her own eyes. The prophecy was a lie, after all!
But before Aurelia could argue, the whirling iridescent cocoon surrounded her and caressed her, lifted her so high that she could not even feel the weight of her father’s hands, let alone see the troubled blue of his eyes.
She could not leave him! She would not leave him!
But Aurelia was to have no choice. She faintly heard the clash of steel on steel, she struggled to join the fight to defend Dunhelm, but felt herself swept away. She could see nothing but thousands of shimmering lights dancing all around her.
And then Aurelia knew no more.
* * *
Chapter One
Dunhelm Castle
March - present day
The thorny brambles had no chance.
The hedge clippers Baird had borrowed from the groundskeeper were fiercely sharp and he wielded them with characteristic determination. The brambles, though, refused to surrender without a fight. Baird had never seen brambles grow so big, so tangled or so robust.
They must be ancient, like everything else at Dunhelm Castle.
Another massive thorn bit at him and Baird cursed under his breath. No wonder the groundskeeper had refused to clear this corner! Talorc could blame local superstition but the truth was that he was just avoiding a miserable job.
It was raining this morning, as it had rained every day since his arrival at his new holding, but the light drizzle didn’t bother Baird. He was getting used to Scotland’s wide variety of rains, as well as the national refusal to let poor weather change plans for the day. After all, the skies could change in the blink of an eye.
What wasn’t changing was the way Baird felt at Dunhelm, and he wasn’t having an easy time getting used to that. He felt as though nothing else mattered in the world except Dunhelm and his being here.
Baird felt at home in the old ruins.
For a man who had never had a home, who had been certain he never wanted one, and who had always made a point of not settling anywhere for any length of time, this was more than unusual.
It was downright weird.
Baird meant to put a stop to Dunhelm’s strange effect on him, and he was going to do it today.
Dunhelm Castle - or what remained of it - occupied a jagged point of an island dropped into the misty gray of the North Sea. Although the grass was as level as a bowling lawn where Baird worked, rocky cliffs fell unevenly to the crashing sea beyond the encircling stone walls. There was a beach on the east side of the peninsula, though the wind was cold enough to flay the skin of anyone foolish enough to swim there.
All around Baird were the walls, the crumbled ruins that once had been towers and halls and kitchens. The wind from the west whistled through the ruins, and at dusk, the castle seemed alive with whispers of forgotten times. Baird did not consider himself an imaginative man, but Dunhelm seemed to pulse with the heartbeats of all the people who had lived here over the millennia.
He wondered whether it was the age of the place that entranced him. Certainly, he had never owned anything a thousand years old. And he couldn’t think of any other reason why one sight of Dunhelm had been enough for him to make his decision. It was almost as though he recognized the castle from some long-forgotten dream.
But that would have been irrational and Baird Beauforte was a supremely logical man.
All the same, from that very first glance, Baird had known that this was the property for Beauforte Resorts to establish its toehold in the European market. He told himself that this was finely honed instinct at work, an understanding of the market based on years of experience. A logical recognition of opportunity.
But even to Baird’s own ears, that claim was beginning to ring hollow.
One thing was for sure - Baird had never felt such satisfaction in signing his name to the contract that would make a property his own.
It was good that he was so committed to this place, for Dunhelm was the largest renovation
But before Aurelia could argue, the whirling iridescent cocoon surrounded her and caressed her, lifted her so high that she could not even feel the weight of her father’s hands, let alone see the troubled blue of his eyes.
She could not leave him! She would not leave him!
But Aurelia was to have no choice. She faintly heard the clash of steel on steel, she struggled to join the fight to defend Dunhelm, but felt herself swept away. She could see nothing but thousands of shimmering lights dancing all around her.
And then Aurelia knew no more.
* * *
Chapter One
Dunhelm Castle
March - present day
The thorny brambles had no chance.
The hedge clippers Baird had borrowed from the groundskeeper were fiercely sharp and he wielded them with characteristic determination. The brambles, though, refused to surrender without a fight. Baird had never seen brambles grow so big, so tangled or so robust.
They must be ancient, like everything else at Dunhelm Castle.
Another massive thorn bit at him and Baird cursed under his breath. No wonder the groundskeeper had refused to clear this corner! Talorc could blame local superstition but the truth was that he was just avoiding a miserable job.
It was raining this morning, as it had rained every day since his arrival at his new holding, but the light drizzle didn’t bother Baird. He was getting used to Scotland’s wide variety of rains, as well as the national refusal to let poor weather change plans for the day. After all, the skies could change in the blink of an eye.
What wasn’t changing was the way Baird felt at Dunhelm, and he wasn’t having an easy time getting used to that. He felt as though nothing else mattered in the world except Dunhelm and his being here.
Baird felt at home in the old ruins.
For a man who had never had a home, who had been certain he never wanted one, and who had always made a point of not settling anywhere for any length of time, this was more than unusual.
It was downright weird.
Baird meant to put a stop to Dunhelm’s strange effect on him, and he was going to do it today.
Dunhelm Castle - or what remained of it - occupied a jagged point of an island dropped into the misty gray of the North Sea. Although the grass was as level as a bowling lawn where Baird worked, rocky cliffs fell unevenly to the crashing sea beyond the encircling stone walls. There was a beach on the east side of the peninsula, though the wind was cold enough to flay the skin of anyone foolish enough to swim there.
All around Baird were the walls, the crumbled ruins that once had been towers and halls and kitchens. The wind from the west whistled through the ruins, and at dusk, the castle seemed alive with whispers of forgotten times. Baird did not consider himself an imaginative man, but Dunhelm seemed to pulse with the heartbeats of all the people who had lived here over the millennia.
He wondered whether it was the age of the place that entranced him. Certainly, he had never owned anything a thousand years old. And he couldn’t think of any other reason why one sight of Dunhelm had been enough for him to make his decision. It was almost as though he recognized the castle from some long-forgotten dream.
But that would have been irrational and Baird Beauforte was a supremely logical man.
All the same, from that very first glance, Baird had known that this was the property for Beauforte Resorts to establish its toehold in the European market. He told himself that this was finely honed instinct at work, an understanding of the market based on years of experience. A logical recognition of opportunity.
But even to Baird’s own ears, that claim was beginning to ring hollow.
One thing was for sure - Baird had never felt such satisfaction in signing his name to the contract that would make a property his own.
It was good that he was so committed to this place, for Dunhelm was the largest renovation
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