Ghosts of Culloden Moor 23 - Brodrick
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“Worry not, sir.” Brodrick was back on his feet. “I believe everything happened as it was meant to.”
Larkin walked around him to stand over the motionless body of her long-time friend and mentor. She was still trying to absorb the fact that he’d been in on it. For three hours she’d been remembering little comments he’d made that hadn’t made sense to her at the time. Now they were all too clear.
When she and Brodrick had talked through the plan with the MacIntyres, Brodrick had given a clearer description of Justice’s accomplice, and she’d known immediately that it had been Rent and not Tommy. From what Brodrick could remember, between tasings, the younger officer had arrived to help move Brodrick’s troublesome body into the car, after Rent had left the scene.
So, instead of calling Tommy to get things in motion, like she’d first imagined, she’d called Rent and given him the story of the webcam. That got Justice headed for East Grand Forks. Only after Elmer and Maribelle had introduced them to the owner of the RV dealership did they call the FBI. Agent Romani had acted quickly, and the MacIntyres were safely away before trouble could start.
“It’s my fault,” she told Brodrick. “If I hadn’t mentioned money so often, they never would have imagined I could be one of them.”
“Auch, lass. Ye heard the man. He kenned ye were made of honorable stuff, aye? Besides, ye now ken the wicked goings-on at the hospital, and so ye may rectify it. Imagine all the people ye will be helping because of this muddle.
He was right. She needed to remember that.
They moved out of the way while an agent began marking the area with yellow tape. Brodrick untucked the sash of his kilt and draped it over both their shoulders and led her to a bench. After a very long day, it was strange to have nothing to do, nowhere to run, no one to run from.
She snuggled closer, still in shock that he was allowed to stay at her side instead of being whisked by the pretty little witch. “So, what now?”
“Ah, lass,” he heaved a sigh. “We enjoy the rain.” He kissed her nose. “We enjoy the rain.”
EPILOGUE
Brodrick stood at the opening of the gazebo and waited impatiently for Larkin to appear. He hadn’t seen her all day, and he resented the term she used for the condition he was in.
Separation Anxiety.
Yes, he was anxious. What man was not anxious on his wedding day? And no, he did not appreciate being separated from the lass every morning when they went off to work. But he refused to use such a common term for what felt wholly uncommon to him. And on top of all else, it was not a work day, and the only thing keeping them apart was a silly custom that dictated he not see her until the ceremony.
Well, it was time for the ceremony. And if she didn’t show herself in the next five seconds—
The piper changed his tune to the wedding chant. Brodrick looked anxiously for a lass in white. In the car park stood their new caravan that now had ribbons and cans dangling from the back. Beyond that, a vision in lace emerged from the building and headed his way, bearing a round bouquet of blue flowers and brilliant Scottish thistle. He hadn’t thought she liked the blossom in truth. She always got a funny look on her face when he called her his own thistledown. But perhaps he’d been wrong.
The wedding was a blur. His head ached from standing too near the piper while he’d waited for Larkin to appear. But once they’d been sufficiently pelted—with birdseed of all things—and allowed to climb into the sanctuary of their own blessed caravan, he began to think he might survive the day.
“Uh oh.” Larkin pulled out of his grasp and went to the bed where a gift had been left for them. “Did you do this?”
“Nay.”
She turned it over in her hands, her charmingly painted nails flashing with wee jewels she claimed were not real. Finally, she peeled the paper away. The look on her face made him curious, but he waited for her to show him.
She grinned and turned the gift so he could see it clearly. Two cows had been painted in human clothes. When he stepped closer, he saw the names written on their front pockets.
Brodrick and Larkin.
“I suspect I ken just where ye’ll wish to hang that.”
Larkin shook her head while she freed her wee veil from her hair. “Surely, that can wait, Mr. Shaw.”
He moved close in order to help her. “Aye. It can at that.”
She propped one foot up on the bed and lifted the hem of her gown. “Thank you for the shoes, by the way. I don’t know how you knew.”
He stared at the dull gray, horribly high shoes and cleared his throat to buy him time to choose his response. They’d been no gift from him, but as he watched, a thin stream of green mist swirled behind one heel and disappeared. Larkin hadn’t noticed.
He took it as a sign he should take credit for them in any case. “I’m pleased ye like them,” he said. “This is but the beginning, of course.” He took advantage of her precarious balance and pulled her into his arms. “I mean to make ye grateful every day of our lives.”
THE END
Next in the Ghost of Culloden Moor Series is a bonus story about THE BUGLER. He’s not one of the 79, but he’s bound to the Moor as long as any among them remains.
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https://www.facebook.com/GhostsofCullodenMoor
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About the Author
L.L. Muir lives on the Utah side of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and family. She appreciates funny friends, a well-fed campfire, and rocking sleepy children.
A disturbing amount of pepperoni was consumed while writing BRODRICK.
If you like her books, be a sport and leave a review on the book’s Amazon page. You can reach her personally through her website— www.llmuir.weebly.com , or on Facebook at L.L. Muir.
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