by Diane Darcy
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Ronan: A Highlander Romance
(The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 37)
Diane Darcy
www.DianeDarcy.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Ronan: ©2018 by Diane Darcy~
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor series ©2015 Lesli Muir Lytle
All rights reserved.
Cover Art design by Kelli Ann Morgan
Created with Vellum
Contents
Books In The Series
A note about the series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Up next!
Author note
Books In The Series
Also by Diane Darcy
Books In The Series
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor
1. The Gathering
2. Lachlan
3. Jamie
4. Payton
5. Gareth
6. Fraser
7. Rabby
8. Duncan
9. Aiden
10. Macbeth
11. Adam
12. Dougal
13. Kennedy
14. Liam
15. Gerard
16. Malcolm
18. Watson
19. Iain
20. Connor
21. MacLeod
22. Murdoch
23. Brodrick
24. The Bugler
25. Kenrick
26. Patrick
27. Finlay
28. Hamish
29. Rory
30. MacBean
31. Tristan
32. Niall
33. Fergus
34. Angus
35. Bram
36. Alexander
37. Ronan
A note about the series
Although the individual stories of Culloden’s 79 need not be read in strict order, The Gathering should definitely be read first to understand what’s going on between the Muir Witch and these Highland warriors from 1746. The Reckoning, Number 79’s story, will finish the series.
The names of Culloden’s 79 are historically accurate in that we have used only the clan or surnames of those who actually died on that fateful day. The given names have been changed out of respect for those brave men and their descendants. If a ghost happens to share the entire name of a warrior, it is purely accidental.
Chapter 1
He wanted to get Prince Charlie.
Find him.
Hurt him.
Make him pay.
It was happening again. His head felt fuzzy, muddled, clouded with rage. But that didn’t change the fact that he knew what he wanted.
As usual for October, it grew dark early. Ronan strode toward the visitors center to see the guards doing their nightly check around the building.
That meant they were closing soon.
He heard Soni call out number 58, and the surprise of it slowed him for a moment. He hadn’t expected to be called so soon. Was it truly his turn? The thought of it only made him drift faster, past markers, flags, and the stone wall. If he was to go, he had something to do first.
He took his sword in hand and hurried toward the glass door of the visitors center, ignoring the voices of his comrades calling after him. He had a task to accomplish, once more, a last time to remind him, or rather, to keep him from forgetting.
He moved through the glass, his anger growing in strength. He walked through several visitors making their way to the exit, ignoring their shivering and laughter.
He seemed to recede, to become the entire army of fallen men, carrying their injustice, their anger, making it his own.
If the guests inhabiting Culloden Moor could actually see him, they wouldn’t be laughing. No one ever had before, in life, anyway.
In his time — his height, bulk, and the tattoos on his face and body — made him look wild, uncontrolled, a man to avoid. He felt his rage rising, and for once made an effort to control his temper.
If the witch called him, she needed him sane, not spent by the force of his anger. There needed to be something of him left for her to send on.
But, as he rounded the corner, the screen still showed Bonnie Prince Charlie’s successful march upon Edinburgh, and he wavered.
Would that the man had been more successful against the English.
The actor portraying Charles Stuart did not look like him, not in the least. He wasn’t pretty enough for one thing, and surely was a few years younger than Bonnie at the end, on that fateful day.
Ronan raised his broadsword and slashed at the screen with all his might.
He knew from the hundreds, or perhaps even the thousands of times he’d confronted the man’s image, that he’d not be able to damage him.
It mattered not.
He’d memorized the story of Culloden Moor depicted on the screen. It did not live up to the reality in any way. The cold, the blood, the shock of the fallen.
He swung harder.
The hunger, the pain.
He slashed, turned, sliced.
The lack of preparation and utter failure of their leader.
He thrust, attacking in the way he’d been unable to all those years before as the arrows skewered every part of his body.
One strike after another, he threw his shoulder into it, swinging, hacking, thrusting. In his madness, he always thought this might be the time that he’d somehow do some sort of damage to the man.
He’d cut off his head if he could. See him hanged, drawn and quartered for the treason he’d committed against them on that fateful day; display his parts across the country on pikes.
Even knowing the movie before him was simply a reenactment, it changed his feelings not a whit and he continued to rend, carve, and sever until he was but a wisp of his former self.
