Our Celtic Awakening - Flynn’s Journey: A Magical Erotic Thriller by GK Grayson & Peter G Johnson

Author:GK Grayson & Peter G Johnson [Grayson, GK & Johnson, Peter G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oakview Publishing LLC
Published: 2022-04-13T23:00:00+00:00

13 / Conflict

“Can I help you?” I heard Flora ask as she opened the door.

Only two days had passed since our session with Joshua. Aiden and I seemed to be closer than ever, yet there was an edge to us now. A promise of change that was morphing in all directions. Neither of us knew where this was going.

I had just finished my daily library cleaning and cataloging, now almost halfway done, when I heard the conversation at the door.

“We want to speak with Mr. Walsh.”

I stepped up, looking at them. “I’m Mrs. Walsh. May I help you?” They were gruff men in workingmen’s clothes. Seemed very determined.

“We need to speak with the Master of the house,” one insisted.

“Please come in,” I said, exchanging a look with Flora while pointing them to the living room on the first floor. I asked Flora to go upstairs to get my husband.

It was clear neither of us knew what they wanted. Maybe labor relations? Wanting a raise from the new owner? Something told me that wasn’t it. I had been around the grounds for the last two weeks. I saw none of these men. No, that wasn’t it.

More unsettling was the stern look on their faces. Hard looks. They came prepared for tough conversations. And clearly weren’t afraid to offer hard responses. They declined my offer of tea or more substantial drinks. No, these men did not come to socialize.

Aiden walked down the steps, offering a hand in greeting. All the men stood as he entered the room. None of them took the offered hand. Aiden looked at me. ‘Okay…’ inviting them to take a seat. They did.

“What have you done with them?” One man said.

“And by ‘them’ you mean…” Aiden looked at me. Genuine puzzlement. No clue that look told me.

“The stones. What have you done with the stones?” Another said.

“Stones? I’m sorry gentlemen,” Aiden said. “I need you to be more specific. We have done little construction on the property since we arrived. Has a consignment of stones gone missing?”

“Don’t be cute with us, Yank. Just because you come here from America doesn’t mean you can dismiss us out of hand.” I could see Aiden’s back stiffen at that one. Even after being in America for 20 years, he still spoke with a clear accent. He was not a ‘yank’ and they knew it. That term was thrown as an insult.

I stepped up, trying to quell the growing tension. “I’m sorry, gentleman, but my husband is right. You are talking in such vague terms, we do not know what you are asking.”

One man stood up, a much older man. Had to be in his late 60s at the earliest. “My name is Alec McIntosh. My daughter, Blair McIntosh, was the companion of Lachlan some years back, then suddenly disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” I said. There was no mistaking I didn’t know to what he was referring.

“Hers was not the first disappearance from Walsh House. I tried to warn her when she started going out there, but she wouldn’t listen.

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