The Haunting of Castle Dune - A Novella: Book 10.5 of Morna’s Legacy Series

by Bethany Claire

  I stood to the side now. A woman who looked as old as the earth stood in front of me. She extended a vial toward Monroe.

  “It will work quickly, lad. Doona take it until ye are in a place where ye can rest peacefully for some time.”

  Back in the boat—rowing, rowing, rowing with a panicked, frenzied speed. I didn’t need to hear him speak to know his goal. He had to make it back. He had to die at home.

  Days had passed. I only knew because there was now snow on the ground outside his window. Laird Dune sat propped up in his bed, the glint in his blue eyes gone, as his breath wheezed in and out of his chest.

  He jerked suddenly, and whatever held my feet released me, allowing me to run toward him. He couldn’t see me, but I wished to be nearer. I needed to be nearer to understand.

  My hand rested on his, but he couldn’t feel it. As I looked into his eyes and he took his last breath, he smiled. Then, I knew.

  Peace had found him. Some weight that had long been upon his shoulders was now complete with his death.

  There were tears on my cheeks when I opened my eyes to see that I’d returned to the sitting room with Morna and Jerry on either side of me.

  Her eyes were saddened too, but the pain was not as fresh for her. It wasn’t the first time such a scene had played through her mind.

  “I’ll be sent back to the day of his death, yes? How can I change anything with so little time?”

  “I can easily heal what ails him with magic. Our only trick will be making him believe ’tis yer aid and not my spells that heal him.”

  “He lets no one upon the isle, Morna. Why?”

  “I know no more than ye, lass.”

  I sighed as I tried to form a plan.

  “I will have to sneak onto his boat before he heads back to the castle for the last time.”

  “Aye, and ye shall have to think of something to tell him once he discovers ye. Something that will prevent him from taking ye back to the mainland.”

  Laird Dune, no matter how frightening his spirit was in death, was not a cruel man. I could see it in his last breath, in the way he’d tenderly held the hands of the woman who’d broken his heart. All I would need to do was make him feel needed, to give him reason to help me.

  It seemed a rotten thing to exploit such a heartbreaking act, but something deep inside me knew it would work.

  “Do you have a spell that could make me appear as if I’d been beaten? Preferably without actually making me hurt all over?”

  She smiled. “Ach, lass. There is little I canna do with magic. Just ye wait and see.”

  As the day progressed, we made our plans and readied for my unbelievable adventure that was set to begin that night.

  Chapter 9

  Warton Shore – Scotland — 1640

  * * *

  Magic was real, and everything I believed about the world now seemed null and void. Even with everything that I experienced in the lead up, I had my doubts right up until Morna cast the spell that sent me hurtling backwards through time.

  The sensation—horrible and strange—as if my body had spontaneously exploded, only to be put back together again in an instant—had changed my belief system once and for all.

  Dressed in the gown Morna created with a flick of her wrist, I carried only two items back into the past with me. The vial with the potion that would save Laird Dune’s life and the spelled stone that would allow me to return to my own time—when I had either succeeded in saving Castle Dune or decided that history wouldn’t be changed and I threw in the towel—were crammed into my bosom.

  Morna—as she explained to me—would be unable to stay within the castle while I was in the past. The magic from the witch that prevented her from seeing all of the castle’s past would begin to mute her own magic if she lingered too long. She would also be unable to see how I was faring, which meant that I was essentially on my own once she sent me back. Hence the stone that would allow me to travel back into my future whenever I was ready—without Morna’s help.

  She’d deposited me just outside the tavern where I’d watched Laird Dune plead with his former love on his last journey into the village. It took me more than a moment to get my bearings among the hustle and bustle of a time so starkly different from my own.

  Pressed for time—I needed to not only find Laird Dune, but somehow follow him back to his boat and sneak inside—I pushed aside my astonishment at everything that was around me and quietly stepped into the crowded, hot, and shockingly smelly tavern.

  God, how his heart hurt. Sorcha would never be his—the band her husband had placed on her finger had seen to that—but the knowledge that this would be the last time he ever laid eyes on her pained him more than the illness that was killing him.

  How could he say goodbye to her for the last time? He couldn’t tell her, he knew. He couldn’t allow her to see how ill he really was. If she knew, she wouldn’t allow him to return to his home, and he must return.

  The tavern was especially lively this evening. He enjoyed it when it was that way. It made it easier for him to speak with Sorcha without drawing so much unwanted attention.

  He would be seen no matter what he did. So many years alone had changed him. He no longer blended in with those he’d grown up with. He stood apart—didn’t fit—wouldn’t fit no matter what he did. Not that it mattered. He would be dust soon enough.

  She stilled when she saw him, and he tried to smile so she wouldn’t worry about his appearance.

  He nodded so she would know to continue with her work, and he waited until she had time to approach him.

  “Ye doona look good, Monroe. Will ye please just leave there? Come live in the village with the rest of us.”

  He had both his hands on the bar, and a shock shot through him as she gently reached for them. It had been so long since he’d felt her touch. His fingers wound around hers instinctively as he drew circles with his thumb over her skin just as he’d done so many times before.

