Alexander: A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 36)

by Cassidy Cayman

  “Yeah, Mummy, he’s great.”

  “Kevin, go to your room!” she hollered at the top of her lungs. His eyes widened and he ran.

  Conall watched him go and then turned a raised brow at her. Was he silently admonishing her for yelling at her child? She lunged for her phone and realized she had no idea where it was. She must have left her purse behind at the museum in her haste to save Kevin. She backed away from him, hands held out.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “Why are you here?”

  He ducked a very impressive bow, wincing as he rose. “My name is Conall Alexander. I’m here because ye told me to watch the lad and eat whatever I wanted.”

  “I-I thought you were my babysitter. My actual babysitter. Why would you go along with something like that? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t really him?”

  He seemed to give this some serious thought. “Weel, ye rushed off before I could get a word in. And there was no reason not to go along with it, for I’m no’ certain why I’m here at all. Perhaps it was to watch your lad, I dinna know. And he’s verra entertaining. If these are all the memories I’m to have before I move on, then I suppose it could be worse.”

  She pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. What was he on about? He was clearly insane, but didn’t seem to be sent from her ex, either. If he had, she and Kevin would both have sacks over their heads by now. It seemed to be some sort of plain misunderstanding. The oddest one she’d ever been a part of, but innocent enough.

  “You’re lucky I missed,” she grumbled.

  He rubbed his chest and grunted, holding out his shirt, which clearly had a bullet hole in it.

  “Ye didna miss, lass.”

  ***

  Conall felt around the sore spot on his chest. He really wasn’t dead, then. That was odd. Pleasant, but definitely strange. Was this another of wee Soni’s surprises? The blast had felt real enough. After all, the lass was only a few feet from him when her shaking finger had brushed too close to the trigger. He didn’t know how long he’d lay there thinking he was dead again and what a waste of a chance it was, when he heard Kevin crying.

  Well, he couldn’t have that. He’d grown fond of the lad over the last few hours. Kevin had run him ragged, battling pirates, climbing the one tree in their garden, and playing catch. He’d been a little too vigorous with one of his throws and the ball had flown over the fence. While Kevin went after it, his mother had come home, finally realizing she’d left her son in the hands of a total stranger.

  She gaped at him now as if he was a ghost and that made him laugh. She stomped over and stuck her finger through the hole in his shirt.

  “I don’t see what’s funny,” she snapped, face red. “How lucky can someone be? Where could the bullet have gone?” She smacked him hard in the chest, blushing furiously. “Plenty hard but certainly not steel. Could it have been blanks?” She sighed and nodded. “Of course, why would they use real ammunition at a museum presentation?”

  “I assure ye the bullet that hit me was plenty real,” he said. “I shall be bruised for weeks.”

  She pulled aside his shirt and felt around on his chest. There was a fiery red mark right where the bullet had hit and she traced it with her fingertip. The feeling of her hand on his skin nearly made him fall backwards again. He liked it far too much and feared he would raise his own hand to pull her closer.

  “Could it have bounced off? Made of a soft metal or something?” she murmured, walking around him in a circle. “Bloody hell,” she gasped.

  “I can see where your son gets his wicked tongue,” he said, craning his neck around to see what had confounded her.

  “Did he swear that much?” she asked, wrinkling her brow. “Stop. Don’t distract me. She poked him in the back. “There’s another hole back here. Is this just an old shirt?”

  He laughed again. “Aye, ‘tis a very old shirt. But there were no bullet holes in it when I arrived here today. That’s one thing I found especially interesting. No holes at all in me. Or my clothes. Ah, another thing that’s interesting is I think I may be invincible while I’m here. Imagine that.”

  She came back around to face him, looking completely blank. “What are you on about?”

  He figured he may as well come out with the whole story. She’d either believe him or she wouldn’t.

  “I dinna think I can die now, because I died over two hundred and fifty years ago. In a battle. Ye may have heard of it, though ye’re English. The battle of Culloden? The field I died on is a great tourist attraction now. We’ve a visitor center and everything.”

