The Ghost

by Greyson, Maeve

  “Aye, my brave one. Enjoy.” Brenna patted his back, then nudged him toward them. “Mind yer manners, though, ye ken?”

  “Aye!” Keigan scampered off, running alongside the twins without hesitation.

  Brenna envied her wee one’s ability to charge forward and make friends so quickly. Of course, the lad was young. He hadn’t experienced all the ugliness human nature could offer—at least, he had only seen a little of it.

  “They’ll soon be close as pups from the same litter,” Catriona promised. She urged Brenna forward while shooing Magnus away. “Come. I’m sure ye could use some refreshment, too, whilst the men tend to the horses and unload yer things.” With a knowing tilt of her head, she lowered her voice. “They love their gossip as much as we do. I dinna care how much they deny it.”

  “That they do.” Gretna gave a conspiratorial wink as she fell in step on Brenna’s other side. “By the by, our refreshments will bolster ye more than a cup of milk.” She grinned. “I’m sure ye’re ready for a wee dram. I know I would be.”

  With barely time for a nervous glance back at Magnus, Brenna found herself flanked by the two women and herded into the cavernous main hall of the keep. Tor Ruadh was a grand sight, much larger than Nithdane had ever hoped to be. Built into the mountain of Ben Nevis, the enormous stronghold was a proper fortification.

  Servants buzzed around the large main room, scouring the long dining tables, changing out candle stubs for freshly trimmed tapers, and sweeping the stone floors. A formidable woman of mature years marched through their midst with the look of a war chief planning a battle. Dressed all in black, her silver hair pulled into a stern bun, all it took was an arch of her brow to send a servant jumping to correct whatever she found lacking.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Catriona said as the matron altered her course to greet them. “This is Mistress Brenna Maxwell, Magnus’s betrothed.”

  “Welcome to Tor Ruadh, mistress.” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s serious air melted into an expression of polite, but reserved, kindness. “Anything ye should have need of, please dinna hesitate to ask,” she said with the slightest dip of her chin. Her attention shifting back to Catriona, she nodded again. “Their suite will be ready in no time, m’lady. I decided it needed a fair bit more scrubbing than we first thought. But I shall see it aired out, good and proper. Fresh water in every pitcher. Decanters filled and washed linens still warm from the sun for the beds.”

  “This keep would collapse into chaos without Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Catriona said to Brenna, then turned back to the housekeeper. “As always, I know ye have everything under control. Would ye be so good as to have Cook send refreshments to the solar? We’ll rest there until the suite is ready for Mistress Brenna’s inspection.”

  “As ye wish it, m’lady.” The matron bustled off. A snap of her fingers flagged down servants, and her orders sent them flying.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald is a true gem,” Catriona said again as she looped an arm through Brenna’s. “Ye can trust her with anything.”

  “She is that,” Gretna agreed. “Loyal ’til death, that lady is.”

  Trust. Even though she managed a smile, Brenna struggled against a leeriness born of days past. Learning to trust this clan seemed a monumental task. Best not overthink it. Handle a moment at a time, she urged herself. One moment at a time. “Yer keep is verra fine, m’lady.”

  “Ye must call me Catriona, aye?” Catriona patted her arm. “As our newest sister-to-be, this is yer home now, too.”

  “We are so glad ye came here,” Gretna said as they passed between the two rows of tables running down the center of the room. “Both Keigan and Evander mentioned there had been some discussion about the matter between yerself and Magnus.”

  Brenna failed at suppressing an embarrassed groan. “I can only imagine what those two shared with ye.” She looked away, unable to face either woman. “Please forgive them. I meant no insult to any of Clan MacCoinnich.”

  “I dinna blame ye for having doubts. All ye’ve known is hardship, thanks to poor judgment from one of our own.” Gretna shook a finger up and down with every word. “That is why I wanted Evander to see what can come from one moment of thoughtlessness. It isna fair for a man to go on his merry way, whilst a woman pays a price that either cost her life or lasts her a lifetime.” With a shake of her head, she continued, “Why…we didna even know what might have happened to the wee tot or who could have him until Keigan told us about ye. We are so thankful ye were there to care for him.” Her tirade paused, and she had the disturbing air of knowing more than she said. “We know it couldna have been easy for ye. A woman alone. Trying to keep a child fed and safe. We are grateful for Magnus’s sake that ye’re willing to share Keigan with him and with us, after all ye endured.”

