The Ghost

by Greyson, Maeve

  “Aye.”

  “But we’re nay wed yet.” She waited for the import of her words to sink in. He had to remember she had sworn they wouldn’t share a bed until they married. What would people think?

  Understanding lit in his eyes. “The suite will be ours once we have wed. My quarters, the rooms I always use whenever I’m here at Tor Ruadh, are in the south tower next to it.” He smiled. “We are separated by a proper hallway and staircase that I am sure the servants will watch and update all in the clan regarding any sneaking about. When we unloaded the horses, I had them place my things there.”

  “Am I so easily read?”

  “It’s nay that I read ye easily, mo chridhe.” He turned her so he might cup her cheek in his hand. “It’s that I know how ye deserve to be treated.” He paused, his gaze locked with hers and charged with so much emotion, she felt pulled into his inner storm. “Ye awakened my heart, dear one, and I mean to awaken yers.”

  He brushed a chaste kiss across her mouth, then lifted his head and smiled after a glance at the doorway. “It appears Catriona and Gretna have left us alone. A true welcoming kiss is in order.”

  Before Brenna could argue, she found herself swept away and rendered dizzier and more weak-kneed than any drink had ever made her. The heat of him, his urgency and longing vibrated with a heartbeat all its own. Saints have mercy on her soul. If his kisses had such an effect, what would happen when she allowed him so much more?

  Chapter Nine

  “Tell me, mo chridhe…what do ye think of life here at Tor Ruadh?” She seemed happy enough, but Magnus needed to hear her say it. Learn her thoughts. Her hopes. Any remaining fears. Then he could hone his plan and coax her into completing their commitment and becoming his wife. Last night, while staring out into the darkness, he had worked out all he would say, but he needed more information to be sure.

  All plotting left him as sunlight lit her face, making her even lovelier. The bright summer’s day lent a golden glow to the heavy braid she had pinned into a tight bun. Her full lips shone juicy as ripe berries.

  Heaven help him, he wanted her. For all time. He needed this precious woman more than he had ever needed anyone or anything before. His determination, armed with all his planning, made a valiant surge through the beguilement of her beauty. If he expected to win her completely, he best keep his head about him.

  “Well, lass?” he gently prodded.

  Brenna rested her hands on the top rail of the paddock fence, her gaze following the meanderings of a tiny bird hopping across the packed dirt, scratching and pecking for bugs. “Tor Ruadh is verra nice,” she finally said. She stole a glance at him and paired it with a faint smile. “Catriona, Gretna, and Mercy are by far the kindest, most generous women I have ever been blessed to meet.”

  “Then why do I sense an unspoken except at the end of yer sentence?” He loved the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she struggled to find the right words.

  After a dismissive shrug, she added, “’Tis early yet. Folks could still change and show their true selves.” Her eyes tightened into a squint as though the sun blinded her. “I have experienced such before.”

  “If anyone changes, I’ll have their head on a platter, ye ken?” And then a stinging worry reared its ugly head. One he didn’t wish to acknowledge. But he had learned early in life that fear could only be overcome if faced head-on. “Is it me, then, that gives ye pause?” He braced himself, hoping it wasn’t true. “I willna change toward ye, lass.” Well, that was a lie. His feelings for her changed with every rising of the sun. “Nay, I spoke in error. I do change. I care more for ye with each passing day and will do so until I’m lowered into the grave. Tell me the truth. Ye dinna wish yerself free of our promise?”

  She faced him and took hold of both his hands. Her loving smile cast the weight of his worries away. “Nay, mo ghràdh. I dinna wish my freedom. Far from it, I assure ye.” The slightest frown puckered her fair brow. “It’s just that so much has happened so verra quickly. I need a little more time to know I am truly fit and ready to be yer wife. A wee bit more of yer patience is all I ask. Can ye manage that for me?”

  “Aye, m’love.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “For ye—I can manage anything.” She smelled as sweet as warmed honey and tasted even better.

  “Master Magnus! Master Magnus!”

  With an irritated groan, Magnus ended the delicious kiss and lifted his head to seek the breathless cry.

