot?”

“Aye, there is,” he looked at them dubiously.“Ye think it’s worth freezing yer britches off for?”

“It’s not,” Mikah answered agreeably. “Weshould go back in.”

“Mikah …” Kris warned in a low voice, andthen nodded to Smith. “We’ll be fine. You can go back to theauction. Don’t worry about us.”

He nodded while Kris dragged Mikah away.Within a few minutes, Mikah and Kris were hand in hand past thesouth end of the terrace and at the gate of the heavy wrought-ironfence that enclosed the plot that sat at the far corner of what hadonce been the pleasure gardens.

“If I had wanted to do this, I would havecome alone.”

“There are many things I’ll let you do alonein this world, Mikes,” he said, shaking his head. “This is not oneof them.”

Mikah sighed, but not in exasperation. Yes,it was one last thing to do before she set all of this behind her.Well, and perhaps there was one other.

Looking around, she took in the lay of theland. Most of the plants she remembered were gone but the treesstood tall, shading the area and blocking some of the wind. Mikahexplained this all to her friend as they walked, the grey wintersun lighting the frosty ground that crunched beneath their shoes.Years before the air would have been fragrant with the scent ofazaleas, roses, wisteria, and snowdrops. There would have been mosson the oldest stones. Now, there was nothing to indicate that therehad been anyone to care for the small monuments in more than acentury.

Mikah wove her way through the worn andweathered stones that represented dozens of generations of theConagham family, leaving Kris to trail behind. Many were so worn bywind and rain that nothing of their inscriptions remained. All thatwas left was the wavy indentation were the words once were. Therewere several larger mausoleums as well. She found Robert Conagham’seasily enough, and a very ornate, if somewhat art deco, one erectedto Daphne Kennedy, inscribed as the Fourth Marchioness of Ayr.

Turning away with a shrug, she discovered asmall mausoleum nearly hidden behind the heavy branches of aweeping willow. An intricately carved shepherd stood guard over thedoor of the elaborate Georgian tomb. Engraved on the carved bannerthere were the words, “Until next we meet.”

Intrigued, Mikah pushed open the heavy doorand entered.

“Mikes, where are you going?” Kris called andhurried across the cemetery to enter the tomb behind Mikah. “Youshouldn’t be in there.”

“Shhh,” Mikah whispered, looking around themausoleum. The walls were a wonderful stone lattice that allowedthe hazy light to filter into the tomb from all sides, lighting thelone sarcophagus at the center of the building. Sconces for torcheslined the walls, and the ceiling was a work of art in its detail.The walls and ceiling were carved to look very much like the willowjust beyond. It was a large crypt, raised to chest height, toppedwith a thick sheet of white marble. Around the base of the cryptwere carvings of tree trunks and flowers.

It was a wonderful tomb, obviously built withlove for whoever rested there. Curious, she moved to look down atthe top of the carved marble lid. It repeated the words “Until nextwe meet” in flowing script, beneath which were words that made hercatch her breath.

Hero Margaret Ashburn Conagham

Marchioness of Ayr

Born 1828

Ian Alexander Conagham

3rd Marquisof Ayr

Born 1825

Both departed of this earth the 27th day ofJune in the year of our Lord 1856

Wicked fate took them from this earth

Until they meet again

May peace be theirs

Mikah outlined Ian’s name with her finger,reliving the anguish of his death, and rested her cheek against thecold marble. The crypt was large because it held not one body buttwo. They were entombed together so that they would never be apart,just as Ian had promised.

Suddenly it was all too real, more real thanthe trip to Cuilean had made it for her. More real than thediscovery of her wedding ring.

She had been a fool to think