Fergus: A Highlander Romance: (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 33)

by Bess McBride

  Casey listened to Fergus’s insane murmurings, wondering if Sarah watched them from their hotel bedroom window. If the beautiful psychotic Scotsman was about to toss her into the river, Casey hoped Sarah could sprint across the river in time to fish her out. She really wasn’t ready to die, not from disease and not from the ramblings of a charming man.

  “1746” was all she could say as she pulled out of his embrace. He let her go.

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, my sweet beautiful nutty man,” Casey said, her eyes wide as she took a step back.

  “Ye think me daft,” Fergus said. The horror on Casey’s face wasna unexpected, but it hurt no less. When she pulled from his arms, he didna reach out to bind her to him again.

  Before Culloden, he hadna been disposed to think about the spirits. Though all living folk kent that ghosties wandered hither and thither about Scotland, nane truly wished to encounter any. So he understood the lass’s fears, and he didna enjoy frightening her.

  “A little bit,” Casey replied in a quavering voice. She wrapped her arms around her body, and Fergus locked his hands behind his back. He wouldna reach for her until she came to him. If she came back to him.

  “I wouldna hurt ye, lass. I canna help what I am. Ye asked me, and I told ye the truth.”

  She looked over her shoulder toward the hotel, and he feared she might dash across the road. He braced himself for the likelihood that his last view of her might be her back as she ran away from him.

  And perhaps that was just as well. He couldna find a way to help her. He had done naethin except anger her sister further and now frighten her with his tale of ghosties wandering about Culloden Moor.

  Nay, ghosties wandering away from the moor and into Inverness, as he did himself now. For all she kent, spirits flitted about everywhere, clutching at her, dragging her down to their graves. He had seen no other ghosties in Inverness, but that didna mean they werena there.

  Casey turned back and searched his face as if looking for something. Fergus could only keep his eyes and face as open as his heart and let her see what she would. He dragged in a breath of air while she stared at him.

  Her eyes filled with moisture, and he gripped his hands tightly at his back to stop from reaching out to her.

  Suddenly, she threw herself against him, pressing her face to his chest. His heart pounded as he folded his arms around her.

  “I don’t care,” she muttered. “I hear your heart beating. I don’t care what you think you are. But I don’t want you to die.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t understand any of this, but I don’t want you to die. The world would not be a better place for it.”

  “Auch, lassie. How sweet ye are. I am already dead, but I treasure yer words. I have no choice in the matter.”

  “I wish I understood more. Where is Soni? Can I speak to her?”

  “Noooo, I dinna think ye can. Weel, I suppose ye could, but there is no point. She is a good, honest lass. She would bring us all back from the dead forever if she could. I dinna ken what sacrifice she has made to bargain for our futures, but we agreed to her terms, and I have no choice.”

  She lifted her head once again and stared at him.

  “What can I do? I can’t just let you vanish.”

  Fergus blinked, aghast that he felt near tears himself.

  “It is ye who will vanish to yer home before I do, lass. Dinna fash. Someday we will see each other again in the next life. But no too soon! Ye will survive the ordeal ye must undergo! Ye will survive and grow auld with yer grandchildren at yer feet.”

  Tears flooded Casey’s eyes and flowed down her face. Fergus didna ken what he had said to release the torrent.

  “Lass, lass, my words were meant to ease yer burden, no give ye more pain!” He released her to cup her face in his hands. Her wet cheeks begged to be kissed, and he did so. She didna sob but cried silently, all the more difficult to see for the quiet pain she endured.

  “I can’t have children, Fergus,” she said. “You didn’t know. It’s all right.”

  “Ye will, mo chridhe, ye will. Ye will live. Ye must.”

  “It’s not that. I can’t have children because I had surgery, a hysterectomy. For the cancer.”

  “Auch, I didna ken, lass. I have heard of this woman’s surgery.” Aye, he had heard a visitor in the center describe such. He folded Casey into his arms again.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “There just won’t be any grandchildren, that’s all.”

