Read Online ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense) by Faith Mortimer - Free Book Online
Authors: Faith Mortimer
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splashes of bright colour here and there from the curtains, scatter cushions, and leaded-glass lamps. One lamp was in a locked glass case. She crossed the room and leaned forward to get a closer look at the nearest. She was certain the lamps were Tiffany style; she had always admired the beautiful and often intricate designs. Seeing Angus’s handsome furniture made Cassandra think of Sotheby’s. Her attention was caught by a photograph on a small table. It was of a young, red-haired woman, dressed in a long white dress with a tartan shawl draped around her shoulders. She bore no resemblance to Angus, and Cassandra assumed she was a friend—or worse—his wife! There was a definite Scottish feel to the room, and Cassandra guessed the crossed claymore swords on the wall above the fireplace had a lot to do with it.
“Here we are. I hope a mug is okay with you? I’ve added a little milk.”
Cassandra hadn’t heard his footsteps on the deep-pile carpet. Starting with surprise, she moved back into her chair. “Yes, thank you, it’s perfect. I was admiring your swords. They’re copies of the real thing, are they?”
He followed her gaze towards the hearth and smiled. “No, they’re original basket-hilted claymores.” He paused as if he was going to add something else but changed his mind. “So, I hope you’re feeling better now?”
Cassandra sipped her tea and nodded. “Yes, thank you. Outside you mentioned Black Donald. Who’s that?”
“Black Donald? Old Clootie.” When Cassandra frowned he explained further. “The devil himself. Clootie means cloven hoof.”
“Ah. I didn’t know. You gave me such a shock when you first spoke. I didn’t notice you in the road.”
Angus didn’t answer. Instead, he took a mouthful of tea and got up to throw another log on the fire. Sparks flew up the chimney as he gave the log a poke.
“So are you going to tell me what spooked you?” he asked, before settling down on the settee in front of her. He appeared relaxed, one ankle resting across his knee, an arm along the back of his seat.
Cassandra felt a flush rise from her neck to her face and looked down at the mug in her hands. “You’ll think I’m stupid. The whole thing is absurd, nonsensical.”
“Try me, mo guradh milis,” he said in a soft voice, shifting his weight and stretching his long legs towards the fire. “I’m a very good listener.”
Forgetting her fright, Cassandra stared properly at her host, and various thoughts passed through her mind. Had she ever seen eyes so blue before? And his face. If he was twenty years younger, he would have been gracing the covers of a glossy magazine. But why did he—? Of course! He looked so different because when they met before, he sported stubble and almost a moustache. Cassandra saw a tiny intriguing crease appear between his dark eyebrows. She let her gaze travel down his face and body. His legs were slim and rangy, encased in black jeans, and before she realised it, she found herself staring at his feet. Cassandra wondered if he knew how very good-looking he was, and she found herself wishing she was dressed in something a lot more flattering.
Angus changed position in the chair as he placed his mug onto a side table, causing Cassandra to suddenly come to her senses. She realised she had been blatantly appraising a man in his own house. She took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and as her gaze returned to his face, felt her cheeks flame with heat. When he moved forward, one eyebrow slightly raised, she almost squirmed with embarrassment. For one awful moment she thought he could read her mind.
“I…you’ll think me completely mad,” she said eventually, in a squeaky little voice. She cleared her throat. “That is, it really was nothing. I just gave myself a fright. Mother always said I had an over-imaginative mind.” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Okay. I was out walking near the top of the hill, and I…I thought I saw someone.”
He let
“Here we are. I hope a mug is okay with you? I’ve added a little milk.”
Cassandra hadn’t heard his footsteps on the deep-pile carpet. Starting with surprise, she moved back into her chair. “Yes, thank you, it’s perfect. I was admiring your swords. They’re copies of the real thing, are they?”
He followed her gaze towards the hearth and smiled. “No, they’re original basket-hilted claymores.” He paused as if he was going to add something else but changed his mind. “So, I hope you’re feeling better now?”
Cassandra sipped her tea and nodded. “Yes, thank you. Outside you mentioned Black Donald. Who’s that?”
“Black Donald? Old Clootie.” When Cassandra frowned he explained further. “The devil himself. Clootie means cloven hoof.”
“Ah. I didn’t know. You gave me such a shock when you first spoke. I didn’t notice you in the road.”
Angus didn’t answer. Instead, he took a mouthful of tea and got up to throw another log on the fire. Sparks flew up the chimney as he gave the log a poke.
“So are you going to tell me what spooked you?” he asked, before settling down on the settee in front of her. He appeared relaxed, one ankle resting across his knee, an arm along the back of his seat.
Cassandra felt a flush rise from her neck to her face and looked down at the mug in her hands. “You’ll think I’m stupid. The whole thing is absurd, nonsensical.”
“Try me, mo guradh milis,” he said in a soft voice, shifting his weight and stretching his long legs towards the fire. “I’m a very good listener.”
Forgetting her fright, Cassandra stared properly at her host, and various thoughts passed through her mind. Had she ever seen eyes so blue before? And his face. If he was twenty years younger, he would have been gracing the covers of a glossy magazine. But why did he—? Of course! He looked so different because when they met before, he sported stubble and almost a moustache. Cassandra saw a tiny intriguing crease appear between his dark eyebrows. She let her gaze travel down his face and body. His legs were slim and rangy, encased in black jeans, and before she realised it, she found herself staring at his feet. Cassandra wondered if he knew how very good-looking he was, and she found herself wishing she was dressed in something a lot more flattering.
Angus changed position in the chair as he placed his mug onto a side table, causing Cassandra to suddenly come to her senses. She realised she had been blatantly appraising a man in his own house. She took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and as her gaze returned to his face, felt her cheeks flame with heat. When he moved forward, one eyebrow slightly raised, she almost squirmed with embarrassment. For one awful moment she thought he could read her mind.
“I…you’ll think me completely mad,” she said eventually, in a squeaky little voice. She cleared her throat. “That is, it really was nothing. I just gave myself a fright. Mother always said I had an over-imaginative mind.” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Okay. I was out walking near the top of the hill, and I…I thought I saw someone.”
He let
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