Page 6 of Savage Blooms (Unearthly Delights #1)

CHAPTER THREE

Nicola

By the time Adam and Nicola had retrieved their bags from the car and changed into clothes that weren’t rumply and musty from the road, it was past five, and Nicola’s stomach was grumbling.

The granola bar she had put away at the hostel that morning was gone, and so were the scones from tea, so Finley heated up that venison pie after all.

It tasted rich and dark and perfectly gamey, with a pastry crust so flaky Nicola wanted to paint it and capture its beauty.

When Finley passed her a plate in the library where they had all agreed to take dinner informally, his warm thumb brushed the delicate skin of her inner wrist.

Nicola expected Adam and Eileen to lose themselves in theorizing about their intersecting family histories over dinner, but Eileen didn’t seem in any rush to get down to business.

She made casual conversation instead, absolutely delighted with every new detail about Adam’s graphic design business and running club, or about Nicola’s work as a florist’s assistant who spent her nights writing yet-to-be-published fantasy books for children.

Eileen didn’t even eat that much, just sipped a fresh glass of whisky while she listened, rapt, to the mundane details of Nicola and Adam’s lives.

Finley had taken his dinner with them, but stood by the sideboard while he ate, as though allergic to getting too comfortable.

He kept finding excuses to linger, polishing the grandfather clock or clearing dishes, and he didn’t say much, but he certainly listened.

Nicola caught his eyes on her more than once, and she caught herself admiring the outline of his strong forearms and the painfully romantic curls of his hair more than that.

She wondered if it would be poor form to hit on her host’s only staff member. She wondered if Finley might like to be hit on.

It wasn’t that she was totally incorrigible when it came to her freewheeling desires, it was just she liked meeting new people a lot, and that flirtation (and sometimes even a friendly hookup) was her favorite way to get to know them.

But now, with the sun setting outside behind storm clouds that refused to dissipate, Eileen turned at last to the matter at hand. Her picked-at venison pie sat forgotten on the coffee table as she nestled her chin in her palm in thought.

“What exactly did your grandfather tell you was out here, anyway?” she asked Adam. “Anything interesting besides old masonry and sheep?”

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Adam said, studiously putting away the last of his pie. Adam might be skinny, but he sure could eat.

“Try me.”

Adam set his plate down and gathered himself.

“The story changed every time. He said it was the final resting place of knights, that there was all sorts of treasure buried beneath the house, that it was a gathering place for witches… Just stuff to help a kid fall asleep. But he did seem to think that there was something special about this place, like it had some sort of weird energy.”

“I can certainly attest that Craigmar is weird,” Eileen said, tucking her feet underneath her in the armchair. She was curled up like a cat, boots forgotten by the fireplace.

“How so?” Nicola asked. She always had an affinity for strange stories, ever since she was a little girl scaring her foster siblings with creepypasta recitations.

It didn’t matter if it was ghosts or demons, faeries or aliens, angels or headless horsemen, Nicola loved it all. The older the tale, the better.

“I won’t bore you with specifics, and I’m afraid most of the stories aren’t very happy,” Eileen said, treating Nicola to her undivided attention.

It was a bit intoxicating, like a full snifter of brandy on an empty stomach.

Eileen really was beautiful, in a way that felt brutal and unforgiving and yet effortlessly chic.

“I was happy growing up here, but it’s true that many Kirkfoyles have faced hardship within these walls, and some have even died at Craigmar.

This region used to be lousy with Kirkfoyles, but now I’m the last of my line.

My own parents drowned in a boating accident just offshore when I was sixteen. ”

“Gosh, I’m sorry,” Nicola said, heart constricting. She couldn’t imagine losing every family member you had since she had never known her mother or father to begin with, but she certainly knew what it felt like to be alone in the world.

“That’s life for you,” Eileen said, unbothered. “But that reminds me. Adam, I want to show you something.”

Eileen rose to pull a large clothbound book from one of the shelves, then slotted it into a stand atop the massive oak desk by the window.

Nicola had barely noticed it before, but now she saw clearly that it was the sort of desk that stayed in a family for generations, the place where land treaties and marriage contracts and death certificates had probably all been signed.

Eileen turned the pages of the book with delicate pinches between her nails, which were painted with pearlescent lacquer.

“Come over here,” she said in that rich voice that left no room for argument.

Both Adam and Nicola rose immediately, and shot surreptitious looks at each other as they approached the desk. Somehow, without ever raising her voice or making a single demand at all, Eileen had them both on short little leashes already.

Finley watched intently from the fireplace, no longer pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

Nicola stepped closer to squint at the pages of the book, close enough that she could feel both Adam and Eileen’s body heat as they leaned in with her.

Eileen spread her fingers across a list of names rendered in ancient calligraphy.

“These are my family records. All the offshoots of the Kirkfoyle clan, small but proud though we be. Here’s my father, and his father’s father. And here I am.”

Eileen pointed at her name. Eileen Elizabeth Kirkfoyle, born twenty-seven years ago, not a sibling to speak of. Only five years older than Nicola, and in control of a title and land.

“And this,” Eileen said, flipping back a few pages to tap at a name, “is my grandmother.”

“Arabella was an only child too?” Nicola asked.

A shadow passed over Eileen’s face.

“Yes. We don’t birth many children in my family. The women tend to experience… complications.”

“Born in 1960, married in 1977, died 1981,” Adam read aloud. “She was only twenty-one.”