  She put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes, making a tea kettle sort of sound. Finally she looked up at him.

  “I think I would have preferred you were some psycho my ex-husband sent to torment me. At least that I can understand. But you’re just some ordinary psycho who has nothing whatsoever to do with me.” She took him by the arm and led him toward the front door. “I appreciate you not harming my son, and even teaching him those knots.”

  “And how to wink,” he said. “The poor lad was awful at it.”

  “Okay, and how to wink. But now I think you’d better go.”

  She pulled him toward the door and as he felt warmed by her hand on his arm, he dragged his feet ever so slightly. He had a feeling this was his quest. He was either there to help the wee lad or this lovely lass. How else could he have found himself thrust in such a situation?

  It was as if Soni had forced him off the highway and onto this residential lane. Why, he’d never once been lost in his life. He had an excellent sense of direction. He was sure he needed to stay with her, that it was fate that had set him down in front of her house. He realized with a start he didn’t even know her name.

  Before he could ask, two people burst in from the front door. A harried looking woman with ginger hair and a dark-skinned man with a fearsome scowl on his face. The man was armed with another pistol, similar to the one he’d been shot with only a few moments before.

  Conall puffed up his chest and moved in front of his new fair lady. Yes, it had hurt like blazes but it hadn’t killed him. He’d take another bullet if that’s what it took to earn his chance to pummel the Bonnie Prince. His hands clenched eagerly and the man with the pistol faltered in his resolve.

  “Are you okay, Mia? Is Kevin all right?” the red-headed woman cried, rushing forward. “Goodness, we thought the worst. I called the constable and Dr. Stone just in case you might have used the gun.” She glanced over Conall and sagged with relief, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Let me call them and tell them it was a false alarm. Unless you still want the constable?” She thrust a bag at Mia. “I brought your purse. You left it when you, er …”

  “Stole my rare antique flintlock,” the man interjected.

  Mia— a lovely name for such a lovely lass— sighed and shook her head. “I don’t need the constable. It was a misunderstanding.” She glared at Conall and he shrugged.

  “Well, I might,” the man said, waving the pistol he held. He looked chagrined and lowered it.

  The red-headed woman elbowed him and scowled. “This is Archebald Bancroft, head of the historical reenactment society.” She tentatively held her hand out to Conall, who just as tentatively took her fingers in a quick greeting. “I’m Evie, Mia’s neighbor. So, what’s going on?” She looked expectantly from him to Mia.

  “Is my pistol unscathed?” Archebald asked.

  Mia huffed and went to retrieve the pistol. “Here. I’m terribly sorry. If it’s scratched at all, I’ll certainly pay for the damage. But I thought at the time a stranger was with my son.”

  “Of course,” Archebald said, clearing his throat. “Completely understandable to steal a gun to—” Evie elbowed him again and he shut up.

  “I’m sure it’s fine, Archie,” she said. “Mia didn’t shoot it or anything.”

  He looked down at it and Conall knew at once he could see that she had.

  “But she did. It’s clearly
been fired. It was loaded and now it’s empty and see here at the muzzle—”

  He jumped away before he could be prodded again, but pointed at the gun with an outraged look on his face. Mia smiled widely, as if she had just remembered something wonderful.

  “I- I did accidentally pull the trigger. Thank goodness you were only loading it with blanks at that presentation of yours.” She looked pointedly at Conall’s chest. “Could have been a real tragedy if it wasn’t blanks.”

  “I assure you it wasn’t loaded with anything other than an authentic lead ball, meticulously handcrafted by our campers.”

  Mia’s face went three shades paler and she leaned against the wall. “What?” she asked in a small voice, honing in on his shirt with frightened eyes. “I— I mean, I guess it fired out the back door, then.”

  Evie followed her stare and her own eyes widened. “Archie, clearly no one was hurt and your gun is fine. Mia’s had a rough afternoon, thinking her son was in danger.”

