by L. L. Muir
But it did, dammit! So much had to be removed before they could reach the stones at the top, and no matter how desperate she was to have Bram found, she couldn’t wish others to get hurt in the process. They’d been so lucky thus far. She had to remember to be grateful.
Time dragged on, and the other women left her alone, one by one, until it was just her staring out the window, chanting the same words over and over again.
“Immortal ‘til tomorrow. He’s immortal ‘til tomorrow.”
Come on, Bram. Hang in there.
At the end of an hour, the men started taking breaks when they stood, stretching their backs, sitting for a few minutes, and accepting cups of water from lines of women with dripping buckets. But only one line rested at a time, keeping their progress from coming to a complete halt.
Someone lit a torch, and only then did Sophie realize it was getting dark. But no one seemed to begrudge her orders, that Bram and Ranald be found before they could go home. In fact, she suspected nothing would have changed had she never said a word.
One line shifted higher on the pile. A dozen young boys were handed torches and spread out, one of them picking his way to the top of that line. When the rhythm returned to normal, Sophie finally decided to sit and give her legs a rest. She would need her strength to jump up and down when they found Bram alive.
She stepped back into the room and sat on a narrow bed, and leaned back against the wall. Though there was nothing store-bought in the room, it didn’t look particularly medieval. It was tidy, cozy, and clean. Nothing to pity here.
All afternoon she’d stood shoulder to shoulder with women who seemed to live a harder life than she did. But did they really?
They rejoiced with each other when the other children were safe again. They worked non-stop when they thought others might be lying beneath the rocks. They risked their lives to help hold a rickety ladder together with sheer will. And they didn’t waste their time worrying about their production costs or competition.
And when that little boy woke up…
No. The people of Inverbrae didn’t need her pity. They wanted only respect. And they had it.
On the flip side, she didn’t want their pity either. She just wanted Bram to be found alive.
Somewhere in the back of her mind came a question that made her a sick to her stomach. Did she want him alive so badly she’d imagined the girl in black?
She had to admit she’d been a little out of her mind when the girl showed up. She’d been calling Wickham’s name, hoping for the insane possibility that he had some magic power. But if that were true, couldn’t the man have simply transported Bram out of there?
That was nuts. But the real question was…was she?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A kid shouted.
Sophie shook herself awake and realized she was still on the bed, but the room was dark. She leapt to the window and found that the work had stopped. The kid at the top of the pile was holding a torch in one hand and something else in the other. A shoe, maybe. But a small shoe.
The work resumed, but more quietly than before. Those with water buckets pulled back, put their loads on the ground, and waited.
She couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to go down. And thankfully, no one tried to stop her. It wouldn’t be long now before she found out if she was crazy. But more importantly, to find out if Bram was alive. If he and the boy had been in the same general area when they fell, neither of them could be far from that shoe.
Another shout went up, but she had to wend her way around two buildings before she could find out what was going on. She came around the corner and a woman hurried to her side. “They’ve found wooden floor, from the tower roof.”
Godfrey was standing on a smaller pile of rubble scanning the crowd. His face cleared when he saw her, then he waved her to him. He led her to a spot closer to the pile, but safely out of harm’s way.
“Wait here,” he said, then left her to climb up to the top.
Instead of carrying stones away, they started passing pieces of planks down the line. Godfrey was knee deep now, ripping debris from below and passing it up.
“Silence!” He held up one hand and turned his head, and the crowd held its breath. A child cried from far away. People murmured, but Godfrey shushed them and turned his head the other way. The child cried again, only this time, everyone realized the crying came from the rubble.
Ranald!
The other two lines of men moved position and clearing the top happened three times as fast. Soon, Godfrey halted the work and redirected them to a different spot. Ranald cried out again, but this time, his voice was louder.
Everyone cheered. Sophie just hoped they would have another reason to cheer soon.
“Lady Ogilvy!”
That was her! Godfrey waved her to him, and Harris helped her pick her way carefully up the pile. “You’ll want to see this,” said the Viking, a strange look of awe on his face.
She moved closer. He held out his hand, and she jumped to the board he was sitting on. And down at his feet was a wooden hatch, propped open. Beneath that opening was a bowl of space filled with a man in the fetal position, his body wrapped around the sniffling form of little Ranald, who was clutching a little doll and missing one shoe.
Bram’s head turned and he blinked. “Is it morning, then?”
“Not yet, my lord husband.”
He didn’t seem to mind her tears practically splashing him in the face. “Do you think it is too late at night to find this laddie a pony?”
~ ~ ~
The celebrating went on all night, and the young people danced and sang around the bone-weary men and women who had spent themselves emotionally and otherwise. But no one wanted to be the first to say goodnight.
Seated in their large chairs in the great hall, along with a rag-tag group of revelers, Bram and his lady wife listened to the afternoon’s excitement being retold for the tenth time, but he didn’t care. As long as he could look into her eyes and hold her hand, he was content to sit there until morning…
Until his two days came to an end.
