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

by Cassidy Cayman

  He paced some more, wanting to make sure he was on the right of it. What if he had it all backwards and he was supposed to return the lad to his father? One look at Mia and he wanted to trust her implicitly. But perhaps he was a fool for a pair of pretty eyes and shapely ankles.

  “Are ye sure your mother, ah, has …” he trailed off, not knowing how to explain it so the lad could understand.

  “Do you mean custody?” he asked, now flicking crumbs across the table. “It was hotly contested but Mum got me. My father had a better lawyer but he messed up and—” he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “He hit Mum where it showed. She had hospital records from the other times but this time … So we got lucky. I guess.”

  “If ye can call it that.” Conall’s hands curled into fists so tight he thought he might break his finger bones. Better to save that for if the bastard showed up and break them while smashing his worthless face. “How do ye know all this at your age?”

  He felt sorry for the poor thing, his wee head so full of sorrowful knowledge.

  He stuck out his tongue. “Kids know what they need to know.”

  Conall thought of something awful. Possibly worse than the thought of Mia getting hit.

  “Did your da ever …?”

  Kevin shrugged and unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have— wait, that’s not right. I keep forgetting. But my mum says it was never my fault, even if I was loud or in the way.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve and for the first time didn’t look like a brash pirate, but a sad and scared six-year-old. “You wouldn’t mind staying here, would you? Now that he knows the phone number it’s only a matter of time until he finds us. I don’t think there’s anywhere else to run now that we’re practically at the end of the world. You can have my room. There’s a brand new mattress.”

  “Weel, I think there’s quite a bit more of the world left. And I dinna think your ma would think my sleeping in this house would be a good idea.”

  His thin shoulders slumped and he nodded. “I see.”

  Used to being let down, was he? Something inside Conall snapped. “But dinna fear, lad. I’ll guard the house all day and night from outside if I have to.”

  He wondered just how long he had. If the scoundrel was going to show his cowardly face, it would be better if it was soon. He thought his taste for fighting was long since dead. As dead as he was. Except for the joyous news he might get to bash the wee prince, he didn’t think he had any bloodlust in him anymore. Certainly not toward a stranger who had nothing to do with him. After all, he had no grudge with this despicable, pigeon-hearted excuse for a father.

  “Oh, that would be perfect,” Kevin said, rising to his knees on the chair. “Mum said I could have a tree house, but it hasn’t been built yet. But I have a tent and we could put it under the tree. It’s a bit the same, right?”

  Grudge or no grudge, he couldn’t imagine anyone raising a hand to such a fine, spirited lad. The way he’d rubbed and rolled his shoulder told Conall he’d been dealt far more than just a disciplining spank on the hindquarters. His own father had done plenty of that, but he’d never left a mark. His ma would have killed him. Or died trying.

  He wondered if Mia had tried to protect Kevin and gotten the worst for it. Of course she had. She’d shot him for merely being in the house with the lad. He felt a fierce pride in his wee Mia, just as fresh anger rose at the thought of anyone laying a hand on her.

  “It’s exactly the same, I’d say,” Conall mused. “Perhaps your ma will let us build a fire?”

  Kevin burst into laughter. “You really don’t know my mum at all. Fire! In the back garden.” He tittered a bit more then grew serious. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll sneak you out a blanket.”

  Mia’s raised voice floated down the hall to them. She was returning to the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear, face blotchy and eyes red-rimmed. She stopped at the end of the hall where only Conall could see her.

  “You have to stop,” she said harshly. “There was nothing rigged about the trial. In fact, if anyone was trying to falsely turn the outcome, it was you with your million pound lawyers. You shouldn’t have hit me. Not ever, but especially not that time. Now you’ll never see Kevin again. At least not until I see you’ve gone through counseling or—” she stopped talking with a gasp and listened for a minute, a few tears running down her cheeks. “You’re bluffing…” she held the phone out as if it was a cockroach.

