As far as I was concerned, October in Scotland might as well have been the Arctic Circle. Venturing outside included heavy boots, a long scarf, fuzzy gloves, a weird hat with ear flaps, and a coat that made me look like a Stay Puft Marshmallow woman.
Why did I pick a white puffy one?
If it weren’t for the fact that a delectable shepherd’s pie awaited me down at the pub, I would have never left the warmth of the five-hundred-year-old church where I had my medical practice in Sea Isle, Scotland.
I slid more than walked down the small hill and around the corner to the pub, which was—closed.
“What?”
There was a sign on the door: “Closed for a Holiday.”
It was October. The Scots liked their holidays, but had I missed one? I’d so been looking forward to an early lunch—technically, more a late breakfast. I’d been up early packing and making sure I had my patients covered.
I pulled off a glove, and the icy air whipped around my fingers. I called my friend Mara, who helped her grandparents manage the pub. She lived above the establishment, which was always open this time of day—normally.
The phone rang, but Mara didn’t answer.
Great. What if something happened to them? My chest tightened.
They would have called if it were a medical emergency.
After checking the time, I shoved the phone back into my pocket. My friend Jasper’s tea shop was closed because he was already at the castle where we were headed later in the day for our friend Angie’s wedding.
Jasper was a French-trained pâtissier artist who created the elaborate wedding cakes for Angie and her fiancé, along with the desserts that went with the many meals and parties before the wedding.
I’d keep trying Mara to find out what was happening.
My stomach growled.
Cheese and crackers for the win.
Since I was leaving town for the four-day event, there wasn’t much food in the fridge.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but by the time I took off my glove and answered, Mara had hung up. I called her back.
“Em?” she asked without saying hello.
We’d become close the last couple of months and had no need for niceties.
“I didn’t even knock.”
“Security camera,” she said.
“I didn’t know you’d be closed. I was going to grab some lunch before we left.”
“Oh, shoot. I was busy with the breakfast crowd and forgot to text you. There is a blizzard coming. So, Ewan wants to leave early. I shut down the pub an hour ago so I could get ready.”
Blizzard? Ewan? That would be Ewan Campbell, laird, mayor, and Constable of Sea Isle, my new home as of three months ago. As the coroner, I worked with him on unusual deaths. Most people in Sea Isle died of two things: old age or drowning at sea. Murders and crime were not common in this quaint little town.
Though they did happen.
Thankfully, there’d only been one murder. While I’d never say it out loud, it had been the most exciting time of my life, and not in a good way. I almost died, twice. As the coroner, I wasn’t the most experienced crime solver in the world; most of my knowledge came from the British mysteries
I adored.
As a former ER doc, I’d dealt with death, but nothing had prepared me for trying to solve a murder.
I’d been brushing up on crime-scene techniques and reading autopsy procedures just in case something happened again. And I was much better with the chain of evidence.
Ewan and I were respectful of each other but tended to butt heads if we were together for more than five minutes.
“I thought it was just you and me.”
“Right. About that: Ewan wanted me to go down early with him to oversee the caterers. He says Angie was worried about the food for the hen party tonight, and with the storm coming, they decided to deliver all the food for the four days ahead of time. His housekeeper has it well in hand, but I promised to help where needed.
“Of course, I couldn’t say no. It’s Angie’s wedding. Ewan said he’d drive us down. He’s picking us up in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh.” Not only would I be in the car with Ewan, but I’d also be starving. Okay, maybe not starving, but definitely hungry.
“Why is the pub closed?”
“The grans left for holiday in Spain last night, remember? They’ll be back for the wedding.”
“Right.” I’d forgotten they’d be gone.
“I’m bringing a basket full of food—you won’t go hungry.”
I grinned. “It’s like you know me or something.”
She laughed and then hung up.
I almost always had a patient show up at the practice, even when we were closed on the weekends. More than once over the last few months, I’d worked a few thirteen- and fourteen-hour days. Though, most of the time, it wasn’t that bad.
The pace of life in Sea Isle was so much different from Seattle and my life as an ER doctor there. I still had many things to learn about Scotland, but so far, I loved the people and the place.
Not so much the weather.
As I arrived, Ewan’s Range Rover pulled up in front of the church.
“Out for a walk?” He seemed serious about the question. The weather didn’t seem to bother those who were native to Scotland.
“Uh. Yes. I’ll grab my bag.”
