by L. L. Muir
He laughed. “The Rosses are so much different than our lot. They are kind folk. Reasonable, even.”
“Men can sometimes be…beyond reason.”
He nodded. There was no arguing that after their past experience with The Gordon. “If it will ease yer mind, Shona Marr, I’ll claim ye as my wife.”
She melted in his arms and her shivering slowed, then stopped altogether. It made his chest swell to ken that his assurances would give her such comfort. It made him feel quite a man. And though it might only be for appearances, it seemed as if she truly did belong to him.
“I’ll keep ye safe, Shona. I vow it.”
It was late in the morning when the small party of Rosses escorted them into the great hall of Castle Ross. Ewan, the clan’s chief, straightened in his lordly chair as they approached, but he didn’t seem surprised in the least.
One of the sisters gave him a bow. “Ye cannot have been expecting us, yer lairdship.”
“Oh, but I have.” He glanced at the rafters. “First, a party of Gordons showed up this morning to ask if I’ve been keeping Percy Gordon in my dungeon for days on end. After I denied it, they went on their way. And not two hours later, another party from the north came to ask if I would please secret ye in my dungeon if I did find ye, and send them word. I must say I’m impressed ye managed to escape the notice of both parties and arrive in one piece.”
The laird’s brows rose into his disheveled hair when he noticed Shona.
“Ye’re new, aye? And just how did ye get mixed up with this wild lot?”
Shona hands began to shake again, so Percy pulled her up against his side and held her tight. “My wife, yer lairdship.”
Ewan toyed with the whiskers on his chin for a moment while he considered her. “Quick work, I’d say. When it was just a day or so ago I saw ye as a wee laddie…” He frowned at the sisters who were both shaking their heads. “No?” Understanding dawned, and he nodded. “Welcome to Castle Ross, uh…”
Percy filled in the blank. “Shona.”
“Aye, then. Shona.” He smiled, but there was a fair chance she couldn’t see what lay beneath all that hair. Then he turned back to Percy. “And just how long will I be hiding ye from yer clan, laddie?” He winced and his hand flew up to cover his nose. “And what is that stink?”
Percy screwed up his face. “About that…”
Chapter Twenty
All the women of the family and their 8 small children, including J.W. and Gavin, gathered on the steps outside the massive doors of Castle Ross. The big reveal was finally at hand after Jules had tried for days to get Quinn to confess what he and the other men were doing.
The doors creaked open. Monty grinned like an idiot and stepped out of the way. Jules let her sister go first.
At the top of the steps that led down into the dimly lit hall, Jillian stopped dead. “Holy, holy crap!” Her voice rang out as if the great hall were empty, but of course, it wasn’t. Jules had to nudge her sister out of the way so she could take a better look at what the men had done to the place.
Customarily, they decorated for Christmas the first week of November, to help draw out the festive mood for their visitors. But this year, the men had talked them into closing up the castle for a few days so they could pull off a surprise.
Well, they’d pulled it off all right. Christmas before Halloween wasn’t on her list of guesses.
The great Ross chair was dwarfed by the fifteen-foot Douglas Fir centered on the dais. And by the artistic placement of the ornaments—in blue, silver, and green—it was obvious they’d hired a designer to put it all together. But she didn’t plan on pointing that out.
Monty hurried to join Quinn, Ivar, Wickham, Gaspar and James, who all stood at attention along one wall, watching their reactions.
The children flooded around Jules’ knees, chased along by a slow-waddling Morna. Isobelle laughed and stepped to the left. Soni slipped inside with Loretta and Lorraine. Each of those three grabbed a child to tease by holding them in place for a second or two, then letting them go. Finally, Phoebe and Ivy came through the big door.
“Everyone here?” Quinn started counting heads.
Jules counted the children. “Everyone!”
The men looked at each other, then started counting down from ten.
“Three…
“Two…”
“One…”
Monty flipped a switch and the hall lit up with thousands upon thousands of lights. Ivar pushed a button on the CD player at his feet and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen started playing. Restaurant bulbs on black cords were draped all around the walls. Strands of twinkle lights were suspended by strings over the hall itself, and a large 3D star hung high above the tree.
“Surprise!” The men shouted, then they laughed and started congratulating each other.
The women, for the most part, were speechless, but immediately started gushing when they saw the expectant look on their husband’s faces.
Jules saw an unexpected possibility. “We should host Christmas Weddings!”
Quinn wiggled a finger to draw her to him and met her in the middle of the floor. “We’re hosting a party right now, lass. Dinna get ambitious, aye?” He pulled her close and gave her a kiss. “I’ve a special gift for ye, and damn me if it couldn’t wait until December.”
“Oh really?” She figured it was something pretty special if he’d gone to so much trouble. But not nearly as fun as the surprise she and Jillian had for him and Monty.
Soni escorted the children around to find all the little village pieces hidden throughout the room. Loretta and Lorraine hurried over to the tree when Monty started sorting through the presents.
“These are for the ladies,” he hollered. “The bairns’ gifts are on their way.”
Quinn put an arm around Jules’ waist, then lifted her right hand into the air and started dancing her around. “Yer gift is not under the tree, love.”