  “Ye know I canna do that.” He paused, unsure of what to say. There was only one thing he truly needed to know that would allow him to die peacefully. “Are ye well, lass? Are ye happy?”

  No matter how much he missed her, he hoped that she was.

  “Aye, I am. We…We are expecting a child.”

  The words should not have cut him so. Of course, Sorcha would bear children. She should bear children. He could think of no one else who would care for a child as she would. How many times had he imagined their own? Far too many times for him to count.

  Sorcha would be fine. It wouldn’t take long for her to forget him. As long as she kept the promise she’d made him, he supposed that was as it should be.

  “Oh, lass, I’m pleased for ye.” He stood and pushed away from the counter. “I should leave ye. I’ve business to attend to in the village. I only wanted to stop and see how ye were.”

  She squeezed his hand, and the warmth almost brought tears to his eyes.

  “I’m glad ye did.”

  “Sorcha, might I ask ye something before I leave?”

  “O’course ye can. Ye know I would always do anything to help ye, Monroe, doona ye?”

  “Aye, lass.” He bent to kiss her hands before releasing them. “I do, and ’tis more than I deserve from ye. Do ye remember the agreements I had drafted before…”

  It always hurt him to bring it up.

  “Before ye ended our engagement? Aye, I do. Surely, they are no longer valid.”

  “They are, lass, and I need to know that ye will do what we spoke of. No one must ever live there, lass. For as long as ye are able, ye must keep it empty.”

  She frowned at him as tears briefly filled her eyes that she hurried to wipe away.

  “Ye are frightening me, Monroe. Are ye well? Has something happened?”

  He hated that his last words to her were a lie, but anything else would upend his plans, and all he’d worked for would be for nothing.

  “I am as well as I ever am, lass. Doona worry. I only
thought ye should know that I never changed what we agreed upon all those years ago. I’ll see ye the next time I return to the village, aye?”

  She nodded, and it eased some ache within him to know that his visits to her weren’t unwanted.

  “Please do. I doona ever want ye to come into town without seeing me. Can ye promise me that?”

  Agreeing to a promise he would never have the opportunity to keep, he took one last look at Sorcha and turned to leave.

  I got lucky as I followed Laird Dune out of the tavern. Before making his last stop to the healer who gave him the drink to relieve his pain in the vision Morna had shown me, he stopped by the dock to grab his satchel.

  Now that I knew which boat was his, I decided to hang back and let him make his next stop all alone.

  Once Laird Dune was out of sight, I glanced around. Finding myself alone, I stowed away in his boat. It was easier to do than I imagined. On one end of the boat, there was a stack of large burlap-like sacks that made it easy for me to lie down and cover myself with them.

  With any luck, I would be able to remain hidden until we reached the isle.

  Was there a creature in his boat? For the second time since leaving the mainland, he thought he saw something breathe beneath the sacks at the end of his boat.

  He stopped his rowing and lifted the oar in his hand, pulling it back just enough so that he could poke at the sacks.

  Rather than easily slipping through the sacks, his oar hit something solid, immediately followed by an unmistakable human groan.

  He had a stowaway on board with him.

  That wouldn’t do at all.

  Chapter 10

  At the very least my rib was bruised. I wasn’t totally certain it wasn’t cracked.

  I truly had tried to be as still and quiet as possible, but the movement of the boat on the water made me seasick, and the sacks I’d covered myself with weren’t breathable in the least. When Laird Dune decided to poke me with one of the oars, I was unable to stifle a groan.

  The moment I let out the noise, the boat rocked as he jumped and reached for the bags that covered me. I decided in that instant that it was best to just sit up and show myself.

  With both hands up, I slowly rose from my hunkered down position as he pulled the sacks off and stared at me in confusion.

  “A lass?”

  His brows furrowed together making a deep crease in his forehead. Sweat beaded on his brow. I worried that he was near fainting as he spoke again.

  “Forgive me. If ye are truly there, will ye say so? I wouldna doubt it if ye were no more than a feverish apparition.”

  “I…I’m really here.”

  He sighed and began to work his oars in a manner intended to turn the boat around as I hurried to stop him.

  “No, wait. You can’t take me back.”

  Laird Dune paused and lay his oars across the boat as he stared at me. He needed to get back to the castle quickly—his strength was fading fast.

  “Lass, do ye know where ’tis I’m headed?”

  I lied, knowing it would only help my chances.

  “I don’t care where you’re headed. I just can’t go back to the mainland.”

  His brows furrowed again.

  “Ye doona wish to come to Castle Dune. I can promise ye that. ’Tis an island, and I am its only resident. If ye mean to escape something, ye will have better luck on the mainland. Ye’ve more places to go from there.”

  “Listen.” I held out both my hands to stop him. “No offense, but you look a little under the weather. It’s a good distance back to the mainland, and I’m not sure you have the strength for it. Just allow me to stay with you a few days—until my fiancé has returned home—and then you can return me.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes. I couldn’t tell whether he did so in response to some pain that gripped him or if he just needed to think, but I sat silently waiting for his answer.

