Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [132]
“Falgannon Castle,” came the voice that had a similar timbre as Asha’s, but was touched with the charming hint of a Scottish burr.
“BarbaraAnne, this is Jago Mershan. I’m Desmond’s—”
B.A. cut him off. “Mershan? I thought it was Fitzgerald. Yes, we spoke briefly before, you lying bastard.”
God, he loved these Montgomerie wenches! No politeness or British stiff upper lip, they came at you, wanting to cut off vital parts of your male anatomy. Must be their Pict blood. He thought of that little knife Asha kept and shuddered.
“I see you share Asha’s opinion of me. I’m calling about Des. Look, I’m at the airport awaiting connections, but I need to speak with you.”
“Since you hurt my sister, I’m so in the mood to listen.”
He wished for an old-fashioned phone booth where he could sit down; wished Asha hadn’t taken his cell phone. “Asha’s capable of extracting her pound of flesh. I’ll make it up to her if I have to crawl on my belly and beg. Right now, this is urgent. I’m calling about Des. I spoke with him last night. It upset me. Whatever happens, please keep him on the island. I’m worried about him. He loves you.”
“I know.”
“That’s a relief.” For the first time since he saw Asha holding that letter, something had gone right. “I feared, like your precious sister, you’d pull a tizzy and try to punish Des until he comes around. My brother’s erred . . . in many things. We all have. Right now, he’s in trouble. Our mother died in November and Des hasn’t adjusted. It wasn’t an easy passing . . .”
Her tone was sad. “I figured that out a few days ago.”
An unwelcome intrusion, he heard his plane being called.
“Damn. They’re paging my flight. I can’t afford to miss it, and give your sister a head start. His whole life, he put Mother, Trevelyn and me ahead of what was best for him. He needs someone to put Desmond first. Can you, BarbaraAnne? Please remember above all, he loves you deeply—and don’t let him off that island.”
He waited for her to answer him for a couple of seconds, but finally had to hang up, not hearing her reply.
When the door opened on the small cottage, Jago sucked in his breath. In the half-light of the February evening, he thought for a heartbeat that he stared at Asha. Then after that breathless moment, he recognized the woman as Raven, her twin. He couldn’t pinpoint the differences, at first glance; he just felt it wasn’t Asha, on a deep level. Her face was faintly thinner, her hair darker. She blinked, confused, and then he understood—she was going through a similar puzzlement, thinking for an instant that he was Trev.
“Peculiar, eh?”
Eyes wary, she nodded. “I’m not sure the world really deserves two of you. One’s bad enough”
“You can berate me later. I want to see Asha. Make sure she’s all right.”
“Asha?” Her perplexity deepened.
“Yeah, your twin, looks a lot like you but has lighter hair and doesn’t have that beauty mark on her lip that you do.”
“I know my sister quite well. I just don’t understand why you would think she’d be here.” She looked him up and down. “I see differences between Trev and you, too.”
The way her mouth quirked up in a smug half-smile, set his teeth on edge. Jago reined in the irritation. “Asha’s not here?”
She shook her head. “She’s in Kentucky.”
“She left there, was coming home to you.”
“She’s not here. Her home is in Kentucky now.”
He half believed her, but intuition said she’d lie without hesitation for her sister. Being a jerk, he pushed past her and entered the cozy thatched cottage. A bright orange tabby appeared and danced around his feet; bloody thing was nearly as fat as Clint. The creature chased after him as he went from room to room calling Asha’s name.
Raven stood by the door, glaring haughtily at him as he returned. “Chester, leave the man alone. That’s not Trev,” she told the cat, which paid no attention. “I think it best you leave, Mr. Mershan.”
Ignoring her, he dropped down on the oak bench in the hallway. “She’s not here.”
“I told you she wasn’t, but I guess being a lying Mershan you