Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle (30 page)

Des dropped his coat on a table, his feet carrying him down the steps and across the wooden floor. Focused on the music, B.A. didn’t hear him. As the song hit its crescendo, she crumpled to the floor. Her body jerked in small spasms, and she sobbed.

Compelled to touch her, he reached out. He put his hand on her shoulder; her head whipped up, startled. The eyes of a frightened doe watched him, filled with pain, accusing.

Squatting, Desmond took her into his arms and cradled her, her agony slashing his heart. She shocked him by hugging him tightly, as if she never wanted to let him go, her body quaking with silent sobs. He permitted that for a time, but was alarmed when it went on and on. She needed to break free of this crippling pain and face him like the warrior she was. He rose, pulling her to her feet.

He stared into that beautiful face, tears trickling down her cheeks. Nothing in his life had ever hurt him as deeply. To know he’d caused this made him close his eyes in shame. Opening them, he searched for the right words to ease her torment, to explain his own.

“You lied,” came her simple accusation.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he nodded. “Yes.”

“You wanted to
use
me.” She choked back a sob.

“Yes,” he agreed, offering no defense.

“As Jago is using Asha and Trevelyn is using Raven.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll use Maeve’s knife on Trev. Asha and I are strong. We’ll survive this. Only, Raven is fragile. If anything happens to her, Trevelyn will wish he’d never been born. I don’t know what this is about. And you know what?
I don’t bloody care.
Nothing can justify using my sister.”

“He’s in love with her,” he stated softly.

“And Jago’s in love with Asha?” she sneered.

“Yes.”

“How convenient. I’d looked forward to meeting your brothers. Any men like you had to be wonderful. Oh, now I shall meet them—but it will be to take payment for hurting my sisters.”

“I’m sure your sisters will extract their own measures of reprisal.”

B.A. shocked him again by stepping close. She nipped at his jaw. Desmond’s body roared to life, thrumming like a Ferrari engine in his neverending sexual need for her. That silly male side responded, ready-set-go, pedal to the floor. But a niggling doubt warned this was too damn easy. B.A. Montgomerie was many things. Easy wasn’t one of them.

She leaned into him as if she wanted to crawl into his skin. Her mouth brushed his, setting off fireworks in his beleaguered, desperate brain. The kiss spiraled as her hungry hands roamed over his body, seeking, scratching at his cashmere sweater. She rubbed her knee up the inside of his leg, making him widen his stance, then rocked her bent thigh against his throbbing erection. Oh, mercy, the wanting roared through his body to the point of agony.

B.A. shifted again, but his idiotic male brain was stuck in one mode, besotted with his soul-deep ache for this woman. Then she slammed her knee into his groin, and white-hot pain wracked his body and mind. He collapsed to his knees, writhing in torture. Mother Nature’s cruel joke on males.

“I should’ve remembered Julian!” he choked out.

She sat on a small stool and changed into her Wellies. The witch started humming along with Biondie’s “One Way Or Another.” Boots fastened, she clomped by, leaving him to his blistering misery. Suddenly her steps returned and, before he knew what she was up to, she kicked him in the behind, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“Bloody Viking,” she snarled.

He tried to laugh. “I’m arrogant, too.”

But the door slammed, and Blondie sang, “
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya
… “

“I think she got me all right,” he agreed. Dudley hopped onto the middle of his back, purring, and settled down for a nap.

*

“What I don’t need is the bloody Scottish Mafia.” Desmond hesitated when he saw the men gathered at the bottom of the castle. “Great. Round Two, Dudley, and half the silly isle will be in the middle of this. I’m surprised the Michaels aren’t selling tickets.”

They’d naturally see B.A. as the heroine and him the dastardly villain. He
was
the villain, so they had every right. Only, it hurt that these men he’d come to see as friends would turn from him.

They eyed him. Not in anger, as he’d anticipated, but rather typical Falgannon eccentricity. There was a smirk or two, a male empathetic,
Better thee than me
.

Ian called, “Eh there, Des, you’re limping.”