  With a shake of her head, she put the phone in her pocket. She’d changed her clothes and now wore faded jeans and a pale green blouse. Conall admired the way the trousers hugged her curvy hips, then felt like a monster. She certainly didn’t need another scoundrel in her life.

  She smiled wanly at him from the hall and waved her hand around her face. Was she asking him if she looked all right to face her son? He didn’t think so, not really, and shrugged helplessly. She shrugged back and with a brisk scrub of her face with the hem of her blouse, marched resolutely into the kitchen.

  He caught a tiny glimpse of creamy skin at her waist and hurriedly looked away. It had looked very soft and inviting. All at once he imagined that fair skin covered in purple and blue bruises and his untoward lust fled, replaced with righteous anger on her behalf.

  Kevin hopped off his chair and threw his arms around her middle, gripping until his little arms shook.

  “Did he find us?”

  She sighed and patted his head. “Everything will be fine, sweetpea.”

  “Too right it will,” he said, throwing his hands toward Conall as if he was a great prize. “Conall is going to stay with us. Since we’ve already discussed it, I know you’re not going to let him stay in the house. But he’s fine with the back garden, even without a fire.”

  She stared at Kevin for a moment, then turned her gaze to him. With a tilt of her head and a lift of her brow, she nodded resolutely.

  “That’s a good idea, except I think he should stay in the house, actually.”

  Conall’s mouth dropped open while Kevin ran around the kitchen, whooping with glee.

  Something strange tugged at his innards, around his heart or possibly his stomach. He realized for the first time in over two hundred and fifty years he was happy.

  Chapter 4

  Mia gnawed at her thumbnail, trying to pay attention to the romantic comedy on her computer screen. How had he found her so quickly? She never had any doubt he would eventually. He hated to lose and needed control over everything he considered his. But she thought she might have had at least a month of peace.

  The second-hand couch that came with the house had a broken spring that jabbed her in the left thigh but she was too focused on her anxiety and tearing up her cuticle to move. It was a subtle reminder that she’d failed, though. Yes, she got away, got Kevin safe. She found a cute house in a friendly village and even found a job. No, two jobs! And now it was all gone.

  She sighed deeply. There was no choice but to ride it out and fight. She simply didn’t have the resources to move again. Unless she and Kevin set up his little pup tent in the woods. Thinking of the tent made her think of her babysitter/bodyguard. He was adamant about sleeping in the garden if she felt at all uncomfortable about him staying in the house. He’d looked straight at her with his soulful green eyes, they’d seared right through her, really, and said he would die again before making her fearful or uncomfortable.

  Well, Conall whatever whatever Alexander did make her uncomfortable. But not fearful, surprisingly. Whether or not she believed he was a ghost was moot to her just then. Either he was a ghost, which was definitely frightening, or he was a severely mentally ill man. Both prospects should have made her send him on his way, perhaps with a sandwich as a thanks for not killing them. But for some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him at all.

  And the uncomfortable feeling he gave her. Now, that was embarrassing to admit. It wasn’t the way one would feel when a stranger had free range of your home. It was more a fizzy feeling that started deep in her co
re and traveled every which way like bubbles in a shaken soda bottle. The sound of his deep voice and rolling Scottish accent curled her toes and sent a red hot heat to her cheeks.

  She should have been used to Scottish accents by now, and indeed, they’d never affected her before. Maybe it was his old-fashioned way of speaking as well. Maybe she just needed to admit she was attracted to the odd man.

  After finally freeing herself from the seven year horror show that was her marriage— and that to a man she’d been supremely attracted to at first— she didn’t think she’d ever feel the tingles again. Not so soon. Not from a big, kilt-wearing madman.

  The kilt-wearing madman walked past the living room entrance, laden down with laundry. He peeked over the pile of bed linens in his arms and smiled at her. Argh, there were those tingles again. Instead of letting her face do what it wanted, which was to return the smile, she frowned.

  “What’s that all about?”

  “Not to fear,” he said. “We had a bit of a problem with a bucket of water, but Kevin says ye have a miraculous drying machine I can put these in.”

