Dempsey nodded then his eyes went again to Jack. “But the behaviour, as I understand it, is your brother.”
It was. Absolutely.
And this could mean that it was Miles who pushed Belle down the stairs. He’d lived at The Point all his life, grew up there. He knew every inch not only of the castle but of the land surrounding it. He could get to and in the house without being detected. He could get out the same way.
His brother. His own f**king brother.
“We need to talk to Miles,” Belle said and Jack looked up at her to see her looking down at him as she continued, “We need to ask him to let Cassandra touch him.” Then her head tilted sharply to the side as her eyes moved over his face and she asked, “Jack, are you okay?”
Miles would not do that. There wasn’t a chance in hell.
And he was most definitely not okay.
“We’ll talk later, love,” Jack muttered and looked back to Dempsey. “Is there more?”
Dempsey shook his head. “Not now. I thought it important to share my theory with you without delay so you could be aware your brother posed a possible threat. I’ve been loaned some papers, books, diaries, etc. and I have more reading to do, a few more people to talk to and if I find anything, I’ll contact you.”
“Next time, call,” Jack ordered and Dempsey’s lips quirked.
“Did any of the stuff you’ve read talk about magic? Witchcraft? Anything like that?” Belle asked at this point.
“None at all,” Dempsey answered then finished, “so far.”
“So I wonder how that third ghost…” she didn’t finish likely because she didn’t want to cast her mind back to losing their child and how she did.
But at her words, Jack realized she hadn’t put it together. She thought it was a ghost. She didn’t think, possibly couldn’t wrap her mind around the thought of Miles sneaking in and pushing her down the stairs, killing their child at the same time wounding her without thought that such a fall could kill her as well.
Miles had told him in the stables that Jack would pay. He’d vow to do it through Belle. And now, possibly twice, he’d tried. Once, he’d attempted to fill her mind with rubbish and prey on her fragility by planting ideas about Jack and Yasmin in her head.
Once, he might have attempted to take her away from Jack another way.
Lewis saw the “ghost”.
They needed to find Lewis.
Now.
“I’m sure the coffee is ready now, Mickey. How do you take yours?” Belle asked, moving from the chair.
“He takes it by ordering it from the coffee house down the street,” Jack replied for Dempsey, rising from his chair.
“Jack!” Belle snapped, her eyes moving swiftly to his and narrowing.
“We have to get to The Point as soon as possible,” he told her. “We need to report this to Angus and Cassandra. They’ve been making little headway for weeks. This could be a breakthrough.”
“Oh, right, that probably would be smart,” she muttered.
Jack looked to Dempsey to see him gazing fondly at Belle. “You’ll pardon our rudeness at not offering you refreshments.” He spoke with politeness but it was a thinly veiled order.
“Right, mate,” Dempsey replied.
Jack caught Belle’s eyes. “I’ll show Dempsey out. Then we’ll have a quick breakfast and head to The Point.”
She nodded, offered her hand to Dempsey who took it, to Jack’s way of thinking, for several seconds too long and, finally, Jack showed him out.
By the time he was back upstairs, Belle had his coffee ready for him and bread in the toaster.
They had toast, coffee and gave the dogs a quick walk. Then they came back and had a shower together that Jack decided, even though it was imperative to get back to The Point, would be a long one.
A very long one.
And in the end, it was a very, very long one.
Then, on their Sunday alone together, Jack loaded Belle and his dogs in his Jag and headed to a castle full of people.
* * * * *
As with every day since Jack broke through her grief, waking up with Belle meant the day started brilliantly.
As with everything happening in his home, the possibility of this continuing was unlikely.
And, upon arrival at The Point, their already ruined Sunday degenerated.
This was because Jack found he had more guests.
As they said they’d do, Angus and Cassandra had called in reinforcements. And after Jack explained he wished to speak with the not so dynamic duo in his study with Belle and no one else so as not to distress his mother with the news about Miles, he was introduced to them.
A brother and sister pair. Twins. They were Angus’s niece and nephew, Lachlan and Lorna McPherson.
“Oh my,” Belle breathed when the motley quartet sauntered into his study and he looked down at her to see she was gazing with shy interest at the twins. Or, more accurately, the male one.
With narrowed eyes, Jack took them in.
They were in their late twenties. Both ginger. And both, Jack was mildly pleased to see, didn’t appear in full Scottish regalia. Lachlan wore jeans, boots and a sweater that fit close to his broad chest. Lorna wore a jeans skirt, high-heeled boots, a form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt and a long, colourful scarf wrapped around and around her neck.
And luckily, unlike Cassandra who was sporting what looked like six on three different places on her body including head, neck and hips, Lorna only had one scarf.
The female twin was more than slightly attractive. She was petite and rounded, much like Belle, but with masses of thick, curling red hair, delicate features and bright blue eyes.
Her brother was surprisingly tall, towering at least six inches over his sister. His ginger hair was cropped short, the waves contained though longish and curling around his neck. He had a short clipped, red beard, craggy, dominant features with a high, strong brow all of this making him appear older than his twin.
But they shared the same startling blue eyes.
It took Lachlan McPherson approximately half a second to lock eyes on Belle and a half a second longer to grin a wolfish grin at her.
“Oh my,” Belle repeated even more breathily.
“Jesus,” Jack muttered and felt Belle start at his side.
Angus, not one to miss much, one of the few things Jack respected about him, didn’t miss this.
Therefore, he clapped his nephew on the shoulder and boomed proudly, “He’s a McPherson!”
This made Lorna roll her eyes and murmur, “Someone kill me.”
Lachlan, his gaze still locked on Belle, noted, “You’re prettier than your pictures.”