Читать книгу The Magic Ring of Brodgar - - Страница 9

“Megan, would you prefer to go by foot or by car?” asked Warren.

“I would love to take a walk.”

“Alright, it's not far from here.”

Dressed in traditional attire, Warren, his wife, and Megan left the house. Castle Raven was clearly visible from everywhere. It towered over the entire area, unlike Castle Mal, which was situated in a valley by the river. For about fifteen minutes, the owners of both estates climbed the hill. The evening was warm and pleasant. The sea was calm, and the wind occasionally brushed against their faces. A few minutes later, the group arrived at the entrance of the historical castle.

“It's breathtaking!” Megan exclaimed in admiration, trying to take in all the details of the facade. Her gaze fell upon a majestic three-story stone building made of heavy square blocks. On either side, there were four high rectangular towers adorned with battlements, slightly taller than the main building. Above the massive entrance door was a coat of arms unfamiliar to the girl. And from where the castle stood, there was a magnificent view of a series of cliffs stretching into the sea. The area around this historical structure was empty except for the small chapel containing the Drummond family crypt.

“Warren, why is there a bird on the coat of arms?” Megan asked a bit tensely.

“It's a raven, the heraldic symbol of the clan,” her cousin responded. “As I told you, the last of the Drummonds disappeared, and Castle Raven passed to the McKenzies. Everything here has been left as it was, in respect of the centuries-old friendship between the clans.”

“This bird is now going to haunt me everywhere! And has probably already become my life companion,” the girl murmured.

Once in the main hall, she immediately noted a significant difference between this and the hall of the ancestral home. This one seemed a bit gloomier and colder, with heavy bare stone walls. The furniture, made of mahogany, was upholstered in dark burgundy velvet. A huge, antique chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling. A large fireplace was built into the wall, above which was also the family crest of the former owners. Six tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, lined the façade wall. They were decorated with velvet curtains in the same hue as the upholstery, tied back with gold twisted cords and tassels. Like the neighboring castle, this one also housed many hunting trophies.

“This home isn't as modernized as Castle Mal,” said Warren.

“Well, that's not modern either,” Glenn objected, “but Castle Raven only looks old-fashioned on the ground floor. The last of the Drummonds redesigned the rooms in the style of the late nineteenth century. They're beautiful, cozy and comfortable.”

At that moment, Alaric and Duncan came into the hall.

“Oh, I see you've already become a true McKenzie,” Duncan said, carefully examining his cousin's outfit.

“Our colors suit you very well,” Alaric said approvingly.

“Thank you, I'm glad to see you both.”

In reality, Megan felt quite awkward in their presence. She very much wished for the lingering tension, left after the family meeting, to finally dissipate so they could interact without strain.

“Really?” Duncan asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Warren intervened before anyone could comment further, “How's it going, bro?” Getting ready for Witch's Night?” he cheerfully said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as a greeting. “We've already introduced our relative to the local traditions and recounted the legends of this region. She's eagerly awaiting the festival!”

Megan inwardly thanked Warren for finding a way out of the awkward situation Duncan had created with his question. It seemed the younger of her cousins was not yet ready to let go of the suspicion she had cast on their family.

“That's wonderful! It’s high time she joined our traditions and celebrations,” Alaric said amiably.

“How are you doing, Megan? Have you settled in? How were your days at Castle Mal?”

“Very eventful! We visited the distillery yesterday, and I got acquainted with the production technology. It was interesting to learn and see all this with my own eyes.”

“I'm happy for you, girl! Duncan, go show our guest around the castle!” the eldest of the clan told his grandson.

“With pleasure! Megan, would you mind if I act as your guide for the next half-hour?” he asked with a wry smile.

“I'll be grateful for that!” the girl responded as friendly as possible.