His twin’s eyes danced. “We should’ve warned our Desmond that Montgomerie lasses are dirty fighters. The rules: Never let them behind a wheel of a car when they’re pissed, keep them away from sharp objects, and foremost… protect your
breall
”

“Now you tell me.” Despite everything, the corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. Something was so soothing about life on Falgannon. Chaotic when it should’ve been smooth sailing, unruffled and all giggles when times were bad.

Something flew over the edge of the castle roof and floated to the ground. His clothes. Evidently, B.A. was evicting him. More apparel followed.

Brian asked deadpan, “Wash day at the castle?”

“Go ahead, laugh.” Desmond quirked a brow. When his cashmere sweaters came next, he growled and started for the steps.

Ian caught his arm, pulling him back. “What’s your rush, Des?” He handed over a flask. “A wicked temper our B.A. has, only she can’t sustain it. Let the sweet lass toss what she wants over the crenellations. You can afford it, I’m thinking. It’ll wear the darling out.”

Desmond nodded, seeing the wisdom. “Thanks for the whisky and the advice.”

He took a sip, puzzled by their continued friendship. He’d feared their animosity.

Michael and Callum came over. “Instructing him in
B.A. 101?
”

“Aye, can’t be having our Desmond face our lass unprepared. Wouldn’t be fair.” Ian shared the flask. “How’s betting?”

Desmond looked aghast. “Bets?”

“Not much won’t draw a bet on the isle. You versus our lass.” Callum smiled, rubbing his hands together in glee. “There’ll be wigs on the counter tonight.”

Desmond accepted the flask again, his tension easing now that he saw these men—his friends—wouldn’t look at him in loathing. “Wigs on the counter?”

Callum held up a pound note showing a man in a wig, issued by the Royal National Bank of Scotland.

Desmond shrugged. If you couldn’t beat them, enjoy the lunacy. “How am I doing?”

“Five-to-three our lass chucks you out with the laundry. We also have bets where you sleep. Here you’re a dark horse, Des. Twenty-to-one says you’re in Rose Cottage before midnight.”

“I figured you lads would form a phalanx for B.A.” Desmond said.

“Och, our lass wouldn’t appreciate us butting in. She’s handled an island full of males for years. One Viking dunna require our help.” Ian watched as pairs of Desmond’s shoes whizzed through the air, one just over their heads. “B.A. sure has a mean overhand throw,” he added.

“It’s them Yank ways,” Angus pronounced. “Corrupted her. Probably played that baseball while she was in the States.

Another shoe zoomed perilously close. “Maybe we’d better move out of range,” Ian suggested.

Suppressing chuckles, Angus held out a stick to Desmond. “Here. A proper-size stick to beat our lovely lass.”

“Proper?” Desmond accepted it.

“No bigger around than a man’s thumb.” The old man made a thumbs-up sign and winked.

“Look out below!” B.A. called, then hefted his empty scuba tanks over the side, sending them crashing down.

“That’s it. If you’ll excuse me…” Desmond stalked off, slicing the stick through the air. Reaching the stairs, he paused and watched his wetsuit follow the tanks. Taking the stick in both hands he broke it over his knee, flung it away and then took the stairs two at a time.

Just as he neared the top he heard Angus moan, “I told Sean Montgomerie. He dinna listen. Now our Viking ain’t listening either. Best up the bets in favor of our lass.”

B.A. locked the house against him. She saw him coming across the roof, squeaked and dashed inside, slamming the door.

“Now
she locks it,” Des muttered.

B.A. glared at him through the window. Not sure of the new game, Dudley had used his kitty entrance and now waved a paw at him.

“B.A., open the damn door!” he ordered

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t push me, B.A. Open the bloody door. Now.”

“Pog mo thoin,”
she snarled.

“Have the decency to at least insult me in a language I understand.” He pounded on the oak door, then stalked to the window.

“It means’kiss my arse.’” She stuck out her tongue.

“Gladly—let me in. You don’t lock your doors here, remember?”

“My Yank ways are reasserting.”

“Open the door, B.A., so we can talk.”

