Page 4 of The Castle of Carnal Desires

Oh, there were a few exceptions. The local florist all but hugged me when I told her that I wanted to stock the hotel’s flowers exclusively through her, and the quantities I would need every week. I could see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes. She was a young woman, with a shock of frizzy brown hair and really pale white skin. But her designs were exceptional. I was prepared for a backwater florist who was a hundred years and then some, but Catherine’s arrangements had been clever and edgy. Perfect for the needs of the hotel.

But the florist had been one of the few victories of the day. Everywhere else I had garnered nothing but anger and indignation.

The bakery said they were too busy to be the pastry supplier, although there were only two customers who came in the whole time I was there. The antiques dealer flat out refused to sell to a “purveyor of smut”, but I had a feeling he’d come around when he understood just how much money I was willing to spend.

I didn’t let their initial anger perturb me. In my experience, not many people can keep their high and mighty morals in the face of cold, hard cash. Once they knew just how much the hotel would add to the local economy, they would soon turn the other cheek, so to speak. The definite low light of the day was meeting what I would easily dub as “the enemy”.

I was talking to the owner of a quaint little cheese and provadore shop that was close to the edge of the main shopping district. You couldn't have surprised me more to find such well stocked gourmet food market in such a tiny town. But the owner, an older, weatherworn woman named Elisabeth, happily told me that she and her husband made the cheese themselves, and she made the condiments, jams, chutneys and other jarred goods from old family recipes. I was in love with Elisabeth and her shop. She was a balm of warmth and friendliness after the cold shoulder I had been receiving all day. The shop looked and smelled wonderful, with soft lights that reflected off of polished wooden racks which held wheel after wheel of cheese. Best of all, she was happy to supply the hotel, if they could manage the order volume.

“The cows can only give so much milk before they dry up,” she laughed, and I laughed too, although I’d never milked or been anywhere near a cow that wasn’t on a plate in my life.

She seemed to know Derek quite well, and he flirted outrageously with the elderly lady, who blushed like a teenager, but gave as good as she got.

The little gold bell above the door tinkled, and Derek turned from flirting and his brow instantly knitted.

“Uh oh,” was all he said, and I turned around.

Another older woman entered the shop, though she was obviously a few years younger than the cheese shop’s proprietor. Elisabeth smiled warmly, though her eyes didn’t sparkle the way they had been a moment before. I went on high alert.

“Eugenie, tis a pleasure. Come in to buy Gavin a wedge of his favorite blue?”

The woman, Eugenie, nodded tightly, and Elisabeth hustled behind the counter to cut and wrap the order. Then she turned her evil eye to Derek.

“Where are ye manners, Derek McTavish? Aren’t ye going to introduce me to ya friend? I’ll have to phone ye mam to have a word about ye poor manners when I get home.” The woman looked me over with disdain, and I was sure she knew exactly who I was. My hackles rose, and I saw Derek’s jaw tense.

“Eugenie Sinclair, this is Aili Gowan. She is overseeing the creation of the new hotel at Dun Durell. Aili, Mrs Sinclair is the head of the group ‘Save Fulcairn’, which is protesting the building of the hotel.”

If I ever met the ever-patient Mrs McTavish, I would shake her hand, because Derek seemed to physically hold himself from calling Eugenie Sinclair a bitter old hag, though it seemed to cause him some pain. If that wasn’t the epitome of good manners, then I didn’t know what was.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Sinclair. Please feel free to come and visit me anytime so we can discuss your concerns. Maybe over some of Ms. Elisabeth’s fine cheese.” I smiled winningly, but the woman scowled back.

“I wouldn’t step foot in ye dirty sex castle for all the Queen’s jewels,” she spat. “My concern, as ye so mildly put it, Miss Gowan, is that ye and yourAmerican,” she said it like it was a cuss word, “boss have bought one of our historical sites and are importing deviants from god-knows where to run rampant in our town. I won’t stand for it, and by the time I am through with ye, ye’ll run back to that hillbilly camp ye call a country with your tail between ye wanton legs!”

With that, the woman turned and left, slamming the door. I stood there gaping at the level of hate that a perfect stranger had just spewed at me. I realized I was trembling a little and stuffed my hands in my pockets.

I gave Derek and Elisabeth a crooked smile. “There’s always one in every town.” Derek looked down at me with concern, so I attempted a bigger smile. “Not to worry, I expected resistance. Is she part of a church group?”

Ms. Elisabeth shook her head. “No, Eugenie isnae part of the church committee, although she does attend regularly, and a lot of them are part of her little lynch mob. No, Eugenie Sinclair’s family have lived in this town, almost since its founding. Hers was one of the few families that survived the great massacre of Dun Durell. She is wealthy beyond our imagining and likes to think she is the queen bee around Fulcairn, better than the regular folk.

“So, when ye boss came in and bought Dun Durell, and couldn’t be run off with finely worded legal letters or money, well Eugenie took it personally. I don't think it matters that the hotel is going to be for those of more, er, particular tastes. Ye could have been just a normal hotel, and Eugenie Sinclair would have protested it.” She looked down at the piece of wrapped cheese in her hand. “She forgot her cheese. Here, ye have it. I find a good cheese can take your mind off even the worst problems.”

I tried to give her some money, and she waved it away. “Consider it a sample, or a welcome present.” I thanked her and bought some thin wafers, which I insisted paying for, and Derek and I left.

“I’ve never had an arch-nemesis before,” I whispered conspiratorially as we walked toward my car. Derek laughed.

“Ye’ll have to get in line, I’m afraid. My mam has hated Eugenie Sinclair from back when they were wee bairns and Eugenie threw sand in Mam’s hair and called her coo face. My Mam still brings it up every time Eugenie does something that irritates her.”

“Coo?”

“Ye ken, coo.” He put his fingers in the shape of horns and mooed.

“Oh, a cow,” I laughed. I liked Derek and Harris’s mother already. “So, she’s always been a rude old b..witch. Glad it isn’t just me.”

“No, lass. Eugenie Sinclair has spent a long time burning bridges within the town, but she has a lot of friends, too. And people generally like her husband Gavin. He’s the local schoolmaster, and he's of a grumpy kind, but he isn't as unbearable as his wife. She had the money and made it known to the world that she was marrying beneath herself. She must have some good traits though, because he stayed with her for nigh on thirty years. Between Eugenie and their no-good sons, I would have skipped the country if I were Gavin Sinclair.”

Now, as I stumbled into the darkened kitchen, dodging tools and building materials, the gloom reflected my feelings. My first full day had been a disaster. Everyone hated me, except the stupidly attractive twins that I wasn’t allowed to touch, although I’d caught Derek looking at me with hungry eyes more than once during the day. I wasn’t too offended, I’d mentally undressed him several times myself.

If only my own lust was my worst problem. But no, I also had a ghost and the castle was crumbling down around my ears. It was literally like being in the dark ages.

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