Forevermore Read online

  Logan’s gaze locks onto mine. “Aye. If you trust her, then I will as well.”

  Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches toward his arm. “Thanks —”

  And it slips right through him.

  “Oh, shoot,” I say, and jerk my hand back. “Sorry about that.”

  The glimmer in Logan’s eyes brightens. “It’s all right,” he says, his raspy voice quiet. “Doesna bother me.” Then he inclines his head toward my violin. “Will you play now?”

  Settling my violin against my chin, I pull the bow across the strings and start the new melody. It comes easy.

  And while I play, the ghost of a murdered boy watches me. When did my life become so crazy?

  Home from school the next day, I dash up the stairs. Logan is waiting at the second-floor landing.

  “Hey,” I say, grinning.

  “Hey yourself,” he responds, mimicking my Charleston drawl.

  “Very funny,” I comment as we walk to my room. “I spoke to the headmistress today about the Strings festival entry and I filled out forms, so I’m all set. She wants to hear the piece I’m working on.”

  “No doubt she’ll fancy it.”

  I give him a smile. “Thanks.”

  My heart skips a beat as we stand there, eyes locked.

  “Okay,” I say, and I notice how the grin on Logan’s mouth spreads. “Well, let me change out of my monkey suit.” I glance down at my school uniform. I had worn the black pants today.

  Logan chuckles. “I’ll be right here,” he answers, and leans against the doorjamb. “Although I’d fancy seeing a monkey in a suit.”

  Shaking my head, I shut the door. Just as I cross the room to my armoire, my cell phone vibrates. A text message. It’s Serrus.

  If you’re up to it, come to the Munro Tower House today. My cousin Ethan’s wife Amelia will be around. 4pm? I’ve already texted Emma and she can come.

  Excitedly, I respond.

  Totally up for it. Thanks!

  I start to think about what I want to ask the Munros. Change clothes, Ivy, I remind myself. Once I do, I call to Logan.

  “Aye?” he asks as he appears.

  As I power up my laptop, I answer. “That Munro I met at school? He just invited me and Emma to come over and meet his cousins.” As I talk, I Google Amelia Landry. Several pages appear, and I choose one that’s an interview with a local paper.

  “What are you doing?” Logan asks.

  “I’m looking them up online,” I answer. “Munro’s wife is a famous author.” I grin. “I want to be prepared when I meet them.”

  “I have seen this strange machine of yours before,” he says, leaning over my shoulder and staring at the screen. “I dunna think I can decipher all the words. My mum had started teaching me how to read, you know. Before.”

  I look at Logan. “I’ll pick up where she left off, if you like,” I offer. He smiles and nods, and I read out loud from the Highlands Gazette. “‘Amelia Landry-Munro is a bestselling American author of multiple works of fiction. She is married to Laird Ethan Arimus Munro of the Munro clan in the Highlands of Scotland.’”

  Amelia’s website is listed, and I click the link. It’s a beautifully designed site, with lots of scrollwork and castle art. There’s a picture of her most recent book, called Enchanted Love. I read the book’s description aloud.

  “‘An American girl deep in the Scottish Highlands stumbles upon an enchanted tower house and its enchanted inhabitants, in the form of fourteenth-century Scottish warriors. She fights to help end the curse that has bound them as spirits for hundreds of years — and to keep her heart intact as she falls in love with one of them, a fierce knight.’”

  An American girl in the Scottish Highlands? Spirits? This story hits a bit too close to home.

  “I’ve gotta get that book,” I say, and glance at Logan. He raises one dark eyebrow and grins.

  “Fanciful stories of love and enchanted knights? I’m no’ too sure that will help solve the mystery o’ my death.”

  I laugh and continue checking out the website. “You never know, Mr. Doubtful.” I click on Amelia’s photo gallery. Several selections show her at book signings and conferences. “Wow,” I say. “She’s really pretty.”

  “Aye,” Logan answers, peering closely.

  I’d elbow him, if I could.

  Then I see a photo of Amelia and a huge guy. His arm is wrapped protectively around her shoulders. The caption reads Amelia, with her laird husband, Ethan Munro. They’re standing in front of an enormous tower castle.

  I gasp as I get a good look at the laird.

