In Death 29 - Eternity In Death by J.D. Robb

Author:J.D. Robb [Robb, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

She was back in the five-star hotel, which had been built over Conal’s gravesite. She was once again standing in front of the tapestry.

The voices of their tour and guide had faded away. The only sound to break the stillness was the tread of footsteps on the highly polished wood floor.

A man approached, surrounded by a halo of light. When she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from it, he lowered the flashlight away from her face. “Sorry.” The voice was deep and cultured, with a hint of Scottish burr. “We’ve had a power failure, but only in this wing, apparently. An electrician is already working on it. Looks like you got separated from your tour group. They were ushered to the dining hall in another wing of the castle. Lucky for you, I thought I’d make certain no one was stranded in the darkness.”

Couldn’t he see that she’d been crying? Wasn’t he wondering about the bloodstains on her clothes?

Laurel glanced down at herself and realized that she looked exactly as she had when all of this adventure had begun. Her slacks and shirt as neat and tidy as if she’d only now put them on.

But not quite.

He pointed the flashlight toward her sandal. “Is that blood? Have you injured yourself?”

“It happened…” She wondered how she could possibly explain to him all that had occurred, when she couldn’t even explain it to herself. “It happened some time ago.”

“Are you certain? I assure you, if you’ve been harmed in any way, I’ll make it up to you. As the current owner of MacLennan Castle, it’s my duty to see to even the most minor of inconveniences.” She peered at him in the dim light. “You’re the laird?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “That’s what I would have been called in earlier times. Now I’m just plain Conor MacLennan, the eighth Earl of Heath, and Lord of the MacLennan Clan. Just a fancy way of saying I’m the innkeeper. And you are…?”

“Laurel Douglas.” “Laurel.” He lifted the flashlight to her face. “That’s a special name in our clan. But I’m not surprised. With the light that dances in those eyes, you could be our very own mountain laurel, freshly picked from the Highland hills. We wear the laurel as our heraldic badge.” He pointed the light to his lapel pin in the shape of a laurel leaf.

His words, so like those spoken by another, had her head spinning. To settle herself, she reached out and touched a hand to the wall.

And then she thought of Conal’s words as he lay dying:

I will be always with you, my love. Until the end of time. And beyond.

Oh, Conal. You kept your word.

“I beg pardon. Did you say something?”

Laurel studied the way he was dressed, in a navy blazer and gray pants, the collar of his white shirt open at the throat. “Just thinking aloud. I’d have expected the lord of the castle to wear a kilt.”

“I do, for formal occasions.

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