* * *
It was odd for me to be watched so closely in the place that had once been my childhood home. I stood nervously inside the familiar walls of my old bedchamber, twisting my head at every noise or possible footstep to make certain no other tourists or castle employees were headed in our direction.
“It sure looks good, Morna. You did a really good job of making the outside look like a bunch of the other old books here. Do you have another copy? I want to read it.”
A brief moment of terror filled me at the thought of Cooper opening the pages of my book and taking in the words inside. He understood far too much about everything already. The last thing he ever needed to read was every little—and sometimes scandalous—detail of my life.
“Cooper, if ye love me, ye will promise me to never, ever read what I’ve written. It is meant for someone else’s eyes, and those are not yer own. Do ye understand?”
While young Coop usually did the exact opposite of what he was told, I could see by the concerned look in his eyes that he cared enough about my plea to listen this time.
“Fine, but I know what that means. It means there’s the same stuff in this book as in the books that Mom used to read when we lived in New York. I bet you talk about kissing in there, huh?”
I could live with it if all Cooper thought was inside those pages was a little kissing. “Aye, Cooper. I’ll admit there is some mention of kissing within that wee book.”
“Yuck.” Cooper’s expression twisted into one of disgust, and he held the book away from him as if he worried the nearness of it might allow him to absorb the words. “You don’t need to say anything else. I promise to never read it. But can I ask you one more thing? Why did you want me to come?”
I laughed but didn’t argue the point with him. I had, in fact, not wanted him to come. If not for Cooper’s unexpected arrival at our home a week ago, I would’ve brought the book to the castle myself but, as was customary for Cooper, he’d been quite insistent on coming with me. Apparently, now that I’d given him a job to do, he felt needed enough to forget the previous conversation.
“I suppose I just thought that mischief is more fun in the company of others, and I know how good ye are at keeping a secret. I can trust ye to keep a secret, aye? Ye know how the others feel about my meddling. I doona wish to explain it all to them.”
If Cooper felt he had an important role to play in anything, he was sure to meet it head-on.
“Of course you can. Don’t you worry. How long do you think it will take for her to find it up here?”
I couldn’t be certain. I would no longer spell anyone to do exactly as I wished them to, but I would always point people in the direction I knew they needed to go.
“I hope not verra long at all. She’s here actually. In the castle at this verra moment.”
“Really?” Cooper’s voice rose several octaves in his excitement. “Can you show her to me on our way out? I promise I won’t say anything to her. Let’s just walk by her or something, okay?”
I was just as keen to see the woman in person myself. “Aye, fine. Now, hurry before someone finds us.” I paused and pointed in the direction of the small table next to a sitting chair in the corner of the room. “Ye see there? Lay it just there as quickly as ye can. Then we must be on our way. Magic works best if ye set it and then release it to do as it should.”
“Aye, aye, Morna. I am your humble servant, Pirate Cooper.”
“A pirate? Have ye moved on from dinosaurs then?”
Cooper’s voice, when he answered, sounded astonished and horrified.
“Move on from dinosaurs? Are you crazy? I don’t think I could ever do that. But a man has to have varied interests. It makes him well-rounded.”
I laughed at him and gently reached for his shoulder to steer him from the room.
“Right ye are, Cooper. Ye are a well-rounded young man, indeed.”
It was my every memory—my husband’s, as well—and I hoped that when the lass found it, she would treasure every word. Only time would tell.
* * *
“I think this one is my favorite, so far. There’s just a feeling to it. I don’t know what it is, really. Something magical about it, wouldn’t you say?”
Laurel turned and awaited Marcus’ response. She could tell by his glazed expression that her usually patient friend was losing his resolve to indulge her obsession with all things old.
“You’ve said that about every castle. Each one is more magical than the last, each new one is now your favorite. I’ll be honest, they are all starting to look the same to me—just one big blur of stones and crumbling junk.”
While many sites they’d visited over the last ten days had indeed been crumbling, Conall Castle in no way fit that description. Well-tended and magnificent, Laurel could all but see the castle’s history swirling around her—could almost feel the people who lived here before.
“That’s because they do keep getting more magical. I swear it. Especially this one. But you know, it may just feel that way because it seems like we are the only ones here. It’s lovely to have the whole castle to ourselves rather than bumping into other tourists around every corner.”