  She sighed, not needing any further explanation. Her son always wanted his games to be as realistic as possible, and that often included messy props.

  “Was it boiling oil this time?” she asked.

  He grinned widely, his eyes crinkling delightedly at her guess. “Aye, it was indeed. It was to get me to confess to being a traitor which o’course I never would do since I wouldna betray my laird. I dinna think the lad meant to drop the bucket. He felt verra sorry for it.”

  “Hmm. Let me show you where the laundry room is.”

  “Nay, lass. Dinna get up. Enjoy your wee screen. Kevin told me where it is and how to use it. He’s mopping up the floor right now.”

  “Are you certain?” she asked, her bum half off the couch.

  “Indeed. Relax yourself. I’ll put some supper on after I sort this, if ye’re hungry.”

  Her stomach growled loud enough for him to hear at the word supper and he nodded briskly as if the matter was settled.

  “Er, thank you,” she called after him.

  “Nay, lass. It’s I who should thank ye, for helping me succeed in my quest,” he called back.

  She sank back into the lumpy cushions, slightly dismayed at his new, strange proclamation. He had a quest now?

  “Whatever,” she said, scrolling through her movie options. “Free babysitter who does laundry and cooks. I’ll take it.”

  “I’m verra good at shoulder rubs as weel,” he said, poking his head back in the doorway and making her jump. Ghosts must have excellent hearing. “If ye like, that is. Ye do look a bit as if your shoulders are wanting to climb into your ears.”

  “Erm, maybe.”

  He grinned again and disappeared once more. A moment later she heard the soothing hum of the dryer. She forcefully lowered her shoulders and stretched. Her entire back was stiff and she realized her thumb was bleeding from where she’d chewed the cuticle to shreds. A backrub sounded heavenly. Especially from someone who had such big, strong hands.

  Stop it, she inwardly shrieked.

  Those big, strong hands were not for her. No matter how much she might want them. Which she didn’t. She sighed and chose an American film with aliens and ships. Nothing that would make her think of the intriguing Highlander in the next room or her vengeful ex-husband who was most likely on his way to Castle on Hill that very moment.

  And yet she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering to the hall, hoping Conall would continue walking past so she could keep getting glimpses of him.

  ***

  The lad grumbled about giving up his newest game but Conall’s stomach grumbled louder. He greatly enjoyed the long forgotten sensation and wanted another hearty meal. Sadly, the cupboards and fridge were poorly stocked and it looked like he was going to have to make do with eggs again.

  “Here’s a tin of beans,” Kevin said, holding it triumphantly over his head. “And one of peaches. They’re quite nice, good and slippery.”

  Conall looked at the can with the brightly colored picture of peaches on the front and frowned.

  “Ye’re no’ selling it verra weel,” he said, but took the can anyway and added it to his pile of foodstuffs. “Look at this mountain of food. We’ll be stuffed to the gills indeed.”

  Mia wandered into the kitchen with a sheepish look on her face. “You really shouldn’t be doing all this work,” she said. “Let me cook. I couldn’t concentrate on the film I was watching, anyway.”

  “Nonsense,” Conall said, pointing to a chair. “Sit your wee self down. Let us men handle it.”

  “Actually,” Kevin said slowly. “Not to be mutinous but Mum does know how to do the grilled cheese.”

  “Mutinous, eh? So I’m finally the captain of something?” Conall laughed.

  “Certainly, since I’m not allowed to use the stove. Don’t get comfortable though. I’m the captain again as soon as supper’s done.”

  “Kevin! Be more respectful, please. Conall’s an adult, remember.”

  The dear lad’s eyes widened. “Sorry. I did forget for a bit.”

  Mia gave Conall a long once over that clearly told him she hadn’t forgotten. His body tingled with desire at the smoky gaze. He grinned at her and her cheeks blazed. So she had been having the same line of thoughts as himself, then. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

  She pulled out a large frying pan and directed Kevin to fetch the butter and cheese. It was a rather unpleasant looking cheese, an otherworldly orange hue and wrapped in crinkling plastic.

