Twelvetide: Twelve Nights of Highland Magic

by Dawn Marie Hamilton

  “I was a little girl and you were a ghost. What else is there to say?” She grinned, still filled with merriment from the evening.

  “I murdered a man,” he blurted.

  “I see.” Her smile disappeared. “Someone like the men who attacked us?”

  “Nae, much worse. I participated in a murder plotted by an elder kinsman to acquire more power within our clan. ’Twas four years ago.”

  “You were young. What happened?”

  “I was not supposed to be involved, but was dragged from the university dormitory along with my cousin. John was heir to a lairdship. You ken? We were both in our last year of school and shared a room. The men who conspired to take power from the clan chief didn’t expect to find me with John when they came to abduct him. Since I was there, they took me too. Mayhap some would claim ’twas luck they did not leave me behind in a pool of blood.”

  Ashley patted his hand, and he found the strength to continue.

  “We were taken to a hunting lodge where several elder clansmen waited. Our clan chief was already dead from a gunshot wound. Each man present added a wound by their own hand. John and I were forced to do the same.”

  “That’s horrible. You are certainly not to blame for the man’s death if he was already dead. It sounds as if you didn’t have a choice.”

  “I did. I should have fought harder to protect myself and John, to allow us to escape, even if it meant my death. The sin weighs heavy upon my soul.”

  “It shouldn’t. You are a good man, Caelan Innes.” Her acceptance eased the burden.

  “I believe the men who pursued us as we traveled to Castle Lachlan were mercenaries hired by the current clan chief, Alastair, the son of the man known by the same name whom we murdered four years ago. If Alastair, the younger, has learned of your connection to me, you are at risk also.”

  “You are too hard on yourself. I have faith you will protect me.”

  Cael wished he deserved this selfless woman.

  She kissed him long and hard, her acceptance humbling. With gentle fingers, he unlaced her gown and let it drop to the floor. Her chemise went the way of the frock. Then his plaide, trews, and leine followed suit. They fell back upon the covers, ravenous for each other’s touch. With an orgasm tightening his balls, he rode with Ashley to a haven of bliss.

  Later, with Ashley sleeping in the crook of his arm, her breath upon his cheek, her feminine scent within his nostrils, he made a decision about their future.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  On the fifth night of Yule, Ashley and Cael joined the family in the chapel at midnight for Christ mass. No one seemed concerned they broke the king’s law, as if immune to fines levied by the crown for celebrating the mass. Perhaps the crown’s shadow didn’t quite reach the Highlands. Golden light from a plethora of candles cast dancing shadows upon stone walls. Ashley stood at Cael’s side, awestruck.

  Robed in white, the priest entered from a side door and genuflected before the altar. He turned to those in attendance and lowered his cowl. Ashley gasped. Durrell! The cottage caretaker from the future. How could that be?

  “What is the matter?” Cael whispered.

  Ashley shook her head, not wanting others to know of the turmoil making her pulse beat too fast. Catherine had already glanced their way, concern lining the woman’s fine features.

  The priest proceeded with the introductory rites unaware of her unease and sense of panic. Concluding with the final blessing, the priest left by way of the door he’d entered earlier. How could the mass have ended so soon? Lost within troubled thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the passing of time.

  Hand on the small of her back, Cael ushered her from the chapel behind the family and they joined the flow of people entering the council chamber for the feast. She moved where guided, barely aware of the surroundings.

  They were seated at the head table, again, as Lachlan Og’s special guests—Lachlan Og, his wife to the left, Cael, and then Ashley.

  “What is the name of your priest?” Ashley leaned over Cael to address the question to Catherine. “I enjoyed the liturgy. I would like to tell him as much.”

  Cael puckered his brow and frowned.

  “I dinnae ken. Our regular priest has taken ill and was replaced by another.” Catherine touched her husband’s hand. “Lach, do you ken the name of the priest?”

  “I believe ’tis Durrell. He arrived this verra morning, a maiden sister in tow. I invited them to join us for the feast, but I dinnae see them as yet.”

