Page 40

Briar

I spread a blanket on the beach wall overlooking the harbor in Aberdeen. The uneven stones pressed into my thighs, their cold bite seeping through the blanket, a stark contrast to the warmth of the jacket Rory had insisted I pack when we left Australia.

It had been three days since I ran from Lorcan—each day a different city.

I missed home. I missed Amy. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I missed being surrounded by the O’Cillians.

My fingers fisted in the fabric as if by pulling it tighter, I could close the gap that had grown between me and everything I left behind.

The wind whipped around me off the harbor, throwing salt spray into the air as the waves pounded the shore. They mirrored my feelings—angry, relentless, and restless.

A man and his dog ran along the beach. Had I been home, the sight would have made me smile or laugh, echoing the carefree joy of man and beast enjoying their natural surroundings.

It reminded me I was running too, but not in the same way. I couldn’t tell if I was running from something or toward it. The more I learned about Lady Isobel and my history, the more I wondered how she thrived.

Yesterday, in Edinburgh, I visited the Palace of Holyrood House.

I walked through the Great Gallery, where, according to the paperwork in Cormac’s portfolio, Lady Isobel Lyon Blackcairn was introduced to society in 1806.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what a ball would have looked like in that era, how it would have felt to be presented to society.

Was she excited or angry to have her parents declare she was fit to be married?

I laughed to myself. My mother had never seen it fit for me to be married, reminding me I could do anything without a husband I could with one, including finding someone to warm my bed each night should I so choose. And if I didn’t, my bed was all mine without a husband.

I took a deep breath, allowing the salt to sting my throat. It was only then that I realized how much I missed the water. I longed to run into it and feel it lap at my feet, but something told me it would only lead to a wicked case of frostbite here.

I lay back and looked at the gray skies, adjusting against the stones poking into my back, listening to the crash of the surf.

It was staggering that, had Lady Isobel not been convicted, everything I had experienced in the past few weeks could have been a part of my life.

The weight of history pressed on my chest as I stared at the clouds.

I was chasing the ghost of a woman whose choices had shaped my fate in ways I was only beginning to understand.

My mother would have been proud of her and pointed out to me that we inherited her independent streak.

And, in my heart, I knew my mother would have been right.

When Lady Isobel was presented to society, her father had already arranged for a special order from King George III so she could inherit the Barony of Blackcairn—so she did not need to marry.

It seemed he wanted his daughter, his only child, to have the option of marrying for love, not for political gain or stability.

Did she fight for independence, or had she simply been born to the right person?

I closed my eyes, my chest feeling hollow as I thought of love, the love of a parent who arranged independence for his child.

And the love of a man who had embraced her independence, and loved her for who she was.

At least, that was how it went in my mind.

With so little aside from what was in the portfolio, I was free to fill in the details as I wished.

I could imagine a lover for her who aspired to be at her side every day—who made space for her—in a way Lorcan never had for me.

I pushed his name from my mind, clenching my jaw, refusing to give him any more time in my head.

I hadn’t even asked Amy if he had called again.

I didn’t want to know, and she didn’t volunteer the information.

I was better off lying here alone than pining over someone who didn’t want me.

Had Lady Isobel ever known such a sorrow?

I clenched my teeth together. Of course she had. Her husband had died. There was no greater sorrow than that. But her love must have been all-consuming in the end. She killed to avenge him—for what she felt had been murder. She risked being sentenced to the gallows for her crime.

And what reason would Lord Ashdowne have for killing Lord Aldric?

And if Ashdowne had been a vampire, how had he survived the daylight?

I closed my eyes, letting the parade of modern vampire theories drift through my mind, and couldn’t stop the sparkling smile from tugging at my lips because of the absurdity of some.

I ran my hands over my stomach, absently tracing patterns as my thoughts pulled me to the past. Would I ever find a love like the Duchess had?

One so consuming that I would be willing to risk everything—my entire life—because I lost it?

Would I kill for it? The idea of love like that—one that could ruin and remake a person in a single breath—both fascinated and terrified me.

I checked the time on my phone. I needed to head back to the port, so I made it to the ferry on time—just a few more places before I was on my way home.

Tomorrow was my last day in Great Britain before I went to Ireland and moved closer to Byron Bay.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up and gathered the blanket.

The walk back took about an hour, which left me just enough time to collect my suitcase from storage and make my way onto the ferry. The boat's sway pressed me into the recliner I sat in, the only accommodation I could book at the last minute. I would figure out where I was staying once I arrived.

Conversations between boarding passengers swirled around me while the scent of brine and diesel mingled in the air, a stark contrast to the crisp, clean wind outside.

I shifted, pulling a leg under me and trying to get comfortable.

I was looking forward to the crossing—to Kirkwall—and finding my family home.

Harrowmont Hall had been interesting, but it was not lost on me that Lady Isobel had married into the family.

The portrait of every woman who had looked down on me from the gallery walls hadn’t been someone directly related to me.

This was the part of the journey my mother would have relished—discovering where our family truly came from.

A woman sat down next to me, about my mother’s age.

“I can’t wait to get home,” she said, settling in. “It’s always good to see the family, but getting home feels just as nice.”

