Ronan: A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 37)

by Diane Darcy

  She threw back her head and laughed, and he grinned along with her.

  “That’s kind of you. Do you think if I play my cards right Logan might be interested in me?”

  His smile evaporated. “Nae, I doonae. What I think is that for his own safety, ye’d best keep yer gaze upon me, and off the skinny guide. That one has no muscle, no tattoos, and no finer feelings for ladies such as yerself.”

  “All right by me.” She was chuckling again and she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. “Anyway, I was just kidding. I’m well aware that no one can hold a candle to you.”

  He looked suddenly vulnerable. “Tis best ye not forget it.”

  Ronan slowed a bit so they were in the back of the crowd and her excitement built. Edinburgh wasn’t like anything she’d pictured. With all the buildings, it was cramped, but the stonework, the crowds, and the company were leaving her on a high, and she couldn’t stop grinning.

  “You said you’d been here before?”

  “Aye, lass, many a time.”

  “I suppose it’s changed a lot in the last 300 years?” She gave him a grin, to let him know she was teasing.

  “That it has. From what I could see from yer hotel room window, the place is ten times as large as it once was.”

  “And yet, aren’t we in the medieval section of town? Do you remember all of this?”

  “Of course. But it does look different, with so much built around it.”

  There was plenty of room to walk on the tiled sidewalks, and she could see at least four of the double-decker tour buses slowly making their way through the traffic.

  She was glad that their place was so close to everything so they could walk.

  Eventually, they came to a gray brick building with wooden doors sitting under a large arch, and a glowing sign above that said, Just Burgers and Beers.

  There were some places to sit outside, that looked like it might be fun to watch people go by, but Logan herded them all inside. “We’ve got reservations, so come on, come on.”

  They went inside the building to see wooden tables and chairs strewn about, a bar with high stools, and a sign over the wall that said, License To Grill.

  Garth pointed it out. “You can tell we’re in the UK.”

  Ashley chuckled and turned to Ronan to share the joke, but he simply looked blank. “You know, like in James Bond, License To Kill.”

  He shook his head.

  “Oh, my gosh! You don’t like movies? I’m not sure I can hold your hand anymore. It really is like you’re from 300 years ago.”

  Ronan glanced down at their clasped hands, and tightened his grip, making her laugh.

  From what she could see the other customers eating, she could tell that the food was going to be delicious. A waitress walked by with a tall hamburger stacked high with meat and onion rings if she wasn’t mistaken. “Oh, wow. There’s no way I can eat all that.”

  “Doonae worry, I will eat whatever ye doonae.”

  The waitress ushered their group into some reserved seats along a brick wall, and the ones across from them as well. As soon as everyone was seated, a waitress appeared at the first table, and started handing out menus. When she stopped at their table, she took an extra-long look at Ronan and grinned. “It looks like you’re having a party.”

  Ronan took his menu. “Aye, ye could say such.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, ye’re Scottish. I did wonder, as here on the Royal mile, we get a lot of kilt-wearin’ foreigners.”

  Ronan’s eyebrows rose. “Do ye, then? I’ve never known any but a Scot to wear a kilt.”

  She shrugged. “We get all kinds here.”

  A surge of jealousy blind-sided Ashley, and she shook her head. Where was this possessiveness coming from? She’d only met the man this morning, though it seemed like they’d known each other far longer.

  Instead of acting like an idiot, she perused the menu. “What do you recommend?”

  “I’m getting The Frying Scotsman,” Garth said. “I’ve got to try haggis at least once while I’m here.”

  “Do you have any salads?” Monica asked.

  The waitress grimaced. “I’m sorry to say that we do not, but everything on the menu is good.”

  Everyone finished ordering, and Ashley quickly handed Monica her phone, and said, “Please take a picture of me and Ronan together?”

  Monica smirked at her, but quickly agreed. She knew exactly the reason Ashley wanted a picture with Ronan. He could disappear at any moment, and she wanted some memories with him.