  He looked down at the firearm and nodded. “Of course. Yes, I suppose no harm was done. I’m surprised no one complained about hearing a gunshot. That would bring the constable for sure. There’d be a fine for that.”

  “Goodbye, Archie,” Evie said, pushing him toward the front door.

  “It was nice to meet you,” Mia called as he left. “Sorry again for stealing your gun.”

  He waved and got in his car and drove off. Evie shut the front door and whirled on them. In two strides she was on him, pulling at his shirt and goggling at the hole.

  “Spill it,” she said, eyes gleaming with excitement. “What happened here?”

  Mia sighed and motioned toward the kitchen. “Would either of you care for some tea?”

  Chapter 3

  Was everyone in this village completely off their rockers? Her accidental babysitter believed he was a ghost and her neighbor was a bonafide meddler. As soon as Mia set teacups in front of them, Evie started in.

  “Did you shoot him?”

  Bloodthirsty, too, Mia decided. Why had she moved here again? To keep from answering Evie’s question for as long as possible, she checked her purse to make sure everything was there. Placing her phone next to her, she opened her mouth to try and explain in a way that wouldn’t send her to jail. Or bedlam.

  “Aye, she did shoot me,” Conall piped up before she could get a word out. “Square in the heart as ye can see.” He waggled a finger through the hole in his shirt. “I was explaining to her that I’m a ghost in human form and canna be killed right now, but she willna believe me.”

  “A ghost?” Evie said. “That’s new.”

  Mia expected her to call the constable yet again but she only looked at Conall with a furrowed brow.

  “Do you believe him?” Mia asked, incredulous.

  Her phone buzzed but she ignored it. It was probably Padma telling her not to bother coming in for her shift. Or ever again. Kevin poked his head around the corner and utterly exhausted, Mia didn’t shoo him away.

  “I believe in a lot of things since moving here,” Evie said cagily. “Did you really shoot him?” she asked again, staring hard at Mia.

  “She shot him all right,” Kevin said indignantly, rushing into the room. He climbed onto a chair and reached for a biscuit. “The best damned babysitter I’ve ever had, too.”

  “Young man, watch your language, please,” Mia said.

  “Mind your tongue, lad,” Conall said at the same time.

  To her horrified disbelief, Kevin nodded respectfully at Conall and said, “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

  What was going on? Her phone buzzed again and she sideswiped it to get it to be quiet. She had much bigger fish to fry than losing a job. Though that stung. A lot.

  “Do you possibly think you can keep this to yourself?” she asked Evie. “I really don’t know what’s going on here but I’m certain there’s an explanation other than…”

  “He’s a ghost,” Evie said.

  “Yeah, Mum, what’s so difficult about it?” Kevin asked, jamming another biscuit in his mouth.

  Mia laughed, close to tears. She didn’t recall it happening, but at some point she’d fallen down a rabbit hole. It was the only explanation. Or she’d finally snapped from stress. And she really thought she was handling everything as well as possible, too. She shook her head sadly as the phone buzzed again. Kevin took it and slid off the chair.

  “Don’t answer it,” she said, then turned to Evie. “If you don’t mind, could I— would you—”

  “Oh, sure.” She stood up good-naturedly. “I’m just next door if you need anything. Call or yell or send Kevin. Sam or I will come running.” She smiled sunnily at Conall. “Can I ask when you died?”

  “Certainly.” He took a deep breath, about to wax on about his great battle again.

  “Please go,” Mia said, far too loud.

  “Later, then,” Evie said, waving as she let herself out the back.

  “I think you should go as well,” she said, turning to him.

  She felt as if … she’d seen a ghost. But she couldn’t possibly believe it, could she? Evie seemed to believe it easily enough though. Her neighbor had seemed kind and generous, though a little gossipy, but she supposed kind, generous people could also be whackadoos.

