Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle (33 page)

B.A. was betting everything, her entire future, on this final toss of the dice.

Chapter 30

Desmond stood on the pier, staring up the hill at the village. His right arm rested on the edge of the door, the left on top of the Rover. Waiting. His eyes searched for B.A. Hoping she’d… what? Drag him back to the castle and keep him prisoner again?

The Cat currently inspected his car’s interior as though he was Falgannon’s Port Authority and checking that Desmond didn’t smuggle any Stop-Breath off the island.

Some of the islanders had come to see him off. They were respectful, but he read in their eyes they thought him a fool for leaving. Maybe he was.

Callum gave him pictures of Dudley, the castle and several of Desmond dancing with B.A. at a
ceilidh
. Souvenirs, he’d said. Desmond swallowed the tightness in his throat, nearly overwhelming when he saw the pictures of B.A., her face bright and shining with love. The same expression was clear upon his countenance.

A ghostly breeze ruffled his hair, which was much longer than when he’d first arrived on Falgannon. B.A. liked the length and it felt natural. He wore boots, black corded riding pants and a knit sweater, clothing now a part of him, who he was, more than any expensive Louis Vuitton had ever been. He’d come as a stranger to the isle, but looked, felt, like he belonged. Gone was the polished businessman. He was an islander to the soul, as though he’d been born of Falgannon. Precisely what B.A. had tried to tell him.

Dudley hopped into the driver’s seat, purring loudly, hoping for pets. When none came, he reached up and snagged Des’s arm. The daggers of his claws made it through the heavy cable knit.

“Och, you bloody beastie,” Des snapped. A burr threaded in his voice.

His hand trembling, he scratched Dudley’s chin. Scratching the cat was merely an excuse to linger… hoping…

He knew B.A. loved him. She’d demonstrated that in every way possible. She just wasn’t willing to settle for anything less from him.

Angus the Ferry and Jamie Macleod hurried down the hill, shoulders hunched against the damp. A few more trips and Jamie would take over for Angus, the latter making it clear he wanted rid of the isle—and Janet—as quickly as possible. Soon, the Falgannonians would have a Jamie the Ferry. Desmond wouldn’t be around to share that.

“Morn there, Desmond. Be about a half hour before you can board,” Angus called. “We’ll lower the gate when we’re ready-So Desmond stood in
the soft,
allowing the mist to hit his face as he glanced up Harbor Hill. He half-expected to see B.A. in her William Wallace gear coming to fetch him.
Praying she’d come
. He imagined she’d pull that sword on him and demand he kneel to her in fealty. Deep in his heart, he wished to see her running down the hill, a suitcase in one hand, the cat carrier with Annie in the other, calling she was going with him.

It wasn’t to be, he guessed. The island was more important to her, as it had been to Maeve—likely as it was to every Lady of the Isle.

Angus the Ancient tottered over and held out his autograph book. “Anna Nicole Smith’s agent wrote she ain’t coming. So if you’d do me the honor, I’d be thanking you.”

It felt odd signing an autograph, but on Falgannon out of the ordinary was normal. He signed it carefully with the respect due the dear old man, then passed it back. “The honor was mine, Angus.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and removed his business card, pausing as he saw the plastic covered picture of the young B.A.

Swallowing the tightness, he held out the card. “If need arises… you can reach me.”

Angus accepted it, his gray eyes incisive. “Need arises? Like, you knocked up our lass and then left her?”

“That’s a low blow, Angus.” Desmond reeled from the old man’s words, reeled from the guilt.

Angus nodded. “Aye, but you deserve it.”

Desmond’s head dropped. “I’m not a bastard, Angus. My mum died—”

“Why dinna you say?” Angus frowned in exasperation.

“Not recently, in November. I’ve not worked through the loss… It’s a long story.”

Angus patted his arm. “Open your eyes, lad. The years go too fast and can be damn lonely. I lost my lovely Cammie thirty-three years ago. Don’t waste precious time. Stay with B.A. ‘Tis the best medicine.”

Desmond looked up at the sky. “If I stay, I’ll hurt her. There’s so much blackness in my soul. I need to go away and find out how to deal with that.”

“Stuff and nonsense. Running away is never the way to deal with a trouble.”