  A young maidservant holding a cloth-covered platter above her head kicked at the cluster of hens blocking her every step. “Shoo, I tell ye! This isna for ye.” She plowed through them, but the persistent birds stayed with her, their indignant clucks and flapping wings interrupting the peacefulness of the courtyard. “Get on wi’ ye now!” she cried. “I fed ye hours ago!”

  Pitying the poor girl, Magnus stomped and clapped. Brenna joined in, flapping her apron. They charged at the flock, scattering the birds in every direction.

  “Thank ye ever so much.” The flustered maid curtsied, then held out the plate to Magnus. “’Tis yer favorites, sir. Just pulled from the oven.”

  Surprised by such special treatment, Magnus stared at the girl, not sure what to do.

  “Dinna just stand there.” Brenna nudged him. “Take it from her. Cook must ha’ sent them.” She leaned in and hid her words behind her hand. “Ye know how the fussy thing favors ye.”

  Brenna was right. The dear old woman spoiled him as though she were his doting grandmam. There was naught to be done but accept it. “I thank ye, lass.” He lifted the cloth. The tantalizing aroma of meat pies greeted him, their golden crusts split and bubbling with rich brown gravy. Four of them nestled in the center of the platter, surrounded by odd-shaped pieces of broken crust glistening with butter. “Did Cook send these?”

  “Nay,” the girl said with a shy smile. “I brought them ’cause they’re best straight off the fire.” She pushed a lackluster brown curl behind her ear. “Baked them for ye myself whilst Cook was at the smoke pit. I remembered from before how much ye relished them.”

  From before? He struggled to recall the young woman’s name but couldn’t. Hellfire, had his memory left him in his prime?

  “Eat them whilst they’re hot,” the maid urged, watching him with gleeful expectation. Her excited smile brightened her round, freckled face, her nose still smudged with flour.

  Still puzzling over who she was, he bit into one of the scalding hot pies, then huffed and blew to get it cooled before it scarred his tongue permanently.

  Brenna reached for the platter. “Here. Let me hold it for ye whilst ye enjoy yer treats. Fan yer mouth, aye?”

  The young girl, slight of body and a full head shorter than Brenna, shoved in between them. She brushed Brenna’s hands aside. “Nay. These are for Master Magnus alone. I shall hold the plate whilst he eats them.”

  Mouth opened in shock, Brenna backed away without a word. She stared at the maidservant as though the lass had just snarled at her like a beast on a short chain.

  “Ye would do well to remember yer place, young woman.” Magnus handed the platter to Brenna, then turned to the girl. “If ye ever behave in such an impertinent way again, ye will no longer work here at the keep, ye ken?”

  Brenna sidled closer, interrupting him with a touch to his arm. She gave the maid a tight smile, then nodded toward the path leading back to the kitchens. “Perhaps, ye best return to yer chores, aye? Mrs. Fitzgerald will be looking for ye.”

  The sullen girl’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. A hostile air settled across her before she gave a half-hearted curtsey. “As ye wish, mistress.” Then she stomped away, immediately swarmed by the flock of chickens.

  Magnus returned the half-eaten pie to the platter. The thing had been a flavorless, underdone mess, and he was none too sure what sort of meat the girl had used. For all he knew, it could have been rat. He whistled for the dogs and tossed the pies to the ravenous hounds.

  “I am sorry, m’love,” he said as
he placed the empty dish on top of a barrel beside the fence. “I swear I will speak to Catriona and Mrs. Fitzgerald both about her behavior. I’m sure they can find work for her down in the village, so ye willna have to deal with her rudeness again.”

  “Nay, my champion. Let it pass, aye?” Brenna looked thoughtful as she returned to watching the persistent little bird scour the paddock for bugs. “Catriona told me about that girl. We should bear her some extra patience, I think.”

  “I refuse to tolerate anyone treating ye with such disrespect.” He rested a fist on the fencepost. “Who is she? She spoke as if I should know her.”

  “Ye do know her. Her name is Cadha. Remember?”

  “Cadha?” Magnus still didn’t remember the girl with the tangled brown hair and eyes dark as obsidian.