“About what? How you plan to destroy my island with cheap track housing? An oil storage area? A deep-water harbor? You’d bring oil to this isle risking the seals, fishing, our beautiful white shores? You bloody pirate! Hiding behind Trident Ventures. You
are
Trident Ventures!”

“Not yet. I’ll acquire Trident after the takeover bid.”

“Och, big difference. Well, go ahead and waste your money battling Cian. He’s your equal. But you’re planning on ruining this island.
My island.
And that I won’t let you do.” She dropped the blinds, cutting off his reply.

Dudley squalled as the shade hit him. The kitten jumped on and tried to bulldog him. “Yeah, Pal. This isn’t a good day for handling females.”

Sighing, he headed to the kitchen window where the pane had been removed to make Dudley’s entrance. He pushed his arm through the opening to the shoulder, to reach the lock. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat—no offense intended, Dudley.”

B.A. dumped his belongings in a bin bag. She glanced at the dresser at Desmond’s personal items: cufflinks, watch, billfold. She’d just picked up the wallet when she sensed his presence, was startled, and it flew out of her hand to crash against the wall. Two yellowed newspaper clippings and a sleeve of plastic fell out.

B.A. stared at Desmond. Fixed on the items, he was unable to draw breath. They both lunged. Closest, she snatched them away. His longer arms reached her wrist, manacling her in a grip that was uncomfortable but not painful.

“Playing bully isn’t earning points,” she warned. He held on for a moment, as if savoring her back against his chest, comprehending that contact would be all that was permitted him. “Des… let… go.”

She felt him shaking. That rattled her. Desmond was so strong in her eyes. Right now, she didn’t need to see him vulnerable, didn’t need to weaken in her anger.

He nodded and stepped back, then leaned against the dresser, clearly lacking strength to stand. His pallor concerned her.

Strangely, B.A. felt more in control. Turning over the plastic sleeve, she studied her own face from fifteen years ago. The photo portrait had been made when her engagement to Evian was announced. A lifetime ago. Questions rushed at her, only she was in no frame of mind to sort them out. Biting her lower lip, she considered this damning piece of evidence—a photo protected from age by sealed plastic. He’d obviously carried it for years.

The tiny square had the power to overwhelm her heart.

“You knew who B.A. Montgomerie was all along. I sensed you did, but couldn’t fathom why you’d lie.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but tears gleamed in his eyes and obviously clogged his throat. He tried to speak, then looked at the ceiling and stopped.

“Why the charade?” she begged.

“The truth?”

“Nothing less,” she growled.

“I came into the store. You stood, so beautiful, so unreachable behind a wall of ice. I wanted you more than my next breath. I wanted to provoke you, to rattle those walls you built to keep men at a distance.”

B.A. swallowed back tears. She ignored the significance of him carrying her picture all that time, unable to handle it. Neither of them was in the mood for twenty questions. He was hanging on by his fingernails.

“I’m not stupid, really.” She attempted to make a joke, but her voice cracked.

Desmond watched her. “I never thought you stupid, B.A. Too trusting, maybe.”

The more she talked, the calmer she became. “Let’s skip
why
you carried this for now. That loan Sean defaulted on—was that something you made up?”

He shook his head. “Outside of pretending I didn’t know who you were, and forging letters between Sean and myself, I haven’t lied to you. I just never told you everything.”

Fear edged up her spine as she picked up the newspaper clippings. One was her grandfather’s obituary. Even older, the second was an obituary as well. She needed to sit, but couldn’t move as the headline leapt at her: michael mershan, financier commits suicide. She read details of the man’s death, but all blood drained from her when she reached…
pulled the trigger in front of his seven-year-old son, Desmond
.

Chapter 28

Desmond sat, the scrap of newspaper on the table before him. Emotions swirled in his haunted eyes—determination, anger, pain, sadness. Underneath, B.A. sensed terror. Rocking the chair, he steeled himself to an ugly task. “Sean used lands he didn’t own as collateral to back risky ventures. Emerald mines in South America, oil in the Middle East. When one venture paid off, the windfall backed another, each bonanza bankrolling the next. An empire built on a house of cards. Everything turned to gold for Midas Montgomerie. They called him that, you know.”

“I think I heard it.”

