The Curse of McMillan Castle
Book 12.5 of Morna’s Legacy Series
Bethany Claire
Contents
Book Description
Free Book - Subscribe to My Newsletter
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Missed a Book in the Series?
Sweet/Clean Versions of Morna’s Legacy Series
Love Beyond Time - 5 Year Anniversary Edition
New Release Texts
Interested in Large Print Paperbacks?
Connect with me on Amazon
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright 2020 by Bethany Claire
All rights reserved.
License Notes
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Designed by Damonza
Available In eBook, Paperback, Hardback, & Large Print Paperback
eBook ISBN: 978-1-970110-23-4
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-970110-24-1
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-970110-25-8
Large Print Paperback ISBN: 978-1-970110-26-5
Visit Bethany’s Website
Bethany on Facebook
Bethany on Twitter
Bethany on Pinterest
Bethany on Goodreads
Sign up for Bethany’s Mailing List
A curse, a ghost, and a painting that goes bump in the night might just be the key to their perfect romance.
Madeline knows firsthand that life rarely goes according to plan. If it did, her husband would still be alive, Scotland wouldn’t be her home, and she wouldn’t be living in the seventeenth century. Hardened by grief and broken dreams, Madeline hopes that a new life for her and her daughter might be enough to pull her from her years’ long rut. Despite her best efforts in a new century, little changes. As the months pass, her wish for a happier tomorrow seems unlikely to come true. But when a newcomer with ties to the castle arrives in the village, Madeline’s interest is piqued for the first time in years as she discovers maybe there’s more reason to be hopeful than she originally thought.
Expert stone mason, Duncan, never dreamed that accepting a seemingly-harmless painting in exchange for his work would lead to such trouble. But after nights of no sleep make it clear that his new possession is indeed haunted, Duncan sets out to return the wretched piece of art back to its home at McMillan Castle. Determined only to rid himself of the art, Duncan’s plans are derailed when he meets a lass so bonny he finds himself eager to accept work that will keep him at McMillan Castle longer than planned. As time passes and his feelings grow, Duncan discovers that perhaps his home is no longer the place he left behind.
Is their love strong enough for the two of them to overcome their baggage? Or will the story end with the curse that brought them together?
Free Book - Subscribe to My Newsletter
Today when you sign up for my mailing list, I will send you a link where you can download A Conall Christmas - A Novella (Book 2.5 of Morna’s Legacy Series) for FREE!
A Conall Christmas is not a Christmas tale as much as it is simply a love story. Adelle, Bri’s mother, gets a second chance at love in this fun, uplifting book.
If you have already read it, I hope you will still choose to sign up for my mailing list just for the other benefits. I promise to never spam you. I will send out mailings only when I have news or special opportunities for you. And if you haven’t read A Conall Christmas yet, you get it FREE today when you sign up.
When you sign up for my mailing list, you will be the first to know about new releases, upcoming events, and contests. You will also get sneak peeks into books and have opportunities to participate in special reader groups and occasionally get codes for free books.
Just click one of the links in the paragraphs above or go to http://eepurl.com/bqjLCT to sign up today. I can’t wait to connect with you there.
Prologue
Many Years Earlier - McMillan Castle, 17th Century Scotland
The clash of something heavy behind him caused Niall McMillan to spin towards the sound. For the third time this week, Osla’s self-portrait had fallen from its place on the wall. It made no sense. He’d ensured it was properly secured only two days ago. And yet, once again, the portrait had nearly landed on his head. Had it fallen one second earlier, or had his steps been one step slower, it would have. Frowning, Niall bent and lifted the portrait until Osla’s inky eyes were level with his own.
Not much scared Niall—he was the true monster to be feared within the castle—but as he stared into the inky eyes of his late sister-in-law, a shiver spread its way down his spine.
The portrait made him uneasy. It always had. From the moment Osla had finished the artwork, he’d objected to Baodan hanging it in the great hall. Not that the decision had been his to make. His brother was laird of McMillan Castle. At least for now.
He continued to stare into Osla’s eyes as he willed the sense of unease inside him to go away. He hated looking at her. The likeness to her was unsettling, the way her eyes seemed to track him as he walked was almost supernatural. Not that he believed in any such nonsense. Flesh and blood, here and now, that was all there really was. Once dead, you were simply gone. Forever.
