Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Orla

T he day flew by with one problem after another, keeping me away from investigating the outbuilding on my own. I had to hand it to Finlay though. Despite looking like he'd had his arse handed to him in a fight, he shouldered on through the challenges of the day, never showing that he'd been given the fright of his life. Or at least that was how it had seemed to me. The man's face had been devoid of color, and sweat had dripped from his brow. I knew a panic response when I saw one, and I was just grateful I'd been there with the dogs to help calm him down.

Stretching my arms over my head, I rotated my chin, trying to work out the kinks in my neck. My crew had left the site for the day, but I had just wanted to finish sanding a strip of the floor in the side room that we planned to convert to storage. I was hoping the wood would be strong enough to not have to replace, but I needed to sand it and test it for weakness before we could start a buildout in that room.

"Sore neck?"

I jumped, my hand dropping to the back of my neck as I turned to find Finlay at the door.

"Goes with the territory." I shrugged, studying his face for signs of wariness about what had transpired earlier that day. Finding nothing, his fa?ade firmly back in place, I took a breath and tried not to be annoyed about being interrupted. "You're here late."

"I could say the same for you." A corner of his mouth quirked up when I rolled my eyes.

"Do you always do that?"

"Define that."

"Just like…I don't know. What's the word in tennis? Parry? Lob back and forth? I say one thing and you toss it back at me?"

A flash of amusement heightened Finlay's good looks and my annoyance deepened that I was even remotely aware of how this man looked. I shouldn't care. He was my client's manager, technically a boss of sorts to me, and exceptionally not my type. Remembering how he'd flicked the dog hair off his trousers, I tried to imagine this man hunkered down in the middle of dirt and sawdust.

Nope. Couldn't see it.

Even now, surrounded by the mess of a construction zone, Finlay looked like he'd just walked out of a boardroom. A gold watch flashed at his wrist, his trousers showed no wrinkles, and only the tiniest of smudges at the cuff of his shirt indicated any sort of struggle in the cottage earlier today. And there had been. I'd heard him banging to get out.

Which reminded me. I needed to detour past that cottage on the way out today. I needed Finlay to wrap this conversation up so I could be on my way.

"Parry can be used in tennis. It can also be used in sword fighting. Or boxing even. Lobbing is when you toss something lightly to another person."

"So both would work here."

"Lob would only apply if you lobbed something back at me, which would then turn it into a parry."

"Mr. Thompson, may I be frank?"

"Oh, please do." Finlay's grin deepened, even though I sensed he was annoyed at me calling him Mr. Thompson.

"I'm finding this conversation a wee bit tedious, and I'd like to finish up my work so I can crack on with my evening plans. Is there anything you're needing?"

"What are your plans?"

"Is divulging my evening plans required as part of my job description?" I raised an accusatory brow at him.

"Now who is parrying?"

"See earlier note about my annoyance." I put my hand on the handle of the sander, indicating I was about to drown his words out.

Finlay simply crossed his arms and rocked back on his feet, clearly amused by me.

"My plans are much the same as they are most nights. To crochet and listen to murder podcasts. Any other questions?"

"More than before, certainly. "

"Technically I'm off the clock, so you'll have to ask them another time." Bending over, I flicked the sander on, the loud noise drowning out any follow-up questions. I didn't look up as I moved the machine over the floor, concentrating on the rhythmic motion, watching as the grain of the old wood exposed itself to me. By the time I switched the machine off, having sanded far more than I had planned to avoid having to converse further with Finlay, the ache in my neck had intensified.

I added a neck massage to my evening plans.

I'd recently splurged on one of those personal massagers that wrap around your neck and shoulders and plugged directly into the power point. I had to say, next to a very different type of massager that I had tucked in my bedside drawer, it was my new favorite toy at home.

The evening air was damp, bringing with it the scent of musty earth after a soft rain, and I lingered for a moment as the last of the light held on. I always loved this shift of winter giving over to late spring, when the daylight hours became much longer, and we could say goodbye to blustery winter weather. MacAlpine Castle stood, proud as she ever was, the waters of Loch Mirren a mirror at her back.

What would it be like to live in a castle?