  Fergus pressed his lips together. He had only made matters worse.

  “Come—let’s walk,” he said, taking her by the hand. “We can only stand about and grieve so long. I dinna wish my last hours with ye afore yer departure to be filled with tears—especially mine!”

  As he had hoped, Casey’s mouth lifted in a smile, and a breath of laughter escaped her, watery as it was.

  “You’re right. I’m not giving up the idea of fighting for your life, but I won’t cry about it again.”

  Fergus returned her grin but wondered silently at the irony of her words. Was it no he who should fight for her life?

  “Let us speak of it no more, lass. There is naethin either of us can do to change the other’s fortunes. It should be enough that we wish the best for one another, aye?”

  “It should be,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

  They strolled up and down both sides of the riverbank for the next few hours, stepping into a coffee shop to have some tea and a snack.

  “Do you want to take some food and go sit on the grass by the river?” Casey asked.

  “Auch, nay, lass. If ye dinna mind, I would prefer to sit on a hard chair. I have had plenty of years sitting on sod, ye ken?”

  Casey laughed, and they found a small round table with two chairs.

  Fergus delighted in the warmth of the scones, the malty flavor of the tea, the chatty atmosphere of the café. It was much like the café at Culloden, but he heard more Scots accents in Inverness. Casey smiled at him with affectionate amusement as he enjoyed the food he had longed to taste over the years, and he was pleased to provide her that entertainment. However, one thing bothered him mightily. He leaned across the table.

  “I dinna understand why people stare at me so,” he whispered. In truth, he kent that he might have been an object of interest to tourists at Culloden, but in Inverness, amongst his fellow Scots?

  “Oh really?” she said, smirking.

  “Nay. I ken many folk no longer wear the kilt, but I have seen some on occasion. I ken it was outlawed after Culloden, but the Victorians did away with that bit o’ nonsense, and my countrymen could once again wear their tartan. I ken most men choose to wear trews now, but there isna reason to stare at a lad who chooses to wear the kilt now, is there?”

  Casey covered his hand with her own, and he laced his fingers through hers.

  “Well, notwithstanding that beautiful wild red mane and beard of yours that reminds me of a lion, your kilt isn’t like the typical kilts worn nowadays. It’s called a great kilt, isn’t it?”

  Fergus looked down at the blue-green folds of his kilt.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “Well, it’s huge, has a lot of material, and it’s very distinctive.”

  “Weel, if it is just my kilt they stare at, they’re welcome to look. Soni sent me back clean and new, for the last time I saw my kilt, it was caked with mud and blood, and even then it was tattered and old.”

  Casey’s smile faded, and Fergus cursed himself.

  “I could tie my hair back though,” he said. “Have ye an extra ribbon in yer pocket?” Fergus chuckled. His laughter died though when Casey produced a rosy band.

  “Sure!” she said, handing it to him.

  “Auch, I was only joking,” he said. “This is a woman’s color.”

  She reached for it with a chuckle. “No problem,” she said. “I like your hair the way it is anyway. I’m not really into man buns.”

  “Man buns?”

 
“You know, when guys with long hair wrap it up in a chignon? I’d prefer they just leave it down if they have long hair.”

  Fergus ran his fingers through his thick curls. His fingers caught in them as they always did.

  “My hair is tangled. I should cut it off like these lads here,” he said, nodding toward some of the young men in the coffee shop. “My beard too,” he said, rubbing his face.

  “No!” Casey said sharply. Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry. You can if you want. In fact, I’ll even pay for it. You would probably like to have a cut and shave after all these years. Would you like that?”

  Fergus looked at her.

  “In the few hours we have left, facing what ye must, kenning that ye dinna wish to see me shorn, ye are willing to send me to the barber? Auch, lass, ye give too much of yerself and dinna take enough. Have ye always been so?”

  Casey blinked in surprise. “Well, I was only offering to pay for a cut and shave. It’s not a big thing.”

