“Okay, wow,” I said out loud as I wondered how the hell I was going to manage all of this. Where—how do I start?
If this were a hotel bringing in money, I would know exactly what to do, but this entire place was a private residence, and the money to run it had to be unbelievably enormous. If they asked me to find a way to save money…well, that would be a challenge.
I already knew that Lord MacLeod didn’t allow paying visitors and therefore didn’t offset their taxes with income. What did it take financially to manage all of this and was bill paying part of my job?
Well, I would figure it all out tomorrow. Even though I had jet lag, I was psyched and absolutely had decided today was for exploring!
A middle-aged man with his gray hair severely plastered to his oval head, stood waiting at the open front doors for me to recover from my fascination with everything. I noted then that he neither looked patient nor welcoming.
I gave him a smile, but did not receive one in return, so I took open stock of him and noted that his faded blue eyes while he regarded me were not cold, but they were not friendly either. What was up with that?
His lips were thin and he was dressed in what I assumed was a butler’s uniform of black except for the white shirt-points, black tailed coat, pants, vest, and a black and white striped tie.
He said without warmth, “Welcome, Miss Skye.”
I ignored the cool reception and decided his job probably required him to be aloof. Auntie always teases me and says that I am ‘too nice—too open’ and would defend the devil himself.
I don’t think that is quite true, but I do like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.
At any rate, I stepped past him and stood in the Great Hall I had been openly admiring. The rectangular room housed a round table in its center. An iron and wood chandelier hung over the table where a large ceramic pot held a gorgeous array of flowers.
Otherwise, the room seemed starkly under-furnished.
I smiled to myself to see a suit of armor standing in one corner of the room beside a stained glass arched window and beside that a tall palm. The other walls were adorned with what appeared to be family portraits.
One in particular caught my eye, but as my driver had put down the bags and was taking his leave, I turned back to thank him once again.
I watched him leave before my attention was taken by the butler who coughed and apparently waited my instructions.
I said, “So, then, since I’ll be working here, why don’t you call me Bobbie and I’ll call you?”
“Davis,” he said, still aloof. “I will have your bags taken to your quarters, Miss Skye, by one of the cleaning crew.”
“Oh, do you have a crew living here at MacLeod?” I asked curiously.
“No, they come in once a week. We asked them to come in today to make everything in readiness for your arrival, as per Mr. Ascot’s i
nstructions. Ah, here is Samuel…” Davis snapped his fingers and waved over a young man, who I guessed to be just a bit younger than I am. “Aye, then, sir,” Sam said, smiling and nodding to me. “Want me to take this up for miss?”
“Precisely,” Davis said.
Sam took up my two suitcases and with one last smile my way, hurried up the wide set of stairs.
“Mrs. Tunny should be here in a moment. She will give you a tour of the house and take you to your room.”
“Fantastic,” I said, ready to be happy whether he was or not.
He bowed himself off and as I watched him go, I returned to the portraits, stopping before one in particular.
Oooh…he was handsome. It was done of, I suppose, one of the lords…one from the late 1800s judging by his clothes. He was tall, with his white shirt billowing in the wind. His black hair was windblown as well, and he had a wild look in his blue eyes. He was my type, I noted immediately and laughed out loud at myself, but put a hand over my mouth as I heard the sound of approaching steps and turned away from the painting to find a plump woman with short brown, lifeless hair approach. I judged her age as mature. Her manner of walking was brisk, no nonsense, as was her appraisal of me.
I noted her style of dress, a dark gray pantsuit and cream colored blouse made her look more like she sat behind a desk than stood at a stove, and wondered if she had several roles here at MacLeod.
Her aura of detachment made my witchy senses wary. It was as though she already disliked me. What was going on here? Didn’t Davis and Mrs. Tunny want me here?
I gave her a bright smile. She didn’t return one. In fact, as she got closer, I saw something like irritation in her hazel eyes.
Why? I hadn’t been here long enough to annoy anyone.