  “No way,” I mutter just as Logan mutters, “Och, damn.”

  Laird Ethan Munro has dark hair, light skin, a square-cut chin, and very unusual pewter-colored eyes….

  Though he’s older than Logan, the resemblance is uncanny. Logan and I stare at each other, silent for several seconds.

  “You look just like him,” I finally say. “It’s … weird how much you look alike.”

  “Aye,” he answers. “Mayhap we’re kin after all?”

  I scroll through the rest of Amelia’s picture gallery. One photo in particular stands out — it’s Ethan and his kinsmen. Six men in all.

  “They’re … so huge. Like, linebacker huge,” I say.

  “What’s linebacker?” Logan asks.

  I chuckle. “Football guys. Not soccer. American football.” I shake my head. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” I study the Munros. “There’s something just not … right about them.” I shake my head and peer closer. “Something different. I can’t put a finger on it.”

  “Like what?” Logan asks, staring at the photo.

  I shrug, reading their names in the caption. Ethan, Rob, Gilchrist, Torloch, Aiden, Sorely. A lot of the names sound very old-fashioned.

  Then I notice the time in the right-hand corner of the screen. “I should go,” I say, grabbing my coat. “I’m going to ask Jonas if he’ll drive me over.” I open the door, then spin back around toward Logan. “Are you coming?”

  Logan presses his hand over his heart. “You wound me to think otherwise.”

  As I step out into the hall, I almost plow over Trudy, the young maid, carrying a load of clean towels. She glances behind me, then behind herself.

  “Are you speakin’ tae me, then?” she asks.

  I’m not very good at lying, so my cover-up is awkward. “Oh, are those for my bathroom?” I ask, pointing at the towels. “I’ll take them in if you like.”

  Trudy doesn’t look like she’s buying it. “Eh, no,” she says. She stares at me as though I have a horn growing in the middle of my forehead. “That’s okay, gell. ’Tis my job.”

  “Well, thanks,” I say, continuing as though nothing is wrong. But Trudy’s eyes remain on me until I disappear from sight.

  “I’m no’ sure she believes you, Ivy,” Logan says. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  Pinching the metal tab on my down coat between my fingers, I yank the zipper all the way up. “Tell me about it. It’s why I hardly ever even try. Let’s find Jonas.”

  He’s easy to find. In the kitchen, going over menus.

  “Hey, Jonas,” I say. “Do you think you could drive me somewhere?”

  “Sure, Miss Ivy, where to?”

  “To the Munro Tower House.”

  “I’ll take her, Jonas,” Niall cuts in, strolling into the kitchen. He and Mom are heading off on another drive today, to see yet another property. “Her mother and I are aimed in that direction anyway.”

  I turn to my stepfather. “Thanks, Niall. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “No bother, Ivy. Are you ready to go now?” he asks.

  “I am, yes,” I answer.

  Niall turns when my mom walks in. “Love, we’re going to drop Ivy off at the Munros’.”

  Mom breaks out into a smile. “More new friends, Ivy? That’s wonderful!”

  I wonder if she’d feel differently knowing that these friends might be relatives of a gho
st.

  We all head outside and climb into the Rover. Logan materializes beside me in the backseat, and I try hard not to look at him and smile. But the moment the car starts moving, Logan disappears. One second he’s there, the next, gone. Turning my head, I glance around, and through the back window I see him, standing in the drive.

  What the heck? Why did he get out? I almost want to tell Niall to stop the car so I can jump out and run back to Logan, but I know he and Mom would be concerned for my mental health. So I sigh and try not to worry about Logan.

  Instead, I pull up Serrus’s latest text on my phone. I tell Niall, “Here’s the address —”

  “Och, no need, Ivy. I know the Munro house,” Niall says. “We’ll be there in no time. Now, what is it that interests you there?”

  “Well,” I say, and I hardly know what else to say. “One of the kids at school is a Munro,” I answer. “I thought it was kinda cool that his cousin is an American author. So he asked if I wanted to meet her.”

  “Right. Ethan Munro’s wife. Nice lass,” Niall says. He glances at Mom. “I meant to tell you, Julia — Lady Amelia is from Charleston, too.”

  “Oh, how interesting,” Mom says. “Ivy, do you know of her?”