Still, it was something.
When he was done, he trudged back toward the moor, the witch, and the green and white fire burning around her skirts.
He stopped in front of the wee pretty lass, knelt down on one knee, and bent his head. “Ye called me, lassie?”
“Are ye ready now?”
The words ought to be sarcastic, but they were not. He glanced up at her, so fresh, pretty, and compassionate. The understanding gaze she leveled upon him made him uncomfortable and he bowed his head once more.
He knew he was a monster.
Self-loathing filled him at his appearance and personality.
Monster or no, he was loyal to the core and a good man to have in a fight. All of his fellow ghosts said so. Years later, he w
as still confused at the defeat they’d suffered. He’d thought he could not be beaten.
It had shaken him to the core.
Determination filled him. Whatever task the witch sent him to do, he would do it well. And when he’d completed it? He would decimate the coward Charles Stuart once and for all.
If all those who’d gone before had left aught for him to slaughter.
“Where am I to go? What am I to do?” If she’d but give him a direction, he’d see the task complete.
“Ye will see soon enough.”
He didn’t do well with indecision, and fought the madness that rose up once again.
“Mayhap he’s not ready?” One of his comrades spoke.
He fought for control as Soni assured the others she had faith in him.
When he’d curbed his temper once more, she asked again if he was ready. The words were kindly enough, but when she looked at him it was with pity. Something he could not stomach.
He gave a tight nod, and secured his control. “Ye’re not to worry, lass. I accept my task and will do it well, whatever it might be.”
And he would. So he could clout The Young Pretender into oblivion.
“I know ye will,” Soni said. Even so, she looked worried and that did not sit well with him. Too many had considered him unworthy.
He wished he’d the words to assure her, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d prove to her that her faith was not misplaced. “Will ye come for me then? After I’ve completed my task?”
“I won’t need to, Ronan. You’ll come to me.”
And as he tried to work out her meaning, she sent him on his way.
An alarm went off on Ashley’s phone.
It took a long moment to wake, another to realize it was still dark outside, and still more time to comprehend she was definitely not in her own bed.
A light filtered from across the gloom, a night-light, and she realized she was in a hotel room and the glow was shining from the bathroom. She was in Scotland, rather than Seattle.
Glasgow to be precise.
She’d arrived at the hotel hours before and gone directly to her room, completely exhausted from the long flight and layovers. She’d be meeting up with friends in the morning.
She’d barely made it through her bedroom routine before falling into bed, asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Her phone beeped, and she recognized it as the noise that had woken her, and reached for it to see one of her apps buzzing.
A chill ran up her neck.
Someone was in her house.
Sitting up in bed, and unplugging the thing all in one smooth move, she tapped the screen to see that her motion-detecting camera in the dining room had gone off.
Disbelieving, she watched the dark figure make his way across the foyer, and into her living room, where another camera switched on from a different direction to show her the shadowy figure.
It was light there, probably morning, but with the blinds closed, the man remained in semi-darkness. A strange fact popped into her head. Most burglaries take place between 10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. She shook her head. She was really going to play trivia games while some guy robbed her house?
And it was a man. Even in the darkness she could see the breadth of his shoulders, his height, and bulk.
“I’ve got you, you womp rat.” She whispered the words in the darkness of her room, 5000 miles away.
Even covered in the warmth of a wool blanket she couldn’t help the chill that tickled up her spine.
Her phone rang and she was gratified to see it was her home security company, calling right on time.
“Ms. Martinez?”
“Yes.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes, I am. Someone has broken into my home, but I’m not there right now.”
“Is there anyone in the home whose safety is compromised?”
“No. The only one in the house at the moment is the burglar.”
“Security code?”
Ashley rattled off the security code, all the while watching the shadowy figure search her house, leaving her feeling both outraged, and shuddery.
“All right, we’re sending the police right now.”
“Thank you.”
After disconnecting, Ashley watched the thief a while longer, and considered whether she ought to alert the man that he was being watched, simply to get him to leave her stuff alone. Everything he touched now seemed contaminated, violated.
She decided against it, because she’d rather see him in jail.
The longer she watched, the more she realized he wasn’t acting the way she would have expected him to.
