Page 32 of Edinburgh Escape
Callum drove the car up to the circular drive and around a fountain, squirting water out of the mouths of stone fish. Petunias in shades of pink, purple, red and white spilled out of stone flower boxes ringing the fountain.
Maggie pressed a hand to her chest and stared up at the mansion, her eyes growing rounder as Callum parked. “This is an estate?” she whispered. “It’s more like a castle.”
The door opened. A man in a black suit emerged and descended the steps in time to open Maggie’s door.
Callum left the driver’s seat and quickly rounded the hood of the car, ready to run interference between Maggie and the man holding her door.
As Maggie got out, the man in the suit stood ramrod straight. “Ms. McKendrick, my name is Gregory. I’m the butler. Welcome to Drummond Manor.” To Callum, he said. “You may leave your keys in the vehicle. I’ll have our chauffeur move it.”
A long black car rolled up beside their rental and a tall man with dark hair and heavy eyebrows unfolded himself from the driver’s seat.
Gregory looked past Maggie and addressed the driver. “Alastair, Lord Drummond has postponed his trip to Edinburgh. You may take the car back to the garage. Then you can come back and park our guests’ vehicle in the garage.”
Alastair’s brow dipped low as he studied Maggie and Callum. Without saying a word, he gave a brief nod, climbed back into the car and drove away.
He waved a hand toward the door. “If you’ll follow me, Lord Drummond is waiting for you in the sitting room.” Without waiting for her response, he pivoted on his heel, marched up the stairs and opened the door.
Callum joined Maggie, rested a hand at the small of her back and walked with her up the steps and across the threshold. Whatever happened, he would be there for her.
As Callum passed Gregory, the butler asked, “Your name, sir?”
“Callum McCall,” he responded.
The butler led them across a cavernous marble foyer and into a room with a Victorian-era settee and matching chairs with intricately carved wooden legs, curved backs and floral upholstery. Beautiful tapestries and ornate paintings covered the walls.
A man wearing tailored slacks and a brown tweed blazer stood with his back to the door, leaning his arm against a white fireplace with gold trim and delicate porcelain figurines decorating the mantel.
The butler cleared his throat and announced, “Ms. McKendrick and Mr. Callum McCall to see you, sir.”
The man in the tweed blazer turned, and immediately, Callum recognized the striking resemblance. He could only be Ewan Drummond, Maggie’s half-brother.
Maggie gasped.
“Ms. McKendrick.” He crossed the room, a crooked smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “If I’d had any doubt about your lineage, all my doubts have been dispelled.” He held out both hands to her.
She placed her hands in his, her eyes round, tears welling.
Callum stood close, ready to step between them if Maggie’s half-brother threatened to hurt her.
Ewan chuckled. “Startling, isn’t it? The gene for red, curly hair is incredibly strong among the Drummonds as far back as anyone can remember.”
Maggie blinked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so emotional.” She stopped. “No. Actually, I am,” she said and gave a shaky laugh. “It’s just that all my life I wondered where I’d gotten my red curly hair and green eyes. My mother had blond hair and blue eyes. She was taller, slender and athletic. I looked nothing like her, and she never told me anything about my father. I assumed he was dead. Until?—”
“—the DNA test and the ancestry app,” Ewan concluded. “Well, it’s nice to know I have a sister.” He squeezed her hands and released them, turning to Callum, a hand outstretched. “Ewan Drummond.”
Callum took the man’s hand. “Callum McCall.” The man had a firm handshake.
Ewan’s eyes narrowed. “Callum McCall,” he said as if rolling the name over in his mind. “Sounds familiar.” He tipped his head to the side. “Did you attend the Duke of York military school?”
Callum shook his head. “Nothing so high-brow. I’m a product of Glasgow Gaelic School.”
Ewan smiled. “A Glaswegian, are ya?”
His chin rising proudly, Callum nodded. “Aye.”
Ewan’s gaze softened. “My battle buddy through all of my deployments was a Glaswegian. Saved my arse several times. I’d give my life for that man.”
Callum’s brow dipped. “You served?”
