Chapter One
It felt as if they’d gone back in time.
“He was born right here,” Janet said, pointing at the bed. “Isn’t it incredible? The old hall of the MacIntyres. Eight hundred years and just a few inches between us and the most famous laird of the clan. Andrew MacIntyre’s actual bedroom. I can’t believe I’m finally here.”
Beth glanced down at the guidebook again. She was ashamed to admit she knew almost nothing about the MacIntyre clan but then the most avid scholar would be put to shame compared to her mother. Janet Dagless had been obsessed with the MacIntyres ever since she found out that Andrew had married a Dagless all those years ago.
“They were the largest of the highland clans,” Janet said, seeing Beth's nose in the guidebook. “Did you know that? They had a lineage that went back way before the Norman invasion. Andrew was the last laird to be born here in the old hall. After his birth, they built a castle that still houses his descendants today.”
The castle was next on their list of places to visit. They were going to see if they could find any evidence of the Dagless family name in the archives of the clan library, if they ever got away from the old hall.
Janet continued, “We might actually be related to him? Distantly, of course, but still, imagine that. There might be a tiny bit of highland blood in both of us.” She stared again at the old bed. “Andrew was actually born right here. Amazing. What are you looking at?”
Beth realized her mind had wandered. She had been distracted by the ceiling. “It’s stone vaulted,” she explained. “Exactly how I’d have built it if I'd been around back then.”
“So what if it’s vaulted?”
“So it’s a domestic building. Not many could afford to vault them in stone. Must have cost a fortune. Good idea though. That way it’d be protected if there was a fire.”
“You and your architecture again. Your ancestor was born right here and all you care about is what the ceiling’s made out of.”
“We don’t know if we’re related to him yet, Mom.”
“Come on. How common is our surname? I bet we are. I wonder if the current laird would be willing to do a DNA test. Maybe we could ask him?”
“I doubt it.”
Janet looked at her daughter. “What if he’s single? I could hook you up with him.”
“How would that work if we're related?”
“I thought you didn’t believe we were.”
“It’s academic anyway, mom. I told you, I don’t want to get married.”
“And I told you I don’t believe you. Every girl wants to get married.”
“Not me. I’m happy being single.”
“Nonsense.” Janet sniffed loudly. “I can smell burning. Can you smell burning?”
Beth’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, I think I can.”
She turned to the bedroom door and was about to open it when her mother grabbed her hand. “Look, down there.”
From the gap under the door wisps of black smoke were drifting in, thin tendrils that slowly rose toward them as if trying to grab hold of them by the ankles. “Don’t open it, Beth.”
She crossed to the window only to find it was bolted shut.
“Can you break it?” Janet asked, grabbing hold of the locket around her neck, the same thing she did every time something worried her. On the day she’d been diagnosed, she didn’t once let go of the locket.
Beth examined the window. “It’s safety glass. Must be to stop anyone breaking in.”
“But we need to break out. It’s getting worse, Beth. What do we do?”
I don’t know, she thought, looking anxiously at the smoke as it began to fill the room.
It was supposed to be a relaxing trip to Scotland together. It was meant to help her mother get away from the endless hospital visits, forget about the diagnosis for a little while.