“You know,” Sophie said quietly, so as not to disrupt the storyteller. “While I waited for them to dig you out, I realized I don’t know much about you. What kind of funeral could we have had for you?”
“Here lies Bram Ogilvy from Alyth, in Angus.” He chuckled. “Mason. Scotsman. What more would ye need to ken?”
“A clever man.”
“Auch, to be sure.”
“And generous.”
“Dinna forget he was a handsome man.”
“Painfully handsome.”
“Painful—”
“My lord!”
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the woman who’d pulled Sophie to safety. He’d already praised her for her quick action. Now she was back—and deep in her cups.
“I forgot to say, my lord, that your lady wife saved your life tonight as well. Did you ken that she forbid anyone from seeking their beds until ye and the laddie were found?” She moved to Sophie’s side and hissed at her. “Tell him about yer hallu…hallu… Tell him about yer vision, my lady.”
Sophie blushed, which always intrigued him.
“Vision? Do tell.”
“A young woman,” said the drunk one. “Promised yer wife ye were immortal, she did.”
He waved at Harris, and the man hurried onto the dais to lead her away. Then he asked the recounter if they might hear the rest of his story in the morning. Peg took the lead and started urging people out the door, and a few minutes later, he and Sophie were relatively alone.
“I don’t suppose this vision of yers was called Soncerae, by any chance?”
She gasped. “How did you know?”
“She wasn’t a vision, lass. Soncerae, or Wickham, will come to take me back in the morning. My deed…or rather, my duty here is done.” In fact, he was surprised they hadn’t come for him already. Surely there wasn’t another task expected of him.
Sophie pic
ked at the arm of her chair where a splinter of wood was coming away from the rest. “What if I didn’t—I mean, what if you didn’t want to go?”
“I assure ye, lass, that I would stay here forever if it meant we would be together. But alas, I gave my word.
He thought about Culloden, about the prince, and about the atrocities suffered there, but now it all seemed two lifetimes away, not two days. And the last thing he wanted at the moment was to waste his time with Bonnie Prince Charlie.
“There is no room for revenge in a heart filled with love, wouldn’t ye say, Bram?”
He jumped to his feet with a start and turned to see the source of that familiar voice. He grabbed Soni and pulled her against him, something he’d never been able to do until now. But then he set her back, wishing, regretfully, that she wouldn’t have come until morning.
Wickham stood just behind her and opened his arms for an embrace. Then laughed heartily when Bram declined.
Soni was watching her uncle carefully. “Well?”
The man shrugged. “He’s earned his revenge, lass.”
“Uncle! He doesn’t want revenge. He wants her.”
“Of course he does.” Wickham winked at Sophie. “Hello, Miss Pennel. Ye’ve done quite well here. Are ye ready to plug back into the world? My son would like to see his horse again, once we’re finished here.”
Sophie wrapped her hands around the arms of her chair and held tight. “What if I say I’m not ready? It’s not even Sunday yet.”
Wickham pointed to the high windows that were lighter than before. “Technically, it is.”
“Then, can we all go down together?”
Bram looked to Soni. “Could ye wait just a moment, then, while I tell my lady wife a ghost story?”
Wickham rolled his eyes. “Ye’ve had two days to tell her. But aye. We can wait a wee bit.” He nudged Soni and the pair of them disappeared—like popped soap bubbles.
Sophie looked at him with wide eyes. “I knew it!”
Bram shook his head. “Nay lass. Ye dinna ken everything. But ye will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Seated on a small bench before a dying fire, Bram began his tedious tale. Sophie watched the flames all the while. Sometimes she was brought to tears, sometimes her face lit with understanding, and sometimes it was just the flash of a brightly burning ember that changed the light on her cheeks from orange to yellow to orange again.
After explaining about Culloden’s 79 and the pact Soni made with them all, he finally paused to see how his stubborn American lass was taking the news.
She noticed him watching. “I’m okay. I mean, considering it’s the middle of the night and I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not, I’ve still got my cheese on my cracker.”
“Pardon?”
“I haven’t gone off the deep end. Haven’t lost my mind. I’m all here. Mostly. So…” She took a deep breath and eased her grip on the chair. “You told her you wanted power and position. Why?”
“Well,” he slyly reached over and confiscated one of her hands, then held it between his own. “I’ve always had sway with people. Any man my size is afforded certain respect, aye? But it never mattered how many men were willing to support my views. Those with power and position made all the laws, started wars, and sent the rest of us off to fight them.
“I honestly hoped that if I had the advantages of money and power—a James Bond if ye will—I could truly help people. The man was quick, but without the freedom and weapons to do what was necessary, reflexes could only take him so far.”
“You know you’re talking about a fictional character, right?”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “And ye’re speaking to a ghost.”
She shook her head. “Not yet.” She squeezed his hand to make her point. “And look what you did tonight—er, last night. Your reflexes saved Ranald! Your influence got five little kids off the top of that tower. You didn’t need power and position to do that. And honestly, you didn’t have to be lord of the castle to get Godfrey and the others to listen to you.” She grinned. “You could have wrestled them to get their attention.”
