The Ghost

by Greyson, Maeve

  It was as they thought. The trio of shelters, as well as a wagon left from the last time the herders had passed through, crackled and roared with raging flames.

  Magnus sheathed his sword and drew his pistol instead. Alexander did the same. Too much of the three structures still stood upright. Whoever had started the fire couldn’t be that far away. With a nod toward a pine-tarred torch hissing and popping in the sedge, Magnus circled the carnage, more to study the surroundings than to look at the blaze. He had already seen enough to know the thing had been set. This was no act of stray lightning.

  “Who would do this and why?” Alexander cast a murderous glare toward Fort William.

  They both suspected the same culprit. The new garrison commander. A hater of Scots and, from what they had heard about the man, stupid enough to believe that such an act would trigger Clan MacCoinnich into reacting rashly. Idiot Sassenach. When a Scot sought revenge, he took his sweet time, savored it, and planned well, so it became a fine story to tell his bairns on a long winter’s night.

  “The better question is, what shall we do about it?” Magnus said.

  “Precautions,” was Alexander’s only reply as he turned his horse back in the direction of the keep while still holding his pistol at the ready. His one word spoke volumes.

  Magnus understood completely. He had fought at Alexander’s side long enough to know they would not ignore this attack. “And what shall we tell the people?”

  “The truth as we know it.” Alexander urged his mount forward. “This side of the glen is no longer safe and should be avoided until I decide otherwise.”

  “Ye know they dinna call me the ghost just because of my pale skin and hair?” Magnus shoved his pistol back in his belt. Instinct told him they were now safe since they had ridden to the center of the glen, and the village was in full view. The coward who had set the fire wouldn’t dare risk an attack this close. “Perhaps, a few night wanderings are in order. Maybe even a visit inside Fort William itself,” he said, rubbing his chin as he plotted. “I’ve been there before. ’Twould be easy enough to slip in, listen for a while, and then slip back out.”

  With a squinting glance back at the smoke, Alexander shook his head as his mount slowed. “I’m none too sure about that plan.” He sidled a glance toward Magnus. “If I get ye killed afore Catriona’s had the chance to see ye wed and expecting another bairn, there’ll be hell to pay for certain. Besides—I want them to think we Scots are a bit slow. Nothing cripples an enemy more than when he underestimates his prey.”

  While Magnus agreed, he still felt it wouldn’t hurt to gather as much information as he could. Chances were since there was nothing else on that stretch of the border to burn, there would be no further trouble. At least not from that direction. But it never hurt to watch things for a day or so. “No one will know I’m about. I’ve done such a thing a thousand times and never been caught. Ye ken that well enough.” As they rode through the barbican, he thumped a fist to his chest. “And I swear to do nothing that endangers yer arse when it comes to yer wife, aye?”

  “Ye best not,” Alexander warned. “Because mine willna be the only arse at risk.”

  While Magnus looked forward to revisiting his old days of sneaking about to gather information, what Alexander hinted at was sobering. If Brenna got wind of what he was about to do, she would not like it, and that could be—unpleasant.

  Chapter Ten

  Every child in the keep crowded the corner of the large open rooftop of the tower. Well, almost every child, as near as Brenna could tell. She counted eleven tousled heads, a colorful assortment of inky black, coppery red, and golden blonde. The only wean not present was Gretna’s three-year-old daughter, Malina Kirsteen. She was napping in the nursery. Her lively playmate, Catriona’s three-year-old Maisie Leanna, bounced on her mother’s hip, begging to get closer to Magnus and Keigan.

  “Nay, I said,” Catriona scolded. “I fear ye’ll fall since Willa said she already caught ye crawling into the crenels to see the glen. Now, be still, or ye will go to yer cot, and there ye will stay and miss yer supper.”

  Maisie quieted, but her pouting informed everyone that she wasn’t happy that her twelve-year-old sister had betrayed her.

  Brenna wasn’t all that pleased with Keigan’s position on the roof’s edge. Thankfully, the tall merlons rising from the stone battlement reached well above his head. As long as Magnus kept the lad from doing as Maisie had done, climbing into the spaces between them, she’d hold her tongue. Especially since they appeared to be enjoying themselves.