“Midas Montgomerie’s luck turned. Rebels took over the mines, Arabs seized oil wells, coal mines in Wales were closed due to working conditions. Dozens of investments soured.”

Nausea hit her, leaving B.A. certain she didn’t want to hear this.

“Know what a pyramid is?”

“I know they’re illegal.”

“Sean ran a high-stakes pyramid. My father, poor fool, made a lot of money through Sean’s early investments. Sean convinced him to lure his friends and associates into the spiraling game. He helped get Sean huge loans using the horse farm, Colford Hall and Falgannon as collateral. Everyone tossed in their life’s savings, borrowed to get shares. And when things crumbled, my father believed everyone was protected because of Sean’s collateral.”

B.A. shivered. “Sean never owned Falgannon. Colford was in trust for my father until he inherited. The farm in Kentucky was purchased by my father for my mother.”

“The house of cards collapsed on my father and his bank. That piece of paper deeding one-third of Falgannon was a shill. The bank lost, the investors lost… my father lost.” He touched the paper, his hand trembling.

Desmond was trying to control the anguish and fury of unhealed wounds, the pain he’d carried his whole life. Despite resentment for him using her, and for his brothers going after her sisters, B.A. loved this man. Love was like that, she knew. You couldn’t flip it on and off like a switch. What he felt reached into her, past the hurt, past the sense of betrayal. She ached for him.

“I was seven, no idea what was happening. I knew my father looked pale, drawn. He’d hardly slept or eaten for weeks. Mum’s mood swings were more alarming. Then one day I sensed it was worse.” His eyes beseeched her. “B.A., I… I need you to understand.”

Pain lanced through her. “I do. Trevelyn targeted Raven, Jago went after Asha and you came to the island. The Mershans set out to claim the properties Sean put up as collateral.”

If she hadn’t known it before, in that instant she understood just how much she loved this man. If destroying this beautiful isle would bring Desmond the healing he needed, she’d step back and, hating every second, she’d let him finish what he’d come to do. This isle was part of her soul. Even so, she wouldn’t hesitate a breath in choosing between Desmond and Falgannon. Part of her would die, but Desmond was that important. She’d walk through fire for this man.

And yet, she couldn’t permit Desmond to destroy this magical rock in the ocean. Bringing his vengeance against Falgannon, against her—surrogates for years of rage against her grandfather—would never bring him peace. He’d destroy the isle and her people, bring noise, pollution, and the special purity would be despoiled to feed his revenge. But then what? Once he discovered his schemes couldn’t heal his pain, it would be too late to put Humpty-Dumpy back together again. The isle would be lost for nothing.

He moved to stare out the window, this man who had carried hurt for so long. Given time, her love could heal him. Only, she had to reach him first.

“Desmond, I love you,” she said softly.

He whipped around, his ice green eyes lashing her. “And what’s the price tag, B.A.? Nothing in life is free. Payment for your love is I stop my plans?”

She shook her head. “No conditions, no price tag. I love you and ask nothing in return. Loving you is part of me. It’s who I am.”

“You won’t beg me to give up these plans? Offer yourself as compensation?” His words were cruel—the panther flexing its claws.

“I
love
you. It’s a simple truth. One I’ll live with no matter what you do. I won’t ask you to stop, but I won’t let you rape this island to soothe your wounded psyche. I warn you, Des—”

“Warn me?”

“Take legal action against my family’s holdings for what Sean’s cheating cost your father, sue for the mental hardship it placed on your family. I’ll stand beside you. I’m lousy at business, worse at law, but I believe you can sue anybody for anything these days. The horse farm you now own—and paid a good price. You want Colford? You’ll deal with my father and brothers. Again, I’ll support you. I doubt you’ll want the drafty hall, actually. It’s like living in a damn hotel. Maybe Mac can reach some agreement with you instead.”

“You’d do that?” He seemed flabbergasted.

“Your family’s owed—”

Lashing out, Desmond snarled, “Blood money? I can buy the high and mighty Clan Montgomerie, ten times over.”