“Every family has its tragedies,” Eileen said, somewhat ominously.

Adam might have been completely convinced of Eileen’s affectation, but Nicola had hung out with enough theatre majors to know when someone was putting on an air.

Eileen’s dreary dramatics were a bit studied, a bit like what she thought might be expected of her.

But maybe there was an honesty to that as well.

“That’s all I know about her. My father never really talked about his mother.

I’m sure you can understand why, seeing as she died suddenly when he was two.

Arabella’s husband, my grandfather, didn’t last very long after she was gone.

He was an out-of-town sort, not built for Craigmar.

Died of a broken heart, they say. Pulmonary hypertension, I say. ”

“Do you think it was your grandmother that invited my grandfather out here?”

“Probably,” Eileen said, flipping the book shut.

“But we won’t know for certain unless we find evidence of him here.

Lucky for you, my family has always had too much time on our hands.

We keep meticulous records: genealogy, photographs, letters, guest books, all of it.

You’re welcome to look through whatever you like tomorrow. ”

Adam looked slightly winded. Even Nicola had to admit the offer seemed lavish.

“We don’t want to make you go through all those boxes,” she said. “Maybe you can point us towards a local library or something?”

“Kirkfoyles are private,” Eileen said with a sly smile that made Nicola feel melty inside in that scared-confused-sexy way she liked so much.

It was like Eileen was the cat watching Nicola the songbird out the window, dreaming of devouring her whole.

“You won’t find any of my family records in town. ”

“What will it do for you?” Finley asked. It was one of the first things he had said since dinner, and when Nicola glanced back at him, he was giving Adam a strange, heavy look. “When you find what you’re looking for?”

Adam looked right back at him, weighing him up with that masculine appraisal that Nicola had come to learn meant two boys were about to fight, or aggressively shake hands, or, less frequently, disappear together into a dark back room at a party.

“I’ll know myself better,” Adam said. “And I’ll know my grandfather better, and maybe then I’ll be able to move on.”

It was one of the most honest things feckless, freewheeling Adam had said this whole trip. Finley stared him down for a moment more, then nodded and dropped his gaze as though in submission.

“This is an opportunity for both of us,” Eileen said, grasping Adam’s shoulder. “I never knew my grandmother, and you knew your grandfather so well you can’t let him go. We could discover so much about them, together. How lucky that you found your way to my doorstep.”

“It is,” Adam said, gazing at Eileen with a high color in his cheeks and light in his eyes.

He looked more alive than Nicola had seen him since his grandfather died, which pricked at her just a bit.

She might not be a mysterious rich weirdo who lived in a castle, but Adam was lucky to have found her, too.

“So it’s decided!” Eileen said with the brisk, single clap one might use to summon a hunting dog. “You’ll stay the night, and get some rest, and have a hot shower. Then tomorrow we’ll all get our hands dirty with a little research. Finley, you’ll help too.”

“There are fences that need mending,” Finley said, sullen. Was Nicola imagining it, or did he seem bothered by whatever electricity was crackling between Adam and Eileen too? “Bushes that need pruning. And I’ve got to feed the dogs.”

“Then go home and feed them tonight and come back tomorrow with a shining attitude,” Eileen said. “For now, I think we should all get a good night’s sleep. You’re probably exhausted from all this unexpected excitement.”

Nicola wanted to protest that it was still early in the night, that she could stay up for another hour of talking or another cup of tea or even a glass of Scotch, but now that she thought about it, she really was bushed. Adam, similarly, had a road-weary glaze in his eyes.

“You’re probably right,” he said. “You tired, Nikki?”

“Kind of,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“I’ll show you both back to your wing,” Finley said. “The house is confusing if you aren’t used to it. Lots of twists and turns.”

Adam and Nicola took their leave of Eileen, thanking her profusely for the umpteenth time, then followed Finley up a flight of stairs that seemed entirely different from the one they had taken earlier that day. It was as though the house had been designed to confuse visitors.

“This is you, Adam,” Finley said, stopping at his door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Adam said, then looked at Nicola awkwardly. Why was he suddenly acting like he didn’t know how to say goodnight to her, like they hadn’t done this every night on the trip so far?

“Sleep tight, don’t die,” she said, prompting him with their customary send-off.

“Sleep tight, don’t die,” he responded, then stole one more glance at Finley before shutting himself away in his room.

Finley gave a small smile once the door latched. The expression softened his face considerably, giving him a boyish quality. Tiny, weathered sun lines showed at the corner of his eyes, the only indication of his age.

For a minute, Nicola forgot how to speak.

“My room?” she managed, barely half a sentence.

“Around the corner and three doors down,” Finley said. “And a word to the wise: the manor can be disorienting at night. I suggest you stay in your room unless it’s an emergency.”

“Got it,” Nicola said, fully aware that this was the part in the conversation where she should say goodnight.

She opened the door to her guest bedroom and Finley lingered a polite few feet away as though making sure she could operate the light switch.

He was only three or four inches taller than her, just the way she liked best, and he smelled like pine and woodsmoke.

“Anything else?” she asked.

For a moment it appeared like he wanted to say something more. But then, he just nodded.

“No. Pleasant dreams.”

“You too,” Nicola said, feeling a bit deflated.

With that, Finley was gone, leaving Nicola alone in the darkened room.

In the resulting quiet, she could hear the manor creaking and settling, like a living, breathing thing.