  “But ye dinna wish to see me shorn. Ye offer because ye wish to please me. Ye go against yer own likings to please me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it so with yer sister?”

  “Sarah?”

  “Aye, do ye give until it hurts with yer sister?”

  She didna answer at once, and Fergus thought he must have pressed her too hard.

  “Well, it didn’t always used to hurt,” she said finally. “Sarah has never been as fortunate as I have.”

  “Has she been ill?”

  “No, not ill, but I’ve always made more money than her, so I’ve helped her out with a loan or two, and bought her some furniture, and the down payment on a car, and well, you know, just stuff.”

  “And a holiday in Scotland.”

  “Yes, I’ve taken her on a trip every year since she graduated high school. She went to college after that and had student loans. I do too, but it’s always just been harder for her to manage money.”

  “When did it start hurting?”

  “Hurting?”

  “I asked ye if ye gave until it hurt, and ye said it didna always hurt. When did it start hurting to give to yer sister?”

  Casey thought for a moment.

  “Well, she’s never been super appreciative really, but that’s okay. I love her. I want her to be happy. She got mean last year though.”

  “Do ye ken why?”

  Casey shook her head. “Not really. I think I told you I asked her, and she said, ‘Now is not the time to talk about it.’”

  “Aye, I remember. Ye were about to undergo the knife.”

  “Yes.”

  “Death is a fearful thing,” Fergus said softly. “When I went off to Culloden, my maw and sisters cursed me. They cursed me and told me never to return. I didna understand why they were so angry wi’ me. It was my duty to join my kinsmen. When I think on their anger now, I wonder if they were angry because they feared for my life. And rightly so, as it happened. I think anger was more bearable than grief. What do ye think?”

  He squeezed Casey’s hand and sat back in his chair.

  Chapter Six

  Casey stared at the wise redhead sitting across from her. Like some Scottish sage, he dispensed wisdom that he had probably acquired over 270 years of ghosting.

  “You’re saying you think Sarah is afraid I’ll die, and it’s easier for her to be angry with me than scared.”

  “Aye,” he said simply.

  She leaned forward and extended her hand, her heart full of love. Fergus took her hand in his.

  “I’m sorry your family let you go in anger, Fergus. I know they must have regretted it too.”

  “There ye go again, mo chridhe. Thinking of another. Thank ye. Aye, I ken they had regrets, but that was a long time ago.”

  “I am so sorry. I don’t suppose your wee witch can send you back in time to tell them that you don’t blame them?”

  “I didna think of such. I dinna think Soni would call that an heroic act. Indeed, I am afeared I am failing my task. I have done naethin which was heroic or brave.”

  “But you’re making my last few hours in Scotland, my last day before I begin treatment, heavenly. I’m not exaggerating when I say that you have changed my life, Fergus. During all the hours that I will sit in a chair as chemicals are pumped into my body in an effort to kill my cancer cells, during all the hours that I’ll lay on a table being irradiated, it’s your face that I will see.”

  Fergus drew in a sharp breath at the image, wishing again that he could be with her in the flesh.

  “If my presence does that for ye, lass,” Fergus said in a husky voice, “it is purely for my own selfish reasons—no bravery, no heroism. It is ye who now shows courage, who will endure.”

  Casey looked at the clock on the wall. She was running out of time. She still had to return to the hotel, throw a few things into her suitcase and checkout before she and Sarah drove to the airport and turned in the rental car.

  “I have to go, Fergus.”

  “Nay, surely ye have time.”

  “I have to move fast as it is.”

  He followed her eyes to the clock.

  “This treatment of yers. Must it begin tomorrow? Can it wait a day or two?”

  “I already thought of that, Fergus. I already thought of rescheduling my flight out until after you have to go. I can reschedule chemo for the next week. From the sounds of it, I actually seem to have a little more control over my schedule than you do.”

  Fergus closed his eyes, and Casey wondered what she had said wrong.

  “Nay, lass. How can I have suggested such a thing? Forgive me. Ye must go at the appointed time.” He sat back and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah! I am a selfish man. No truly good man would have suggested such a thing.”