  “Hold out yer arm,” Magnus instructed, adjusting the straps on the heavy leather glove he’d had made for Keigan. The long thick cuff extended up over the boy’s shoulder, protecting it and the rest of his small arm from the falcon’s sharp talons. “Now whistle sharply like I taught ye. Merlin’s waiting.”

  Pressing two fingers of his gloveless hand to his lips, the lad attempted a loud whistle but only succeeded in a soft shushing shower of spittle.

  Brenna bit her lip to keep from laughing. Poor Keigan. One of his front teeth had come out last night and impaired his ability to summon the bird. Magnus ducked his head, struggling to contain his amusement as well.

  “Can I just call him by name?” the boy asked after drying his chin on his sleeve.

  Magnus peered up into the sky, his narrowed eyes locked on the dark speck soaring above them. His head tilted as he watched the bird. “Try it. He knows ye well enough by now and seems to favor ye.”

  The falcon did favor Keigan. It had taken to roosting in the rafters of the lad’s room. Brenna had caught Keigan hurrying to scrub droppings off the floors on more than one occasion. She’d not scolded him or forbidden the winged beastie from his quarters. As long as the lad cleaned up after the thing, she would allow it.

  This day was a special one. It was the first time Magnus had given Keigan full control over his feathered companion. The lad stood taller and lifted his gloved hand. “Merlin!” he shouted. “Come ta me!”

  An answering cry split the air. The tiny speck grew in size as the falcon’s rapid dive brought him downward. With another piercing screech, it lit on Keigan’s arm, then sidestepped its way up to the lad’s shoulder.

  “Well done!” Magnus praised, looking over at Brenna to ensure she had witnessed Keigan’s victory.

  It made her smile. She couldn’t tell who was prouder, Magnus or Keigan.

  The other children clapped and cheered. Gretna’s sons had often worked with Merlin, even looked after him whenever Magnus feared his travels might be too hazardous for the bird. But the rest of the wee ones at the keep gave the falcon a wide berth. Too many had seen the ease with which the feathery hunter tore into its prey and ate it. Talons sharp as steel and beak as deadly as a dagger, most at the keep admired Merlin from a distance.

  “Red comin’ this way!” shouted Rory, Gretna’s second son, as he pointed at the horizon.

  “Aye, just there. Across the glen,” confirmed Ramsay, Mercy’s eldest. “Headed toward Ruadh. Reckon we should tell the guards to sound the horns and warn the villagers?”

  No sooner had the lad spoken, then the alarm horns blared long and loud, echoing down the mountainside and into the town below.

  “Inside!” Magnus ordered. “Everyone goes with Brenna and Catriona. Now!”

  Heart in her throat, Brenna helped Catriona herd the young ones into the keep and deliver them to their respective quarters. All but Evander. Unfortunately, at fifteen, the lad was old enough to take up a sword if need be. Brenna prayed it wouldn’t come to that because if worst came to worst, Rory, Finn, and William, even at the tender ages of fourteen, thirteen, and twelve, might be called to bear arms, too.

  Times such as these made her despise the cold cruelty life sometimes served. With the kindness and support of all she had met here at Tor Ruadh, she had settled into a peaceful routine. Found her place. Discovered that contentment did, in fact, exist and waited for her to claim it. She resented anythi
ng that threatened to steal it away.

  “Auntie, Merlin and I can help,” Keigan argued as she ushered him into their chambers.

  “I know ye’re a fine fighter, my brave one. Ye protected me with both bow and stones many a time.” She smoothed back his hair and pecked a kiss to his forehead. “But here at the keep, the guards protect us first. We have to help them by doing as they ask.” Accompanying him to his room, she pointed at the wooden chest at the foot of his bed. “What say we check yer stones and see if any need their edges honed, ’case we should need them?”

  “I guess we can,” he grudgingly agreed. He stepped closer to the bed and held out his arm. “Ye can either sit here and watch or go high, Merlin. Whichever ye wish.”

  With a twitch of his feathery head, the bird blinked its dark brown eyes, then flapped its way up to the rafters.

  Noise in the sitting room made Brenna snatch up a stone and rise from where she crouched beside the chest. “Stay here,” she ordered in a tone she knew the lad would never challenge. They had been through enough during Keigan’s brief life for the child to know when circumstances demanded complete obedience.

