Page 9 of The Castle of Carnal Desires

Durell appeared beside me, his claymore brandished but still incorporeal.

The body of a decapitated fox lie at my feet, a pool of rapidly congealing blood matting its fur. On the next step down was the animal's head, its eyes glassy and its tongue flaccidly hanging from the corner of its mouth. The next step down held a message in spray paint: “leave or die slut.”

I heard Durell curse in Gaelic. “Come away lass. This is a vile act. Ye should call the McTavish lads.”

I nodded numbly and stepped back into the house. There was blood on my toes, and I didn’t know if I had cut my foot on the glass or if it was the fox’s blood.

“I saw a man skulking around the castle, and I went out to scare him off. He was lightin’ a glass bottle filled with alcohol. I took a good slice at him with my sword, but I’m sorry ye had to see that.”

I just shook my head, and then I realized it wasn’t just my head that was shaking. “I’ll fix this in the morning. I’ll call the police tomorrow. I just want to go back to bed.”

I don’t remember getting to my room.

I walked over to my bed, but I felt a hand on my shoulder. I screamed and spun but it was just Durell.

“Aili, ye need to get the glass out of ye foot,” he said slowly.

I stared dumbly down at my foot and then back at Durell, before limping to the ensuite. I found a first aid kit under the sink and opened it, finding some disinfectant and tweezers, and a few adhesive bandages. I couldn't work out how I was going to remove the glass from my own foot. Durell was looking anxiously at me from the doorway.

“Let me.” He came over to where my foot was propped on the toilet seat and took my heel gently in his warm hand. He picked up the tweezers and removed the slithers of glass, dropping them down the drain. He wiped it with a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic and I sucked in a pained breath. He did the same with the other foot, and then ignoring the adhesive bandages, taped on fresh pads of cotton with medical tape. I looked down at my patched-up feet and gave him a watery smile.

“Thanks.”

Durell just grunted something and bent down to scoop me up. When he was full corporeal, he was as warm and hard as a living man. His chest moved as if he were breathing, and I could feel the steady thump-thump of his heart in his chest. I could feel the roughness of his woven shirt, and the slight itch of his kilt where it rubbed against my ankle.

He laid me gently on the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. Seemed as if he was always tucking me in.

“Are ye sure ye should not call Derek?” His thick brows hung low over his eyes, his brow knitted in concern.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get them out of bed at this hour. Besides, it wasn’t even a very original threat.” My bravado was forced and didn’t seem to fool Durell for a second, but he let it go.

“So be it, Lass.Oidhche mhath.”

“Goodnight, Durell.” He placed the lantern next to the bed, set on low, then turned to leave. As I watched him retreat, panic began to claw its way into my gut.

“Wait.”

Durell turned from the door. “Aye?”

“Could you just stay with me for the night? You don’t have to, I’m fine. It’s just…”

Durell nodded. “Aye, Lass, I’ll stay.”

I shuffled over on the big bed and patted the mattress. “Come sit over here. But don’t go getting any ideas.” I waggled my finger at him, a small genuine smile curving my lips.

Durell laughed. “I’ve already got you in my bed, lass.”

“This was your bed?” I looked at the carved wolves head at the top of the four posts, and the intricately carved horizontal beams. It was very masculine now I studied it; it would fit Durell well.

“Aye, this was my quarters.” He sat next to me, but the bed didn’t sink. I was getting used to him being a ghost; I now thought of him in the same way I thought of Harris and Derek, and the workmen. But sometimes the little things still shocked me. Like when I put my hand through his accidentally, or he just appeared out of thin air.

“Sorry. Were you mad when they set this room up for me?”

Durell shook his head and grinned. “I am nae upset to have a bonnie lass in ma bed.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Spending most nights hanging out together had really brought Durell out of his shell. He still defaulted to sad and broody, but sometimes when he was feeling cheeky, I could see why he’d bedded most of the farmers daughters in the surrounding area. He could be charming, and attentive. And his smile was the sexiest thing this side of the Atlantic.

“Are you upset that we are turning your home into a hotel made for sex? Do you feel like the townspeople do?”

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