He turned and left, the roan clattering its way out of the castle.
“I really will have the lot of you arrested,” Bruce MacNiall said. It was more like a growl than a spoken comment. “How dare you burst in here, mocking Scottish history? Americans!”
“Excuse me, I think that we’ve explained all this. We have a lease, a legal document,” Toni said. “And we’re not mocking Scottish history, we’re here because we love it.”
“Listen to me one more time, you addled woman! I own the place, and it has never been for sale or lease!”
It simply couldn’t be, yet his irritated aggression was so vehement that Toni found herself suddenly afraid that something could be really wrong. Gina looked stunned, and equally worried.
Toni stepped up to the plate, ready to do battle. “You’re wrong,” she informed the man claiming to be the living MacNiall. “We have an agreement.”
“The hell you do!”
“We should have you arrested, since you’re doing your best to destroy the tour,” Toni told him, aware that she was taking a slight step back despite her words. “And you’ve certainly no right to call me an addled woman. We have papers that prove we have leased the place. Now you say that you own it! It was filthy and in horrid disrepair. It was obvious that no one had given the least care to this place in years. We’ve been through here repairing electrical connections, replacing wires, plastering and painting—just to keep the place from falling apart completely. The first day, David and Kevin shored up the front wall. We’ve worked our asses off to make it livable.”
“I told you, I’ve been out of the country.”
“All of your life?” she said sharply. “Because if not, you should be ashamed. This place is incredible. If I had owned it since birth, I’d have never let it come to this!”
“My castle is not your concern,” he said icily.
“But it is, because for the next year—at the least—it’s our castle,” she said tightly.
“No, it is not,” he said. “I own the place and I did not lease it!”
Toni was forced to feel another moment’s unease. There was definite conviction in his voice.
“I can see that you’ve put time and work into the place,” he told Gina. “For that, I’m sorry. But the place is not now, nor ever will be, for rent. I would have stopped you, but as I said, I’ve been out of the country.”
“Well, that’s just amazing,” Toni said, stepping in before Gina could reply. “In this day and age, one would have thought that someone in this little village might have known where you were and called you, or at least said something about you when we were buying the paint and materials!”
“Right!” Gina said.
At that moment Ryan came striding back into the great hall. Being Ryan, however, he paused. “Great horse!” he said, staring at the stallion. “What a beautiful animal.”
Bruce MacNiall started back down the stairs. “He’s a mix of long and careful breeding.”
“Draft horse … look at the muscle and the size! And there’s Arab in the history somewhere. He’s almost got the legs of an American Thoroughbred,” Ryan said.
Bruce MacNiall kept walking down, talking to Ryan as easily as if they were friends meeting at a horse show. “Good eye,” he commented. “The mare was a cross between an American Thoroughbred and one of our own stallions. He is something. He’s got the strength of a Belgian, the grace of an Arab and the dignity of a Thoroughbred.”
“Majestic,” Ryan agreed.
Toni and Gina stared at one another, then followed MacNiall’s path down the stairs. The men were both standing at the stallion’s head, admiring the length of his neck and the wide set of his very large eyes.
“Excuse me, but we have a problem here,” Toni reminded them.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Ryan said. He flashed a smile. “Has Toni’s invention come to life? I’m Ryan, by the way. Ryan Browne. Gina’s husband.”
“Pleasure, but I’m afraid that I’ve been very much alive and well for quite some time,” MacNiall said, staring at Toni. She seemed to be the one capable of really drawing his wrath.
Ryan cast his brown gaze toward Toni worriedly. “Didn’t the rental company tell us that the family had died out?”
“They did,” Toni said.
“They lied,” MacNiall informed them. He stared
straight at Toni. “Either that or you’re lying.” His words didn’t seem to include the others, only her. “And you are all trespassing. Which you should know, because it’s obvious that you’ve gotten hold of family history and local lore and rumor.”
“I did not lie!” she protested indignantly.
“Well then, you ‘imagined’ an incredible facsimile of the truth,” he said.
She shook her head. “I knew that a family named MacNiall had owned the place, but that was it. Bruce is a common enough Scottish name. Since we have been working our butts off here, we didn’t really get a chance to question the community on the past!”
“Six-three, pitch-black hair, gray eyes … like the devil’s own,” Gina murmured, staring at the man, then looking at Toni.
“I swear, I made it all up!” Toni said irritably.
“We do have documents,” Ryan said.
Toni bit her lip. Ryan’s approach might work better than her own.
“All right, look, maybe you have some kind of documents—an agreement, a lease, whatever. The point is—” he paused to stare at Toni “—no matter what you have, I’m afraid that you’ve been taken in. Unfortunately, it does seem to be something that happens to Americans now and then. They believe in the almighty Internet, and don’t really research what they’re doing. This is Europe.”
He was beyond irritating. Toni looked at Gina. “Imagine that. This is Europe.”
“You’ve been taken, and that’s that,” MacNiall said flatly to her. “In American? Screwed, Miss Fraser.”
Toni stared at the man without blinking, feeling her facial muscles grow tense. “Gina, perhaps you could show the nice man our documents.”
“Oh, yes! Of course!” Gina turned and went flying down the hallway.
MacNiall shook his head, looking at her.
“We put so much into this—years of saving!” Ryan said with dismay.
MacNiall wasn’t budging. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly.
“Everything,” Ryan murmured.
“Wait a minute, we have to find out the truth here. There’s no reason we should vacate simply on this man’s say-so,” Toni stated. “He’s claiming that we have no right to be here, but how do we know that he really has a right to be here?” The man had called her a liar. She stared straight at him and smiled sweetly. “There are a lot of penniless gentry running around Europe, as we all know. Maybe Laird MacNiall is unaware that government powers have taken control of the property because of nonpayment of taxes or the like?” she suggested.
For a moment, she could well imagine the man strangling her in truth. He did, however, control his temper. His eyes scorned her to the core as he said, “I assure you, that is not the case.”
Gina came running back down the hallway, their lease agreement and licenses in hand.
“Look, Mr. MacNiall … Laird MacNiall.”
Papers