He followed me into reception and then to the office, where I’d left my small suitcase. My dress for the wedding hung separately on the back of the door.
Ewan frowned as he took the case and the dress from my hands. He was a handsome man and reminded me of those guys in the Old Spice commercials. He always smelled of pine and looked fine in his dark jeans and a navy cable-knit sweater.
He’d helped me out
of a bind when a killer had been after me, but for the most part, our relationship was just as awkward as the first day we’d met.
“What?” I asked.
“Is this all you have? We’ll be gone four days.”
“Yes. I always pack light. Oh, except for”—I jogged around my desk—“can’t forget this.” I held up my medical bag. “Maybe, since the weather is bad, we should take this as well.”
I rolled the new lab case out. Abigail, a wonder of a woman, put the medical trolley together for when we had to do home visits. A few of our machines that we used often were made in a travel size, as well as other equipment, supplies, and meds. It saved a great deal of time if we could make diagnoses on site or if we were in an emergency off-site.
“Hopefully, you won’t need it.” He smirked.
“You probably just jinxed us.” I smirked back.
By the time he loaded my stuff in the car and settled in the driver’s seat, the snow fell in heavy sheets.
The SUV slid a bit as we headed down to the pub.
“Is it safe to drive?”
“Aye. No worries.”
Mara waited outside the pub, with two huge suitcases and a tote bag. She sat in the back seat, even though I’d offered her the front one.
They bantered back and forth, as he loaded her bags. She had an easier time talking to Ewan than I did.
Everyone in town adored him, and it was mutual as far as I could tell. I had no idea why we were so uncomfortable with each other.
Once on the road, she passed out hearty roast beef sandwiches, chips, brownies, and water cartons.
“Did you hear about the latest drama?” she asked Ewan.
“The one about her dress being stuck in Italy or that the groom’s brother is in jail again?” he said.
Angie, the bride, and I had become fast friends. She ran her family’s tartan company and was incredibly successful. A month ago, Angie had begged Mara and me to come for the four days of festivities for the wedding. She needed moral support.
Mara and I had been privy to a great deal of the behind-the-scenes action for the wedding because poor Angie needed shoulders to lean on that weren’t related to the family.
“The brother,” Mara said. “They aren’t sure his bail arraignment will be in time for the wedding. Angie texted me late last night, and Damien is furious with him.”
“Why is he in jail?” I asked.
Ewan glanced at Mara in the rearview.
“Well, from what I heard, Mr. Carthage, Angie’s soon-to-be father-in-law, has a load of lawyers in Edinburgh just for Caleb,” she said. “He’s either in trouble for brawling, drugs, or gambling. Which one, Ewan?”
“I’m law enforcement and—”
“It’s an ongoing case,” I said.
His eyes opened wide.
“Sometimes I pay attention,” I joked.
He didn’t laugh. I blamed it on the Scottish sense of humor. At times my sarcasm went over well. Other times I was met with blank stares.
It wasn’t long before we turned off the coastal highway onto a road heading up into the highlands. The snow fell heavier as we climbed the narrow road, but plows had already cleared the way.
Ten minutes later, we reached an iron gate with intricately carved gargoyles on each side. No wonder Angie had picked this castle for her gothic-themed wedding.
Ewan pushed a button above his head. The gates opened slowly, and he drove through. Snow dusted the trees lining the driveway, and a soft glow of orange and purple lights wrapping the bare branches gave the place a fairy-tale ambiance.
“Are there Christmas lights in the trees?” I asked.
Ewan smiled. “Yes. Angie wanted white, orange, and purple lights to incorporate her theme. They are on a computer program so we can change the colors for the holidays. We rent the place out for parties and events when my family isn’t using it.”
I’d heard about Morrigan Castle from Angie, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing.
The tree line stopped. Through the snow an enormous castle came into view. Angie had said this was one of the smaller homes Ewan’s family owned.
Smaller?
It was at least three stories high and stretched out to the left and right far beyond what we could see.
“It’s a castle,” I said.
Did I say that out loud?"
Ewan smiled, and Mara cackled from the back seat.
“I mean—Angie said—never mind.”
“What did Angie say?” Ewan asked.
“That it was small. But it’s huge. How many rooms are there?”
Ewan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Last count was eighty-one. Wait. We redid the observatory on the third floor and the last ten bedrooms on the east wing. Maybe that’s ninety-four or so.”