  “The lass ye found wandering along the shores of Loch Shiel just this side of Glenfinnan? Winter before last, remember? Catriona told me all about the poor child. How ye found her nearly frozen and so starved she couldna keep down anything more than broth for days.”

  He remembered now. While traveling alongside the loch, he had come upon a half-dead waif searching the icy shoreline for anything to eat. The poor mite’s head had been shaved, and her meager clothes were so rotted and torn, he could see bruises and rat bites all over her. She had been so thin, he thought her a lad escaped from a poorly run orphanage. But on the way back to Tor Ruadh, the child had whispered her name and said she had escaped her parents, who ran a public house in Glenfinnan.

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, he shook his head. “I remember her now, but that still does not excuse her behavior. She has been here long enough to know what we expect of her.”

  “Let it pass this time, aye?” Brenna traced a finger along the rough wood grain of the fence. “It was the smallest slight and meant nothing. I promise.” A disturbing sadness softened her eyes. “She and I have a great deal in common, I think.” The sadness left her as she gave the top rail of the fence a pat. “Now, where is this surprise ye promised me?”

  Magnus didn’t have to answer. He pointed as Evander emerged from the stable. The lad led a massive dapple-gray warhorse, with Keigan in the saddle. Evander’s rope would control the beast if necessary, but Keigan sat tall and proud, holding the reins and guiding the animal with ease. The child had improved so quickly, he could ride without assistance. But to relieve Brenna’s fears and convince her the child was safe, Magnus had kept Evander in place for a bit longer.

  Pride swelled in Magnus’s chest as he watched his son and the great horse move as though of the same mind. It was time. “Evander, release him. He’s ready.”

  “Aye, that he is for certain.” Evander grinned as he unhooked the safety lead and stepped away. “He’s been ready for days, ye ken?”

  “Ye are in full control now, Keigan. Dinna make me regret it,” Magnus warned.

  “Dinna fash yerself, Da.” Keigan rode his mount around the paddock, as though he had been born in the saddle.

  Brenna clutched her hands to her chest as if trying to keep her heart from escaping. “Are ye sure, Magnus? My precious one looks like a flea on that beast’s back.”

  “He may be small, but look at him.” With an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. “Look how proud he is. Fierce and braw as can be. A natural rider.”

  She watched the lad with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. A mix of emotions played across her face, straining her brow tighter than a drawn bow. She looked as though watching the child ride around the paddock pained her. “He looks so grown,” she whispered. “No longer the sweet little bairn I once cradled and sang to in the wee hours of the night.”

  Magnus envisioned the scene as easily as if it were his own memory and understood her bittersweet aching. “They canna stay babes forever, dear one,” he gently offered. “Take joy in how well ye’ve mothered him. Take heart in knowing what a fine man he will be because of yer loving care. He’ll charge into the world, fearless as a warrior, because of ye.”

  “Aye, but it’s such a dangerous world that awaits him.” Her hands, still clutched to her chest, tightened into fists. “I fret for him and all he has yet to face.”

  “I would think that is the woe of every parent.” Magnus brushed a kiss to her temple. “We can only prepare him the best we can, m’love.”

  “And pray,” Brenna added.

  Magnus was none too sure about that. As far as he was concerned, if a single powerful god did exist, he had abandoned this world long ago. But for Brenna’s sake, and to ease the heaviness in her heart, he would agree with her. “Aye, dear one, and pray.”

  “Can we ride into the glen?” Keigan called out as he guided his mount closer to them. “Luchie is bored with the paddock.”

  “What say ye, love?” Magnus understood the lad’s yearning, and it was a fine day for a ride, but he would leave that to Brenna to decide.

  “Please, Auntie?” Keigan beamed at her, using the lethal charm possessed by all small children and beloved pets. “Ye can ride with us, too. I wasna meaning just Da.”

  “Why, thank ye, sir,” Brenna replied in a tone that said she knew full well what the child was up to. After hesitating so long, Magnus feared she was about to refuse him, she smiled. “It would honor me to accompany such handsome men.”

  It only took a short while to ready his horse and a sweet-tempered mare for Brenna. Magnus wasn’t sure who was more excited, Keigan or himself. The lad led the way out the front gate. Once they passed through the village, he tossed them both a wily grin. “Luchie would fancy a good run, ye ken?”