  And yet, she stared straight at the bullet hole in his shirt. She’d only been a few feet away from him when she’d fired the gun. Even with never firing a weapon before she couldn’t have missed him.

  “What battle did you say you died in?” she asked, reaching for her phone. “And what was your full name?”

  “Culloden,” he answered. “Conall Bryce Malcolm Alexander. At your service.”

  She snickered and continued flapping her hand around for her phone as she couldn’t tear her eyes off him. It wasn’t just his mad claims, the truth of the matter was, he was quite handsome now that she wasn’t scared half to death he’d murder them both.

  His dark hair was longer than what she normally liked, but she supposed that was the style in his time. Whoa, what was she thinking? Did she believe him now? And where was her phone? She’d heard it buzzing only a minute before. Her plan to look up battle records wasn’t foolproof. He could have done his research. She was going to check him out anyway.

  “I believe your lad took it,” Conall said helpfully. “Ye’re looking for the wee phone, aye?”

  “How do you know so much about modern technology?” she asked triumphantly. “If you died some hundred years ago?”

  He rolled his eyes at her! The audacity. She wished she still had the pistol.

  “I died, aye, ‘tis true. But as a ghost I could walk the moor. I’d say I was bound to it, but to be honest with ye, I never did try to leave. At any rate, it’s a big tourist attraction now. As I already told ye. I’ve seen many things over the past two and a half centuries. Wee phones amongst them.”

  “Okay, good comeback. Point to you, sir.”

  She was about to holler for Kevin to bring her phone back. He was used to downloading whatever games caught his fancy but she was on such a tight budget now, a few app downloads might mean she had to skip a meal. Especially now that she didn’t have any jobs anymore.

  It had been so nice, back when she had two jobs. She was going to suggest pizza for supper. Now it would be grilled cheese and tinned beans, probably every night of the week. Before she could call for him, he came into the room, clutching the phone to his chest.

  “I know you told me not to, but I answered the phone, Mummy,” he said, eyes wide behind his glasses. He visibly swallowed as if he was going to be in real trouble.

  She laughed ruefully. “Oh, darling, it’s all right. Who is it?”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out, darting a look at Conall before holding out the phone.

  “It’s Dad.”

  If she wasn’t already sitting she would have dropped. A half an hour ago she thought her son had been kidnapped. She thought she’d shot and killed a man. Then the man claimed he was a ghost in an immo
rtal human body. Actual starvation was only two hundred and thirty quid away now that she didn’t have any job prospects. She’d been scared quite a bit that day.

  But now she was truly frightened.

  ***

  Mia turned white before his eyes. He’d been around ghosts for as long as he could remember and she made his old mates seem downright rosy and bursting with health. She was frozen, staring at the lad, who shakily held out the phone to her. She just as shakily took it and fled the room, pushing Kevin into the kitchen.

  “I’m not allowed to listen in,” he said, pulling up a chair like a tiny adult.

  “Is your mother no longer married to your da?” he asked, feeling as nosy as the red-headed neighbor woman.

  “They just got divorced,” he said, reaching for a leftover biscuit, then changing his mind. He crumbled it into small pieces. “I’m not supposed to know anything about it.”

  “But ye do?” Conall prodded.

  He had a wild need to know what had made Mia’s blood all but drain from her body.

  Kevin mashed his fist into the biscuit crumbs. “He’s not that nice. He— I was glad we moved here but now he found us. Mum promised I’d never have to see him again, but now maybe I will.” Tears welled, fogging up his glasses.

  Conall was positive now. This was why he’d been brought here. Not to look up his seventeenth century ancestor who’d married a Glen. To protect this boy and his mother. He stood and paced, knowing he would have done it without the promise of the sweet reward at the end.

  He wasn’t going to turn it down, though. He fairly itched to bash the wee prince. And he could practice on the lad’s father if he were to turn up.

  “Ye dinna need to fash yourself, Kevin,” he said.

  “I’ll try not to but I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Dinna trouble yourself is all.”