This time I laughed. “When you have a house so big you can’t count all the rooms, that’s crazy.”
He nodded. “I agree. I’m working to restore our family homes to preserve their history, but we aren’t the only ones who enjoy them. It’s why we host events, to help offset the cost of restoration.”
“But you have one bigger than this?”
“Yes, but it’s going through a full remodel in Glasgow, and there’s one on my mother’s side that is in Edinburgh. There’s a rich history on that side … I’d be happy to show you sometime.”
“That would be great.” I realized what I’d said. Why would he offer that? Most of the time we could barely stand to be in the same room.
“We’ll plan it soon.” He smiled as if it might be something he looked forward to, which I didn’t understand. Two people could not be more different, or more awkward, than we were with each other.
I considered myself a relatively worldly person, but Ewan and I ran in different circles. I was an orphan of sorts. It was one of the reasons I’d left my life as an ER doctor for a new adventure in Scotland. I had history here—at least my ancestors did. Though, thanks to my busy schedule, I hadn’t been able to research them as much as I would have liked.
One thing I knew for certain—no one in my family had a castle.
Ewan had at least three of them, and a familial history that seemed to cover the whole of Scotland.
Some men ran out from the entrance to help Ewan with the bags.
“I love this place,” Mara interjected. “Look at those massive gargoyles over the door.”
“Those were care of one of the French women who married into the family five hundred years ago,” Ewan said. “Her gothic sensibilities are throughout the house.”
“You mean castle,” she said.
We laughed.
“Aye. But we’ve worked hard to make the drafty old thing feel a bit more homely.”
“I’m guessing that word means something different here.”
Ewan had gone around the back to open it for the two men who had come out of the castle.
“What does it mean where you’re from?” Mara asked.
“Plain and not very pretty.”
“Here it means comfortable.”
When I’d moved to this English-speaking country, I’d never imagined there’d be a language barrier, but there was. Many of my patients had thick accents, and even though we spoke the same language, I didn’t always understand them.
After the last three months, I was a bit better, but I sometimes needed Abigail to translate what the patients were saying.
The gargoyles over the door stared down out at me menacingly. Every day was a new adventure here.
I glanced at Ewan, and he smiled again.
Scotland was never boring.
Later that night, the hen party was in full swing. I’d been to a few bachelorette parties, but this was next level. Even though there had been a five-course meal for everyone earlier in the evening, there was an elaborate spread of food here now. I’d already eaten my weight in my friend Jasper’s macarons.
Giant vases full of flowers were elegantly displayed on every table. China and silver were used, and the room even had mood lighting. There were
two or three different games being played at tables spaced around the room.
The furnishings were in shades of blue toile, as were the long curtains hanging high over the windows.
Angie plopped into a chair near me. “Are you having fun? Why are you over here by yourself?” Known for her eccentric outfits, tonight was no exception. She wore a purple top with feathered sleeves, leather pants, and boots. Her hair was pink tonight; it often changed with her mood.
“I was so excited about your wedding, I didn’t sleep much. That and I’ve been playing that high jinks drinking game with Mara and your cousins. My head started to spin.”
“Lightweight.” She smiled.
“I think I might do a research study into the livers of you Scots. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Probably has something to do with the scotch killing off all the germs. At least, that’s what granddad says. What do you think the men are doing?”
The men had a stag party somewhere in the west wing. I’d been seated by one of the groomsmen at dinner, and I had a feeling she didn’t want to know the truth about what they had planned for her fiancé.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “Are you having fun?”
“Aye.” She leaned back in the plush chair beside me. “I cannae believe we are here, and it is happening. I dinnae think the day would ever come.”
We were in an elegant ballroom, on the other side of the castle, with all of Angie’s female relatives and friends. There had been
some introductions, but Mara and I decided there were too many new names to learn.
“You picked an amazing place,” I said. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful castle.” Okay, I hadn’t seen many castles, but this had to be one of the best.
“It is. I’m so grateful to Ewan for allowing us to use it. That man is a good one.” She stared at me pointedly.
“What?”
She laughed. “I’ll never understand why you two can’t get along.”
“We get along—for the most part.”
Angie shook her head.
It was way past my bedtime. I’d been planning on sneaking out before Angie sat down.
The noise level rose. Four women were in a corner, pointing fingers at one another.
“I better go break that up,” Angie said. “The steps and mom like to get together and talk about how awful my da is. His new wife is the one with the deer-in-the-headlights look.