Still, ever since Osla’s death, he wasn’t the only one who found objection with the painting. On more than one occasion, he’d overheard servants whispering of how they didn’t wish to be in the great hall alone. One of the cooks swore she’d seen the picture blink. And even their mother had told him in private that Osla’s portrait looked as if it ached to breathe, and if she stared at it long enough, she wondered if perhaps she would truly see Osla’s chest begin to rise and fall.
Breathe. Something Osla would never do again. Niall smiled as he thought back to the night the first part of his plan had been executed with such glorious perfection. The poison worked so much better than he’d ever imagined it would. And the weight she’d lost during her sickness made it easy for him to slide her out of the bedroom window once he’d wrapped the noose around the foolish woman’s neck.
Thinking of Osla’s death calmed him. The woman was dead. And with it, her secrets. This portrait could do him no harm now, even if it seemed determined to fly off its place on the wall with unsettling regularity.
Even so, perhaps it was better to rid all of them of its dreadful presence. Baodan didn’t need the daily reminder of Osla’s miserable face staring down at him. His brother was already gloomy enough since his wife’s death. If Baodan asked where the portrait ha
d gone, he would simply blame it on a servant—perhaps the one who’d dodged his advances the other day in the hallway outside his bedchamber. He didn’t want that bitch around anymore either.
Two birds, one stone, as they say.
Smiling, his unease faded as he tucked the portrait beneath his arm and headed for the stables. He would go out for a long ride and give it to the first vagabond he happened upon once outside his brother’s territory. Perhaps the wretch lucky enough to cross Niall’s path could catch a price for the portrait, and the money received from it could see the poor man fed for at least a few moons.
It was a good thing he was doing, really. A generous thing. Sometimes it was good to do something entirely out of character.
Chapter 1
MacMillan Castle, 17th Century - Many Years Later - October
Madeline
The sizzle of the stew bubbling out into the open fire it hung over caused me to jump as I stirred from my seat next to Henry’s bed. Once again, he’d persuaded me to tell him stories about my old life—my life before my daughter Rosie and I abandoned life in the twenty-first century for a much more difficult, and much colder life, in the seventeenth century. Shivering— something I was quite certain I hadn’t stopped doing since we arrived in this godforsaken century—I stood from my seat and reached for a heavy cloth so I could remove the old man’s dinner from the fire.
A long-time servant of McMillan Castle, Henry knew all about the magic that had brought so many to this time and castle. After several years of confusion and questions, Baodan McMillan, laird of my new home, decided that it would be easier for everyone if all those who worked for the McMillans knew the truth of the magic and time travel that seemed to be the heartbeat of his home. Sworn to secrecy, and with the threat of magic over them if they ever did let the castle’s secrets escape, no such slip-up had ever occurred.
The steam rising from the pot warmed me slightly as I stirred it to cool it down quickly enough for me to give some to Henry before I had to leave. Serving as a sort of home health nurse for Henry since his stroke was vastly different from the high-paced, non-stop work I’d been accustomed to at the Chicago hospital, but it had kept me busy enough for the past two months that I was now too tired when I crawled into bed at the end of the night to lie awake for hours and wonder if I’d ruined my daughter’s life by uprooting her and bringing her here.
“Why doona ye go back, lass?”
I paused my stirring and looked through the steam toward the old man. “Why do you ask that?”
Deciding that the stew would have to just sit for a bit before serving, I walked over to the fire, poked at it a bit, and pulled Henry’s sitting chair close to it before waving him over as he answered me.
“You’re nae less miserable today than ye were when ye first came to help me two moons ago. Why did ye come here if ye enjoyed life in yer own time, so much?”
The damage from the stroke made Henry’s words slow and difficult to understand, but after so many days with him, I’d learned how to decipher most of what he said to me.
It was easy for me to make life in my own time seem lovely when I regaled Henry with stories of running hot water and food delivery services, but the truth was, I’d been just as miserable there. Besides, we couldn’t go back. There was nothing left for us in twenty-first century Scotland, and Chicago held too many terrible memories for us to ever have a home there again, either.
“Do I behave miserably around you, Henry?”
He shook his head as he worked his way over toward me with his cane. “Nae, but that doesna mean that ye are happy, lass. I can see how much it takes of ye to appear so.”
I sighed. “Just because miserable is my normal, doesn’t mean that everyone else should have to feel as I do when they’re around me. Faking it is my only option. I used to think that one day the faking happy would stick, but I’ve since given up on that dream.”