  “Would he now?” Brenna’s knuckles whitened as her grip tightened on the reins.

  It wouldn’t hurt the boy to give the horse its head, but Magnus feared she was about to refuse. “What do ye think, love? A steady run. No racing, but fast enough to get his blood moving. We’ll ride on either side of him.”

  She gave him a sharp cut of her eyes. “Betrothed or no’, if my precious one comes to harm because of a deed ye’ve allowed, I will kill ye.” Her glare turned so serious it sent a chill down his spine. “Ye ken?”

  After a roll of his shoulders to dispel the uncomfortable feeling, Magnus nodded. “Aye, mistress. I assure ye there is nay a doubt in my mind.” He urged his mount abreast of the lad’s. “Ye’ve only today gotten off the safety lead, so there willna be any racing. We’ll keep to a good pace. A safe, steady run.” Remembering the rebelliousness of his own youth, he added, “Mind my words, son, or ye willna ride again for a fortnight, understand?”

  With a dark glare and a frustrated huff, Keigan nodded. “Aye, Da.”

  They took off across the rolling glen. Magnus kept an eye on Keigan’s seating, proud at the way the boy and horse moved. Brenna rode on his other side, stealing glances so often it was a wonder she didn’t unseat herself.

  Keigan slowed and pointed at the horizon. “Look! Smoke rising. Black as can be.”

  Magnus studied the dark, billowing omen. At this end of the glen, in such close proximity to Fort William, the only thing that could render such a sight was a trio of shelters sometimes used by the herders when moving the stock. Thankfully, none of the clan lived at this end of the glen since no one wished to abide this close to the English.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, urging his mount forward. Recalling how poorly Brenna had followed orders in the past, he came to a halt and turned back to her. “I beg ye—stay here whilst I ride ahead and see what’s what.” After mulling the possibilities of what he might find, he added, “Swear ye will head back to the keep as fast as ye can ride if ye sense the slightest thing out of place, aye? Swear it?”

  “I swear.” Brenna rode up beside him, latched hold of his shirt, and pulled him toward her. “A kiss for protection?”

  The churning in his gut paired with the warm sweetness of her mouth made him debate taking them both back to the safety of the keep before seeking the source of the smoke. He suddenly realized from now on, there would be no more rushing into anyth
ing. Brenna and Keigan came first. Life wasn’t just about him anymore. “We should return to the keep, so I’ll know ye both safe. Then I’ll come back here with Alexander. He’ll wish to see this.”

  Her gaze shifted to the ominous column of gray growing ever wider the higher it billowed. “Aye, we should. I would feel easier knowing ye’re not riding alone into whatever lies past that ridge.”

  That settled it. He locked eyes with Keigan. “Keep at my side and ride hard, ye ken?”

  The child gave a quick nod, then turned his horse back toward the keep.

  It took them half the time to cross the glen as it had before. “Sound the alarm,” Magnus shouted to the guards manning the barbican. It might be rash, but he didn’t care. The horns would bring Alexander running, so they could be on their way.

  “Ye will be safe and return to me,” Brenna ordered as she grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him over for another kiss. “Swear it!”

  “I swear I shall do my damnedest, my fierce love.” He kissed her hard, just as Alexander charged out of the inner bailey, already armed and astride his horse.

  “Who attacks?” he shouted as he spared a glance at Brenna and Keigan hurrying their mounts inside the protection of the skirting walls.

  “We have yet to discover that.” Magnus motioned him forward. “With any luck, no one.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Ye will see.” Magnus turned his mount toward the glen and spurred him into a hard gallop.

  They thundered toward the smoke, now visible as soon as they reached the other side of the village of Ruadh.

  Halting just before they topped the last rise, they studied the landscape, noting every sound and swaying blade of grass.

  “None of our people live this close to Fort William,” Alexander mused, resettling himself in the saddle.

  “All I know in this area are the shelters for the herders.” Magnus unsheathed his sword. His steel at the ready always made him feel better. He urged his horse onward. Enough wondering. Time to find out.