A Celtic Lover's Magic

Professional Reviews

Excerpt

Liam Macauley stepped onto the dock. The riverboat dipped, and waves lapped against the hull. He gazed at the distant highlands where magical fingers of mist twined and writhed to obscure the Irish landscape of Boyne Valley.

He shouldered the small carry-on bag and wheeled the larger suitcase down the wooden dock. His legs protested each stride. Slowly, he adjusted to solid ground beneath his feet.

Liam tunneled a hand through his hair, scanned the deserted dockyard and spotted the lone taxi. For two days he'd traveled up river to reach this place, and the whole damn trip remained a mystery: an uncle he didn't know and an inheritance he'd never expected.

A raven screeched and flew low, almost slamming into him. Liam ducked. A sense of unease crept up his spine. The bird cawed, settling in a nearby tree.

Its golden eyes blinked as if mapping his every move. Liam eased the taxi's door open, his gaze locked on the bird. Dark wings flapped. The raven took to the air as Liam slid into the back seat. Expelling a ragged breath, he glanced at the taxi's driver.

"I assume you'll want to go directly to Macaula Mansion?"

Liam scrutinized the man. "Yeah. How did you know?"

The cabby smiled. "Let's just say I have my orders, sir." He shifted the taxi into gear and moved down the bumpy lane.

Unsure how to respond, Liam sat back in the seat. The countryside whizzed past. He relaxed, cranked the side window down, and breathed deeply of the fresh air and pungent pine aromaa drastic change from the smog and congestion of Los Angeles.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Your first visit to Ireland?"

"Yes." Liam laughed. "An obvious tourist, eh?"

The cabby's eyes glinted, and he chuckled. "Not at all." He veered the taxi down a winding lane, more rutted than the one they had left behind. The elevation rose with each turn, and the cabby slowed his speed. "Macaula Mansion straight ahead, sir," he said. Moments later, he braked to a stop.

Liam stared out the window. "God in Heaven," he muttered, disbelief shuddering through him. "What have I gotten myself into?"

The taxi rumbled over a wooden drawbridge and through an arched stone portcullis. "Did no one inform you that the mansion's an old keep?" The driver laughed.

Liam opened the door, fumbled for his bags and stepped out. "Noerrno, they didn't." He loosened a few bills from his money clip and stepped over to the driver's window.

"Cab fare's been paid. G'day, sir. Enjoy your stay." The cabby revved the engine and eased away.

Liam stared at the stone-faced monstrosity. The lawyer who had contacted him had revealed his inheritance over the phone: a thousand acres and a mansion. Not a damned keep. No wonder this Brennan Finney declined further detail. The guy probably feared he'd tuck tail and run.

Liam turned full circle.Damn!

Stone embattlements surrounded the grounds. He backtracked through the portcullis to the moat and searched the water. Did they even have gators in Ireland?

He noted the gate towers, north and south, scratched his head and snorted.

When will this blasted nightmare end?

He wheeled around. Mullioned windows, large and lifeless, stared back at him from a stone exterior. The surrounding grounds, a virtual self-contained island, streams gurgled, cutting a fierce path inward from the Boyne River filled the moat and supplied water to the inside.

Liam meandered up a heather-lined, cobblestone walk and lifted the brass knocker on the Gothic front door. Before he could make himself known, the door swung wide.

"Good day, sir. We've been expecting you."

A woman in a starched white uniform, her gray hair knotted tightly at the base of her skull, escorted him inside.

"Naal, at your service, sir."

She held out her hand, and he grasped it firmly. "You must be the housekeeper," he said.

She smiled. "Yes. Your room's been prepared if you'd like to rest and freshen up before dinner."

Naal moved to a narrow, circular staircase and paused. "The sleeping apartments are located on the second and third level, sir. The master bedchamber is on the third. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."

Liam's footsteps echoed in the tiled passageway. Ascending the staircase, he glanced upward at roughhewn beams, black with age, that supported the upper floors. The place was a fortress. He followed Naal to the second floor where a hallway led to many miniscule rooms. Stale air invaded Liam's lungs; he tugged at his collar.

"This way, sir." She continued up an even narrower staircase to the third floor, and the rooms expanded.

Liam breathed deeply. His mind whirled with an overwhelming sensation he'd been here before. He was certain nothing had changed in over one hundred years.

Naal opened a door to an elegant room with rows of mullioned windows that overlooked the courtyard. A massive fireplace graced an interior wall. His gaze settled on the large, four-poster bed against the opposing wall.

"Extraordinary," he breathed and raked sweat-dampened hair from his brow.

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