“Neither is yours.”
He looked worried. “Ye didn’t ken what we planned, surely?”
“No. We didn’t know. But I do have a surprise for you.”
He pulled her against him and she enjoyed the simple pleasure of swaying back and forth, holding each other close.
The sisters opened their gifts, squealed, then held up matching sapphire necklaces. Jillian dragged Monty away from the tree and the two of them joined Jules and Quinn. Too soon, their little moment was over, but she made a mental note that they should slow dance more often—but with no one else around.
Jillian looked at her. “Ready?”
Monty frowned. He didn’t like surprises, but it was too bad. He was in for a doozy.
She and Jillian took a breath, and announced in unison. “We’re pregnant.”
Quinn’s eyes widened, then he shook his head. “Which we?”
Jillian laughed. “All four of us.”
“And I will have two brothers,” Emmie shouted.
Quinn looked a little sick and turned to Jules to verify it.
“I didn’t tell her that. But…yes. Two. It’s too soon to know, though.”
“Me too,” Lucy cried. “I get two more brothers!”
Monty laughed it off, like he thought his daughter was just copying Emmie…until he saw the look on Jillian’s face. Then his face fell. “Holy, holy crap.”
“Twins…” Quinn suddenly looked really worried. “I hope the gift I have planned won’t be too much of a shock. In yer condition, aye?”
“I’m fine. Don’t go worrying.” Jules rubbed her hands together. “Okay, let’s have it. All this Christmas music is making me want to open something. And eat something.” She eyed the table with all its tiers of goodies just waiting for a woman eating for three.
“Jillian?” Monty looked like he was going to throw up. “If they are lads…”
“Yes?”
“I worry our luck won’t hold, that having another set...” He obviously couldn’t make himself say the word witches, but it was clearly w
hat he feared.
Jillian’s brow lifted innocently. “It’s rare with boys, remember?”
Monty relaxed, then announced that they needed to sit down. As he dragged Jillian away, Jules exchanged a grimace with her sister. It was only a matter of time before Monty took a closer look at Wickham and realized his wife had been lying.
“Two sons, then?” Quinn put a hand along her face and gave her a tender kiss. “Congratulations, Mrs. Ross.”
She decided she would wait for a quiet moment before letting him know that she wanted to name one of them Percy.
Quinn turned to face the dais and shouted. “What’s that I hear?”
Jingle bells, violently shaken, sounded from beyond the arch that led to the kitchens. The kids screamed and jumped like crazy while they waited for Santa to come through the door.
Suddenly, Jules picked up on her husband’s anxiety, but he looked calm enough. Or maybe it was her own excitement. Or Emmie’s.
She sighed. Life would be a lot simpler if she could just go back to being a normal person who only heard her own thoughts, her own heartbeat—not her sister’s or anyone else’s.
Santa jumped through the doorway and the crowd went wild.
Emmie, very calmly, tugged on the tail of Jule’s shirt. “I told you, Mumma.” Then she gave her an excited grin and ran to mob Santa with the other children. Unlike the previous year, when she’d screamed bloody murder even looking at the man, this time she pushed the other children out of the way so she could climb on his lap.
When she gave Santa a kiss on the cheek, Jules looked at Quinn to see what he thought of their daughter’s change of heart, but her husband didn’t seem to think anything of it. In fact, he was so moved, his eyes gushed with tears.
She looked around to see if anyone was filming it and was relieved to see Soni had her phone up. She, too, was crying, and Jules wondered if she was just too distracted by the food display to pick up on the Christmas spirit.
Quinn gave her a watery smile. “Go on then, collect yer surprise, love.” He nodded toward Santa, so she walked over to stand among the children.
Emmie still sat on the man’s lap, her own gift clutched in her hand, still wrapped. “Where’s Mumma’s present?”
Santa whispered something to her. She grabbed his beard, looked back at Jules, then pulled the fluffy thing away.
Jules lost her breath. It was Percy! It really was Percy—her Percy! He’d come home!
It was nearly impossible to inhale. Her body just wanted to cry everything out of her while her heart shattered into a million happy pieces!
He was home!
The room around her was a blur of streaking light and flowing tears. Percy made his way toward her. The most precious gift wrapped loosely in red velvet. Oh Come All Ye Faithful tried to nudge its way into her awareness, but her ears were waiting to hear a different voice.
Finally, he was close enough to wrap her arms around. Much older, and so tall. She hadn’t remembered there was such a difference.
She pulled him down to her, wrapped her arms around his chest, and hugged him as tight as she dared. “You’re home.”
“Aye, Mother. But I’m a mite older, aye?”
“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.” And she wasn’t going to let go long enough to look him over.
“May I stay, then.”
She laughed. “You should worry if I will ever let you leave the house again.”
“Weel… Ye might not have room for the both of us, aye?”
That got her attention, and she pulled back to look behind him. If he’d also brought along the younger version of him, she might have to sit down. But there were no teenagers in the mound of children clamoring around his knees.
“The both of you?”
