Day: February 19, 2008

 

Wintry November sunlight flooded the gray-blue Irish sky. Noticing a taxi pulling up to the marble stairs at the front of the Castle, Alanna Lacy peered out of the elegant bay window.

“Oh dear, visitors,” she sighed aloud.

Alanna felt rather weary, and wondered if she could get her maid Alice to lead this conducted tour. But something about the appearance of the tall, raven-haired man dressed in a thick dark shearling jacket over an expensively elegant black business suit intrigued her.

Alanna removed her apron and tidied her gown and hair briefly before going to meet the new arrival in the foyer.

Much to her surprise, she saw he was carrying two suitcases. She indicated for him to set them down beside her desk so that they would be safely out of the way.

“And where is Mr. Lacy, Mr. Marcus Lacy?” the man inquired briskly in a strong American accent. “I need to speak to him right away.”

Alanna went white with shock and fear. She stalled for time as she stammered, “H-he isn’t here at the moment. I handle all the Castle business. May I ask what you wish to see him about?”

“I’m not in the habit of discussing my business affairs with servants and underlings,” the man declared in a deep voice as he shrugged out of his shearling coat.

Alanna fumed at his curt dismissal. “I’m Alanna Lacy, owner of this castle, and Marcus’ wife. I am not a servant.”

The stranger looked her over again with renewed interest, but also with bemusement in his deep blue eyes, which seemed to assess her from head to toe with one all-encompassing glance.

Finally he said, “You’ll forgive me, Ma’am, but I believe it was an honest mistake. I thought your dress was a sort of uniform for working around Castle Lacy, to give the place an authentic feel. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Alanna looked up into the deep blue depths of his eyes as he moved closer to her to shake her hand. She said with a haughty lift of her chin, “It’s not a uniform, these are my clothes. You’ll find us very traditional and set in our ways around here. And the Victorians did have a point. These skirts and petticoats are heavy, but very warm, especially with our Irish winters.”

“Well, enough of the idle chatter about the weather, Mrs. Lacy. I need to speak to your husband regarding a business matter.”

She bristled even more at his abrupt manner. “Forgive me, but I don’t even know your name. Besides, I suspect that if my husband did have any business arrangements with you, it must have been quite some time ago, for he certainly hasn’t mentioned anything like that to me recently, and as I’ve said, I’m the owner of this castle,” Alanna said smoothly.

She led the way into the drawing room where there was a fire burning briskly in the grate, her mind whirring in panic. It must have been ages ago, for Marcus had been dead for over two years. Why was this man here? And now, of all times?

She decided to deal with this unexpected turn of events very cautiously indeed, and tried to assess the stranger by inviting him to stay to tea.

He accepted gratefully, and followed her into the drawing room.

“I’m sorry, I’m behaving rather impetuously, I know. Let me start again by introducing myself. I’m Bran Ryan, of the Ryan Corporation.”

He offered his hand, which she took tentatively. She almost yanked hers away again as the crackling power of the huge man in front of her seemed to shoot right up her arm, peaking her breasts and setting sparks running up and down her spine.

He stared at her for a moment as he clung onto her hand, then dropped it abruptly and cleared his throat. He tugged at his starched collar for a moment, squared his shoulders, and visibly tried to regain his composure as he stood staring down at her.

“As I was saying, er,” he stammered for a moment, “I own the Ryan Corporation in New York. I know I really should have telephoned, either from New York, or at least from Shannon Airport, but I had business over here, on the Continent actually, and I really wanted to come see Castle Lacy for myself first, before saying anything to you or your husband.”

“Saying anything?” she echoed blankly.

“Well, one look up the long drive told me it was like a fairy tale come true. If you don’t mind putting up with me for a couple of days, Mrs. Lacy, I think we can come to some sort of business arrangement.”

“And just what sort of business are you in?” Alanna asked him politely.

“Tourism, the same as yourself, only on a much larger scale. We have safari parks, resorts, amusement parks, all sorts of sites where people go to be entertained. Your husband approached us to see if we would be willing to develop Castle Lacy.”

Her heart lurched in her chest. This could be the answer to all her prayers, or her worst nightmare. “Develop it in what way, exactly?” she dared to ask, just managing to keep her tone even.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” he admitted, looking around him admiringly. “You’ve got a vast and historically important house here, but also a huge amount of land. Maybe a safari park, like Longleat in England. There would even be enough land left over for a small amusement park as well. I have all the figures here in my briefcase. But I need to take a look at the place for myself in person before I come to any definite conclusions,” Bran said in a very business-like manner which told her this was a man accustomed to always getting exactly what he wanted.