“I can’t believe he didn’t make it up before the storm. Typical Da. Now, she’ll have to go through everything without him.”
I’d met most of the women earlier at a cocktail party, but they were eerily similar. They had shoulder-length black hair and petite figures, and they all wore black party dresses and even the same-colored red lipstick. Some had a few more wrinkles than others, which was the only way to tell them apart from the new wife.
Her dad certainly had a type.
My punk rock friend, Angie, whose hair was in a pink updo, didn’t look anything like them—especially her mother.
It was nearing midnight, and the festivities didn’t seem anywhere close to ending. The music was loud, and the heated air stuffy. My head ached a bit, probably from too much prosecco earlier.
Angie was right. I was a lightweight.
While she played peacemaker with her stepmothers, I saw my opportunity to head out. Once I was in the hallway, though, I couldn’t remember which way to turn.
They should have given us maps.
Our room was on the first floor, but there were so many different hallways.
Earlier, we’d just followed the crowd of women to the hen party. I had no idea how to get back to my room.
I’d taken a few steps backward when I bumped into someone.
“Oh, sorry,” I said.
“No worries,” the man said. He had a hoodie pulled up and wore a white shirt and black slacks.
“Wait, you’re one of the men who helped us with the bags. Can you tell me how to find the Blue Room on the first floor.”
He stopped. “Almost there.” He coughed. And his arm wrapped around his stomach. “Seven doors down on the left.”
“Are you okay?”
“Aye. Thanks.”
“I’m a doctor.”
His shoulders stiffened. Then he half ran down the hall.
Okay, then.
He’d been right about the room. It was exactly where he said.
Decorated in a Louis XIV style, with intricately carved furniture trimmed in gold leaf and beautiful silk curtains hanging down over the bed, the blue and gold room screamed French elegance. There was nothing homely, no matter which version used, about it.
The king-sized bed was so spacious, Mara and I didn’t mind sharing. I sat on the edge of the bed. The headache wouldn’t allow sleep. I opened my medical kit and took two acetaminophen tablets.
A walk in some fresh air would help.
I changed out of my navy, A-line dress I’d bought at Lulu’s shop in Sea Isle, and put on jeans and a sweater. Lulu was Angie’s aunt, but she wasn’t here yet. I hoped the snow would stop soon so the rest of the guests could make it in time for the wedding.
The weather had been a hot topic at dinner. Several people claimed it was going to be a storm unlike any Scotland had seen in thirty years. As if she weren’t stressed enough, Angie had seen the weather
as a mortal enemy. Mara and I convinced her it was just cold rain, which was considered lucky for weddings.
I slid on fuzzy boots and my puffy coat.
I had no plans to go outside, but there was a beautiful year-round garden in the first-floor conservatory. There were heaters for the plants, and it was protected from the whipping snow outside.
Ewan hadn’t been prideful, but he had been excited to show us his castle. His enthusiasm had been adorable, and he’d shared stories about the history of how everything came to be here. Including the French woman who shook everything up when she married the laird.
“It’s said she still haunts the halls if housekeeping doesn’t keep things up,” Ewan had said. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but this was certainly the right place for them.
Finding the conservatory on my own was another story. There were so many hallways, and finding the one that led to the back of the house was challenging.
Down one of the halls, two men argued.
“I’m working on the problem,” Damien, Angie’s groom, said to the other man. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
“I’ll go to the authorities if you don’t set it right,” the other man said. It was the groomsman, Byron, who sat by me at dinner. He’d been perfectly pleasant then, though he’d told me things I didn’t want to know about the stag. “You’ve known for months what he was up to. Why haven’t you done anything?”
“Excuse me.” I waved. The two men turned toward me. “I’m very lost.”
“Doc, is that you?” Damien asked.
“Yes. I’m trying to find the conservatory.”
The other man huffed and then walked away.
“It’s easy to get lost in here. If you go down to the end of this hall and turn left, you’ll find the rotunda where the glass doors are.”
“Ah. Thank you,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Byron seemed upset about something.”
“Aye, he’s fine. Of all the nights, he wanted to talk business. I don’t have the head for it. Is Angie having fun?”
When he said her name, his eyes lit up.
I smiled. “She’s having a grand time.”
“I hope the steps are behaving.”
“Don’t worry—she’s keeping them in line. Get back to your party. ...
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