  As soon as she stepped out of the room and spotted Magnus and a maidservant bearing a tray of food, she sagged back against the door she had closed behind her. “Thank the Almighty. I didna ken who might have entered without my permission.”

  Magnus hurried to her, while the maid held back and waited beside the entrance to the suite. “Forgive me for startling ye,” he said quietly. “One of our outliers just arrived. ’Tis Commander Barricourt, along with what must be his personal guard from Fort William, headed this way. Alexander means to offer them a meal with all of us present in the hopes of starting off right with the man. Show him a united front of calm, respectable horse breeders, ye ken?”

  “But Lord Crestshire said it would do no good. Said the man was beyond despicable.”

  “Aye, but we are stuck with him, so we’ll do what we can to keep the peace until forced to do otherwise. Our lands run next to Fort William. For the sake of our people, we shall attempt to forge an alliance.” He waved the maidservant forward. “Greer brought Keigan’s supper and will stay with him while we are downstairs.”

  While Greer was a kind enough lass, Brenna hated leaving Keigan while the vile British were in their midst. Her stomach knotted as she looked at the girl, then turned to Magnus. “I dinna wish to leave him. What if something happens? She’s but a slip of a girl. How can she protect him?”

  “I know all the passages, mistress,” Greer assured in a voice much stouter than what she looked. “If aught goes amiss, the lad and I’ll hie to the tunnels and hide until it’s safe to come out. I swear it.” She gave a firm nod. “I willna let yer bairn be taken, I grant ye that.”

  “She’ll keep him safe, mo chridhe.” Magnus rested his hand on her arm. “I would never entrust her with my son otherwise.”

  “Ye’ll run like the wind with him?” Brenna asked the girl, pressing a hand on Keigan’s bedchamber door as though to bless it.

  “I swear it, mistress.”

  While Brenna understood the soundness of the plan, her heart pounded in denial with every beat. She was the one to protect Keigan. Always had been.

  “Come. Let us tell the lad that we’re needed in the hall. We must make haste.” Magnus opened the door and gently nudged her forward.

  Still kneeling beside the opened trunk, Keigan looked up from his collection of throwing stones. He jumped to his feet, both hands filled with the flint missiles. “Are we to fight, then?”

  “Nay, son.” Magnus rested a hand on his shoulder. “At least, not yet. But I do have a very important task for ye.”

  Suspicion narrowed the boy’s eyes as he peered up at his father. “Aye?”

  Brenna remained silent, clasping her hands to her middle. Keigan was a canny lad, wiser and more mature than his years. God bless the poor mite. He had already been through so much. It would be best if Magnus didn’t try to shield the boy from what might happen if things went awry.

  Magnus motioned for Greer to join them. “Mistress Greer has brought yer supper so ye dinna have to listen to the boring Sassenachs the chief has invited to dine with us.”

  “Aye, and the task?” Still clutching his weapons, Keigan folded his arms. Brenna could tell by his stance that the child was onto his father’s tactics.

  “Keep Greer safe until we return, aye?” Magnus rubbed his hands together as though proud of the way he had worded his weak deception.

  “If the Sassenachs are boring and just coming to eat, why wouldna Mistress Greer be safe? We’re here in our private chambers. Second floor of the chief’s wing. Why would the soldiers come up here?” Keigan sheathed the stones in his belt, then bent and fetched more, stuffing them into his sporran. He paused and looked at Brenna. “Do ye need more, Auntie? Ye shouldna go below without plenty in yer pockets.”

  “I have enough, thank ye.” Brenna nudged Magnus aside. If they were to make haste and join the others, she best handle this. “We dinna know for certain why the English have come, Keigan. ’Tis our hope all will be peaceful, but we canna know until we’ve met with them. If aught goes wrong, Mistress Greer knows all the secret passages running through the keep. Go with her and hide until it’s safe, aye?”

  “Secret tunnels?” His interest perked, Keigan turned to the maidservant for confirmation.