They walked through a stone arch that divided the hall, leading to a wide semicircular staircase with beautiful stone railings. In the flight between the floors, there was a lancet window framed by carved wooden molding. On the windowsill, designed as a bench, lay two decorative pillows made of dark red velvet. The upper floor extended into a gallery, from which there was a view of the hall situated below. Portraits of the Drummond clan members hung on the walls of the gallery. Megan admired everything around her. When they reached the residential area, Duncan opened one of the doors, saying, “Guest room. If you decide to stay in Castle Raven, you're more than welcome. We would be glad.”

The girl liked what she saw. Walls draped in blue silk; a bedspread on the large double bed with the same hue, standing opposite the entrance; a canopy with golden edging, and high windows on either side of the bed. It was a complete surprise to see such a cozy, warm chamber after the somewhat gloomy nature of the lower floor.

“Practically all the rooms have been modified and improved. The last representative of the clan wanted them all to match the era's style. This bedroom was intended for the future mistress of the castle,” the cousin explained.

“For Margaret?! Warren told me this tragic tale yesterday,” Megan exclaimed with passion mixed with surprise.

“Yes, for her. And this inner door,” Duncan swung it open for his companion, “leads to the lord's bedchamber. Voilà!” he sang cheerfully.

The girl eagerly entered. The room was slightly larger than the neighboring one. Dark blue tones, gold trim, more heavy grand furniture, a serious style – everything indicated that a man lived here. Above the headboard of the bed hung the clan's coat of arms.

“Does anyone live here?”

“Nope. Our ancestors didn't touch it for a long time, hoping that Drummond would return. Time passed, generations changed, but it remained uninhabited. There are many other comfortable bedrooms in the house, so let this one remain for the spirit of the lost lord,” Duncan said theatrically, with an angelic smile, amusing Megan greatly.

“Are there really ghosts in here?” she asked skeptically.

"Are you afraid of them? Then come stay with us! Let's see if the spirit of Drummond comes to meet you if you take his former fiancée's apartment. Then you can tell us what he reveals to you,” Duncan joked, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease Megan.

“Not funny! Now I definitely won’t stay with you. You can ask him everything you want to know yourself, and then tell me,” she retorted cheerfully.

“What a coward! I'm joking, of course, there are no spirits here and there never have been. Otherwise, we would have met them long ago. Let's move on, otherwise, while you're looking around here, I'll miss dinner. And that I definitely won't forgive!” the young man smiled.

They went to one of the castle towers and found themselves in a large library. Megan was surrounded by tall shelves filled with a rich collection of books.

“What beauty! I love books so much! I could spend days here without leaving,” she said dreamily. The girl ran her hand over the spines, enjoying the opportunity to touch history. The library housed editions dating back to the 18th century and later. Her gaze quickly scanned the long row of unusual bindings and settled on the legends and tales of Scotland. I mustn't lose sight of these, she thought. I'd like to look at these first.

“What's there?” she pointed to a small door built into one of the bookshelves. It was clear that it led somewhere.

“Something like a storeroom. Paintings, portraits, personal belongings of the Drummonds. No one has cleaned it for about a hundred years. Once, as a child, I wanted to hide there but I got caught in a web, and a spider fell on my face. I ran out of there screaming and never again felt the urge to enter that dreadful place.”

“A spider isn't as scary as a ghost."

“To each their own! I've never encountered ghosts. But spiders are absolutely real and very unpleasant creatures," Duncan said with slight disgust.

In a good mood, with playful comments, Duncan showed Megan several more rooms, and then they went into the dining hall where they were expected.

During dinner, they discussed many different topics, and the girl’s relatives took a keen interest in her London life. Everyone there seemed to have decided not to bring up the unpleasant conversation from the day of the meeting. They all acted as if nothing had happened, although Megan was sure that such things are hard to forget.

“Megan, allow me to ask you a provocative question!” exclaimed Alaric, smiling warmly, “Have you started to miss London yet?”

