The Presence Read Online Free PDF Page A

scones.”
    â€œWow, tea! I’d love tea!” Gina said. “You’d love tea, too, Toni!” Gina grabbed Toni’s hand. “And we’dlove for Laird MacNiall to join us so we can explain about how and why we rented the place…talk about all the work we’ve done here, and find out about Laird MacNiall, while we’re at it?” She looked at him hopefully.
    â€œSince you’ve been so kind to let us stay while we get to the bottom of this, would you be willing to join us, Lord MacNiall?” Thayer asked.
    â€œThanks. I had a long flight in today, a lot of business and a long drive, only to find out that the castle had been…inhabited,” MacNiall said. “I’ll just retire for the night, if you don’t mind. Please feel free to enjoy your tea, however. And the hospitality. Until Monday.”
    â€œUntil Monday?” Toni said, and her reward was a final jab from Gina. This time she protested, staring at Gina. “Ow!”
    â€œGood night!” Gina said, “And thank you.”
    â€œYour papers,” MacNiall said, handing them back to Gina.
    â€œThank you,” Gina said again. “And thank you for…for letting us stay until Monday. Until this is all straightened out. I don’t know where we’d go, especially at this hour.”
    He inclined his head. “I sympathize with your situation,” he said. “Good night, then.” He took one long last look at Toni and turned away.
    Toni opened her mouth, about to speak, but Gina clamped a hand over her mouth, desperately whispering, “Just say, ‘Good night, Laird MacNiall!’”
    MacNiall looked back, all six feet three inches of him. His eyes now appeared to be more of a true blue, and as sharp as a summer’s sky. Something strangeripped through Toni. She was caught, frozen. She felt as if she knew him, knew the way that he looked at her.
    Had known him before.
    And would know him again.
    A tremor ran down her spine. Ice. Fire. She had invented him!
    He was just a man, she told herself—irritating, superior and angry that they were in his house.
    Not true. If his hair were a little longer, his clothing a bit different, just a bit different…
    â€œGood night,” he said.
    The ice and fire, and a feeling of foreboding so intense she trembled, became too much, far too intense. She turned herself and hurried down the stairs. Ran.
    Yet a voice whispered to her all the while.
    You can’t run away. You can’t run away.
    And something even softer, an afterthought.
    Not this time…

Interlude
    When Cromwell Reigned

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    F rom his vantage point, MacNiall could see them, arrayed in all their glittering splendor. The man for whom they fought, the ever self-righteous Cromwell, might preach the simplicity and purity one should seek in life, but when he had his troops arrayed, he saw to it that no matter what their uniform, they appeared in rank, and their weapons shone, as did their shields.
    As it always seemed to be with his enemy, they were unaware of how a fight in the Highlands might best be fought. They were coming in their formations. Rank and file. Stop, load, aim, fire. March forward. Stop, load, aim, fire….
    Cromwell’s troops depended on their superior numbers. And like all leaders before him, Cromwell was ready to sacrifice his fighting man. All in the name of God and the Godliness of their land—or so the great man preached.
    MacNiall had his own God, as did the men with whom he fought. For some, it was simply the God that the English did not face. For others, it had to do with pride, for their God ruled the Scottish and Presbyterian church, and had naught to do with an Englishman who would sever the head of his own king.
    Others fought because it was their land. Chieftains and clansmen, men who would not be ruled by such a foreigner, men who seldom bowed down to any authority other than their own. Their land was