  “Aye.” The lass set the supper tray on the bed, then went to a wall covered with a colorful tapestry of a hunting scene. She reached behind it and did something none of them could see. But a low rumbling, the grinding of heavy stone against stone, rewarded her efforts, and the wall opened. With a glance back at Keigan, she smiled. “Come see.”

  The lad disappeared behind the tapestry. “Can we explore them?” he asked, his voice echoing as though he stood inside a cave.

  “After yer supper, we can explore a bit,” Greer promised.

  “Come here, Keigan,” Brenna called.

  The lad emerged with wide eyes and a big grin. “Secret tunnels, Auntie. I bet I can find some rats for Merlin.”

  “That is indeed grand.” She waved him forward. “Now, tell me what ye’re to do whilst yer father and I are down below.” With his excitement about the tunnels, she had to be sure the boy understood the gravity of the situation.

  He grew quiet as he looked up at her. “If aught goes wrong and the Sassenachs attack, Mistress Greer and I are to hide in the tunnels ’til it’s safe to come out.” He threw himself against her as if suddenly realizing things could become dire. His arms tightened around her. “Hide with me, Auntie. Da, too. Please?”

  Heart aching but satisfied that her precious one finally understood, Brenna gently untangled herself from his hold, then crouched down in front of him. “We canna hide with ye, my fine wee warrior. This is one of those things we must do. Remember how we’ve talked of sometimes having to do things whether or not we wish to?”

  Keigan scowled at her, then wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tight again. “I remember,” he whispered. “But I dinna like it.”

  “Neither do I, my brave one.” Brenna closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of this blessed child she loved more than life itself. If aught went wrong, at least he would be safe. At least, she prayed so. His safety was all that mattered.

  “We must go now,” Magnus said quietly.

  “Ye’ve got plenty stones, aye?” Keigan said as he eased out of her embrace, his little hands knotted into fists.

  “I do.” Brenna stood, already missing the feel of this precious bairn safe in her arms. “But ye might give me a few more, if ye like.”

  The child brightened and pulled a pair of the longest flint daggers from his belt. “My best ones. They’ll keep ye safe for certain.”

  She tucked them both into the front of her bodice, then patted the spot where they nestled between her breasts. “I feel safer already. Thank ye, Keigan.”

  The child smiled, then turned a serious scowl
on Magnus. “I fear ye dinna throw them verra well, but would ye like some, too? Just in case?”

  “I would.” Magnus shifted in place, looking both relieved and proud that his son had included him and hopefully forgiven him for acting like the boy was too young to understand.

  After selecting another pair of stones from the trunk, Keigan held them out. “These should tuck nicely into yer waistcoat. I know they’re small, but that doesna mean they’re nay sharp or deadly.”

  Magnus accepted them, then knelt to look the lad in the eye. “It pains me that ye speak as a man when all ye should know are the joys of a child. Forgive me, Keigan, for everything.”

  Keigan rested a hand on Magnus’s shoulder. “I forgive ye. Just dinna get yerself killed today.” His lower lip trembled, but he didn’t cry. “Please,” he said, soft and low. “I need ye and Auntie both safe for me, ye ken?”

  “I swear we shall do our best, son.” Magnus scooped the boy into his arms and held him tight.

  Brenna blinked hard and fast, willing herself not to cry. Damned English. Nothing but trouble.

  “Yer supper’s getting cold,” Greer interrupted, then cleared her throat. “Forgive me.” She tucked her chin and retreated a step while lowering her gaze to the floor.

  “Mistress Greer is correct.” Magnus released the lad and rose to his feet but kept a hand on Keigan’s shoulder.

  “Aye.” Keigan backed away, averting his eyes. “I willna watch ye leave. Auntie says ’tis ill luck.”

  “That’s my good lad,” Brenna said with forced calm. She turned and hurried out the door, determined to get through this and return to her sweet boy as soon as she could. Magnus caught up with her, looking as grim as she felt.

  “Hell’s fire, he talks as if he’s grown,” he said as they rushed down the stairs and into the hallway.

  “He’s seen more than a child should.” Brenna had learned long ago that the less she spoke about the past, the easier it was to move forward. With a hand fisted to her chest, she pressed Keigan’s daggers against her breastbone. The feel of them strengthened her, a reassurance she sorely needed right now. “I pray this goes well.”