“I don’t doubt that. But does it make you happy, Des? Has it made you laugh as you do with my lads? With me? Held you when you waken from a nightmare? This island’s special. Not just to me, to you as well. My grandfather’s dead. Destroying Falgannon won’t bring you one minute’s peace. If I permit you to ruin the isle you’d be sick.
That’s
why I’ll fight you.” She blinked back the tears. “I think you love me, love the island—”

“Love? Spare me,” he scoffed, but she saw a tear roll down his cheek. “After my father’s death I wore hand-me-downs. Never knew what it was to go to a store and buy new clothes. Afterward, I vowed I’d never accept anything that was secondhand, again. What makes you think I want Evian Deshaunt’s hand-me-down love?”

B.A. flinched. “Boy, Des, you play hardball. I owe you another kick in the arse for that. If Evian were here, he’s the one who’d feel cheated. I loved him. I’m sorry he died. But what I feel for you is so much…
more
. It’s the type of emotion that has people saying love is blind. It’s not. You just love that person more than anything. I’d watch you turn this paradise into a cesspit of oil leaks, dead seals and ugliness—
if
I thought it’d heal the pain you carry. It won’t. But I do love you.”

“You use that word to control me. You love this isle, these nutty people. You know what I’m going to do, what I’ve done. I used you. How can you think you love me?”

She managed a weak laugh. “Men have been using women from the dawn of time, Des.”

“My brothers are right now with your sisters,” he prodded. “We’re taking down everything Sean Montgomerie built, piece by piece. You can’t stop us.”

B.A. drew in a breath, steeled herself. “My sisters are grown women. They’re more than a match for your brothers. Maybe they’ll even teach them a thing or two. Let Mac and Cian defend M.E. and Colford. But I shall fight you over Falgannon. This island, these people—you and I—we’re more important than events of decades ago. Evian’s death taught me one thing: Life’s too bloody short to waste. I
love
you, Des. What’s more—you love me.” She laughed, buoyed by the truth of it. She could see it in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, B.A.”

“Silly man, of course it does.”

“Don’t you see? I’m trapped. Loving you is a betrayal of everything my mother went through, the pain she suffered in losing my father.”

Ignoring tears that clogged her throat, B.A. gave in to her temper. “I can’t say I know how she suffered. However, I damn well know something about losing a husband. About surviving. Don’t you
dare
tell me I wouldn’t understand.”

“You didn’t have young sons to care for.”

“You think that lessened my grief? I wished there’d been a child, something of him to linger in this world to mark his passing. Like a good mother, I’d have done whatever it took to see that child cared for. Yes, you had it hard, but you survived as a family—”

“While you lived in the lap of luxury,” he pointed out.

She gasped, jumping to her feet. “Make up your mind, Des. I thought you were fighting my grandfather’s ghost, seeking justice for wrongs done to your family. Now I’m hearing you resent me.”

She picked up the square of plastic, stared at the pretty face that didn’t have a care in the world. God, had she been that person? So carefree, not understanding the value of life’s precious moments, how they could be stolen so easily? Studying the face, she wondered what her life would’ve been like had Desmond come for her fifteen years ago. She knew he believed he’d come to Falgannon for vengeance. He could’ve gone after Colford or Valinor Revisited. He’d chosen Falgannon. Silly man didn’t even know why! She did.

“I’ve learned how precious each day is. So I know damn well how I’d feel if anything happened to you. Knowing that, no way in hell will I believe your mother would look me in the eyes and demand we can’t share this. Take me to her. Then stand back. No one dares tell me I can’t love you.”

“No,” came his strangled reply.

“I never thought you…” The last puzzle piece suddenly fell into place as she stared at his face. “She’s
dead
. November. That’s why you came back so haunted.”

Reality slammed into her. Bloody hell, he was in shock, denial. The enormity of it nearly made her want to puke. Not only did the ghosts of Michael Mershan and Sean Montgomerie stand between them, now he carried the ghost of his mother. B.A. felt faint.