  “It’s his favorite,” she said somewhat apologetically. “And it’s cheap.”

  Money troubles as well as a miscreant husband? His heart went out even further to Mia. He hadn’t done a good day’s work in more than two hundred years but he had a strong back. Perhaps there was work for him at the castle.

  He slumped at the well-meaning thought, realizing he didn’t have enough time on this earth to help her financially. Soni could come for him at any time, wrench him away to some unfathomable afterlife. As the delicious smell of bubbling beans and searing butter filled his nose, he couldn’t help but think sorrowfully about leaving the earth at last.

  He’d been wandering, lost and nearly senseless for so long, he’d jumped at the chance to finally be free to rest at last. More than jumped at the golden opportunity to have a few words with the prince he’d given his life for. And all for naught, as Scotland and its people had been all but decimated after that disastrous war ended.

  He’d been one of the few ghosts who ventured into the visitor center at the moor. If his heart had still been beating, what he learned there would have certainly broken it enough to make it stop.

  Yet now he wanted more than just the day or two Soni had promised. With the first one nearly over, he felt a clutching, yearning wish to have more.

  “Bah, selfish and stupid,” he muttered.

  “Beg pardon?” Mia asked, sliding three browned sandwiches onto a plate.

  “Nothing, just my feeble mind unable to contain my thoughts,” he said.

  He poured the beans into a bowl and put the slippery peaches on a plate and carried them to the table.

  “Thank you mum, thank you, Conall,” Kevin said, digging into his meal as soon as it was in front of him.

  “Wee savage, wait until your mother sits down at least,” he chided.

  The lad stopped chewing and put his fork down, blinking impatiently at Mia. Conall couldn’t help it, he burst out into laughter at the small, comical face.

  “You look like a hamster with your cheeks packed with seeds,” she said. She turned to Conall and smiled questioningly. “I don’t know why he listens to you so well.”

  “I don’t know either,” Kevin admitted. “Were you a leader when you were alive?”

  Mia’s mouth dropped open. “He’s alive now. Goodness.”

  “But he was a ghost and he still has ghostly powers since you weren’t able to kill
him.”

  She rested her forehead in her palm and sighed deeply. “I give up. Tell him whatever you like.”

  “I was in the cavalry,” he said without hesitation, glad she might finally believe him. “That’s horses, lad.” He chuckled when Kevin looked offended. Of course he would know what it was. “And I wasna a leader, just someone who believed in the cause.”

  “What was your horse’s name?” Kevin asked, so caught up in the story his sandwich was forgotten.

  Conall took a tentative bite of his own, crispy, greasy, grilled cheese and was pleasantly surprised.

  “I can see why this is your favorite,” he said. “Verra savory.” At the lad’s impatient scowl, he continued his tale. “Dealanaich was my horse’s name, and a fine, spirited creature he was. I was sore to my bones to lose him, half-starved and run to his death in that horrible weather.”

  “Why did you run him to death?” Mia asked, blushing when he turned to her.

  He raised a brow. “Ye believe me now?”

  “Well, no, I mean … Just tell your story now you’ve started it,” she said with a huff.

  “I think she must believe you,” Kevin interjected. “I don’t think she’d ever in a million years let a strange man sleep over. But a ghost she might. Mum, seriously, just say you believe him.”

  “I’ll not say any such thing. Stop being impertinent and let the man finish his story.”

  Conall grinned as he looked back and forth between them. His own family dinners had been silent affairs, but of course that was a different time. His father was strict but never cruel. His mother worked hard from morning to night, keeping their small crofter’s hut clean, tilling their garden and caring for their chickens and goats. She’d been too exhausted at the end of each day to say much but she always gave him a kiss on the head each night and oversaw his prayers.

  He’d been lucky that the laird of his clan had given him the chance to work with his horses. His affinity for the beasts would lead him to far better things than a crofter’s life. Or so he had thought. Perhaps he would have lived to be eighty had he stayed on the farm. But he’d never be able to be a part of this warm, lively family.