It was a horrible thing to admit, but it was true. Some part of my brain could vaguely remember a different version of me existing—a lighter, happier, less perpetually moody Madeline—but I was quite certain that girl had died along with Tim. The grief I’d once felt for him wasn’t quite the same. I could now think of my late husband without my chest bearing down on me with such pain I thought I might die, but the person I’d been with him had yet to return, even all these years later.
The old man stared at me hard as I helped to lower him into his seat. “Pretending that much for that long will kill ye, Madeline.”
“It hasn’t yet.” I smiled at him as I patted his hand in dismissal of the conversation before moving to return toward his dinner. The sun was already setting, and I couldn’t stay with him as long today as I usually did.
“Yet is the word ye might should pay more mind to, lass.”
With my back still toward him as I ladled his dinner into a wooden bowl, I responded. “I think you’re overestimating my acting skills, Henry. I’m polite, but I don’t think anyone would describe me as happy.”
“Mayhap so. I doona wish to upset ye. Bring me my dinner, and tell me about something else that will make me envious that I wasna born in yer time.”
Happy to move away from the current conversation, I reached for his spoon and smiled as I faced him. “I promise you I will tell you more stories tomorrow, but tonight I must leave a little early. Tomorrow is Rosie’s birthday, and I have an important role to play in a surprise we have planned for her.”
I still wasn’t entirely sure what the surprise was. Cooper had been incredibly tight-lipped about it to me, but I left that part out of my explanation to Henry.
Henry smiled and nodded in understanding. He adored Rosie. At least twice a week she would come with me when I came to check in on him, and every time she came and I watched him interact with her, it saddened me that he didn’t have any grandchildren of his own. The old man would’ve been so good with them.
“Ach, o’course ye must. How old is the wee lass?”
Just thinking of her being a teenager now made me ache inside. “She’s not so wee anymore. She’s thirteen today.”
“Thirteen! Why, I married me Agatha when she was but thirteen.”
I shuddered at the horrifying thought. “Rosie won’t be getting married for another twenty years if I have anything to say about it.”
Henry laughed and reached for his dinner. “Alas, ’tis unlikely that ye will have much to say about it after a few more years. Best enjoy this time with her while ye can.”
Dread settled in my stomach as the truth I knew was spoken aloud. It seemed like yesterday I was bouncing her on my hip as she giggled and latched onto my hair before snuggling into my neck. I could still smell the sweet little baby smell of her if I closed my eyes and thought of it. How had time gone by so quickly?
At least the only young little gentleman currently determined to win over Rosie’s heart was three years her junior. I still had quite some time before I had to worry about Rosie’s heart being entirely broken.
Chapter 2
Cooper
Cooper stared down at his plans for Rosie’s surprise as anxiety built inside him. There was too much to do and far too little time in which to do it. He needed this to happen for her tonight. Rosie needed one good thing that was just hers. He knew how she tried to hide it from him—Rosie was good at keeping her feelings hidden—but Cooper could see just how difficult the move here had been for her.
He jumped at the sound of a knock on his bedroom door, quickly sliding his carefully drawn plans out of sight just in case it was Rosie.
“Come in.” He smiled as Rosie’s mother slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Hello, Ms. Madeline.”
She shook her head at him as she smiled. “Cooper, I’ve told you a hundred times. You don’t have to call me ‘Ms.’ Just call me Madeline.”
The young boy shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry, Ms. Madeline. It just doesn’t sound right without the Ms. at the beginning of it. What’s up?”
<
br /> Cooper watched as Madeline lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged beside him.
“What’s up is that it’s time for you to spill the beans. If I’m going to keep Rosie distracted for the next handful of hours, I need to know what the surprise is.”
Cooper sighed and reached for the drawing underneath the edge of his bed.
“All right, I suppose it’s time. But you promise you won’t tell her, right?”
She held out her pinkie towards him. “Of course, I promise. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for her.”
Cooper took her pinkie as they swore secrecy then handed her the drawing.
“We are going to turn the old tower into a bedroom and study that’s just for Rosie!”
The young boy’s voice lifted with excitement as he smiled with pride at his idea. He did his best not to feel crestfallen when Madeline frowned at him.
“Oh, Cooper. There’s no way I can let you do that. The tower was supposed to be your room. I heard E-o and your mother talking about it just a few weeks ago. You’re getting older, and you’ve shared a room with your younger siblings for far too long. I know you’ve been looking forward to having your own space.”
The Curse of McMillan Castle - A Novella (A Scottish Time Travel Romance): Book 12.5 Page 1