  He was looking elsewhere, and she wrapped both arms around one of his and leaned in. “Picture time!”

  Ronan glanced down at her, and then at Monica.

  “Smile!” Monica hesitated a moment, and then finally took a picture.

  She looked at it. “Well, he didn’t exactly smile, but it still looks good.”

  Ashley looked at her phone.

  Wow, the man was photogenic, and she looked good too, smiling, happy.

  She knew she’d treasure the photo.

  She quickly had Garth and Monica smile, took a picture of them, and then put her phone away. “Should be fun tonight.”

  “Yes,” Garth agreed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “This is what we came here for. The battlefield was nice and all, but I’m excited to see some graveyards, crypts, and ghosts.” Garth made a ghostly moaning sound.

  Ronan scoffed, looking at him like he was crazy. “Doonae be too quick to wish ghosts upon yerselves. They’re not always a friendly lot, and might very well wish ye ill.”

  “You really believe in ghosts?” Monica asked.

  Ronan looked at her aghast. “O’ course I do!” He looked at the three of them. “Do ye not?”

  Monica giggled, Garth shrugged, and Ashley was quick to assure him, “Yes, of course I do.”

  He shot Garth a glare just as the food came out and she was glad of the distraction.

  They certainly didn’t skimp on meals, that was for sure. Six-inch tall hamburgers, side dishes, and tall drinks of ale.

  Ronan dug in like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, which sort of made her chuckle because of his claims.

  Her burger was good, but there was no way she was going to finish it.

  Logan occasionally walked by the tables making sure everybody was having a good time, and commenting on the upcoming activities.

  “Ye might think tis a coincidence that we bring ye here to fatten ye up, as it were. But the truth o’ the matter is, some of the things ye witness tonight might have yer heart beating fast, scare the wits out of ye, and perhaps even get ye to run.”

  Logan chuckled. “Tis quite possible ye might need the calories, so eat up, eat up!”

  Amid much laughter, and the comradery that had built between the group during the day, everyone was in high spirits.

  The desserts looked amazing, but Logan announced they might stop at a pub later, where they could warm up with hot chocolate if they so desired.

  Soon, the entire group was on their way and following behind Logan, to walk the short distance to St Giles' Cathedral. They went through two buildings, and into the courtyard to stop in what looked like a parking lot in the shadow of the medieval building. Everything seemed to be made of stone, from the uneven cobblestones on the ground, to the giant building surrounding them.

  “All right, look about, soak up the atmosphere, and I’ll tell ye what life was like over four hundred years ago.”

  Ashley grinned up at Ronan. “Did you hear that? Four hundred years. You might just learn something you didn’t actually know when you were alive the last time.”

  Ronan gave her a slight shrug. “Mmm. We shall see.”

  “The St Giles' Cathedral is where the bells used to ring out, warning Scottish citizens of, well, usually English attacks, or church.”

  Ronan looked up at the building, searching for the bells.

  “If you look about, you’ll note that we’re standing in a carpark, but that wasn’t always the cas
e. This was once the largest graveyard in Edinburgh. Back in the 1600s, the plague arrived, causing over 19,000 deaths in a single year. You’d bleed out of every orifice, and if it didn’t kill you, if the vomiting did not rupture your internal organs, then it might be the boils that did you in. They were the size of golf balls and they’d rupture, and leak poison that would soak back into your sores, killing you another way.”

  Ronan felt suddenly queasy.

  “Right where you’re standin’, was the biggest mass plague-pit in the history of the world, with some 6000 souls, piled high, and stinking to high heaven. The bodies smelled so bad, that they had to be removed, but how to do it?”

  Ronan glanced around, chills running up his neck. What he was doing there? Surely such a place must be cursed?

  “Well, as per usual, the English were outside the walls, trying to invade. So, being wily Scots, they came up with an ingenious idea. They built a giant catapult, and flung the bodies over the wall, causing the English to flee.”