“Indeed, a provocative question!” Megan smiled in response. “In the last few days, I've been discovering a new world. Breathtaking castles! Incredible heather fields! The mystique and history of my family – all of it truly fascinates and attracts me. I don't remember London making such an impression on me. But I'll admit, I do miss its noise and the fast pace of life.”

“I see,” the elderly man said thoughtfully, cutting a piece of venison.

Dinner went smoothly and comfortably, and afterward, everyone gathered in the hall by the fireplace.

“Having a glass of good whiskey after dinner is one of our family traditions,” Alaric said with a satisfied smile.

“Warren introduced me to this tradition at Castle Mal yesterday,” Megan responded. “He and Glenn told me a lot of interesting things. Though, I'm very impressionable, and it led me to have nightmares all night.”

“I warned you, since you take everything to heart, you'd be scared at night! But your curiosity overcame your fear,” Warren joined in.

“Yes, that's true. I dreamt about Margaret and Mary, the crypt, my grandfather…”

“Well, now that I showed you Margaret's and the lost lord's rooms, you won't sleep tonight either!” Duncan said, laughing merrily.

“No, it's all good. I truly found it very fascinating. They had such a sad story,” Megan said thoughtfully.

“That’s life. It's not the first nor the last sad love story in the world,” concluded Alaric.

The McKenzie family spent another hour and a half by the fireplace. Megan, holding a glass of whiskey, watched the dancing flames and felt the warmth spread through her body.

“It's getting late, we should head back,” Warren said, placing his empty glass on the coffee table.

After thanking her relatives for such a magical evening, Megan slowly headed for the exit. Seeing her off, Alaric said, “Our doors are always open to you, girl. I'm very glad you came. Do visit us more often. We'll be very happy to see you!”

“Thank you for your hospitality and kind words, I appreciate it!” she responded with a warm smile.

In the moonless night, Megan could hardly make out the silhouettes of her companions. She liked this couple; the spouses were harmonious, kind, and sensible. With them, she felt comfortable and confident. Warren was open-hearted and sweet, never prone to sudden mood swings, and Glenn was gentle, empathetic, and always ready to help – they were comfortable in life and saw positivity and joy in everything. Wishing them a good night, Megan hurried to her room. Eagerly, she rushed to the window, flung it open, but there was nobody outside. She very much wanted to go to the hill, to wait for him there, but the fear associated with the risk of another attempt on her life held her back. She looked at the mantle clock – 10:10 p.m. He will definitely come, I just need to wait a bit longer, she thought.

The girl picked up the folder, flipped through the papers, but couldn't concentrate. Setting the documents aside, she started pacing back and forth in her room, like a tiger in a cage, once again confirming that there's nothing worse than waiting. She checked the clock again and was surprised to see it was only 10:35 p.m. It felt like weeks had passed. Once more, she approached the window, and her heart raced at the sight of a man's silhouette in a kilt. All her rational thoughts switched off instantly. Rushing out of her room, Megan flew down the stairs. Fortunately, she didn't encounter anyone in the hall. But a faint voice of reason, cutting through the thick fog of emotions, tried to caution her. She decided to take a knife from the kitchen so that she could defend herself if necessary. Tucking her acquisition behind the belt of her kilt and covering it with her cape, she left the castle. Looking around, she silently made her way to where she had seen the mysterious stranger.

He was standing with his back to her, looking towards the sea. The light from Megan's window illuminated his tall, beautiful, well-built, and sturdy figure. The Scottish outfit fit him impeccably. High black hose socks, a black kilt with a dark gray check pattern, a black jacket, over which a tartan cloth matching the kilt was thrown over the left shoulder. A black beret on his head blended with his black hair. To Megan, the man seemed mysterious, yet perfect. Walking quietly on the grass, she approached him, trying to get closer, unnoticingly. Her hands and legs were trembling. Overwhelmed with excitement and anticipation, only now did she start to realize that she was afraid, but she could no longer turn back. It was vitally important for her to find out who he was. An incredible force of attraction pulled her entire being towards this man. His appearance was mesmerizing. Just as she was about to touch the highlander's shoulder, he calmly turned towards her, as if he had always known she was there, just waiting for her to come closer. Megan covered her mouth with her hand in a silent scream. Her eyes widened with fear, but she couldn't look away from the stranger. He looked at her impassively and silently. Megan realized he was not going to start the conversation, and, summoning the last of her courage, she asked, “Who are you?”