The blue Rover topped the crest of the hill, catching Desmond’s attention. His heart stuttered, not daring to hope. Pulling perpendicular into a parking space a short distance away, B.A. got out and walked the rest of the way down the steep incline. He saw Annie’s small face peeking out the car window.

She’d dressed in jeans and a sweater. No William Wallace blue face, no sword. Her long hair was skimmed back in a ponytail.

“No suitcase,” he commented.

With a smile, she shrugged. “Figured I wouldn’t need it.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a red handkerchief. With trembling fingers, she unfolded it to reveal a small white rose. “It’s not very big, and there are only five petals. Already the edges tinge brown, telling how fragile it is, that it needs care. Our rose, from our planting—proof of our love. Falgannon magic. Open your heart, Des. Open your heart and see what you saw when you stood before Lady Stone… forever.”

She tried to sound confident, but he saw the glistening in her amber eyes, how she pressed her lips together to keep her chin from quivering. Another stake to his heart.

“I
can’t,
B.A. I have to get away from who I am, what I am.”

“You’re Desmond Mershan, the man I love. How much simpler can it be?” Her voice cracked on the question. “What we have is special; this rose tells just how rare. You cannot turn your back on that. You’ll come back with me. Won’t you, Des?”

He swallowed, then spoke. “Dammit, this… this beast inside is eating me alive. I
hate
myself, B.A. I don’t want to end up hating you, too.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Silly man, you dunna hate yourself, and you’d never hate me. I wouldn’t let you use Falgannon to ease the pain of the past. For that you would’ve hated yourself. The rest… Give it time, Des. Time heals. Believe me, I know.”

In desperation he pulled her against him, kissing her forehead.
“Please
let me go, B.A. Help me help myself.”

“Stay, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. I love you. God, I love you. Please don’t do this.”

“I can’t see any other way. Maybe if we’d met at another place, another time…” He squeezed her tightly against him, whispered, “Goodbye, lass.”

Pushing her away, he jumped into his car and locked the doors. B.A. kept talking. When she pounded on the glass and yelled at him, he switched the CD player on high. Iron Butterfly’s “
In A Gadda Da Vida
” played, nearly vibrating the car off its tires.

Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back, shaking so badly he thought he might never stop. He almost laughed, but caught himself, fearing he’d sound like a madman.

Inanely he wondered if anyone had ever figured out what that damn song title meant.

B.A. kicked the door of Des’s silver Rover, leaving a dent. “Too bad it isn’t his hard head!”

As she stalked off, Ian jogged to intercept her. “You okay, lass?”

She was all right, but getting bloody madder by the minute. “Go tell Angus to cut the engines. Ferry stays in harbor.”

Ian smiled. “Done.”

Stomping toward the blue Rover, B.A. was unsure what to do next. She
wasn’t
letting Desmond off the island. She’d just wasn’t.

B.A. tripped, righted herself, then noticed a heavy chain across the road. She’d been too upset to see it before. Skylar had received an order for it to hook boats together when they collected the sheep from an abandoned isle in June. She stared at the metal links, then glanced at Desmond’s car, judging it as long as the distance between his car and hers.

“Serendipity,” she said. She looked up the hill toward Lady Stone. “Thank you.”

Keeping in the blind spots of the mirrors, she approached the vehicle, bending over and crouching low. Peeking over the edge of the back door, she saw Desmond sat with his speakers loud enough to wake the dead, his head leaning back. She couldn’t tell, but she thought his eyes were closed.

“All the better to trick you, Desmond Mershan.”

Dudley’s head popped up in the rear window. He waved a paw at her. She blinked away a tear as she touched the glass. Dudley butted his nose to her finger, then meowed.

“Buckle up, Kitty. I’m hauling his stubborn arse back to the castle.”

Kneeling, B.A. carefully fed the chain through the triangle of the trailer hitch, wrapping it around three times. “Three times three, let it be,” and she whispered an ancient pagan spell as she set the big hook.

Stalking back to her navy Rover, she got in and slowly backed the car down the hill. Enough to be in range of the chain. She hopped out, wrapped the other end around her car’s hitch. Climbing in, she slammed the door hard since the latch was having trouble.

“It’s his own bloody fault—he gave me the Rover.” Adjusting her rearview mirror, she noticed Annie jumped to the inside wheel well to stare out the back window, watching Dudley in the other auto. “Hang on, Annie, we’re taking our men home.”