“I wasted seven years of my life hiding on this island because I was too bloody scared. You stepped into my world and allowed no retreat. You made me love you as I’ve never loved another soul. I want a life with you, Des. I want to laugh, cry, bear your children, know our love created such special little beings. I’m bloody well not going to toss that away because of people who are dead! You think the knowledge my grandfather destroyed your childhood will be easy for me to live with? That you went”—tears flooded her eyes as she struggled for every word—“hungry because of something my grandfather did? I regret life was rough for your mother, your brothers, you. That’s the bloody past. I had no hand in it. What matters to me is the here and now, what we can have together. If you’re so blind you can’t see that, then maybe you don’t love me. You have no concept of the word. And that’s so sad. So empty.”

“I
promised
her, B.A.” His long black lashes batted tears. He glanced to the ceiling. “Hundreds of times I promised. In the hospital watching her die, the last thing she did… She begged. I
promised
…”

On rubbery legs, B.A. somehow reached the door. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, but knew she couldn’t stay or she’d be down on her knees begging. Worse, she knew it would make no difference. She feared nothing would.

Two days later, B.A. was going out the door of Lady Cottage when the phone rang. Hearing the voice on the line, she wished she’d ignored the call. The prospect of dealing with another Mershan hardly thrilled her.

“BarbaraAnne, this is Jago Mershan. I’m Desmond’s—”

B.A. cut him off. “Mershan? I thought it was Fitzgerald. Yes, we spoke briefly before, you lying bastard.”

“I see you share Asha’s opinion of me. I’m calling about Des. Look, I’m at an airport waiting connections, but I need to speak with you.”

“Since you hurt my sister, I’m so in the mood to listen.”

“Asha’s capable of extracting her own pound of flesh. And I’ll make it up to her if I have to crawl on my belly and beg. Right now, this is urgent. I’m calling about Des. I spoke with him last night. It upset me. Whatever happens,
please
keep him on the island. I’m worried about him. He loves you.”

“I know.”

That’s a relief. I feared, like your precious sister, you’d pull a tizzy and try to punish Des until he comes around. My brother’s erred… in many things. We
all
have. Right now, he’s in trouble. Our mother died in November and Des hasn’t adjusted. It wasn’t an easy passing….”

B.A. dropped into a chair.“I figured that out a few days ago.”

“Damn,” Jago said. “They’re paging my flight. I can’t afford to miss it and give your sister a head start. His whole life, Des put Mother, Trevelyn and me ahead of what was best for him. He needs someone to put him first. Can you, BarbaraAnne? Please remember that above all he loves you deeply.
Don’t
let him off that island.”

Rattled, B.A. replied, “I shan’t,” but it was to a dialing tone.

*

Walking through the door at The Hanged Man, B.A. faltered. Her eyes found Desmond at the center of the “Man, B.A.” Club, and like a coward, she almost fled. She bit her lower lip to stop the quivering, not wanting him to see how he still affected her. Dudley sat next to him, scarfing a rasher of bacon.

“Turncoat,” she muttered.

“Morn, B.A.,” the club chorused in typical fashion.

Desmond’s eyes met hers. Damn him. Those beautiful warlock eyes. Guarded, questioning, challenging. She ached so badly to touch him—to kick him in the seat of the pants. Determination etched the curve of his sensual mouth, but that little-boy-lost look still flickered in his eyes.

She knew he was hurting, hadn’t even begun to come to grips with his past or losing his mother. She couldn’t weaken. For the island’s sake, for hers, and for—the stupid blind man—his sake, too. His way, everyone lost.

Tarn came over with a platter of scones. He gave her a once-over. “Sit, eat, lass. You look worse than what the moggies drag in.”

“Just a sticky bun, Tarn.” She wanted to run. All those emotions Desmond provoked were careening about, slamming against her heart.

“Take that to the buffet.” Tarn shoved the platter at her. “I’ll bring you a plate of sausage and gravy like your mum taught me to make.”

She eyed him suspiciously. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Putting down her case, she sucked in fortitude.

Setting the platter at the buffet, she asked, “Anyone need anything?”

“We’re fine, lass.
The soft
is coming down outside. No one’s going to be at the store. Have a seat,” Ian encouraged.

“I’ll… sit over there.” She motioned to the windows—away from Desmond.