  He rose and held out his hand.

  “Come, lass. I will see ye back to the hotel. Ye willna delay yer treatment because of me.”

  Casey, embarrassed at her irrational obsession to be with Fergus until he was taken from her, took his hand but refused to meet his eyes.

  “Okay,” she said, albeit reluctantly. She allowed him to lead her out of the coffee shop and back toward the hotel. Fergus practically towed her as she dragged her feet.

  “I can’t do this, Fergus,” she said as they neared the entrance to the hotel. He turned and took both her hands in his.

  “Ye canna do what, lass?”

  “I can’t say goodbye to you. I can’t leave you while you’re still...alive. Please don’t make me.”

  “Auch, mo chridhe, dinna fash. We will see each other again one fine day. We must believe that.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.”

  She tried to pull from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. He looked toward the hotel entrance, where a bellman watched them with unabashed curiosity.

  “Weel, I canna drag ye in there. What’s to do?”

  “I don’t know!” she said. “I wish you could come with me. I just want that!” Casey knew how petulant she sounded, but she couldn’t face saying goodbye forever. She just couldn’t. Fergus wasn’t going to be on the other side of a phone or the internet or an email. He was going to be dead.

  “I can’t lose you,” she whispered. She moved into his arms, and he wrapped them around her. “Please ask her if you can come. Please.”

  “Auch, lass, I already did, ye ken that.”

  “I love you,” she whispered against his chest. “I know how ridiculous that sounds, having just met you, but I love you. I can’t do this.”

  “You’re right. This is ridiculous!” a familiar voice sounded nearby. “Just say goodbye already. We have to go. Unless you want me to leave you here too!”

  Sarah stood on the bottom steps of the hotel, arms locked across her chest. She watched them with narrowed eyes.

  “How dare ye?” Fergus began.

  Casey tugged at his hand. “Don’t make it worse,” she whispered.

  “Wha
t?” Sarah challenged. “How dare I? Just who do you think you are?”

  Casey winced at the impending argument and looked up at the doorman, whose eyes widened.

  “Stop it,” she said, directing her words to Sarah. “People are watching!”

  “I will do as ye wish, lass,” Fergus said to Casey in a low voice. “But I dinna take kindly to being spoken to in such a manner.”

  “I know. I know,” she said in a conciliatory voice.

  “Let’s just go inside. Fergus is coming with me while I pack.”

  “Look—I don’t know what has gotten into you, Casey, but your ‘crush’ on this guy is just about the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Casey closed her eyes for a moment. No, those words would not destroy the happiness she had known with Fergus.

  “I suppose I must hold my tongue?” Fergus asked Casey loud enough for Sarah to hear.

  “Please,” Casey said.

  “My bags are in the lobby,” Sarah said. “You’ve got ten minutes, then I’m leaving, and I think by now you know I’ll go without you.”

  Sarah swung away and climbed the stairs to stride into the hotel, leaving the doorman no time to open the door.

  Shaking from the encounter, Casey locked her hand through Fergus’s arm.

  “I remember what you said, Fergus, but I’m not seeing the fear of my death. I’m seeing a lot of anger, as if she’s been holding it in for a long time.”

  “It pains me to say that I dinna think I could ever like yer sister verra much even though I still believe she is more afeared of losing ye than angry.”

  “I’m so sorry, Fergus. You would have liked her before. She’s always been a bit self-centered, but she also has a great sense of humor.”

  They walked up the stairs, and the doorman opened the door for them.

  “Thank ye, laddie,” Fergus said, though he looked much younger than the thirty-something man holding the door open.

  They entered the lobby, where Casey saw Sarah sitting on a couch waiting. Sarah pointed to her wrist, as if to remind her sister of the time. Casey ignored her.

  She led Fergus toward the elevator with effort, as he paused to study the interior of the lobby. They stepped onto the elevator, and Fergus watched as Casey pushed a button for the third floor.