Haunted Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page B

too harrowing, and you’ll like Banff fine. There’s a lot to see. Duff House, with its art gallery and tearoom—­”
    “I came here to see Pennard.” It wasn’t a lie.
    And her words made Graeme MacGrath’s mouth tighten into a hard line. “Pennard is filled with workmen these days. No place for tourists.”
    Kendra straightened. “I’m not just any tourist.” That, too, was the truth. “And I spent much of my life in Philadelphia. I’m used to jackhammers, street traffic, and all kinds of other noise I’m sure is much worse than a few workmen in a Scottish seaside hamlet.”
    Graeme frowned. “Pennard isn’t just any Scottish hamlet.” He tossed her argument back at her. “There are other fishing villages—­”
    “Maybe I’ll decide for myself.” Kendra couldn’t stand overbearing men.
    Worse—­because it meant she’d now have to drive down the cliff road—­she wasn’t about to let this one tell her what to do.
    She’d doomed herself.
    Her entire body prickled with annoyance. “If you’ll just be on your way, I’ll be on mine.”
    His scowl deepened. “You’ll never make it down Cliff Road.”
    “Of course I will.” The very idea turned her knees to jelly.
    “If you try to drive—­” On the word
drive
, Jock bolted between them, leaping into the car. “Jock! Get out of there!” Graeme bent, reaching in after him, but the dog jumped into the backseat.
    And it was clear he wasn’t budging.
    “Damn you, Jock.” Graeme straightened, glaring through the window at his dog.
    Jock grinned back at him, triumphant.
    Kendra smiled, too, unable to help herself. “I’ll drop him off at your cottage. The Keel, right?”
    She started to get into the car, sure adrenaline would see her safely down the horrid road, but a firm grasp to her arm stopped her.
    “Aye, it’s the Keel, but you’ll no’ be driving there.” Steering her around to the left side of the car, he opened the passenger’s door and urged her into the seat, buckling her in before she could protest.
    “I’ll see you safely to the Laughing Gull and then”—­he shot an angry look at Jock as he quickly circled the car and slid behind the wheel—­“I’ll take your car back to my cottage and wash it for you, inside and out.”
    In the back, Jock barked and rested a muddy paw on the console.
    Then, before Kendra had time to be afraid, Graeme started the engine and expertly drove them right over the cliff edge and onto the plunging, ribbonlike road that led down into the village.
    It was all Kendra could do not to close her eyes.
    Pride alone kept them open.
    Impossibly tight, the road was even worse than she’d imagined, zigzagging steeply between the high stone walls of houses hewn right out of the bluff. A jumble of slate and red pan-­tiled roofs rose like stepladders right to the water’s edge, where a single row of whitewashed cottages looked across the road to a sliver of pebbled beach and the choppy, foam-­crested waves of Pennard Bay.
    The little harbor with its stone pier, sea defenses, and fishing boats dominated the east end of the hamlet. And high above the marina, as if keeping guard, a large white house claimed a perch halfway up the far bluff. Low mist drifted round the house’s walls, but Kendra could see the glint of picture windows and the soft gleam of lights behind them. The house would have commanding views, and was clearly someone’s pride. Smoke rose from its chimney, the blue of peat smoke standing out against the gray fog.
    “Thon’s the Spindrift, owned by one Gavin Ramsay.” Graeme glanced at her as he drove slowly along the narrow waterfront road. “You’ll no’ be wanting to go up there. The road’s private and the bluff footpath is steeper than the way we just came down.”
    Kendra leaned forward, craning her neck to get a better view of the house. Graeme’s tone told her that his warning had more to do with Gavin Ramsay, the homeowner, than the way to his door.
    “You don’t