Her Secret Inheritance

Author

Prologue

No one could have guessed that the old house was haunted. The unexpected drafts, the doors left inexplicably open, the missing silver candlesticks from the den; these were all easily explained away. The wind had always been sharp in St. Andrews, sharp enough to trick unlatched doors into swaying in the breeze, and as for the silver, well, it was likely that someone along the generations had simply misplaced them, that was all.

Families came and went, but the house guarded its secrets. The University grew in prestige, but still the ghost lingered, unsatisfied.  It did not matter how beautiful the town of St. Andrews was, nor did it matter that the past had been beautifully preserved in many spots around the town; the truth of the murders of 1666 had been ignored, and the restless spirit waited, knowing nothing but a desire for revenge.

As the old house passed from one owner to the next, it fell into the hands of a particular family, and it was one man, a historian, who drew the ghost’s notice. Nothing of note happened right away, and the old man, for all his knowledge, somehow ignored the telling signs that there was a malignant spirit sharing his roof.

But no ghost can remain buried forever.

Chapter One

The man in the light blue suit coat leaned across Lou to peer out the tiny window. She sucked in her breath, trying to make herself small in the seat, but he still brushed against her.

Bloody rain. I hope they can land in this.

She forced a smile at his American accent and anachronistic British slang. It’s always raining in Scotland. They’ll manage.

He sat back in his seat, frowning. Sounds awful.

Lou nodded, brushing a stray curl off her forehead, but she didn’t try to engage the man in conversation. However, he must have been tired of sitting beside her silently, because he continued.

I don’t know why I agreed to come here.

She sighed. So you’re not on vacation?

He shrugged. Meeting an old school friend. She lives in Italy now.

Lou struggled to keep up. Then why Scotland?

Halfway. I live in Milwaukee these days. The flight attendant came by just then, and the man ordered scotch on the rocks. Have to get in practice, right? He winked at Lou.

I’ll just have a cup of coffee, she spoke over her companion, and the flight attendant flashed her a tired smile. Lou sat back in her seat and closed her blue eyes, but her seatmate didn’t get the hint.

Why are you going to Scotland?

She thought about lying, but she was too tired. The flight had been turbulent, and she hadn’t slept at all. Family visit.

Lucky. At least you won’t have to pay for a hotel room.

Lou didn’t bother to correct him.

~

There was no one waiting to meet her in Edinburgh, but that was to be expected. No one knew she was coming. She transferred to the train station, a strong sense of déjà vu washing over her as she boarded the evening train to St. Andrews. It wasn’t as packed as the first time she’d been to Scotland, and she had a pair of seats to herself. Grateful for the space after the eight hour flight, Lou stretched her feet out in front of her.

Briefly, she thought about trying to nap, but she dismissed that idea. Instead, she stared at the darkened glass, hoping to watch the passing scenery. The interior of the train was brightly lit, making it almost impossible to see the mysterious landscape that Lou knew was racing by outside.

Her thoughts wandered, and she felt a pang of loneliness as they settled firmly in the past. When she’d traveled to Scotland before, she’d been with her best friend. It hadn’t taken long before Tammy’s vivacious personality had secured a third traveling companion, but Lou didn’t want to think about Brian.

For almost five years, she’d avoided thinking about him, but it was harder to do in Scotland than when she was at home in Chapel Hill. Brian had practically proposed to her the last time she’d been there. Well, not really, she reminded herself, but at the time, it felt like it. He’d asked her stay in Scotland with him. She’d said no, not because she had anything at home worth holding onto, but because she was twenty-one, and at the time, it had seemed less important to pursue love than to connect with her birth family.

She never admitted to herself that she’d regretted the decision before, but as she sat there swaying on the train to St. Andrews, weary and jet lagged, the thought burst into her mind. Lou slumped in her seat and rubbed her temples.

I can’t think about this right now, she whispered. Gods, please help me keep a clear head.

Lou wished she’d thought to pack some peppermint oil in her bag, but she hadn’t wanted to check anything, and traveling with liquids was such a pain now. Maybe she’d be able to find some once she got to St. Andrews: she needed her wits about her to deal with all this, and it wouldn’t be too hard to do a quick spell.

Comforted by the thought, Lou tried to shift her focus away from her failed love affair with Brian, but her thoughts strayed immediately to Professor MacDonald, and tears filled her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to break down: she had to finish her journey tonight, and maybe once she was securely locked in her hotel room, maybe then she would allow herself to mourn.

But she wasn’t there yet.

Chapter Two

The darkened train station was all but deserted, but Lou called the first cab company advertised on the station board, and in fifteen minutes, she was sitting in the back of a small white car, zipping along the wrong side of the road. Almost there, almost there. She chanted the mantra silently, willing herself to keep it together for just a bit longer.

When the driver pulled up to her hotel, Lou tried to tip him, but he waved her off. Keeping her change, Lou shook her head. There’s so much about Scotland that I just don’t remember. Why did I forget they don’t tip? Jet lagged and annoyed with herself, Lou carted her small suitcase up the hotel steps and checked in. When she found herself safely locked in a small room, Lou sank down onto the edge of the bed.

She waited for tears that had been threatening her all day, but now that she was finally ready to cry, nothing happened. Exhausted, she crawled under the covers and fell asleep fully dressed. When she woke in the morning, her mouth tasted like dirty laundry, and for a moment, she was confused and disoriented. The unfamiliar room was painted a warm yellow color, and the throw that covered her was a brilliant red plaid. Blinking for a moment, Lou finally remembered: Scotland.

She’d always planned to come back someday, but she’d never imagined it would be like this.

Almost five years ago, when she traveled through the Highlands with her best friend, Lou had found more than magic and mystery in Scotland: she’d learned the truth about her biological family, stumbling into a clan filled with laughter and myth. Professor MacDonald was the reason she uncovered the truth; he was her distant cousin, an eccentric old man who clomped around in kilts and combat boots, who told stories as naturally as breathing.

And now he was gone.

Her grandmother, back in North Carolina, had received the news of her cousin’s death the day before the letter arrived for Lou. The spidery handwriting was hard to read, but harder still was the knowledge that the professor had entrusted his last words to Lou, a girl he’d barely known.

The letter he’d mailed before he died asked her, specifically, to come and sort through his belongings. The thought was painful, but Lou didn’t even imagine saying no. So she rescheduled her doctoral defense and got her advisor’s approval to take off. That was one of the perks about being done except for her dissertation; people went out of their way to help her.

There were no other loose ends to tie up; she lived alone in a third floor apartment overlooking Franklin Street in Chapel Hill. She didn’t even have a pet to worry about: Franzie had had to be put down a year and a half ago, and Lou hadn’t been able to bring herself to look for another cat just yet. It was easy enough to drop everything and fly to Scotland, but now that she was there, she wished it had been just a little bit harder.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she quickly calculated the time back home. Her family wasn’t likely to be up for a few more hours, but it was possible that Tammy might not have gone to bed yet. Lou crossed her fingers and dug her cell phone out of the small pocket inside her purse.

She punched in the numbers by memory, and after five rings, a groggy voice said, Hello?

Oh, shit, Tammy. Did I wake you? Lou frowned at the phone, flooded with guilt.

It’s three o’clock in the morning. What do you think? Tammy’s voice was terse, but Lou couldn’t tell if she were just tired, or cranky, too.

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