  “Perchance, do you know his sister’s name?” Ashley asked, unsure if she wanted to learn the answer.

  “Irene. Elaine. Nae, those names dinnae seem right.” He rubbed his chin. “Aileen. Aye. I believe her name is Aileen.”

  Cael stiffened, and the furrows in his brow deepened. “Ashley, shall we take a stroll about the chamber before the meal is served?”

  She accepted his assistance from the dais, then placed a hand on his and they paraded around the perimeter of the room, past the jugglers and other entertainers.

  “What kind of game do you play, Ashley?” He tugged her into a private alcove, out of the earshot of others.

  “What do you mean?” She was taken aback by his ferocious glare.

  “Are the priest and his sister in on your trickery? Are the names Durrell and Aileen not the names of the Druids who you claim sent you to me? What do you want from me?”

  “I…yes, that is their names, but—”

  “I have been planning for several nights, looking for the right words, wanting to ask you to wed with me. I have prayed you would accept me even with the sin on my soul. But I will not wed someone who plays me for a fool.”

  “How dare you.” She kicked him in the shin, jumped out of his grasp, and returned his glare. “You thoughtless prick! I came here to save your damned soul.”

  “Ye should leave the saving of souls to priests, mistress.” The priest’s shadow darkened the small space.

  “You’re Druid. You practice the old religion,” Ashley accused.

  “The old religion nae longer exists. I am naught but a humble priest serving our good Lord.” He turned on a heel and strode away, black frock swaying with his angry gait.

  Heat burning her cheeks, she returned her gaze to Cael.

  “Now you’ve angered a priest,” he said.

  “Two minutes ago you accused me of being in cahoots with that priest.”

  Cael dragged a hand over his face. “I dinnae ken what to think.”

  “Neither do I.” She pivoted with a flounce of her long skirt and stormed off, seeking the privacy of the bedchamber they shared. Half hoping Cael would follow. Half praying he would not.

  He didn’t. She spent the night alone. She woke to bright early morning sunlight, wondering where he’d slept.

  Perhaps a walk before breakfast would clear her head. Stepping into the courtyard, a chill breeze made her shiver, and Ashley tightened the tartan around her shoulders. The wool smelled of Cael, reminding her they were still at odds. How had things between them deteriorated so quickly?

  She crossed the stone courtyard and hurried along a well-trodden path to a walled garden visible from their bedchamber. She entered through an archway and stopped short in surprise. Somewhere within a woman hummed a sweet tune. Ashley wasn’t the only one at the castle to have risen early. With the Yule feasting and revelry each night, few rose before early afternoon.

  She hesitated, uncomfortable with intruding on another’s solitude.

  A woman who looked very much like a younger-version of Aileen from the future stepped from behind a large holly tree, white-blond hair an aura surrounding a pale face. “Good day, mistress.”

  “Do you know me?” Ashley asked.

  “Nae. I have never had the pleasure to meet you, but I see your soul is innocent.”

  Ashley shivered. This time not from the chill air. “Can you tell me how to save Cael’s soul?”

  “I dinnae ken of Cael. Is he not a good man?”
>
  “I was sent back in time. From the future. By a woman who looked very much like you, but older. Her name was also Aileen. She claimed to be a Druid light-bearer.”

  The young woman’s complexion paled even more. “I am sorry mistress, I must leave. My brother will be searching for me.”

  As if on cue, Durrell stepped from behind the holly and placed his bulk in front of his sister. “What is it ye want from us?”

  Ashley hadn’t seen the priest approach, and quickly stepped back from the heat of his glower. “I know neither of you remember me, but another Aileen—a Druid light-bearer—sent me back in time to save Caelan Innes’s soul. She never explained how. Can you help me?”

  Durrell’s intense gaze shot over Ashley’s shoulder and he no longer seemed to be listening. What had distracted him from her plea for aid?

  She spun around. Cael stood in the archway, wearing a fierce frown. He strode toward them, his gait determined.

  “You must excuse my wife, Father.” He placed an arm around Ashley’s shoulder. “She is not thinking clearly. She experienced a harrowing attack by bandits on the road while traveling here and has not been well since.”