“Aye, lass. I concede that point. Which leaves us with the next point. Which is…that we must part ways here.”
She shook her head. “There has to be some way to change this. Do you think we can hide? When they come back, we’ll just be gone?”
He bit his lips together and shook his head. There was nothing he could do to change things. “It’s over, my lady wife. Best we say our goodbyes now, while we have some privacy.”
After a brief but emotion-filled kiss, they simply wrapped their arms around each other and held tight, like two dancers waiting for the Titanic to go down beneath them. But just like in the movie, she would be able to go on and take their memory with her.
“I hope ye will remember me from time to time, Sophie Pennel.”
She squeezed him tighter. “I’ll never forget the first man I ever loved,” she said, “because there probably won’t be another.”
He pushed her away so he could look into her eyes. “Nay, lass. I want ye to be happy, do ye hear? I expect, in a few more years, that ye’ll own half of Oregon and be setting yer sights on California, aye?”
She gave him a sly look. “Well, I am an excellent negotiator,” she said.
Someone cleared his throat behind them. It was Wickham. Soni stood beside the man with tears running silently down her face.
Sophie pushed Bram behind her. “Hang on just a minute. I’d like to make you an offer.”
Wickham tilted his head and waited patiently.
The lass clasped her hands before her and looked to the ceiling a few times while she spoke. “One million, one hundred forty-seven thousand, one hundred twenty-three.”
“What is that, lass?”
She filled her lungs, held it for a quick second, then let it out. “All I have.”
Wickham frowned at Soncerae, who swiftly recovered her cheerful disposition. “She’s trying to buy him. That’s new, aye?”
“I would have more,” Sophie added, “but I paid off a few things. And paid for this vacation. So? What do you say?”
Wickham scoffed. “A bargain was struck, lass.”
Sophie was undaunted and held her arm out as if she could prevent the pair from taking him that instant and whisking him away. “Right! A bargain! A contract. People buy their way out of contracts all the time. There’s nothing illegal about it.”
“We’re not speaking of the law, here—”
“But my point is, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Wickham put his hands in the air and shrugged, then looked pointedly at Soni. “Maybe ye can explain it to her.”
Soni nodded and came forward to hold Sophie’s hands in hers. “So, what ye’re saying is ye’re willing to give everything you have in order to keep Bram?”
Wickham growled.
“You know what? I am.”
Soni hugged the lass and sent Bram a wink behind her back. “Then I guess that settles that.”
~ ~ ~
They escaped Inverbrae so early in the morning that there were only a few good-byes to worry about. Godfrey showed up just as they were about to climb on their horses, and Sophie figured the man had tattle tales working for him in the stables.
He blocked Bram from reaching her and picked her up, planted a kiss on her cheek, then sat her on the saddle. “If ye e’re get tired of this one, lass, ye ken where to find a big Viking who can make ye happy, aye?”
She laughed. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” Though there was no possible way she could find her way back, even if she wanted to. When they got to the bottom of the mountain, the whole place would probably disappear like Brigadoon.
Godfrey slapped Bram on the shoulder and sent him stumbling sideways. “Do ye ken, if this woman wouldn’t have insisted ye were immortal, we might not have found ye alive?”
“I realize what a lucky man I am, sir. I do. And I will make certa
in she has no need for Vikings, aye?” Then he slapped Godfrey on the shoulder and sent him stumbling in the opposite direction. “Ye’ll see that the work is done?”
“I will,” said the big blond. “After our near tragedy, not a man will grumble.”
“Thank them all for me. They did themselves proud. Especially the shield maidens.”
“Auch, now,” Godfrey grinned. “Those, I’ll thank personally.”
The ride wasn’t nearly as long getting off the mountain, but Sophie figured it had something to do with sharing a saddle with the most handsome Highlander in Scotland, and that was saying something when Wickham Muir rode next to them with his niece behind.
She leaned back so she could keep her words private. “I don’t understand why I don’t have to pay them anything, but I still get to keep you.”
“I doona understand it myself, my future wife, but I’m certain Soni will explain everything. Are ye glad for the money, then?”
She shrugged. “I was surprised how easily I could have given it up for you. But we could have made another million in no time.”
“Oh? How?”
She trailed her hand along his arm then linked her fingers in his, where he held her around the waist. “I’m sure I would have found a way to put you on display, my future husband, and make a profit.”
He suddenly lifted her leg and swung her around to sit sideways across his thighs. “Would ye now? Sell me to the highest bidder?”
She bit her lip for a moment and frowned like she wasn’t sure anymore. “That depends. How well can you dance?”
The End
CURRENT BOOKS by L.L. Muir
*The Ghosts of Culloden Moor
1. The Gathering
2. Lachlan
3. Jamie
4. Payton
5. Gareth (Diane Darcy)
6. Fraser
7. Rabby
8. Duncan (Jo Jones)
9. Aiden (Diane Darcy)
10. Macbeth
11. Adam (Cathie MacRae)
12. Dougal
13. Kennedy
14. Liam (Diane Darcy)