I ran my fingers over the armrest. “Yes, it does.” My heart stirred, knowing this was just a step in my journey, a way to find the fragments of my past that my mother had longed to see.

But they also reminded me I had no family to return to unless I counted Amy and our other friends. An emptiness gripped my stomach.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. Just an old woman’s rambling.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “That’s an interesting accent you have.”

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Australian.” The word felt out of place, like part of me always belonged here.

“And what brings you to these parts?” she asked.

The ferry gave a slight lurch, shifting the pages in the portfolio on my lap. I steadied it with my fingers, pressing down, afraid of losing the past again. “I’m looking into my family history.”

Car alarms echoed from the decks below us. She tilted her head, ignoring them. “And that brings you to Orkney?”

I nodded and pressed my lips together. “I’m descended from the last Baroness of Blackcairn. She was transported to Australia in 1813. I wanted to find our family home.”

The woman tutted and shook her head. “There’s not much to be found for that—and you won’t find it on Mainland.”

I drew my brows together, a prickle of unease in my spine. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone in Orkney knows about Lyons Hold and the Duchess of Harrowmont, the Baroness of Blackcairn.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “We know she did the right thing, even if the aristocracy wants you to forget about it.”

I grinned. “You think she killed a vampire?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she studied me, assessing whether I was worthy of the truth.

“We know she did,” the woman said firmly.

“The finfolk have lived around our island for years—one of the fairies, the Fae. You can’t believe in the pure light of the Fae without recognizing there has to be a corresponding darkness. ”

I pressed my lips together. “Vampires.” The word felt heavier on my tongue than it should have, as if speaking it out loud made it real. But regardless of all the stories, I knew they weren’t. Didn’t I?

The woman’s voice was low as she leaned forward as if sharing a secret.

“Pure darkness. Feeding on the blood of humans.” She sat back with a jerk, her voice returning to normal.

“Lady Isobel knew that. Even when she was sentenced to forfeit her titles, her people here never forgot her. I’m proud to meet someone descended from her.

We never knew exactly what happened after her sentencing. The history books just never kept up.”

My heart swelled with pride knowing I could fill in the end of the story for the kind woman.

“She became the governess for the Colonial Secretary, who had been recently widowed. After she had served seven years, she married him, and they started a family. Her last remaining journal was passed down to me. My mother was a historian—she always wanted to know more. But we couldn’t find anything because she had been erased from history. ”

“Yes, well, that will happen to the people who threaten the establishment, won’t it?”

“I guess,” I sighed. I leaned back in the chair as the ferry rocked beneath me. History pressed down, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just indulged some older woman’s conspiracy theory, or if there was a shred of truth to the tales.

The woman cleared her throat. “How do you plan on getting out to Wyre?”

I frowned. “I’m sorry?”

The woman chuckled. “Wyre—where Lyons Hold is. You’re on your way to Mainland. You’ll need another ferry to get to Wyre.”

My stomach twisted as people shuffled past us toward the dining room. “I thought… I thought Orkney was just one island.”

She shook her head. “No. But there is a ferry that will take you. You can get a cab from any hotel.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know that.”

“Just be careful of the faces you see wandering out here. Remember, the finfolk like to be left alone.”

I smiled. “I think I can do that. How do you know when you’ve found one of them?”

“They all have their coats. Coats they’re born with that grow along with them. They allow them to survive in the cold of the sea—to turn into the seals and play along the shoreline.”

The way she spoke, as if it were an undeniable truth, sent a shiver across my skin.

I wanted to dismiss it as local superstition, but something about it settled in my heart.

These tales swathed Lady Isobel’s story, making it hard to deny that at least she had believed them.

What had made her go mad like this? I hesitated.

“But certainly, some of the seals are just seals.”

“And some humans are just humans—and not vampires.”

A low groan vibrated through the ferry as the wind pressed against the hull. I glanced around the cabin, wrapping my arms across my middle.

The woman’s gaze never faltered, holding on to mine until I had to suppress a shiver. She tilted her head as if about to ask a question before settling back into her chair and closing her eyes.

I stared into the nothingness before me as the sounds around me fell quiet.

Passengers who wanted to roam or have dinner had made their way out of the cabin. The only ones left were like the woman beside me, whose chest now rose and fell with the quiet rhythm of sleep.

I bit my lips together. Some humans are just humans—and not vampires. I knew I had to accept Lady Isobel saw a certain truth in these stories, but did I?

I rubbed my thumbs on my biceps, drawing myself back to reality. It wasn’t unusual for aristocratic families to reuse the same names, so the fact that a new Cormac and a new Lorcan existed shouldn’t surprise me. An ache spread inside my chest as his name echoed in my mind.

The ferry lurched beneath me, and I caught myself on the armrest, my pulse hammering in my throat.

As much as I wanted it, there would be no rest on the ferry. I stood to make my way to the cafeteria, the woman’s odd story still churning in my thoughts.

I bit the inside of my lower lip because I knew the truth. It wasn’t her story that didn’t let my mind settle. It was my heart, the shadows of Lorcan, the knowledge that, as much as I tried to run from him, it felt like he would never be far away.