through the immaculately polished windows, reflecting brightly from the pure
white of the stonework, illuminating the room like a vision of paradise. The
whole ceiling was covered with a single delightful piece of art depicting nymphs
and shepherds at play. In a romantic and extremely tasteful way, of course.
Everywhere there were luxurious chairs and couches, fine displays of wines and
spirits, silver trays bearing all kinds of cold food, and every other comfort
the mind could imagine. Hawk did his best to look unimpressed.
Standing with his back to the roaring fire was a tall, well-built young man with
broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He couldn't have been more than twenty, and
his unruly mop of tawny hair made him look even younger. Nevertheless, there was
a dignity and strength in his stance, and a composure in his face, that was
quietly impressive. Hawk didn't need Greaves to tell him this was their host,
Jamie MacNeil. The MacNeil, as he now was. He was dressed all in black, being
still in mourning for his father, but the clothes were of the finest cut and
impeccably fashionable. He stepped forward as the butler introduced them, and
greeted his two cousins warmly, kissing Isobel's hand with style, and shaking
Hawk's hand in a grip that was firm without being overbearing. He gestured for
the butler to leave them, and Greaves bowed and backed out, closing the door
after him. Jamie led Hawk and Fisher over to the drinks cabinet and politely
enquired as to their pleasure. He seemed genuinely pleased to see them, and yet
somehow preoccupied, as though part of his attention was always somewhere else.
'So good of you to come,' he said graciously. 'Did you have a good journey?'
'Bearable,' said Hawk, accepting his drink with a nod. 'We left our belongings
in Haven, ghastly place, and came straight here. Though I gather from your
butler that we may have arrived at a bad time… he said something about all the
servants leaving?'
Jamie MacNeil smiled easily, but Hawk could see the effort it took. 'Just a
minor domestic crisis, but I'm afraid we're all going to have to rough it for
the moment. Please accept my apologies, and bear with us. Do feel free to stay
for as long as you wish; there are plenty of spare bedrooms, and Haven's inns
are notoriously unsafe.'
'That's very kind of you,' said Hawk.
'Not at all, not at all. I'll just let Greaves know, and he'll prepare rooms for
you and your sister.'
He reached for the bell pull by the fireplace, but had barely taken hold of it
when the door swung open and Greaves entered. Hawk blinked bemusedly at such a
quick response, and then smiled slightly as Greaves stepped to one side and two
ladies of the Quality swept in, not even deigning to notice the butler's bow.
Jamie smiled at them both, a genuine smile full of warmth and affection, and
more than a little concern. Hawk sipped his wine thoughtfully as Jamie spoke
quietly to the butler. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about Tower
MacNeil. Something was going on here; something he was beginning to suspect had
nothing to do with the spy Fenris. He took a healthy gulp of his wine, careful
to keep his little ringer crooked. On the other hand, he could just be getting
paranoid. If Jamie MacNeil knew about the spy, then getting rid of a bunch of
gossiping servants was a sensible precaution. But according to Greaves, the
servants had left some time ago, long before Fenris could have arrived… Hawk
quickly put the thought to one side for later consideration as Jamie dismissed
the butler and turned to him and Fisher.
'Dear cousins, allow me to present my sister Holly, and my aunt, Katrina
Dorimant.'
Hawk bowed and the women curtsied, Fisher with more efficiency than grace. Holly
MacNeil was a blazing redhead in her late twenties, almost as tall as her
brother, but as slightly built as he was broad. Hawk's first thought was that
the poor lass could do with a good meal or two. Her pale face was gaunt and
strained, though still attractive, her large green eyes giving her an innocent,
vulnerable look, like a young fawn suddenly confronted with a pack of wolves.
Whatever was going on at Tower MacNeil, it was clear she knew about it too. Like
her brother, Holly MacNeil was formally but stylishly dressed in black, which
against the paleness of her skin only served to emphasize her frailty. She
offered Hawk a trembling hand, and he had to steady it with his own before he
could kiss it. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it, and
thought he glimpsed a quick smile. Holly and Fisher embraced each other briefly.
There was no warmth in it, and Holly held the contact only as long as convention
demanded.
Jamie's aunt, Katrina Dorimant, was a roguishly attractive woman in her
mid-forties, with a broad grin and flashing eyes. She wore a long, wine-red
gown, and enough jewelry to finance a minor war or two. She was average height,
with a tight, compact body and a brisk, captivating manner. She smiled widely at
Hawk as he kissed her hand, and her eyes lingered on him for a long moment
before she turned to embrace Fisher. Once again the embrace was over almost as
soon as it had begun, and the two women exchanged a cool, appraising look before
dismissing each other with averted eyes. Hawk hid a smile. Fisher had better
keep her guard up. Katrina looked like a scrapper.
'Welcome to Tower MacNeil!' said Katrina brightly. 'I'm so glad you're here. We
need some new blood to stir things up. The place has been awfully gloomy just
lately, though I can't think why. Dear Duncan never approved of sour faces when
he was alive, and he certainly wouldn't have expected us to wander around
sobbing and beating our breasts just because he's dead.'
'You never did believe in tears or regrets, did you, Aunt?' said Holly flatly.
'Certainly not. They make your eyes puffy and give you wrinkles.'
'Are you here for the reading of the will?' asked Fisher politely.
'Actually, no, my dear. I'm currently separated from my husband, bad cess to the
man, and dear Jamie has been kind enough to allow me to stay here until the
divorce is finalized.'
'I had in mind a few weeks, Auntie,' said Jamie good-naturedly. 'In actual fact,
you've been here five months now.'
'Don't exaggerate, dear. It's four and a bit.'
'Are we the only guests?' said Hawk. 'I can't believe we're the only Family come
to pay our respects to the MacNeil.'
'There are other guests,' said Jamie. 'They're upstairs in their rooms at
present, but they'll be joining us for a late breakfast soon. We keep very
relaxed hours here, especially since the servants left. But it must be said
there aren't nearly as many Family here as one might have wished for.'
'Why not?' asked Fisher bluntly.
The three MacNeils exchanged a quick glance. 'I take it you've never heard of
the MacNeil Curse,' said Jamie slowly. 'Not really surprising, I suppose, buried
as you are in the depths of Lower Markham. It's not something we're proud of,
and we don't care to discuss it with outsiders. But since you are both Family,
