Page 5 of Savage Blooms
“Yeah,” Adam said. “Whenever my mom finds something of my grandfather’s, she passes it on to me. I figured no one else would be interested in it.”
“Oh, I’m very interested,” the lord said, flipping the paper over as though confirming its veracity. And then, in a curious lilt that sounded to Adam like stories woven by a fireside, she read the letter aloud.
My Arabella,
It’s spring here in Michigan, and I’ve never seen sunlight so bright. It hits Lake Huron like a mirror, and fills your eyes with stars. The people in this part of the country are very friendly, and respect hard work and honesty. I think I might stay here, at least for a little while.
Last night, I dreamed of Craigmar, at Easter this time. I miss your mother’s lamb roast, and the bonfires your father built, but most of all I miss going on morning hikes through the hills with you. I wonder if I’ll ever dream of anywhere else.
I hope you’re keeping well, and I hope these letters aren’t inappropriate. But I suspect that you read them and that they make you smile, even if you don’t write back.
Yours always,
Robbie
Adam had read the letter dozens of times, but hearing it in someone else’s voice made a lump form in his throat. He would go weeks without crying over his grandfather, and then it would hit him all at once. He stared into the fire, willing the heat to dry his eyes before anyone noticed he was getting misty.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” the lord said, handing the letter back to Adam. She squeezed his shoulder before she moved away, an unexpected jolt of human warmth that startled him out of his grief. “I realized I never introduced myself. I’m Eileen Kirkfoyle. Arabella’s granddaughter. This is my land, and the fellow who was good enough to give you directions to the house is my groundskeeper.”
Adam’s shoulder burned where Eileen had touched him. It hadn’t escaped his notice that his grandfather’s letter could have been a love letter, and if Arabella had been anything like Eileen, Adam could understand the appeal of Kirkfoyle women.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Adam said, and he really meant that.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about my grandmother. She died before I was born. But I’ve lived here all my life, and my family keeps thorough hereditary records, so I still may be able to help you.” Eileen sat in the chair opposite Adam and Nicola, leaning forward with her elbows propped on the knees of her spread legs. There was something masculine in the way she carried herself, like a country gentleman trapped in the body of a lithegirl. “I’m always happy to learn more about my ancestors, or any of their friends. It seems like your grandfather and my grandmother were very good friends indeed.”
Finley appeared with a wooden tray laden with a pot of steaming breakfast tea, three china cups so well used the paint had started to wear away, a plate of fluffy halved scones, a jar of raspberry jam and a dish of clotted cream. Adam wondered idly if Eileen had any staff outside of Finley, but then hunger took over and he became distracted by getting as much scone inside his empty stomach as quickly as possible without eating like he had been raised in a barn.
“Adam’s playing it cool,” Nicola said, her pink tongue darting out to lap a bit of jam from her thumb. “But coming out here is all he’s been able to talk about for months. We’re very grateful for your hospitality and your willingness to chat with us. It’s exciting, to finally be at Craigmar.”
“You’re a very good girlfriend, traipsing all the way out here with your man,” Eileen said, smiling behind a sip of tea. “If I were you I would have made him leave me back at the hotel.”
“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend,” Nicola said, a blush blooming across her nose. She was always quick to correct anyone who thought they were together, which happened more often than Adam would have liked. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about getting with Nicola – he had thought about it an embarrassing amount, actually, when they were out together, or when they were apart, or when he was alonein bed at night – it was that getting with Nicola was out of the question. She was gorgeous, sure, and they were good friends, but they were a bad personality match in the long term. So Adam had never spoiled anything with a short-sighted hookup. “I’m just a friend along for the ride.”
“Suit yourself,” Eileen said, as though she didn’t believe Nicola at all.
Nicola looked affronted at these fighting words. Adam knew from experience that Nicola would box the ears of a frat guy who got too handsy, or yank the hair of a bitchy girl at a bar, and he hated to see what she would do to landed gentry.
“Nicola’s been a godsend,” Adam said, stepping in to diffuse the situation. “And she studies Scottish folklore—”
“As a hobby,” Nicola put in.
“You finished a whole medieval literature degree,” Adam corrected, refusing to let her downplay her intelligence. “Anyway, this kind of thing is very up her alley so I’m glad she came with me.”
“What a lovely turn of events,” Eileen said. “So, how may I be of assistance?”
“Any information you might have about my grandfather would be great. You never heard anyone in your family talk about a Robert Lancaster, did you?”
“I can’t say I did. Was he a guest of the family, perhaps? Or brought on the grounds to do some kind of contract work?”
“I’m not sure,” Adam admitted. “He never mentionedwhy he was here, or why he left. He just talked about it like it was something out of a book, like Avalon or something. It was special to him, I guess. He wanted to come back, there at the end, but he was too sick to travel. I promised him I would go see it for him instead.”
“Finley, you’ve lived here as long as I have,” Eileen said. “Does this ring any bells?”
“No, sir,” Finley said, hardly glancing at her. He was chewing on his thumbnail like something was agitating him, like he would rather be anywhere else but here. “I just manage the grounds. The comings and goings of the house have never been my family’s business.”
“When would your grandfather have been at Craigmar?” Eileen went on.
“I’m not sure about that either,” Adam said, face heating as he began to realize just how unprepared he was for this conversation. Had it been stupid, coming all the way out here with nothing but a story, a name, and hope? Was he wasting Eileen’s time? “Decades ago.”