I honestly couldn't wrap my head around having so much space to myself. Well, not by myself, since loads of people needed to live in a castle to keep it running, at least in olden days, but still—calling such an impressive structure your home had to be kind of mind-blowing. I'd grown up basically on the streets, in a wee town outside Edinburgh. My mother's half-sister had barely been able to provide for her own children, let alone the added burden of myself after addiction had claimed my mother's life. Four of us children had shared a bedroom, and I was outside more often than not, which is why I always loved the shift of winter giving up the last of its hold and settling over to the gentler days of spring.

Not that spring in Scotland was all that warm, but when you spent a lot of time in the elements, even the smallest shift in temperature was deeply noticeable. By the time I'd turned sixteen I was largely on my own, barely passing by to check in with my frazzled aunt, and I wasn't sure which one of us had been more relieved when I'd finally stopped going around to the house. By then, I'd found a crew of others just like me, but it had been Jacob, sweet silly Jacob, who had saved my life.

His grandfather had owned a workshop. It was where Jacob had disappeared to when the bruises from his father were too large to hide. There, his grandfather had first taught him, and then me, how to build.

I'd forever be grateful for the gentle teachings of Grandpa Lou. He never once made me feel unwelcome for being a girl or not part of his family, and it was there I'd learned a very important lesson.

Nobody was going to save me but myself.

Having a skill such as being able to build with your own two hands? Well, it had opened a world of possibilities for me.

"A man has a fortune in his hands, Orla. You just need the right tools." Grandpa Lou had lectured me over and over, in one form or another. "As long as you can build something for yourself, Orla, you'll have all the fortune you ever need."

The old man had been right .

I now had what to most might not seem like much, but to me it was a veritable fortune. A solid work lorry, a successful business, and my very own one-room cottage that seemed as opulent as MacAlpine Castle, at least to me. Someday, when I had time, I planned to add a sunroom to the back of the cottage. A place where I could have a few plants and crochet in peace at the end of a long day.

Detouring toward the outbuilding, I picked my way along the uneven ground, the light growing dim around me. Perhaps I should save this for tomorrow. But if I could at least get a sense of what was haunting this cottage, I could do some research tonight.

Maybe I could free it.

Maybe not.

I was still learning about all this ghost stuff, since it had only been a year or two since I'd started seeing more of them.

Yes, more.

There was one that had been with me for a long time.

I used to think of her as my imaginary friend. Until I'd grown too old to believe in imaginary friends and realized that all of those late-night conversations I was having were either with a walking, talking delusion, or I, indeed, had a ghost who visited me regularly.

It took a while to accept the ghost aspect over the delusions, to be honest.

"Orla!"

I jumped, pulled from my thoughts, as Sophie, the new owner of MacAlpine Castle, called to me from across the garden. The dogs were with her, and at her shout, they turned and raced toward me. Joy immediately flooded me at their approach. Meeting them halfway, I crouched to pet Lola while Sir Buster did his act where he pretended to want nothing to do with me.

Such bluster.

I understood it, though. The tough guy act. I'd had to put it on enough in my own life, hadn't I?

"Hiya, Sophie. How are you getting on then?"

"Great, thanks. I was hoping to catch you." Sophie, a fresh-faced American, with strawberry-blonde hair, a friendly manner, and welcoming smile always put me at ease. I liked her. She said what was on her mind, and I appreciated not having to navigate things left unsaid, unlike with Finlay.

"Were you headed to that building?" Sophie inclined her head to the outbuilding behind me. "I didn't realize you'd started work on that yet."

"Was just planning to have a wee look." I tossed a look over my shoulder at the cottage, a flicker of movement catching my eye through the dirty window.

"By yourself? Even though it's haunted?"

At that, I turned and gave Sophie a surprised look.

"You've heard that as well then?"

"Of course. Your crew talks." Sophie gave me a considering look. "Want me to come with?"

"You want to go in a haunted building?"

"I live in a haunted building." Sophie shrugged.

At that, I caught sight of a highland coo sneaking up behind her, and my eyes widened until the light caught him just right and I realized it wasn't a real coo. Well, it was, but he was a ghost.

Och, this was a first.

