The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance) by Merabeth James Page A

as she looked from Meg’s plate to Meg, who was daintily wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “That was delicious, Tilda, but if we have it too often it won’t be so special,” she told her, as she hungrily tackled what was left on her plate.
    After breakfast they went for a walk along the sea, where the water was as flat as a cobalt blue plate. The tide was out below the cliffs, exposing a wide stretch of sandy beach. Sea birds flew overhead and spiraled down to the boulders below or tracked along the water’s edge, scavenging for anything that the receding water had left behind.
    “I wonder how they’d like some haggis?” Meg mused. “Only one way to find out!” With that she unzipped the bag and squeezed its contents over the side of the cliff, then shoved it back in her pocket. A seagull circled and landed on the rock next to the haggis ..then another…and another.
    “Seems the haggis is a hit,” Charlie said as they watched the seagulls wrangle over every last bite. “It’s really quite good, you know, once you get past the idea of it. In my travels I’ve had to eat a lot of things I really didn’t want to know too much about!”
    “Humph!” was all Meg had to say.
    The morning sun was clearing the mountains and the day was warming up quickly, as they continued up the narrow path that edged the cliffs. A shaggy highland cow watched them briefly, then went back to grazing amid the gorse and heather that covered the sweeping uplands. Ahead, they saw a white house set in a patch of darker green fenced in by a stacked stone wall. A few sheep and another cow grazed there, eying them curiously as they approached.
    As they got closer, they saw an old man sitting on the stoop peeling something…potatoes?..and throwing the peelings to the chickens that flocked around him with beady eyed expectancy. A small white terrier-mix dog sat next to him. “He looks like Freddie,” Meg said, tugging at Charlie’s arm and pointing. “Do you think he’ll let me pet him?”
    “We can ask. Maybe he’ll be the second friendly soul we’ve seen so far!”
    As it turned out, he was! “Guid mornin’, lasses. Hou ar ye? Come sit daun wi’ an auld mon!” he told them with a wide grin.
    Opening the gate, they walked up the short path to the house and sat down on the stone steps. “Good morning to you. I’m Meg and this is my sister Charlie. Do you mind awfully if I pet your dog? I have one that looks enough like him to be a close cousin if not a twin!”
    The old man chuckled deeply, his blue eyes lively in his weathered face. “Looks loch he has taen ah lochin’ tae ye! His name is Mac…mine is Andy Dougal. Most call ma Dougal.”
    Meg knew he had taken a liking to the empty haggis bag she had in her pocket, but she scratched behind his shaggy ears and was rewarded with a quick lick on her nose.
    “Yer the ones the village is blethering on aboot. The sisters of the one up at the manor,” he said, watching Meg and Mac with a smile.
    “Yes, we’re the sisters. We haven’t exactly had much of a welcome here and wonder why?” Charlie asked, watching their host closely.
    “Thare ar some ‘at dinnae want strangers hare. Ah stay tae myself an’ Ahm left alone.”
    “I see. And that’s all you care to tell me?” Charlie asked, trying to hide her disappointment.
    “Aye! Ye’d best git oot of hare and tak’ yer brither wi’ ye. Ah mean it kindly, lass. Ah really do.”
    “What can you tell us about the history of this place?” Charlie asked with a smile.
    Sitting on the stoop, watching the chickens scratch in the dirt, the sisters listened to Dougal’s tale. The village had been larger in its day, but a fire caused by a “bluidy cow” had destroyed much of it some two hundred years ago. And there had been a long history of smuggling…mostly staple goods that were heavily taxed like tobacco, tea or salt for preserving meat and fish. Apparently, there wasn’t a market in the Highlands for the