He ignored her smart TV, her Kindle, her expensive headphones, and the old iPhone she hadn’t bothered selling on eBay as of yet.
In fact, the man seemed to be searching for something specific as he went from room to room.
She couldn’t help a quick glance at her nightstand with its old-fashioned bowl and pitcher set to assure herself that her laptop was still right beside her.
She could simply be having a paranoia attack, and this could have nothing to do with her laptop at all, but somehow, she didn’t think so. Gaze going back to the screen, she smirked. “Good luck finding it, hobgoblin.”
In her mind she quickly reviewed the precautions she’d put in place to guard against hackers, found them rock-solid, and blew out a breath.
No wonder they’d had to resort to such actions. Whoever they were. Her competition? Perhaps the very people she was considering licensing to? She’d have to find out. Something else to add to her to-do list before she got Alien Hunt out on the market.
While she watched, he went through her entire apartment in just a few minutes, and was ready to slip out again.
She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want him to get away before the police arrived. She pressed the button on her phone and called her security set-up. “And just where do you think you’re going?” She was proud of her level, and slightly snarky tone.
The thief stopped and glanced around.
“Yes, that’s right. I can see you in my apartment.”
Hopefully, she could delay him long enough for the police to get there.
The man’s body swelled with menace as he finally looked directly at the camera. “Hello, Ashley, so nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you. Soon.”
The man’s whispered baritone, his threat, gave her chills and adrenaline kicked her heart into overtime. When would she learn to keep her big mouth shut?
She knew he couldn’t see her, but with his shadowy face looking directly at her camera, it felt as if he looked right at her.
She swallowed, considered several snarkier responses, but ultimately remained silent.
If her voice came out shaky, the words would lose their impact.
With a salute, the man slipped out of her house, highlighting his body in the daylight for just a moment, before he walked out, leaving the door wide open.
Jerk.
She thought about calling her father, but decided against it. There was no need for both of them to be freaked out and the police could re-lock her door.
She took a deep breath, willed her heartbeat to slow again, and pondered what she should do next.
Very few people knew where she was.
Her laptop was safe.
Her app was safe, waiting for the finishing touches, waiting for her to declare the program perfect, and no one was stealing it from her.
Her father had told her she’d get that flash of inspiration when she least expected it and he was usually right. So, she’d figured what better place for inspiration than Scotland? Land of myth and legend. And off she’d gone.
Another calming breath, and she finally relaxed enough to lean back on the pillows.
After she’d talked to the police and after her apartment was locked up again, she’d go back to sleep.
And then, despite what just happened, she was darn well going to enjoy her vacation.
A
few hours later, tired from lack of sleep, miffed that the police hadn’t caught her burglar, Ashley wheeled her small suitcase across the foyer, excited to see the friends she hadn’t seen since the Las Vegas Star Trek convention in August.
Monica and Garth stood in the crowd and, as she got closer, she could see the two of them holding hands.
“Hey, guys,” Ashley grinned. “When did this happen?” She gestured toward their clasped hands.
Garth smiled and lifted Monica’s hand in his. “Uh, let’s see, it was after the Star Trek convention, but before Comic-Con.”
“And I didn’t make it to New York, did I? Nobody tells me anything!”
Monica giggled. “Honestly? We were going to tell you, and then you won this trip, and we decided to surprise you.”
“Well, consider me surprised. Congratulations. Just don’t be breaking up in Scotland and causing any drama, are we clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Garth said, and the goof had a silly smile on his face when he looked at Monica.
Ashley just shook her head. Glancing around at the unimpressive site of a building-lined street, they waited for the bus in the chilly October air along with their luggage.
Monica crowded closer to Garth. “Seriously, if they want us out here at seven in the morning, in the freezing cold, you’d think they’d at least have the bus ready and warmed up on time.”
Ashley agreed, moving closer to her friends for warmth. “Not only that, but I’m a night owl. I’m not sure I can do this every day!”
Garth laughed. “Good luck with that. If I have to, I’ll pound on your door every morning until you open it. I, for one, won’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
Ashley grinned. “What does that even mean?”
Monica giggled. “Hello? It’s not every day we get a free vacation to Scotland! I’ll be pounding on your door too, if I have to, but I might do it with my eyes closed, if that’s okay. Besides, it’s only for two days.”