  As others laughed, Ronan’s throat clenched in horror at the thought of it.

  “Just so ye know, ye don’t have to worry about standing on any bodies, as they’re not buried under this carpark any longer. Although, there is one body still buried here, a famous Protestant, a priest who wanted to be buried here. He worked in the Cathedral for a short period of time, but decided he wanted to come back here, and be laid to rest forever. So right now, he’s probably under the minivan.”

  Ashley laughed along with the crowd but Ronan had a hard time joining in the fun.

  Logan continued. “So that’s not all that happened here back in the day. There were no iPods, televisions, or movie theaters for entertainment, so what did they do instead? Witch burnings and executions, of course! If we go around to the front of St Giles', there is a big cobblestone square, and that’s where the burnings and hangings took place. Now, if someone wanted to accuse you of witchcraft back in the day, if they didn’t like you, or wanted your job, or your money …”

  Logan continued talking, leading them around to the front of the Cathedral, but Ronan stayed at the back of the crowd.

  He was having trouble containing his emotions, and as always his anger started to rise to the fore.

  He’d seen a few witch burnings in his time, and it was nothing to laugh about. The stench of burning flesh … the screaming… the relief when it stopped.

  Living at Culloden Moor, the lot of them had shed some of their superstitions, and even back in the day, there’d been doubt about whether the females were witches or not.

  It sickened him, and to hear it bandied about in such a nonsensical fashion, lit a fire within him.

  “Ronan?”

  He pulled his gaze from the Cathedral, to Ashley, and when she reached out a hand, he gripped it like it was a lifeline.

  There was something about her that seemed to calm the storm within.

  She gave him a searching look. “Are you okay?”

  He was anything but, and in fact, was feeling sort of sick to his stomach, weak-kneed, and breathless.

  He wanted to tell Ashley to join her friends, but couldn’t seem to let go of her.

  She squeezed his hand, offering the support he couldn’t ask for.

  Finally, he followed her, and as they rounded the corner in front of the Cathedral it was to hear Logan telling more stories.

  Ronan tried to block them out.

  He’d had enough of that in life, and certainly didn’t need it now.

  The crowds had swelled once they hit the square, more tourists gawking at the building, listening in, the people who obviously lived there paying them no mind as they went about their business.

  He wrapped his arm around Ashley, pulled her to his side, as once again, he tried to block out the myriad of reasons people would accuse others of witchcraft.

  It had been a dark time.

  It was not something he wanted to remember.

  He was there for Ashley, until and unless, he was convinced otherwise.

  So instead, he focused on the feel of her, warm against his side. The arm she’d wrapped around his waist, the feminine leg pressed against his own larger one.

  He scanned the crowd, remembering his duty to keep her safe and focusing on that instead. The site of the shops, selling their wares, lifted his spirits. Some things never changed, good things, like the smell of fresh baked bread, the carts of fruits and vegetables, roasting meats.

  Of the things they’d discussed over the years upon the moor, food had been of great interest, and many had been pressed to describe their favorite meals upon many occasions.

  As the smells wafted through the air, a sweet, sugary scent caught his attention and he bent down to whisper in Ashley’s ear, “Would you like a sweet?”

  Ashley glanced up at him, her eyes still worried. “Sure, let’s go.”

  The two of them left the crowd and went in search of dessert.

  Chapter 7

  Ashley was worried about Ronan.

  Something happened to him during the tour, and he seemed emotionally charged, agitated.

  When he’d pulled her close, she had to admit she hadn’t minded at all, and sharing his warmth had nothing to do with the chill.

  The guy seemed emotionally needy.

  In women’s magazines, it always said to avoid that type of man, but, she had no desire to avoid him.

  Besides, no one was perfect, and he certainly brought up feelings of protectiveness within her. Tenderness.

  The thought had her laughing at herself. It hadn’t escaped her notice as they walked through the crowd that people shot him wary looks, and some even moved aside to avoid him.