“I’ve seen the deed to the estate, the extent of the property, but I would need to see the landscape for myself first before committing to such a huge project.”

Alanna’s feelings swirled inside of her, so that she could hardly think clearly. This man was here to buy Castle Lacy. To set her free of all the problems she had had ever since the family fortune had dwindled, and Marcus had died.

She didn’t like the sound of the safari park one bit, but she couldn’t afford to chase him away just yet. Not without allowing him to consider its possibilities, and maybe make an offer.

But Alanna didn’t want to appear to be too enthusiastic or eager either, in case he took advantage of her desperate position, which was why she also decided for the present not to tell him that Marcus was actually dead.

“Well, Mr. Ryan, I must say that you’ve come a long way, and at a great deal of expense to see us. But I’m afraid my husband is very busy running the estate at the moment, and as I said, he leaves all the business decisions to me.

“May I just say though, that he never mentioned you to me, but a Mr. Cheevers in New York, I believe, with whom he had gone to school. Do you represent this Mr. Cheevers?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I bought his smaller company from him about three months ago. I found the correspondence between Cheevers and your husband in the files. Admittedly the letter was dated from some time back. You may have changed your minds since, or had other offers, but you’ll forgive me if I observe that it must be quite a place to manage and keep up, especially for a girl as young as yourself.” He smiled then, rendering himself even more devastatingly handsome to look at.

Alanna wondered if he thought flattery would help him, for she was twenty-five, and felt anything but young. Indeed, she felt washed out and plain in her old-fashioned black homemade dress, and often longed to wear something more fashionable and cheerful. But her father had insisted she remain in mourning for Marcus, as though he had been some saint. Or as if he had been the one and only love of her life and she would never marry again.

As the maid brought the tea things in, Alanna heard herself say, “Alice, can you prepare the blue room for Mr. Ryan? He’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

She knew she was letting herself in for all sorts of problems, not least financially, for they were always so poor that scrimping and saving was a full-time job. But the temptation of selling the house, of escaping from this mausoleum, filled her with renewed hope.

Alanna became quite animated over tea, and more than once she and Bran laughed together like old friends as they chatted about Bran’s journey from New York. He told her all about the Big Apple, and she described the countryside around her home enthusiastically.

“We have a number of stately homes in the area, and a great deal of woodland. It’s excellent country for riding, farming, and rearing sheep and cattle.”

“I imagine it must be, but I detect a hint of bias in your voice, Mrs. Lacy. Were you born around here, or did you marry into the area, so to speak?”

She blushed under the intense scrutiny of his dark blue eyes. “I was born here. Apart from studying in London for a time, I’ve lived here all my life.”

“My ancestors are from Ireland, as you can no doubt guess from the name. I’ve lived in New York all my life. But now that I’m getting older and wiser, I find myself longing for a change of pace,” he said candidly.

Then he looked away from her to stare out of the window moodily, almost as though he feared he had given away something too personal.

Seeing his hard, wary look, Alanna simply sipped her tea in silence, and waited for him to finish his cake and cheese sandwiches. She noted that he had stopped eating so heartily as he had been a moment before. No doubt a powerful businessman like him must have many worries, she reflected, curious about his life despite her fears.

It was not simply her concern over him discovering the truth about Marcus being dead. She wondered why she was continuing to maintain the pretence of her husband still being alive.

In the end, she had to admit that Bran Ryan frightened her. He seemed to exude a raw masculine power which filled the whole room, almost suffocating her. He was so tall, broad, well-dressed, sophisticated, so, so, physical… The one touch of his hand had been seismic in its impact on her whole body. Her only consolation was that he seemed to have felt something unusual too.

“Whenever you’re finished, Mrs. Lacy, I should like a tour of the house.”

Bran’s voice broke into her reverie, and she stared at him absent-mindedly for a moment.

“Oh, yes of course, the house. If you’re ready?”

Bran nodded and rose from the sofa.

She hurried from the room before his nearness grew too overwhelming. Show him what he wants, settle on a price, then get away from him as fast as you can, she counseled herself inwardly as she led him to the grand staircase. He’s far too dangerous, handsome…

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Castles in the Air
Evelyn Trimborn
ISBN: 978-1-58345-026-0
Word Count: 75,000
Order Now: $3.99

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