Chapter 4

Chapter Four

D errick McRainey, Edith’s nephew, arrived early the next the morning. Gwen and Edith had barely sat down to breakfast when he walked through the doorway and paused just inside, his lips curving in greeting.

Allowing her gaze to take in the man’s appearance, which he seemed to be expecting, Gwen couldn’t help but acknowledge that the McRainey genes were definitely passed down to Derrick.

The dark-haired man stood well over six feet tall, was broad-shouldered with an athletic physique. No wonder he’d had success as a rich playboy, if social media was any indicator.

“Aunt Edith, you look well. May I join you for breakfast?” he asked. Then he turned to Gwen. “Good morning, miss.” His dark eyes sparkled mischievously at her.

“Good morning,” both women replied.

Edith turned her face up when he neared and kissed her cheek. Then she extended her hand, motioning to the chair opposite Gwen’s. “Derrick, please join us.”

She regarded her nephew with a cool smile and was silent for a moment, then seemed to gain her composure. “This is Gwyneth Lockhart, the professional ghost medium I hired to see about Tristan McRainey.”

The same maid who’d brought tea the day before served Derrick his breakfast. He waited until the young woman left before speaking to Gwen.

“I trust you find the estate to your liking, Miss Lockhart. The lands are beautiful are they not?” He studied her closely without blinking, the intensity reminding her of the experience with another McRainey the night before.

“Oh yes, it’s quite lovely, and please, call me Gwen,” Gwen replied instantly, feeling disconcerted by the man. “I’m not here as a guest—I’m employed by your aunt.”

“Of course you’re a guest, dear. My guest,” Edith replied smiling warmly, before speaking to her nephew. “Miss Lockhart is not only wonderful company, but she has already met our elusive Lord.”

Derrick visibly tensed, and his raised eyebrows almost disappeared into his perfectly styled hair. “What? Do you mean you’ve seen the ghost?”

Before she could reply, he cut her off. “Did he speak to you?”

At a peculiar tingle on her nape, she decided not to tell all. Not yet. “I got a quick glimpse of someone, an apparition, in the sitting room. And no, he didn’t speak.”

“Ah, so it was a male… er… apparition then?” Derrick persisted. “And you assume it was Lord Tristan McRainey?”

“Oh yes, dear,” Edith interrupted. “I told her it must be him, since I can’t recall any other ghost ever being seen here.”

Earlier, Gwen had learned from Edith that throughout the years, different family members spotted the Lord on occasion, usually by a window and always peering out.

Derrick waited as the maid reentered to refresh their tea. He flashed the young woman a devilish smile, seeming to enjoy her blush. Gwen followed the interaction, noticing the girl glancing back at Lord Derrick before exiting. No doubt one of many young women who’d fallen for his charms.

Edith cleared her throat delicately, getting her nephew’s attention. “Derrick, did you bring the pictures of Tristan? The large portrait in the hallway east of the sitting room has gone missing.” Her voice pitched at the last grief-stricken word. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it was gone.”

“Aunt Edith, I’m sure I told you. The portrait is in Edinburgh. An art expert is cleaning it and ensuring it’s properly protected from the elements,” Derrick told his aunt, his voice taking on a sugary tone.

A slow flush covered Edith’s face, her demeanor shifting. With purpose, she put her fork down and glared at her nephew. “Why Derrick McRainey, you certainly did not inform me of such a thing. I would have flatly refused that type of request. The portrait is not to be removed from the property for any reason. It’s against Tristan McRainey’s wishes. A local art expert stops by on occasion to care for it.”

Feeling like an intruder, Gwen shifted in her seat. At the same time, she couldn’t wait to hear the arrogant man’s reply. His eyes met hers briefly, almost as if hearing her thoughts.

The bland look he gave his aunt betrayed his words. “I did not mean to distress you Aunt Edith. I will have the portrait returned at once. Or better yet, I will be traveling to Edinburgh in a few days. I will pick it up from the art expert and will personally deliver it upon my return. My intentions are good, I assure you. I am ensuring proper care of the estate property, prior to the changes coming about.”

“Changes?” Gwen wished she could retract the question, but the word hung in the already heavy air. “I’m sorry—it’s probably none of my business.”

“On the contrary dear,” Edith gave her a tight smile. “Upon my death, my nephew will inherit the McRainey estate, since there are no female McRaineys left in the direct family line after me.”

Her smile faded as she looked toward the sitting room. “He plans to transform our home into a public attraction.”

“Aunt Edith!” Derrick exclaimed his face reddening. “A luxury hotel and exclusive golf resort is far from a ‘public attraction,’ as you insist on calling it.”

Gwen gasped, not sure why the thought of it infuriated her as well. The house shouldn’t mean anything to her. Nonetheless, before she could squelch her emotions, the table shook violently, causing some of the dishes to fly up and land in a noisy concerto of rattles and clangs.

After his initial shock, Derrick McRainey turned to her, one brow raised, his expression condescending. “I assume your telekinetic abilities come in handy in your profession as a ghost expeller.”

Gwen flushed, hating her inability to control her erratic powers when upset. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m not sure why I even reacted.”

Disconcerted, she pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry, Edith. I need to lie down for a bit. May I please look at the pictures later?”

Elation played on Edith’s face; she seemed excited to learn of Gwen’s abilities. “Of course, of course, dear, please go rest. Derrick and I have much to discuss. He will be staying for a couple of days.”

Glad to escape, Gwen hurried up the stairs, not slowing until closing the door behind her. Her mother would be mortified if she learned of her failure to control her abilities.

While growing up in their large antebellum house south of Atlanta, every evening she and her sisters, Sabrina and Tammie, would sit around the kitchen table, while their mother prepared dinner.

Each girl took turns practicing using her abilities while their mother looked on. A spoon would wiggle in the air in front of Gwen as she tried to get it to dip into a cup of milk, more times than not ending with milk splashed all over her face, her sisters giggling at her efforts.

Over time, all of their abilities became stronger and more controllable. For the most part Gwen rarely lost any control. It was only when she became very upset that her powers became erratic.

In this instance, it made little sense. What happened to the McRainey property wasn’t any concern of hers. At least it shouldn’t have been. And yet, the thought of the beautiful castle becoming a public place did feel almost sacrilegious. She could certainly relate to Edith’s feelings about it.