Until then, ye are nae to speak a word of the matter to Miss Ogilvy. Or to anyone else. Ye ken?”
“Aye, as ye wish, my lord.” With a huff, Ian collected his hat and walking stick, then stomped from the room.
Tipton remained at the door. Reaching his gnarled hand into the pocket of his black jacket, he withdrew a letter. “This just arrived.” He crossed the library and handed the post to Campbell.
The impression of a snarling wolf covered the letter’s red wax seal.
Campbell’s stomach dropped. “Did Bane deliver this himself?”
“No, my lord. He had it sent by personal courier.”
Bane never interfered with the goings on at Lycansay Hall. The shifters maintained their own section of Dundaire, just as the mortals ruled their lands, and the Lycans managed this lot.
Forgoing the brass letter opener resting on the desk, Campbell sliced open the note with his bare fingers. He scanned the letter. “Send word to Bane that while I appreciate his willingness to help in this matter, I can handle it myself. Also inform him that his clan of shifters, as well as the mortal laird and those of his estate, need nae worry.”
Tipton nodded. “As you wish, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No, save for greeting Miss Ogilvy, of course.”
Tipton offered a slight bow, then stepped aside for Campbell to enter the hallway. As he headed for the front door, the scent of rose wafted through the corridor.
Sarina.
Miss Ogilvy was already a problem for him, and she hadnae yet set foot on the grounds of Lycansay Hall.
Damn me to hell. He plucked a stray thread off his waistcoat, his pale hands stark against the blue damask. He needed to make a point of getting more sun, now that the worst of winter had gone.
Campbell eyed the open double doors leading to the front steps.
Remnants of a small moan, a noise he nearly didnae notice except for the slight rattle of chains that accompanied it, stalked the house.
Mariah.
A low rumble shook the tiled floor.
No man should have to harbor the secrets he kept in check, for everywhere he turned—upstairs, downstairs, below ground, even the damn walls that sheltered those secrets—there was a curse he needed to tend to.
Campbell glanced down; his gaze focused on the start of a small crack in the marble just to the right of his boot toe. “Calm yerself, Lycansay. Miss Ogilvy must nae be privy to our secrets. Especially, yers.”
The house stilled.
“Now that’s a good chiel.” Campbell lightly patted a section of plaster molding as he raised his gaze and smiled at the stone walls. Having a house that was a living, breathing entity was nae easily explained to visitors outside of those born in Dundaire.
A tick started at his jaw.
Mentally counting to three, Campbell let out a slow breath.
He prayed to God Lycansay Hall would behave during Miss Ogilvy’s stay. In the least, he didnae need a repeat of the violent behavior it had unleashed against her father.
Chapter 3
Dundaire offered a cold welcome as Sarina glanced out the carriage window, her gaze taking in the gray clouds looming over nearby Lycansay Hall. “Looks like rain,” she mumbled to herself.
“It does indeed,” Nevan said. “Though I do find it fitting.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“I know. You were talking to yourself, as usual.”
She pulled back from the window and slipped on the pair of white leather gloves she’d earlier stowed in her reticule. “What do you mean ‘as usual’?”
“In New York you often walked around the house talking to yourself. I surmise it’s a trait learned from Father. He repeatedly had conversations with himself. Especially when he shut himself away in that damn study of his.”
“Please tell me you did not spy on Father.”
Nevan offered a thoughtful stare as he leaned back on the tufted carriage seat. “I would not say I spied on the man. At least, not in an intrusive way.”
“All spying is intrusive.”
“I disagree. Especially since it wasn’t my fault.”
Sarina wasn’t certain she cared to know the details of her brother’s antics. But finding herself speaking with Nevan about something other than a macabre topic, was welcoming. “What exactly were you doing when you were not spying on Father?”
“I will need a minute to think on it, Sister, as it was not a onetime incident.”
Shock, coupled with fear, coursed through Sarina’s veins at the thought of Nevan having spent a great deal time in their father’s study. Alone. Exposed to God knows what. That cursed room had contained all manner of malevolent things, most