Chapter One
The curse returns
Lyongate Hall
Northern Scotland, early autumn 1822
Lucian MacRae stood before his bedchamber window, his entire world crashing around him as he stared out at the night-blackened vastness of the North Sea and the equally dark heavens. He could have stayed there forever, and would gladly do so, but that wasn’t possible. Not now, or ever.
Nor was he alone…
“Tell me again, Budge. I would hear it all, every grim word,” he said, speaking to the house steward behind him. The man who’d interrupted his sleep with such horrid news.
His father’s shocking end, then the damning discovery that his uncle, long thought to have been living a happy life in ever-hot and sunny Jamaica, was also dead.
Buried in Lyongate’s stableyard, a dirk between his ribs.
Lucian pulled a hand down over his chin, breathed deep of the night’s cold, briny air. “You are certain there’s no mistake?”
“Aye, sir. ‘Tis just as I told ye.” Budge’s voice, known to Lucian since childhood, echoed in the large room.
How odd that, to Lucian’s ears, the old man sounded as if he spoke from a place more distant than the moon.
“I still cannae believe it.”
“Aye, they’re both dead enough,” Budge confirmed. “Your father breathing his last in his carriage, still down in the gorge, as it was when found. Men are bringing him home now. They’ll haul up the carriage in the morning, by daylight. I’ve had others ride off for the sheriff, and your doctor.”
Budge hesitated, noisily clearing his throat. “Your uncle…”
“He’s been recovered?” Lucian’s gut tightened, bile rising in his throat. “Where is he now?”
“The men laid him out in the stable. Some of the women are seeing to him, then…”
He’ll be brought into Lyongate’s chapel, properly mourned and put to rest.
The unspoken truth hung between them as Lucian stood like stone before the window to the sea. Behind him, the sound of Budge shuffling his feet seemed louder than the pounding of the waves on the rocks below.
“The lassies will need a while,” Budge said. “He wasn’t in a good way. They’re facing grim work. Nae task for…”
Lucian kept his gaze on the sea. He wasn’t surprised when the aged steward couldn’t finish.
He also knew why Budge hovered on the threshold rather than coming into his bedchamber.
The room was no longer just Lucian’s. Thanks to one villainous act and the crash of a carriage, his bedchamber was now the privy sleeping quarters of the new Black Lyon and Laird of Lyongate Hall, and as such…
Tainted.
Perhaps not so vile as the more lordly, top-most tower chamber where his father slept, or had. But he’d be damned if he would ever set foot there again. Nor would anyone else beneath his roof. That would be his first edict as the new Black Lyon.
If his mood worsened over the coming days, he might even order the room burned.
At the least, he should have it emptied and scrubbed. Or perhaps he’d simply lock the door, leaving the detritus of a twisted heart to the ravages of dust, grime, and time.
In truth, he didn’t know what to do.
He did know he was appalled.
His head throbbed just thinking of his poor uncle’s end. Did he even know? Was he dirked in his sleep?