  Big, bulky, bulging with muscle, his gaze constantly raked the crowd as if scanning for trouble.

  Again, the thought made her chuckle. He was the one who looked like trouble, with a capital T.

  She’d never known she was attracted to bad boys. She never had been before.

  They stopped in front of a glass case, filled with pastries.

  “What would ye like, lass?”

  She gazed at the pastries, and then at Ronan. “What do you suggest?”

  He finally settled upon what looked like a large apple fritter. “That one?”

  She nodded, amused. He’d chosen the biggest one in the case.

  Ronan ordered it from the wide-eyed teen behind the counter, who couldn’t seem to take her gaze off him.

  The girl set the pastry on a plate and slid it across to Ronan. “That will be 4 pounds 30 pence, please.”

  Ronan dug around in the bag at his side, removed a coin, and slid it across the counter to the girl.

  She looked at him blankly. “I’m sorry, sir. That will be in Scottish money.”

  Ronan immediately looked indignant. “What do you call this?”

  “Uh…” The girl looked slightly panicked.

  “I’ve got it.” Ashley quickly dug some money out of her purse, and handed it to the girl, who looked relieved.

  Ronan still looked indignant and angry. He started to protest again, but the girl was already sliding Ashley’s change across the counter, and refused to meet his gaze.

  With a growl, Ronan snatched up his coin, and as Ashley pulled him away, he grumbled, “The world has gone to rack and ruin in my absence.”

  Again, Ashley was amused. She led the way to one of the small tables situated in front of the shop, and sank down, sharing the napkins between them.

  He took the seat across from her, sitting carefully on the small wire chair, as if uncertain if it would support his weight.

  She slid the pastry between them, tore off a piece, and bit into it.

  He took a bite, and made a noise that expressed his appreciation.

  Her brows rose. “Good?”

  He groaned again, and this time she laughed.

  “I’ve not had anything like this in a long while.”

  “Why not? Watching your girlish figure, are you?”

  He snort
ed at that. “I have just one question, lass. After this, do ye think we might try ice cream?”

  She laughed again. Apparently, her Highlander had a sweet tooth.

  After they’d finished dessert, knowing the itinerary, she asked a local where the South Bridge Vaults were, and headed that direction. It took them about five minutes to get there and they quickly caught up with their group.

  Monica whispered, “Where have you been?”

  “Apparently, Ronan didn’t get enough to eat,” she whispered back.

  Monica looked incredulous, but then several people shushed them as they started to walk into the vaults.

  Logan’s voice drifted back. “Edinburgh has a history of very moody architecture, and none is quite as spooky as South Bridge. It was finished in 1788, it is over 1000 feet long, and has approximately 120 rooms or vaults beneath the surface of the South Bridge. The vaults were used to house businesses such as taverns, workshops, and other tradesmen such as cobblers, and even bakeries.”

  Everyone looked around at the dark room they’d entered.

  “The vaults were hotspots for criminal activity such as illegal gambling and illegal whiskey distilleries. The rooms were cramped, dark, and damp. It was hard to breathe, and there was no sunlight, and there were brothels and pubs operating within the many rooms. Murder and robbery were common and even body snatchers used the place to store their stolen bodies overnight.

  Unfortunately, no one planned on the place flooding, so it was only used as a business area for a relatively short period of time until it was deserted, left to the homeless, and turned into a slum.”

  Logan paused. “Eventually, even the homeless wouldn’t have it and the vaults were abandoned, forgotten for over 200 years, until they were rediscovered.”

  They all looked around at the stone walls of the room they were in, flashlights shining about the place. The only other light was from the permanent electric candles set in the recesses of the walls.

  “Spooky!” Garth whispered.

  “There was a scientific study, done by the Edinburgh ghost project, that concluded the South Bridge Vaults are one of the most haunted places in all of Scotland. There have been attacks in here by an unknown entity, and psychics have reported they’ve felt the presence of pure evil within these vaults.”