  Her speech gave Brenna pause. Could it hold a double meaning? Should she be insulted? She smoothed back her hair and tugged at her bodice. “I must look a fright. Forgive me.”

  Both Catriona and Gretna halted. “Nay, lass,” Gretna said, color flaring to her cheeks. “Please forgive me for making ye uncomfortable. That was nay my intent. I said what I did because I know how hard it is to raise weans all by yerself. I did it for many years. I promise ye, we think ye brave as any warrior.”

  “That we do,” Catriona agreed. “Never doubt how much we admire yer strength and ability to forgive. Not everyone wouldha given Magnus the chance to know his son.”

  Their seemingly genuine kindness touched her. “All I knew of Magnus was that he had fathered Keigan and left.” After a deep breath and a silent prayer for composure, she continued, “But my sister’s dying wish was for the lad to know his father, and after a time, I discovered why she had trusted him and loved him as a friend.”

  “Magnus is a good man,” Catriona said as they ascended a winding tower staircase. “He has lived a lonely life,” she continued as they climbed. “It has broken my heart to see the loneliness in his eyes when he thought no one saw.”

  “Except for that annoying bird, he has had no one,” Gretna added from beside her, then brightened with a wicked grin. “But now that ye’ll be living here at Tor Ruadh, Merlin can roost with Keigan instead of my wee Finn.”

  “Merlin?” Brenna vaguely recalled her nephew mentioning a pet of some kind but had paid little attention since the boy befriended all creatures, be they furry, feathered, or covered in scales.

  “Aye, Merlin,” Gretna continued as they reached the chieftain’s solar on the third floor.

  Brenna stared down at the woven carpet of rich burgundies and blues that had surely come from some distant land. “I canna go farther as filthy as I am from travel. Is there somewhere else we might go?”

  “Ye are no filthier than my five little heathens, who run through here daily.” Catriona pulled her toward a cushioned couch, the likes of which Brenna had never seen. “Come and sit.” She squeezed her hand and smiled. “Ye’re family, lass. I promise ye’re welcome here.”

  “Ye must tell us how Magnus asked ye to be his wife. He is always so reserved. I dinna think I have ever seen him even attempt to charm a lass.” Gretna patted the cushion beside her, inviting Brenna to sit. “Did he stutter and stammer or just have Evander tell ye what he wished? Lord knows that child of mine has never been at a loss for words with anyone.”

  Perched on the edge of the seat for fear of soiling it, Brenna clasped her hands in her lap. She wasn’t comfortable here. Everything looked too fine to touch. Evander had told her of Clan MacCoinnich’s wealth, because of its specially bred horses, but she hadn’t imagined the likes of this.

  “He didna stutter or stammer,” she said after realizing they both sat, looking at her, waiting for a response. “But he wasna quite clear at first—just asked me if I wished to align myself with him or be paired.” The memory brought a smile. “I accused him of rudeness, but then he made himself clearer.” Perhaps she shouldn’t share so much. As soon as the words left her mouth, she worried that Catriona and Gretna might twist them to their own advantage.
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  Instead, both women laughed, acting as though they expected no less. Catriona rose and moved to a long buffet laden with decanters. She filled three glasses with a potent-looking ruby liquid. “Bless Magnus’s poor, solitary soul. He doesna ken how to speak to women. He’s better with warring and such.”

  “Ian told me the dear man barely spoke to anyone at all, right after his mother’s murder,” Gretna said as she rose to help with the drinks. “Blamed himself for leaving her unprotected.”

  “Thank the saints he had the MacCoinnichs to help him through it,” Catriona said as she strode across the room to answer a quiet tapping on the door. With a step back, she opened it wide and motioned for the young woman with a cart of covered trays to enter.

  Once the lass positioned the repast beside the couch, she turned to Catriona with a modest bob of her head.

  “Thank ye, Annie. Ye may go,” Catriona said with a nod.

  After stealing a shy glance at Brenna, the maidservant hopped a quick curtsey, then hurried out, closing the door behind her.

