I have always told you that to see the unseen, first you must feel them.”
Her mind was too overwhelmed to start thinking in a new way. “Just leave the teeth, Nevan.”
“I have. I’ve placed them with the other forty.”
“The teeth were here all this time?”
“You were right in one thing, Sister. I should never have accused Lord Lycansay’s staff of stealing my teeth. It was Tacitus who was trying to reassemble them. He just was not capable of taking them all at one time.”
“Why would Tacitus take your teeth?”
Nevan blew out an exasperated breath. “He died in wolf form and his body was dismembered by his men so that he would never return to this earth. Over the years he slowly reclaimed his bones, but not his teeth. Because my grandfather took, but he did so only because he thought he could reunite them with the rest of Tacitus’s body. He died before being able to do so.”
She was never going to get used to having Nevan for a brother. He was way too intelligent for her to ever understand. “It’s time we leave.”
The floor shook.
Sarina searched the darkness, pulled Nevan against her.
A growl emanated through the chamber.
Wolf.
She clutched Nevan close and slowly backed up. “Don’t fear it, Brother. I have you and will keep you safe.”
“Fear what?”
“The wolf.”
“But Tacitus would never harm me.”
Sarina wished she could believe Nevan, but wolves, especially ancient ones with a grudge, were not known to be kind to humans.
A wet snout nuzzled her hand.
She froze. And held her breath.
Light flooded the chamber.
Sarina squinted. In front of her now stood a tall, muscular legionary, at his side a beautiful woman.
Tacitus and Mariah.
The door to the chamber reopened.
Campbell charged in and skidded to a halt. “Holy Saint Andrew.”
Mariah smiled at them, tears flowing down her flawless face. Behind her stood a line of many spectral beings.
Sarina surmised these were the ghosts of Mariah’s descendants who had already passed on. “She’s with her family.”
“Aye,” Campbell said.
“And don’t forget Mother,” Nevan added.
“And Elsbeth.” Sarina’s eyes clouded with tears. In all her four-and-twenty years did she think monsters could turn out to be something good. But at Lycansay Hall that was the exactly the case.
Epilogue
One year later…
Lycansay Hall
Dundaire, Scotland
Sarina sat on the settee, her hand resting gently on the pink silk gown covering her protruding belly.
“Ye are making me verra nervous, wife,” Campbell said, lowering himself to the seat next to her.
“It is not my fault your little wolf is taking her time to come out, husband.”
Campbell tweaked her nose, then planted a kiss on her lips.
She loved having her family together. And she loved living at Lycansay Hall, now that she and the house had come to an agreement about its grumbles and little tantrums.
Across from her, Ian shifted in his chair, the silver buttons of his blue waistcoat shining bright in the morning sun cutting across the room. “What makes ye believe ye are having a girl?”
“My brother,” she said.
Nevan looked up from the desk, peeled his attention away from the small wolf he was carving out of a hunk of oak. “That’s correct. I know for fact my sister is having a girl.”
“About time we had another woman in this house.” Tipton said, entering the library. He carried with a tray filled with small cakes.
“I agree,” Nevan said. “There are too many of us men lurking about, that it’s time my sister had a female companion.”
“Bairns are nae companions.” Ian reached for one of the cakes and popped it into his mouth.
“Even so,” Nevan continued. “I can’t wait to show my niece around Moonfell Abbey.”
Ian nearly choked on the sweets stuffed in his mouth. “What was that?”
“Moonfell Abbey, my new home.”
“Since when did that cursed place become yers?” Ian’s eyes went wide.
“Ever since I learned my mother had a niece right here in Dundaire. Her name is Octavia Lovegrove. And she’s been keeping the house in my stead. It was left to her and my mother.”
Ian’s hand trembled. “She’s a witch.”
“I know,” Nevan said. “And a very good one, too. She’s been teaching me about poisons and potions. And Tipton has been helping me test the poisons right here at Lycansay Hall.”
Ian frowned. “She’s also a damned Sassenach.”
Tipton appeared at Ian’s side, a teacup and saucer in his hand. “Do you have a problem with Sassenachs, Mr. MacHendrie?”
“No…well…maybe…”
“Tea, Mr. MacHendrie?” Tipton waited for Ian’s answer.
Sarina tried her darndest to stifle the laugh rising in her throat, but she failed. Miserably. “I assure you, Ian, Tipton will