  “Not until now,” I reply. I glance out the window, and over my shoulder, but there’s no sign of Logan. Where is he?

  Finally, a little more than thirty minutes east, in the dead center of the Highlands, we come to the long drive leading to the Munro Tower House. Ancient stone, gray and blackened with time, rises from the mist sliding across the ground. It looks even older than Glenmorrag, and even spookier, if that’s possible.

  Niall pulls around a gravel drive and stops at the front steps. Serrus and Emma are already there, waiting outside the front doors. Emma comes straight over. She’s looking in the Rover, and all around. I know she’s searching for Logan. We all get out and I introduce Serrus to Niall and Mom.

  “How ya doin’, Yank?” Serrus says to me.

  I give him a grin. “Same ole, same ole,” I answer, and he chuckles.

  That’s when the massive, double-hung oak doors swing open and the six giant men I recognize from the photos online step out into the fading dusk. They stand in a huddle, arms crossed over bulky chests, legs braced to support their weight.

  “Looks like Munro could have his own rugby team,” Niall says with an impressed laugh. “Big lads.”

  “They are indeed,” Serrus says proudly.

  And they really, really are. I immediately pick out Ethan Munro.

  He looks even more like a grown-up version of Logan in person. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow past it. I have to make myself not stare at him.

  “Och, MacAllister,” Ethan says, stepping forward and extending a hand. “Good of you tae visit.” He glances toward Serrus. “I see you’ve met my wee cousin.”

  “Aye,” Niall says, shaking Ethan’s hand.

  Ethan nods toward the other men. “My brothers, Rob and Gilchrist, and cousins Aiden, Sorely, and Torloch.”

  The men all give a nod.

  Niall drapes his arm around Mom’s shoulder. “Munro, this is my bride, Julia. I told you about her, as you recall?”

  Ethan lifts Mom’s hand and kisses the top of it. “Pleasure, Lady MacAllister. Welcome tae Scotia.”

  I watch as red stains my mom’s cheeks. It’s almost funny.

  Until the laird turns his attention to me. Not so funny anymore.

  Ethan Munro’s mercury gaze lights on mine, and I fight the urge to look away. He towers over me. “You must be Ivy. Serrus has told me about you.” He extends that huge paw of a hand to me, and I take it in as firm a shake as I can muster.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer.

  “Ah,” Ethan says, his eyes softening. “You’ve the accent of my beloved bride, Amelia. You hail from Charles Town, yes?”

  I smile and glance at Mom. Charles Town is the old name of my home city. “All my life, until now,” I answer.

  “MacAllister, you and your lady will stay and visit for a while?” Ethan asks.

  “Och, this time, nay,” Niall answers. “We’re on our way to oversee a pub I have the mind tae buy. Next time, mayhap?”

  “Aye,” Ethan says. “Good trip to you, then.”

  “Cheers,” Niall says to Ethan. “We’ll pick you up on our way home, Ivy,” he says.

  I thank him, then kiss Mom good-bye, and watch them get back into the Rover.

  “Let’s go inside, then,” Ethan says.

  We all file in. Emma crams against my side.

  “Where is he?” she whispers in my ear.

  “Still back at the castle, I think,” I whisper back, and Emma frowns. “Don’t worry,” I assure her. “He wants to meet you, too. Halloween probably.”

  Every one of Emma’s teeth shows as she grins.

  “Sae, cousin,” Ethan says. “I see you’ve swayed another lass tae tolerate your company, as well.”

  “Aye, so it seems,” Serrus responds with a chuckle. “This is Emma.”

  Ethan shakes her hand, too, and she looks at me and mouths, He is so hot.

  I hide a smile with my hand. Emma is so crazy.

  Ethan leads us to the great hall. A large fireplace occupies one wall, and the blaze snaps and sizzles. There are two leather sofas, several chairs, and recliners, too.

  “Take a seat, Ivy, Emma,” Ethan suggests. “Amelia is finishing something in her office. She’ll join us shortly.”

  Emma and I sit in two old-looking chairs, covered in mossy-green velvet. Serrus plops onto the arm of Emma’s chair.

