THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

embarrassment on Tom’s face. “Has he done or said anything to frighten you, lass?”
    “No. He’s only startled me a few times.” She wasn’t about to tell Tom she was quite certain her decidedly masculine ghost had watched her bathe yesterday. She felt embarrassed enough.
    “Good.” Tom placed a hand at her waist and directed her to the patch of lawn surrounding Blackstone’s ancient well at the center of the bailey. “Come, have a seat in the sun. The telling of Duncan Angus MacDougall’s tale and mine will take some time.” 
    ~#~
    Duncan put down his heir’s peculiar lists—things she wanted to repair and purchase—and scowled out the great hall’s window to where his solicitor and Beth sat.
    “What on earth can they be talking about for this long?”
    They had nothing in common and certainly couldn’t be discussing him. ‘Twas forbidden until he’d made himself known to the heir, and he certainly wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet, anyway.
    Being aware of his presence would, no doubt, send Miss Beth screaming back to America, which wouldn’t do, not at all. He had yet to test her mettle, didna know if she was the one. If he found her wanting—-and he suspected he might for she was so... odd , then she could stay or go as she pleased.
    He again scanned the list entitled Order From Home. Murphy’s Oil Soap was self-explanatory, but what is Soft Scrub? Ah! That must be the cleanser she uses when bathing. He smiled, his mornings looking decidedly brighter. She wanted a case of it.
    Reading the second sheet—B and B Provisions, his frown returned. She wanted ten sets of Egyptian cotton sheets and triple the number of towels, all in white. Seemed excessive, even for a woman who bathed daily. And why would she want one hundred bees’ wax candles, twenty down pillows, and five down comforters? They had electricity and used only one bed.
    The woman was decidedly odd or a spendthrift, but he could depend on his solicitor. Silverstein would rein her in. Tommy had kept that fop, the previous heir, on a tight purse, allowing him only a minimal draw each month. What the man did with the money, Duncan never knew. Probably drank it away. The fop certainly hadn’t spent it on maintaining the keep.
    Duncan looked out the window. Beth and Tom were finally standing. Thank God. She’d be coming in.
    With no small measure of shock he realized his current agitation stemmed not from her lists but from feeling lonely. How odd.
    ~#~
     
    “So you see, since 1395 when Duncan rescued my forbearers Isaac and Rachael from the villagers intent on torching them at the stake, we Silversteins have felt a moral obligation to serve Duncan, even in his ghostly form.
    “Each generation has provided an executor, who functions exactly as Isaac did, to serve as a financial advisor to subsequent heirs, overseeing the estate’s limited assets so Blackstone won’t fall to complete ruin as so many castles about Scotland have. So long as there are Silversteins, the ghost will have his home. Our debt to him is enormous. Our line wouldn’t exist today—-I’d not have been born—had Duncan MacDougall not had a strong arm and the moral courage to save Isaac and Rachael.” His lips quirked to formed a lopsided grin. “And each generation has kept a journal of their trials in meeting that obligation.”
    Beth sighed. “It’s hard to imagine sane, God-fearing villagers blaming a simple man and his pregnant wife for the plague.”
    Tom shrugged. “They were strangers, Beth, Parisian Jews who spoke only broken English and no Gael. Isaac and Rachael couldn’t make themselves understood to the villagers. At the time, French was the language of the court, of the educated wealthy. And keep in mind, just fifty years earlier Europe’s population had been decimated; literally half the population had died from plague. Religious zealots abound. The Flagellants were walking about beating themselves with whips in the belief that if they punished themselves, God would spare them. Others blamed the Jews. When Isaac and Rachael’s arrival happened to coincided with what was thought to be another outbreak...” He raised his hands in a hopeless gesture.
    “Well, I, for one, am very glad the MacDougall brought Rachael and Isaac to Drasmoor. I couldn’t manage without you.”
    “Thank you, my lady.”
    “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
    Dying to know more about her ghost, she asked, “Is there a chance I might read some