  “We quite understand.” Durrell placed a hand on Aileen’s arm. “Come sister. ’Tis time we break our fast.”

  Ashley held her tongue until Durrell and Aileen left the garden and strolled out of hearing. Then she spun on Cael. “How dare you imply I’m crazy?”

  “Calm yourself. What do you expect me to do when you tell that tale of yours to a priest? What were you thinking? If that tale gets out, others will think you are mad in the head or practice the old religion. Either way you would be persecuted. I am only trying to protect you.”

  “Why won’t you believe me?” Ashley huffed.

  “I did not say I dinnae believe you. You just should not be telling the tale to a priest.” He ran a hand over his face as if scrubbing away unsettling thoughts. “Do you love me, Ashley?”

  “I have from the beginning.”

  “Tell me, again, exactly what the Druid light-bearer told you.”

  “You have twelve nights to gain my love. I have twelve nights to save your soul.”

  “Then we should wed.”

  * * *

  Each night of Yule brought more feasting and merriment, and magical lovemaking, but no enlightenment on how to save Cael’s soul. On the ninth night, a blustery wind blew across the moor, bringing with it unease. Only four nights remained until Twelfth Night passed along with Ashley and Cael’s planned wedding, yet she was no closer to learning how to save his soul.

  If she didn’t discover the answer before midnight on Twelfth Night, would she hurl forward through the veil to the twenty first century? Would Cael return to being a ghost—cursed to haunt the Black Hill’s garden during the Twelve Nights of Yule forever?

  Durrell and Aileen were of no help. They hadn’t yet lived in Ashley’s time and didn’t know of the conditions of Cael’s redemption.

  Ashley could no longer tolerate the revelry of the other castle folk. Despair dug its festered claws into her mind. Several brightly-clad dancers pranced past. Ashley thought she would explode into a fit of screaming. Perhaps she was insane.

  Don’t be foolish. You just need a break from all the frivolity. She stood, gaze darting frantically around the room, landing on the doorway.

  “Are you unwell?” Cael gripped her forearm. “Is anything wrong?”

  “I need a breath of fresh air.”

  “Perhaps a stroll on the beach?”

  She’d wanted to be alone…

  “That would be great.”

  They departed the hall, leaving behind the noisy frivolity and feasting. She waited in a passageway off of the kitchen while Cael retrieved their cloaks. Servants scurried past with laden trays destined for the council chamber and merrymakers.

  When Cael returned, he wrapped her in a fur-lined green velvet cloak Catherine mentioned was imported from Germany. A wedding gift from her father, the Earl of Argyll.

  Cael clasped Ashley’s elbow. “This way.”

  Castle Lachlan dominated a small islet in the center of a minor bay on the southern edge of Loch Fyne. He escorted her through the bustling kitchen, through the quiet courtyard, and along an uneven path to a pebbly beach. Silver moonlight shimmered on the surface of the water. Quiet; the only sound the lapping of tiny waves against the shore. A breeze carried a briny scent and rustled the fabric of her cloak.

  “You are so beautiful.” Cael spun her to face him, fisted the velvet of her cloak, and secured the fabric over her breast. “I have wanted you since first setting eyes on you, Ashley.”

  “You don’t even remember the first time you saw me.”

  “I do.” He leaned in and his lips touched hers—whisper-soft—a kiss that made her sway within his embrace. “I woke in a garden to an angel.”

  “No. We met in the hidden maze, in my time, when I was a child. You don’t even remember the maze, never mind meeting me.”

  A masculine shout came from behind her. From the water’s edge.

  Cael wrapped an arm around her waist, twirled her behind his back. A dagger had appeared in his hand, from where she didn’t know. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Whist!” he whispered, his gaze scanning the dark shoreline. “Several currachs approach bearing armed men. I dinnae ken if they are friend or foe, but we should return to the safety of the keep.”

  As they hurried along the path to the castle, Ashley tripped on a stone and fell. Cael gripped her hand and pulled her upright. The delay cost them dearly. Moonlight glinted off swords pointed at Cael by a group of men encircling them.

