THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

alone, she whispered, “Tom, he spoke to me. Up on the parapet.”
    “Who?”
    “ The ghost...Duncan! ”
    “Are ye sure ye’re not imagining things, lass, after the shock—”
    “We had a conversation , Tom.”
    “My word. Did he materialize?”
    “No. He said it wasn’t time.”
    Tom muttered, “I must tell Margaret at once,” then said, “Lass, do be careful. Ye understand he has a mighty temper when provoked.”
    “I will. Margaret told me what he did after Sheffield died, and about the night he nearly destroyed the hall. Did they really find his claymore stuck in the ceiling?”
    “Aye. Our laird dinna take well that lad’s death. According to my grandfather, the MacDougall had been verra fond of Kyle, had made himself known to lad from the cradle.” Tom fell silent for a moment, and then said, “If ye can, get some rest.”
    “I’ll try. Do keep me abreast of Mr. Fraser’s progress and don’t forget to call as soon as the roses arrive.”
    “Will do. Goodnight, Beth.”
    She snapped the phone closed and scanned the room once again with the mirror. Her ghost had apparently retired, which was just as well. She wasn’t sure she could handle anymore tonight.
    ~#~
     
    “ Ha! ” It had taken a week but he finally had her cell phone.
    Contemplating the joy he’d take in pitching the noisy thing into the sea, Duncan cautiously lifted the cover. As he examined the lighted screen and buttons, it shrilled out to her. Startled, he dropped it.
    “God’s breathe!” Did the thing have eyes? He then heard Beth’s quick footsteps on the stairs. He scooped up the phone and placed it on the dresser where he’d found it. “Later,” he hissed, retreating to a corner.
    Panting, Beth ran into the room and flipped open her phone. “Hello?” After a pause she said, “I’m fine, Margaret. Thank you for asking.” She listened for a moment. “Terrific. Did they deliver all four varieties? Ah huh. No problem. I’ll come right over. No need. I’m turning into quite the sailor.” She started straightening the bed with her free hand. “I’ll see you soon. Bye.”
    Duncan cursed as Beth dropped her phone onto the dresser and walked into the bath chamber. In the confusion following Bart’s accident, he’d forgotten to ban her from using the bloody launch.
    He looked out the window. Cloudless cobalt blue hung over Drasmoor and its flat-as-glass harbor. He could see no evidence of wind and see no clouds on the horizon. Should he deny her a few hours reprieve when all looked calm and safe? Nay. Had he the opportunity to leave the isle, he would. He heaved a resigned sigh. Some did say “practice makes perfect.”
    Hearing water running into the tub lifted his mood only marginally. He walked to the bath chamber.
    “You’d better leave,” Beth muttered as she poured her rose and lily crystals into the water. “You’re not the only one around here who can pitch a fit when provoked.”
    Cursing and not yet kenning how she sensed his presence, he backed into the solar.
    He looked at the cell phone. He could dispose of the piping box later. ‘Twas more important he check the launch; to be sure there were no leaks, enough petrol, and that the oars were in place should the damn engine fail.  
    ~#~
     
    Rocked by a sudden gust of cold wind, Beth looked up from her task of securing her rosebushes in the boat’s bow to see ominous, lead-bellied thunderheads gathering on the horizon. Frowning, she looked beyond the quay and found Drasmoor’s once glass-smooth harbor churning with whitecaps. “Not good.”
    She’d dallied longer than intended, enjoying her visit with Margaret—who’d filled Beth with tea, scones, and gossip—and the infamous gardener Ms. Crombie, but now she had to hurry.
    Untying the rope that secured her launch to the dock, Beth said, “I’m must apologize, Mrs. Crombie, but I’m afraid we’ll have to continue my lesson another time.” She pointed to the sky. “I need to start back before that storm hits.”
    “Ack! And here I am prattling on.” The old woman clasped Beth’s hand with fragile, gnarled fingers. “Please come often, my lady. I’d love to spend more time with ye, if ye’re of a mind.”
    “Thank you. I’d love to.”
    Beth settled at the rear of the boat. With an eye on the sky, she yanked on the starter cord and the engine coughed to life. Please, God, get me home safely.
    Apprehension mounting, she waved a final time to Mrs. Crombie and headed out