  “Ye’re in luck, Brenna,” Catriona announced as she removed all the covers. “’Tis baking day.” Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of freshly baked bread.” She placed a steaming hot bannock slathered in butter and golden honey on a small plate and set it on the low table in front of Brenna. “Cook’s finest will fill yer empty wame ’til supper! Enjoy this, my newfound sister.”

  “Cook is another of Tor Ruadh’s treasures,” Gretna shared as she handed a folded square of linen and a silver fork to Brenna. “Yer Keigan will also soon discover that Cook loves giving the bairns treats.”

  Catriona laughed. “’Tis a wonder all of them aren’t plump as fine fat partridges ready for the spit!”

  Palms sweating, Brenna clutched the linen and silverware in one hand and the treacherous goblet of wine in the other. She sipped at the heady drink, fearing her head would soon spin off her neck. This refreshment was much stronger than the cheap ale or whisky she had sometimes allowed herself. And she had watered those down even more to make them last longer.

  “Keigan loves treats,” she finally said, cringing at the lameness of her ability to maintain a simple conversation. They would think her a dullard for certain.

  “Where did Magnus find ye?” Catriona asked, leaning forward with interest as she returned to her chair. “The lads didna say, and Alexander didna ken either.”

  “A fair bit north of Inverness.” Brenna slid the fragile goblet to the table alongside the plate. No way in thunder would she be able to force down a single bite and didn’t dare try. She unfolded, then refolded the square of linen, then folded her hands on top of it, battling the urge to twist it. “Keigan and I had built a shelter just inside the coast, about half a day’s journey south of Inbhir Ùige.” A hard swallow did little for wetting her dry mouth, but she daren’t take another drink for fear of losing the ability to remain upright. God help me through this, she prayed, hoping her pair of hostesses hadn’t already decided their precious Magnus had chosen a fool for a wife. She didn’t mean to be such a poor excuse for a visitor. So much had happened, was still happening. Everything had set her head to whirling, making it pound.

  Gretna and Catriona shared a glance. Catriona gave the slightest nod.

  With her hand resting on Brenna’s arm, Gretna scooted a bit closer. “When a body has fought for survival so long,” she paused, compassion and understanding filling her eyes, “It can be a hard chore to open up and trust anyone.” She leaned in even more. “Dinna fash yerself about trying so hard to fit in. Ye are among family now. Ye have all the time in the world to get to know us.”

  Catriona set her glass on the table and clasped her hands atop her knees. “It is our hope, Brenna, that with time, ye’ll feel safe here at Tor Ruadh. Trust us. But until then, we understand. Anything ye dinna wish to speak about—don’t.” Her smile appeared genuine. “We respect ye, lass, and hope to be yer friends, but we also know it must come about in its own good time.”

  A sharp knock tapped the door, then Magnus stepped inside. “Ladies, might I interrupt?” He perked like a dog spotting scraps when he saw the cart filled with all manner of breads, cheeses, and sweets. “I see Cook’s been busy.”

  Brenna had never been so relieved to see anyone in her entire life. “Do come sit with us,” she said, cringing at the pleading sound of her voice. As soon as the words left her mouth, she glanced at Catriona. It wasn’t her place to invite Magnus into the solar. ’Twas Catriona’s. “Forgive my rudeness,” she said with an apologetic shrug. She hated the fearful, bumbling fool she had become. But with stakes higher than she had ever faced before, all courage and boldness had left her.

  “What rudeness?” Catriona waved Magnus forward. “Always speak yer mind here, lass. Eh, Gretna?”

  “Absolutely,” Gretna agreed, lifting her glass in a toast. “To speaking our minds.” She cast a wicked grin in Magnus’s direction. “God help every man at Tor Ruadh.”

  “Indeed,” Magnus observed dryly as he went to the buffet and poured himself a drink before joining the ladies.

  “Sit here beside yer betrothed,” Gretna said as she moved to a chair. “Ye have done well, Magnus. We are verra proud of ye.”

  Brenna didn’t miss the side-eyed glance Magnus shot in Gretna’s direction as he settled down beside her. His gaze lit on her untouched plate of food, then he turned to her. “’Tis a lot to take in, is it not, dear one?”

  His ability to read her had become keener with each passing day. “Aye,” she said softly but then sat straighter and managed a smile. “But everyone has been kinder than kind.” She gave both Gretna and Catriona a thankful nod. “Just as ye promised.”