She shifted into drive and hit the gas—maybe a little too hard because the wheels spun on the wet cobbled road. They grabbed, and the sedan jumped forward. As the chain played out, the blue Rover jerked and the silver vehicle bounced.

“Silly man, probably thinks ‘In A Gadda Da Vida’ is getting wound up.” B.A. glanced in the mirror. Desmond’s head snapped around. He saw what she was doing. “Got him by the arse, Annie. Next stop, the castle.”

Pulling the second car’s weight grew difficult. She gunned the gas, only to have the wheels slip again. She muttered under her breath, “Come on, come on…”

*

Lost in swirling thoughts, his fingers clutched around the snow globe with the rose, Desmond stared at its perfect bloom. The one B.A. had shown him had only five petals, the bush too new to support a flower of this size. But with care and feeding, dozens of blooms such as this would grow on their bush. Or would it die if he left. He shook the globe, watching the snow fall on the rose. B.A. had taped her key to the bottom of this globe. The key to his freedom. But was it? Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the box containing B.A.‘s engagement ring.

Desmond felt his car jolt. Jerking around, he saw his Rover crawling away from the pier, moving slowly back up the hill. B.A. had chained their vehicles together and now hauled his up Harbor Road.

“She’s a madwoman!” Sliding the ring box in his pants pocket, he turned on the front and rear wipers. The cat immediately swatted at the rear one. “She doesn’t play fair, Dudley!”

Switching on the ignition, he pushed the gas. Her car’s resistance was strong, the hitch cracking and popping under the torque. He had a slight advantage from being on the flat part of the road curving toward the ferry. Still, he had to be careful and cut the wheel to move parallel along the pier with the steep drop. He didn’t have the room to maneuver that she did. His vehicle jump-bucked, but then the witch hit her gas and his wheels spun. He applied pressure to the pedal, the engine revving higher. The wet pavement prevented either of them from gaining the advantage.

A bloody tug of war! He blinked, fighting the emotions threatening to swamp him. Tears blurring his vision, his hesitation caused him to let up on the gas. Instantly, B.A. dragged him to the edge of the hill and gained speed. He glanced in the rearview mirror. If she crested the hill and reached the flat area in front of the store, control would shift to her.

Despite the rain, clusters of Falgannonians came to watch this new source of entertainment. Another time he’d delight in this quirkiness, their pleasure in every moment of life. Right now, he was shattered inside and didn’t know how much longer he could hold together. Pressure built inside him to a dangerous level. Without meaning to, he floored the gas.

An odd ripping echoed inside him, then a noise like grinding metal, followed by a
ping-pong-ping
. It took a moment to comprehend it was the sedan, not him, creating that bizarre sound. Dudley went flying through the air as Desmond felt the hitch break free from the Rover. No time to look back; the Rover shot forward, up and over the pier. For a second he was weightless, sailing crosswise through the air toward the ferry, then crashing through the gate rail. The sedan dropped, leaving the back wheels hanging over, spinning uselessly in the air. Cutting the motor, he stared into Angus and Jamie’s horrified faces.

Not pausing to consider his predicament, his head whipped around and he spotted villagers running toward the bottom of the hill. He searched frantically for B.A.‘s Rover. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted it, half on the pier, half off.

He forced the door open and crawled out. Jumping from the ferry, he landed hard on the steep concrete incline, jarring his teeth. Leaning on his fingertips, he scaled the ramp. Wulf and Julian appeared, waiting to grab his wrists to pull him up.

“Come on—your lady’s in a mess!” Julian’s eyes met Desmond’s, full of fear, turning his blood to ice.

They ran to where the crowd gathered. Desmond shoved people aside until he reached B.A.‘s sedan. Dennis, the Michaels, the Frasers and Callum were spread around the vehicle. Balanced on the knife-edge of the pier, it rocked like a bizarre seesaw. Up against the pylon on the passenger side, the glass from that window was shattered. The hitch from his car hung outside, swinging like an obscene pendulum.

Brian yelled up the hill to Jock, “Hurry, man!”

Ian yanked Desmond’s arm as he started forward. “Steady, lad. Time for cool heads. Jock’s fetching a rope. We’ll tie it off. You forgot rule number one—never let a Montgomerie female behind the wheel of a car when she has a mad on.”

“Can you lean on the car’s front until I get her out?” Desmond asked.