  One man stepped forward, his hard stare pinned on Cael. “You are the last of my father’s murderers requiring justice.”

  “So it was you behind the attempts on my life, Alastair. I suppose you also torched Coxton tower resulting in the death of John, his wife, and unborn child.”

  “’Tis regrettable innocents got in the way.” He grinned. “Like this fine wench you attempt to protect with the breadth of your body.”

  “He didn’t murder anyone.” Ashley managed to pull away from Cael. “Your father was already dead when Cael and John arrived at the hunting lodge.”

  “You ken much. You must be special to our Caelan.”

  “Leave her out of this.” Cael tried to once again position his body in front of her. “The dispute is between you and me alone, Alastair.”

  “I think not.” Alastair aimed a pistol at her. “You and your cohorts stole someone I loved from me. Now I take the same from you, Caelan Innes.” He cocked the pistol.

  Caelan leapt in front of her, the bullet hitting his chest. Blood spurted, and he sank to the ground.

  “Nooo!” Ashley screamed then fell to her knees beside him. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Alastair’s men merged with the trees and disappeared, leaving him behind. Alastair gasped, his grin of triumph a sudden mask of shock as a sword point protruded from his chest. He dropped to the ground in a pool of blood.

  Lachlan Og knelt beside Cael and Ashley.

  Cael gripped the man’s hand. “Promise me. You will take my remains and Ashley to the ancient garden of the Druids north of the ruin of Coxton Tower before midnight on Twelfth Night.”

  “Aye, lad, I will do as you request.”

  Ashley grasped Cael’s other hand. “Stay with me. You can’t die.”

  Cael stared, unseeing, at the sky. His spirit rose in a wisp of steam. A slightly faded image of his former self hovered over the lifeless body on the ground.

  “Oh, Caelan, we failed,” Ashley cried.

  “He cannot hear you any longer, lass.” Lachlan Og closed Cael’s eyelids. “He is dead.”

  Cael, the ghost, winked at her.

  “He’s still here. Can’t you see him?”

  Lachlan Og patted her shoulder. “He is gone.”

  “He can’t be,” Ashley sobbed.

  Durrell and Aile
en stepped from the shadows onto the path and knelt beside them. The priest chanted words over Cael’s body that Ashely didn’t understand. When he finished, an unearthly light shone upon the young woman at his side. As if morphed by a graphics manipulation program, her face slowly aged and her hair turned silver. A wreath of holly leaves appeared on her head. She became the Aileen of the future.

  Tears ran unchecked over Ashley’s cheeks. “Why? Why did you let this happen?”

  “Everything happens for a reason,” Aileen said. “Our Caelan has gained your love and made the ultimate sacrifice by offering his life in exchange for yours. What will you do to save his soul?”

  “What must I do?”

  “Love him enough to stay in the past with him.”

  Ashley shot her gaze to Cael’s ghost, feeling faint. Stay in ancient Scotland, where life was so easily lost at the point of a sword? At the shot from a gun? But if it meant Cael would live and they would be together…

  She stiffened her spine, decision made.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On Twelfth Night, Cael, once again, found himself in the MacLachlan family chapel. Only on this night, his knees shook as if he was a green lad attending his first fair, scared to meet a comely lass. He glanced to the entry, past the few guests invited to join them during this private service.

  Where was Ashley? Had she changed her mind?

  Lachlan Og stood at his side to bear witness to the marriage. The only one besides Ashley, Durrell, and Aileen who kenned of Cael’s death and rebirth and Ashley’s sacrifice for their love. The man had been surprisingly untroubled by the turn of events. Cael shivered. He could scant believe the knowledge he now possessed. He’d been a ghost for over three hundred years. Ashley had told the truth from the beginning. He ran a palm over the wool of his plaide, relieved to feel its texture.

  At one time, he’d thought he had naught to offer Ashley in marriage, but he’d been wrong. Last night, he agreed to become captain of Lachlan Og’s personal guard. The position would afford him and Ashley a comfortable life at Castle Lachlan. More importantly, he had a beating heart full of love to offer.