He reached his arm out to wave a girl forward. She was standing next to Ivy, looking a little worried. But she didn’t hesitate to come forward.
“This is Shona Marr.” He said her name like a wish, not so different than Quinn said her name sometimes.
“And?”
Percy shrugged his shoulders and his boney ribcage lifted beneath her arm. “And she’s mine.”
The girl smiled, then nodded. “And I’d like to call Percy mine, too. That is, if ye’ll share him.”
Jules shook her head. “I won’t give him up. But yes, I’ll share.” She opened her free arm and pulled Shona in, and together, they hugged their half-starved Percy.
“Food. You need food.” She finally forced herself to let him breathe, but he didn’t let go. If she didn’t find a way to lighten the moment, though, she would end up bawling again. So she pulled back to laugh at him. “Santa Claus? You? I thought you didn’t like Santa Claus.”
He blinked and tears dripped down his face. “Auch, I like ye just fine, Mother.”
THE END
Find out what happened to Sophie Pennel when you read BRAM, book number 35 in the Ghosts of Culloden Moor series. Keep reading for an excerpt. You can order it here: http://amzn.to/2AYx7Qc
The next book in The Curse of Clan Ross Series will be FLANDERS, coming in 2019. You’ll find lots of other works by L.L. Muir on the books page.
Cheers!
An excerpt from BRAM
A wise woman once advised Sophie not to name her business after herself. If the shop took off, and she decided to sell, the woman promised it would be much easier to give it up if she could distance herself from it emotionally.
As it turned out, she was glad she’d followed that advice because her specialty bakery had quickly turned into a franchise that dotted the coastal map of Oregon. And selling half a dozen stores was emotional enough without her name attached to them. The corporation of Aw, Sugar Sugar sold for 1.2 million dollars, which accounted for the happy tears, but it had still been tough to walk away from a routine she’d been perfecting since high school.
The one thing she hadn’t been prepared for were the reactions of her family and friends. And putting some distance between them and herself was suddenly essential. They all seemed to think that selling a business was like winning the lottery—free money. And thanks to her mom, who had a hard time keeping secrets, everyone Sophie knew learned how much money she had in the bank.
The phone calls and drop-by’s started out exciting since it brought her actual joy to be able to help the people she loved without needing to worry whether or not she could afford to. Then it turned to disappointment when the same faces kept coming around with new and worsening problems.
Can’t pay the power bill?
I can help you with that.
Need an airline ticket so you can get back home from a last-minute concert in Vegas?
Are you kidding me?
She really couldn’t blame them. Her family had never really had money, so it was new and exciting for all of them, including Sophie, not to have to worry that a little bit of bad luck could devastate their paycheck to paycheck lives. Now, there was a backup plan. A get out of jail free card, so to speak.
But cashing in that card, week after week, made for hard feelings. And she just couldn’t stand how it was making her feel about the people closest to her. If she didn’t do something drastic, they’d all end up as bitter strangers.
She was left with no choice but to lie to her mother—which was as good as announcing to the world—that she had invested all her money, holding out only enough to take a solo vacation to Europe.
So long. See you in a couple of months. Don’t hold your breath for postcards.
And before anyone could volunteer to go along, she’d hired a house-sitter she could trust to keep her friends and family out of her home office, and headed to the airport. No phone. No computer. And a pre-paid Visa even her credit-bureau cousin couldn’t track.
She hadn’t felt that free since she’d first opened her doors on a business that started as a school project. Back in 2011, everyone rolled their eyes at the simple idea of selling cupcakes—until they saw how steadily the money came in.
No
one was laughing at her now.
Edinburgh, Scotland.
Her first impression: Scotland is a sandwich.
Compared to the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, the Edinburgh airport was long and low and squashed in between the dark strip of tarmac and a thick, solid blanket of metal-gray clouds. They hovered overhead like a moldy lid of a hamburger bun while Sophie’s plane slipped into the thin slice of clear airspace.
Man, she was hungry.
As she descended to the blacktop, she felt like she ought to stoop a little, as if she’d climbed out of a helicopter and not the 50-passenger airbus. After her two-day layover in New York, where the buildings held the sky at bay with threatening spikes, she felt like the clouds were taking advantage of Scotland’s lack of defense—and might drop on her head any second.
The urge to stoop disappeared, thankfully, the second she walked inside the customs building and looked up at the high ceilings. Everything was normal. She was going to be fine.
While she waited in line, she pulled a folded three-by-five card out of the left front pocket of her jeans, totally out of habit. Every night before she went to sleep, she made a list of things she needed to remember to do the next day, then tucked it into the pants she would wear. It was how she cleared her mind so she could relax and sleep all night. If it wasn’t important enough to make the list, it wasn’t worth losing sleep over.
She took a deep breath, hoping it would help her relax, and unfolded the paper square.
Get on the plane.
Get off the plane.
Stop making lists.
Sophie laughed at herself. After making packing lists, lists of contact numbers, photo copies of her drivers’ license and passport, and lists for the house-sitter, she’d started making lists of every step she needed to take until she met up with the tour guide. Now, she vaguely remembered tearing up the last one and replacing it with the simple one in her hand.