  “Sae, how are you finding our country?” Ethan says, sitting across from us. The other men find various places to perch, listening closely. The room seems to grow smaller with all those Munros in it.

  I take a deep breath. “Fascinating. I’ve gotten very interested in the history and people of the region. I was even wondering if you knew enough of your family history to trace back to one … person in particular.”

  Ethan and the others stare at me, waiting.

  “A boy,” I continue.

  One of Ethan’s eyebrows lifts, along with the corner of his mouth. So much like Logan …

  I try to gather a little more courage. “His name is Logan Munro. He was born in 1833 and died when he was eighteen.” I meet Ethan’s gaze. “I … think he was murdered.”

  Ethan strokes his chin. “And where do you get such information, lass?” he inquires.

  Silently, I stare at him, refusing to tell him the truth. I can’t. He’ll think I’m insane. Or will he? “I’ve just … heard, is all. Rumors from the staff at the castle. I’d like to find out, if I can.”

  Ethan leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Many a Munro has died a dreadful death over the centuries, lass. Early Scotia was a vicious land.” He rubs his chin. “There once was a lad named Jaime. He had sons — several o’ them. They had sons, and so on. By the by, a bonny lass named Mirrah was born. She bore a son. He was Logan.”

  I blink, stunned.

  “Looked enough like me to be my twin, at that age.”

  I cock my head at his comment.

  “Or so I’ve heard,” Ethan adds, clearing his voice. “ ’Tis a shame, though. The boy was thought to have died, possibly by murder. His body was never found.”

  “Ethan Arimus Munro,” a woman’s voice — with an accent just like mine — breaks the air. “Shame on you.”

  The guys all erupt in chuckles.

  “Och, wife,” Ethan says. “I’m no’ doin’ a thing wrong. Just tellin’ the lass here about a relative.”

  “Well, I thought she came to see a fellow Charlestonian.” A tall, willowy blonde woman enters the room and walks up to Ethan.

  “Ivy, I’m Amelia.” She smiles and inclines her head. She has almond-shaped blue-green eyes. “This lunkhead’s wife. Come on,” she says, and motions to me and Emma. “Let’s leave this chamber of testosterone, girls. I’ve something to show you.”

  I press my li
ps together to keep from laughing out loud. “Sounds good to me,” I answer. Emma and I hastily trail behind Amelia.

  She leads us through the tower house and up a set of spiral steps leading to an enormous library. Lining the walls are portraits of people from long ago.

  “Impressive, aren’t they?” Amelia says. “Ethan’s younger brother, Gilchrist, painted them all. From memory.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say. Meanwhile, I think, From memory? Did Gilchrist know these clearly long-dead people? The portraits look so real, and detailed.

  Amelia then heads straight to a particular shelf and retrieves an old ledger. She moves to a desk and inclines her head for us to join her. Amelia opens the book and begins searching the pages.

  “I heard you telling Ethan you’re interested in the family tree. This is our Munro clan history,” she says. “We’re not the only Munros in Scotia, so says my husband. Here.” She flips the book around in my direction and points to a section marked 1800–1900. “Just as Ethan says, a boy was born to a Mirrah Munro, and disappeared without a trace eighteen years later.” She turns the book back and reads on. “Seems there was an uncle, Patrick Munro, who died a few weeks later. Mirrah’s brother.” She shakes her head. “His body was found at the base of the cliffs.” She raises her gaze. “At Glenmorrag Castle. It says he and his nephew had been hired as musicians for the laird and lady at the time.”

  My heart’s beating a mile a minute as I stare at the written names and dates. This has to be some sort of clue. Was Logan’s death somehow linked to his uncle’s?

  “That’s amazing, to have so much family history written in one book,” I say, and read on. “Wow. It says Logan’s mother died of natural causes at the ripe old age of eighty-three.”

  Amelia points to one of the portraits on the wall. “We don’t have a portrait of Logan, unfortunately. But this one here is Patrick. And here …” She points to another one. “This is Mirrah. Very young, of course.”

  I stare in disbelief. I’m looking at Logan’s mother, I say to myself. She’s beautiful, with long, dark curls and full lips. My gaze then moves to Mirrah’s brother, Logan’s uncle. Patrick. A handsome guy, with physical traits just like the other Munros.