I opened my mouth to say something, but then, not wanting to appear unbalanced to the owner of the castle, I snapped my lips shut. The coo crept closer, like a wee cat sneaking up on a mouse, and my mind whirled. What was he trying to do? Was he going to pounce on her?

Sophie caught my look and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"He's behind me, isn't he?"

"Um, I'm not sure what you're referring to." I didn't like to lie, but I wasn't entirely sure how Sophie would respond to me seeing ghosts, so I protected myself first. Always.

"Clyde, I swear to God, don't make me hang up warning signs about you and ruin your fun. You've already scared me twice today." Sophie turned, hands on hips, a scolding note in her voice.

Laughter bubbled inside me as the coo's shoulders dropped, his eyes going wide and beseeching.

"Don't give me that look. You know we have a one scare a day rule. You've already violated it."

Clyde sniffed, hanging his head.

"Aww," I said, feeling sorry for the big guy, and then pressed my lips together when Sophie shot me a look.

"So you see him?"

"I, um, yes. The big ghost highland coo?"

"Yes, this is Clyde. He's friendly, except when he scares people within an inch of having a heart attack." Sophie sighed, turning back to me, her face resigned. "He made Lia pee her pants."

"He did not . This sweet guy?" Clyde perked up at my words, sidling over to me, and I grinned at him. "You're very handsome. "

The coo preened, clearly pleased with my praise.

"Ghosts don't bother you then?" Sophie gave me a considering look, and once again I felt like I was dancing along the edge of something unknown. I wasn't sure how much of myself to divulge, but then remembered that Willow from the kilt shop was good friends with Sophie.

Shite. I'd made the mistake of revealing to them that I could sense ghosts. It wasn't typical for me, but I'd had a really stressful day and hadn't slept when I'd met with them to go over their project. With my guard down, I'd let it slip that I could sense ghosts. Which also meant that Willow had likely relayed this to Sophie.

It wasn't a huge secret, I supposed, as some of my crew knew that I had a sense of whether a building was haunted or not. They respected me for it, being able to sense energy, and we hadn't much talked past the basics of it all. They didn't care, so long as they could work in peace, and I did my best to make sure whatever project we took on was safe for them.

In all elements, I supposed.

"I wouldn't say I'm super chuffed about them. Though Clyde seems sweet," I amended. I had a soft spot for all animals.

Animals were a lot easier to understand than humans.

"But you see them, don't you?"

"Aye." No point in lying about it. Not when a huge ghost coo was currently sniffing at Sir Buster's bum, causing the dog to growl.

"I wonder why that is. Not everyone has the skill."

"Is it a skill?" That was the first time I'd considered the ability to be a skill. Largely since I didn't have much say in it.

"You tell me. Some would say it is a great ability to have. Communicating with the dead? People pay a lot of money for that."

"It's not like that. I don't summon them to me." Instantly I realized that I was revealing far more than I had intended.

"Ah." Sophie turned. "The light's fading. I'd rather we looked at the building another time. Why don't I walk you to your car and you can tell me more about it?"

"Not much to tell." I fell in step beside Sophie. "I don't choose the interactions. It's not like I'm a medium. I just can go into a building and see if it is haunted. It's largely attached to structures. I've yet to see a ghost wandering the forest or whatever."

"So you're a house witch."

"What?" I stopped in my tracks, my eyebrows furrowing on my forehead.

"A house witch. I mean, that's what popped into my head when you said that. But maybe there's another term."

"What does a house witch do?"

"I don't honestly know. But I'd say they can probably see ghosts in houses and get rid of them. Have you removed any unwanted spirits from a house before?"

"I have." I dug my boot into the gravel by the car as a trickle of anxiety worked through me at the word witch.

Historically, people weren't kind to those who considered themselves witches. I didn't want the label—not if it meant more disapproving eyes on me, and the very thought of it made my stomach turn. I would hate to lose everything I had worked for because of this.

"Doing it with a spell? Or a ritual? Something to clear them out?"

I gave a curt nod, wary now.

"Sounds like a house witch to me."

I winced.

"And you can build houses. That's even cooler, right?"

I gave a tentative shrug. I wasn't sure where she was going with this, but I hoped wherever she landed wouldn't put me out of a job.

To my surprise, Sophie beamed at me.

"Orla, I think you're just the woman we've been looking for."