  “It takes time to adjust to such a grand change,” Catriona volunteered. “But I am certain all will be well.”

  “Aye,” Brenna agreed with more conviction than she felt. She would do better and make it so. “Once I am settled, I promise I willna act such a fool.”

  “Ye’ve nay acted the fool,” Gretna said as she rose and headed toward the decanters of wine. “Catriona and I often forget ourselves and overwhelm the bravest of souls.” She laughed. “And it’s even worse when Mercy joins us.”

  “That it is,” Catriona chimed in. “And soon, ye’ll be right there with us. We shall be the fearsome four rather than the terrifying trio.”

  “Ye know of yer titles?” Magnus noted, failing at hiding his smirk behind his glass.

  “Aye,” Catriona said. “We know a lot more about the private conversations in Alexander’s library than ye think.” She pulled a face that made Brenna smile. “They say they’re talking clan business, but often they’re doing naught but drinking and telling tall tales.”

  Magnus cleared his throat and shifted so he faced Brenna. “Mrs. Fitzgerald said they have finished with the floor Catriona allotted us. I’m sure they’ve scoured the rooms from top to bottom. I had them leave yer things untouched in yer chambers. I thought ye would rather unpack them yerself.”

  “Aye, I would.” Fidgeting, she wondered how much longer this initial visit would last. It had come to her early on that introductions were a great deal like healing remedies—best tolerated when taken in small doses. “Some herbs I brought require careful handling. I must see that they’re stored properly.”

  “Herbs?” Gretna perked like a cat spotting a mouse. “Be ye a healer?”

  “I am.” At first, she wondered at Gretna’s interest, then remembered Magnus had said the woman was the healer to Clan MacCoinnich. “Magnus told me ye are the healer here. Perhaps, we can share remedies?” Some healers didn’t take kindly to sharing their lore, but Brenna had always felt the more who knew, the more who could be helped. She hoped Gretna felt the same.

  “Aye, that would be grand.” Gretna beamed at her with a broad smile. “Soon as yer good and settled, I’ll take ye to my healing room and show ye around. Since my helper Flora just had her bairn a few days ago, there’s no one but me tending to all
in need. Now, there’ll be two of us until Flora can return, and then we’ll be three taking care of the clan.”

  “Three healers,” Catriona repeated with a thoughtful look. “As far as I’m concerned, the more, the better. Especially, with us losing Lord Crestshire from Fort William.”

  Another polite tapping at the door interrupted them, then it opened enough to reveal Mrs. Fitzgerald. Her gaze searched the room until she spotted Catriona. “The floor is ready, m’lady, for whenever Mistress Brenna and yerself wish to inspect it.”

  Catriona and Gretna hopped to their feet, both motioning for Brenna and Magnus to follow. “I thought the second floor of this wing would suit ye best,” Catriona said. “Since yer Keigan is so close in age to Maxwell and Grant, I feel certain they’ll keep the stairs betwixt the floors busy.”

  Magnus offered his arm with a reassuring smile. “Come, lass, and if ye find anything amiss, dinna hesitate to say what ye need, aye?”

  Taking his arm, she held tight and paused, her head swimming both from the day’s events and the strong drink.

  “Are ye unwell?” Magnus steadied her, his concern stirring that twitchy feeling that made her heart beat faster. “Do ye need to lie down?”

  “What’s ails ye, lass?” Gretna hurried back to her.

  Her cheeks flaring hot at causing such a stir, Brenna waved them away. “I am quite well—just unused to such potent drink.”

  Magnus shot a glance back at her plate. “Ye didna eat a bite when ye fed the rest of us this morning. Nor did ye touch yer refreshments, I see. As soon as ye’ve settled in our rooms, we’ll send for a tray. At least some broth and bread, aye? Ye’ll fall ill if ye dinna eat.”

  With a knowing smile, Gretna returned to stand beside Catriona. “He has this well in hand,” she observed.

  “Aye. I do.” Magnus held Brenna closer, his chin jutting to a defiant tilt. “Did ye expect anything less?”

  “Please dinna make a fuss,” Brenna said, wishing the floor would swallow her up. She knew she should have at least managed a bit of bread, but her nervous worries wouldn’t allow it. And something else Magnus had just said set loose even more fretting. “Ye said our rooms?”