A Highlander in Her Past Read Free Page B

much,” Nessa agreed.

Chapter Three
    Trish raised the battery-operated lantern higher, increasing the diameter of the glowing blue-white circle of light pushing against the darkness. She slid her feet in slow, searching steps, brushing the soles of her boots against the cluttered uneven flooring. Trish kicked aside odd-shaped chunks of debris from Ramsay’s blast earlier in the day. Hopefully, for the boys’ sake, Latharn would delay his return from Ireland. The man had a terrible temper when adequately provoked. He needed time to cool off before he witnessed all this damage and meted out additional punishment to his sons.
    “Dammit!” Trish stumbled back and lowered the lantern, revealing the jagged-edged block of immovable stone she’d just hit with her toe and whammed into the side of her knee. Latharn would tan Ramsay’s butt for wreaking so much destruction. Propping against the wall as she massaged the sting from her leg, Trish set the lantern atop the broken masonry. The glowing orb revealed the floor of the hidden tunnel leading to the scene of the crime was cluttered with various chunks of castle debris. Trish swallowed hard against the uneasiness drying out her mouth. Maybe Ramsay needed a good spanking. It was a wonder one of the children hadn’t been killed.
    The faint swish of a sweeping broom echoed with a hitching rhythm somewhere deeper in the darkness. Trish cocked her head and listened closer, smiling as the muffled sound of a child’s voice periodically interrupted the whooshing scrape of the broom. Nessa would tan the boy’s hide herself if she heard Ramsay using such colorful language.
    Scooping the lantern off the chunk of stone, Trish held it even with the level of her knees and concentrated on placing each foot in a safe spot among the wreckage. Geez, what a mess. How in the world did they expect an eight-year-old boy to clean up all this by himself? A soft popping hiss echoed through the tunnel followed by the distinct smell of sulfur.
    “Ramsay! I said ye were not to use your magic.” A deep voice shook through the walls of the tunnel, spilling stone dust down from the rafters.
    A trembling young voice quickly squeaked out, “Sorry, Da.”
    Trish couldn’t resist a smile. Apparently, Latharn didn’t have to return from Ireland to monitor his son’s progress with some sort of magical ward. Ramsay better tread lightly or Latharn would zap the boy’s mischievous little butt before returning from the emerald isle.
    The beam of light shining out from the lantern finally reached the end of the tunnel, revealing a black metal door barely hanging from the archway by a single bent hinge. White oxidation, as though the door had survived an extreme blast of heat, framed the edges of the thick metal slab. The gray-white scorch marks trimmed the inky black square like a border of ragged lace.
    Holy crap. Trish traced a fingertip along the ancient curlicues and intertwined whorls forming the endless Celtic knot welded to the center of the door. The signet of the ancient magical seal. Blown right off its hinges. Trish shook her head. Nessa was right. They had to get Ramsay under control.
    Trish inhaled a shaking breath. Ramsay was first born of Nessa and Latharn’s quadruplets. Not only had he always been the most stubborn, he was also the most gifted of the four in the ways of magic.
    Trish squeezed her way around the partially opened door, holding her breath as she moved to keep from brushing against its edges. The way the thing teetered against the one remaining hinge, it could crash to the floor at any time. Dammit, Ramsay. Trish brushed crumbs of stone dust from her hands and clothes then raised the lantern higher in the air. The rascally eldest son of the MacKay brood had always held a little tighter hold on her heart than the rest of the entertaining bunch. But this time, with all this damage, Trish doubted that she’d be able to sweet talk Latharn and Nessa into an early parole for the