There was a brief silence. He continued to look into her eyes without blinking.

“Derek. My name is Derek.” His face remained calm and serene.

She couldn't read any emotions on it, “Why do you come here in the evenings?”

He calmly replied, “I found out someone tried to kill you. By chance, I was here then. Now, I make sure that this person doesn't come back again.”

“But it wasn't you who saved me then. The man who attacked me was stopped by a bird.”

“After you lost consciousness, I carried you to your bedroom.”

“I figured it was you. But how did you know which room was mine?” Megan asked with some insistence. By this point, she had regained her composure, thus managing to control her trembling.

“I saw your reflection in the window before you left the castle. It's not hard to guess where your bedroom is based on the window,” Derek replied, still calmly and undisturbed.

“Where are you from?”

“I'm local, we're neighbors, you could say.”

“My name is Megan,” she introduced herself, slightly satisfied with his answers.

A faint smile touched Derek's lips – the first emotion since the start of their conversation. From the expression on the highlander's handsome face, it was clear he already knew the girl's name.

“Nice to meet you, Megan. Glad to make your acquaintance. Why are you outside at such a late hour? It's dangerous. The attack could be repeated, and I might not be nearby to protect you.”

“I saw you and decided to find out who you are, and what your intentions are by coming here.”

“Are you satisfied with your curiosity?” he asked, still with that slight smile.

“Not entirely. Why do you need to do this?”

“Do what exactly?”

“Protect me, for example. You say you come here to see if the murderer shows up again. Why do you need to do this?” Megan asked, shifting back to a more emotional tone.

He was silent for a moment before answering.

“You will find out in time. Now go home and go to sleep. That man is not nearby.”

“Do you know him? Who is he? And why does he want to kill me?” Megan asked anxiously.

“I don't know yet, but the time will come when everything will be clear.”

“I…”

But Derek did not let her continue. The tone in his voice changed, he said sternly and authoritatively, “Go to sleep, Megan!”

She did not dare to object. The command was so categorical and unexpected that she could not find the words to respond. At that moment, the cold and harsh expression on the man's face made it clear that he was not intending to continue their conversation. Megan silently turned around and walked back to the castle. Inside, she was seething with indignation: he had given her an order! And she had been too flustered to put him in his place.

Derek watched her until she disappeared from view. With a sigh of sadness, he turned back to the sea. He knew the girl would watch him from her bedroom window for a few more minutes, but he did not turn around.

* * *

Megan couldn't sleep. The Highlander's inexplicable behavior greatly troubled her. He was so strange, mysterious. One thing she knew for sure – she needed to talk to him again; learn more about him. And at the very least make it clear that it's not alright for anyone to speak to her in a commanding tone. The beautiful, inscrutable face constantly hovered before her eyes. She had never before felt such a passionate desire to kiss a man. A French kiss – yes, but to want to kiss, besides the lips, his cheeks, nose, eyes, forehead. This was new to her. She desperately wanted to press herself against his chest and drown in his embrace.

Megan finally stopped understanding what was happening to her. Knowing nothing about the man except his name, to experience such mixed feelings: anger and ecstasy, curiosity and passion. It made her doubt her sanity.

When the girl finally dozed off, the dream where a man whispered her name, standing by her bed, and then kissing her, unexpectedly resurfaced in her memory. And in the morning, she found the window in her room open. It was him, Derek! That's why his face seemed so familiar. Realizing all this, Megan sat up abruptly.

“So, who are you?” she whispered, puzzled.