appropriate for the “game of kings,” and his brothers sat opposite each other in chairs that were just as elegant as thrones.
Blair wasn’t known in the family as a big intellect, but it was hard for anyone to beat him at chess. In fact, some of the games the brothers played took several days; this match had already been going for hours. Thankfully, it was their nature not to need much sleep.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sean said to Payton while playing his bishop. Sean didn’t even need to look at him to know something was off.
“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Payton replied. The last thing he wanted to do was start a discussion with the clan.
Sean arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth as if about to pose another question, but Payton raised his hand in warning. “I said, it’s nothing. Just leave me alone!”
For a few seconds, the two of them stared at each other. Then Sean shrugged and went back to his game.
At twenty-five, Sean was six years older than Payton, and Payton was closer with him than anyone else in his family, including the head of the family, twenty-seven-year-old Blair. Sean seemed younger than he was, due to his thin, sinewy build. He was smart, he was in constant motion, and he seldom missed a thing. Just a few minutes before, for example,Payton could tell Sean knew immediately that Payton was hiding something big from them. But he wasn’t the type to push, either, and Payton was grateful for that. He didn’t want to lie to his favorite brother, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone about his latest experiences until he knew more about them himself.
Payton crossed the wide-open hall and went up a tightly wound staircase. The old castle was unfeeling and cold, just like the brothers who lived there.
He closed the heavy door to his room and let out a deep exhale. What was wrong with him, he asked himself. What was happening?
He stood in front of the full mirror and scrutinized his reflection. Dark-brown eyes glared back at him. His full mouth was tight; it hadn’t been used for a smile in a very long time. The old crescent-shaped scar on his chin made him look dangerous. His light-brown hair stood out rakishly. He subconsciously stroked his hair with his fingers, smoothing it a bit. He was a fairly tall, well-built young man, just as always. He couldn’t see anything that had changed. But why then, he wondered, did everything feel different than before?
C HAPTER 5
M y first days in Scotland had flown by. My daily sightseeing tours were on hold for the weekend, so I was spending a lot of time with Alison and Roy. Alison was funny and laughed a lot. While she did her housework, she’d tell me stories—amusing episodes from her life, or small squabbles she’d had with Roy. And although she was the tiny one in this odd couple, she easily won every fight.
I felt really at home with them. The cozy warmth in the cottage, the rosy glow coming in through the pink blinds, and the arch overgrown with roses over the front door—all of it seemed to have brushed off onto me, and I was feeling much sunnier than I had been at home. But I couldn’t say everything was perfect.
The whole weekend I’d felt a little on edge. I couldn’t put my finger on it precisely, but it was almost as if I were being followed. Whenever I stopped and looked around, I didn’t see anything unusual. But it always felt as if someone were looking at me behind my back, and that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I felt a little silly about it, actually. It was probably just what Roy had told me when I arrived: Scotland turned people into superstitious scaredy-cats.
On Monday morning I had the house to myself. Since Roy was a teacher, he left the house pretty early in the morning. Alison had already apologized the night before for not being able to make breakfast for me. She was working extra hours at the tourist information office for a few days, filling in for a coworker who had to get her