  “I’m afraid ye are right. My body is failing me no matter how much I might will it not to. Are ye in any sort of ill health lass? Anything at all that might kill ye within the next three days?”

  “Nope. I’m totally healthy. Why on earth would you think I might die?”

  “’Tis only that I must know ye willna do so in order for me to permit ye to come to the castle, lass.”

  “I have no plans on dying anytime soon.”

  He pointed to the oars. “Can ye row, lass?”

  Luckily, I’d been captain of my rowing team in college.

  “I can.”

  “Good. I will take ye to the castle under two conditions.”

  He resumed his rowing without turning the boat around, and I relaxed just a little.

  “Which are?”

  “Ye must promise me to be careful. Ye must take every care not to fall or slip or to pull something heavy on top of ye.”

  I would’ve laughed if he hadn’t looked so deadly serious.

  “I can assure you I always do my best not to do those things.”

  “I doona speak in jest, lass.”

  I nodded. “I know. What’s the second condition?”

  “Once I am dead, ye must leave the castle at once. Ye must row yerself back to the mainland and tell no one of my passing. Ye must never return to the Isle of Dune. Do ye agree?”

  While I already knew he was dying, I knew I needed to act surprised.

  “Once you’re dead? I only need to stay hidden a few days.”

  “I’ll be dead in a few days. I’ve a wound that canna be healed—the infection has stayed within me too long.”

  “I’m so sorry.” And I was. While I had no intention of letting him die, it broke my heart to think of him resigning himself to death so completely.

  “Doona be sorry, lass. In truth, as long as ye promise to do as I’ve asked ye, I shall see yer sudden arrival as a blessing. I’ve grown accustomed to solitude, but I truly dinna wish to die all alone. Now I willna have to, and ’tis all the better that ye are a stranger, for ye willna grieve me once I am gone. Do ye promise, lass?”

  Somberly, I nodded.

  “I promise.”

  The unexpected appearance of the strange lass in front of him was only more proof that he wasn’t long for this world. Whatever benevolent powers that existed beyond this realm of life were sending him one last gift for all his years of sacrifice—someone to make sure he didn’t die completely alone.

  She said little to him as he rowed the remaining distance to the castle, and that was just as well. Fatigue overpowered him. More than once he’d worried he would lose consciousness before he docked on the isle.

  As the castle loomed ahead, he pulled on his last reserves of strength as he directed the boat to its docking place.

  “Here.”

  The lass stood as they neared the dock and turned to reach for the rope that would secure the boat to its place of rest.

  “I’ll tie the knot—I know how. You just set down the oars and get yourself out of the boat. Then, I’ll help you inside.”

  The lass was nearly half his height and so delicately shaped he feared that he would crush her beneath his weight if she tried to steady him.

  “No, lass. I’ll manage. Besides, ye doona know where to lead me.”

  She moved too quickly for him to protest. She already had the boat secured and had stepped outside of it as she extended her hand down to him.

  “You won’t manage anything. Come on, now. I’m stronger than I look.”

  He took her hand and gasped at the strength with which she pulled him. Once on land, he gave in and leaned into the strange but stubborn woman.

  She was right. Her strength surprised him.

  “All right, I’ve got you. Which way?”

  “Just follow the path, lass. My bedchamber is at the top of the main stairs to the left.”

  It seemed an unbearably long distance, but if the lass struggled, she didn’t show it. With her arm around his waist—just beneath his wound—she helped keep him steady and upright unt
il he was safely inside his bedchamber.

  He would be a terrible host, but if all the lass truly needed was to hide away for a few days, he didn’t expect she would mind his lack of manners.

  “Thank ye, lass. Ye’ve helped me all ye need to. I obtained something to help with the pain while in town. I shall take it and sleep for as long as I am able. Ye are welcome to any of the rooms within the castle as long as ye are careful as ye promised. Doona pay mind to any strange noises or sights—I assure ye they willna harm ye.”

  She cocked her head at that but said nothing. He knew she could see how difficult it was for him to remain standing.

  Turning away from her, he pulled the vial he’d obtained from the herbalist, uncorked it and swallowed it all in one gulp.

  Sleep overtook him as he reached his bed.

  Whatever the old woman had given him in the way of pain relief, it was a mighty strong sedative. I had to run to catch him to keep him from smashing his head on the edge of the bed seconds after he consumed the vial’s contents.

  It had been difficult enough to lead him upstairs, and I knew then that he’d been giving everything he had to help me help him. Now, as he slept, it was all just dead weight, and I had to push myself onto the bed on top of him to get him pushed flat onto his back.

  Once he was horizontal, I moved to push myself away when I noticed a stain on the front of his shirt. I knew it had to be the location of the wound I’d seen in the vision. Ensuring that he still slept soundly, I carefully lifted his shirt to examine it more closely.

  It looked awful—like he’d not attended to it at all.

  No wonder it’s infected, I thought to myself as I carefully lay his shirt back over the wound.

  I’d allow him to sleep for a few hours. It would give me time to execute the instructions Morna had given me. But once everything was ready, I was waking him regardless of how he felt.