Once Upon A Haunted Castle: A Celtic Romance Anthology

by Eliza Knight

  The formal garden sprawled before them with raised flower beds, neat hedges, and bare trellises with stems waiting for next year’s roses. He stood with her in silence, willing her his strength. He was the big brother now.

  “Is it wise for Lisbeth to be alone?” Jamie finally asked and gazed past the lawn to the well-worn path on the other side of the garden gate.

  “She’s not unaccompanied. John escorted her at Ann’s request, over Lisbeth’s heated protest.” She turned to him. “I haven’t thanked you for coming to us. I know The Maxwell has his demands and the travel is a hardship.”

  He patted her hand with understanding. When he looked at her he knew she was lost in thought. He waited.

  “It’s difficult to comprehend we’ll not see Richard again.” Laura’s voice choked and she shrugged with resignation despite the tears that threatened on the edges of her eyelids.

  “I know,” Jamie said, his voice low and a bit hoarse. He had the same thoughts.

  “How long are you staying with us?” she asked in a quiet tone.

  “I return to Caerlaverock tomorrow.” He took a deep breath and pushed aside his grief.

  “Then we best return to the others. They’ll want to spend time with you, too.” They moved on toward the hall.

  “I have no words, nothing to say to comfort you.”

  “Your presence is enough.”

  He held back a nervous smile. He visited to give the family comfort. Instead, she comforted him.

  “You’ll let me know your decision, Wesley. I want to make the announcement as soon as possible. With Richard gone and Glen Kirk so close to the Scottish border, you need someone strong to hold back the devils.” Lord Bryce Mitchell of Ravencroft, the manse next to Glen Kirk, stood with Wesley and Darla as Jamie entered with Laura.

  Jamie stiffened when Laura’s pulse skittered into a panic beneath his fingertips. His free hand covered hers until the beat settled into a more normal rhythm.

  “You didn’t waste any time getting here.” The rude remark directed toward Jamie raised his temper. Bryce wasn’t foolish to pick a fight with him, at least not here.

  Bryce, a regular in their childhood group, took aim at him whenever possible. Richard and the girls rallied to his defense, but the underlying ancestry of Jamie’s Scottish background stayed near the surface.

  Bryce panted hard, seething after having lost a foot race to him.

  “You’re nothing. A filthy Scot beggar. Go back to your tribe of mongrels. You’re not fit to be here.” Bryce pushed him hard.

  Shortest of the three boys, Jamie didn’t go down. Not satisfied, Bryce rushed at him again, this time with fists. Jamie ducked and backed off. Bryce kept up the assault.

  Jamie didn’t care for bullies or being baited by them.

  “Here, here Bryce. That’s enough.” Richard grabbed his friend’s arm but Bryce shook him off.

  “Stay out of this,” Bryce screamed at Richard then turned to Jamie. “Fight, or are you a puny coward, too?”

  Jamie said nothing. His hands fisted at his side, he stepped back again.

  The fight started in the yard, progressed to the field, and finished near the pond. A small group of people followed them and urged Jamie to defend himself.

  Bryce’s punch caught Jamie in the chest. He didn’t flinch.

  “You’re not making this easy for me. You should be lying on the ground by now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bryce took aim. Jamie pulled up his arms to protect his face. He didn’t retaliate.

  Bryce’s jab bloodied Jamie’s nose. Still, he didn’t strike back.

  “Fight, damn you,” Bryce shouted and followed with a quick barrage of solid body punches.

  Jamie held his position and didn’t fight back.

  In a close clinch, Bryce muttered for Jamie’s ear only. Jamie let go his constraints and pushed Bryce away. The years of restraint from Bryce’s insults and attacks disappeared with the boy’s maliciously whispered words.

  Jamie caught Bryce’s left jab in his palm mid-strike. Alarm and panic flashed in Bryce’s eyes. The bully stared at Jamie’s hand holding his fist.

  Jamie almost tore Bryce’s arm out of its socket as he pushed it aside and set his stance, one foot in front of the other.

  For a moment he thought to stop the madness, but the idea quickly died. Bryce had no idea what he’d let loose.

  Before Bryce threw the next punch, Jamie exploded with a rapid cannon volley of left jabs at Bryce’s jaw. Stunned, Bryce lowered his defenses.

  Jamie’s right cross burst from his shoulder as he shifted from his back leg to his front, throwing all his weight into the swing. He caught Bryce squarely in the face. Blood exploded in an arc of fine spray as Bryce’s head snapped back. Droplets dusted Jamie’s face, the warm blood spattering across his face.

  Bryce’s head came forward. Jamie followed with a left uppercut and caught Bryce under his chin. The strike so hard it lifted Bryce into the air then sent him to the ground. To everyone’s amazement, Bryce laid unconscious at Jamie’s feet. No one said a word as he stood panting over the prone figure. Every ounce of him wanted to drag Bryce on his feet for another round. Instead, he marched away.

  “If you’ll excuse me. I look forward to calling on you soon, Laura. Tomorrow?” Bryce looked down his nose at Jamie. “For now, I’m sure the family would like to be alone. Come Collins.” Bryce sounded as if he ordered his dog to heel.

  “How considerate to understand our family’s need for time together. All our family.” Laura stressed the word all and tightened her hold on Jamie. “I regret I’m not seeing callers. I’m sure you understand.”

  Bryce’s eyes widened at Laura’s cut. The man gave a curt nod, slapped the riding gloves against his thigh and marched out the door.

  “That wasn’t necessary. I can speak for myself.”

  “I wasn’t addressing your leaving as much as responding to his request for an audience. I’m well aware you can take care of yourself.”

  Definitely the feistier sister, but he did enjoy Bryce’s discomfort at her cut.

  “What was Bryce doing here? I passed him in the hall. He didn’t appear pleased,” Lisbeth asked as she entered. “Jamie. Ann told me you arrived.” She gave her cousin a smile and peck on the cheek.

  “Bryce came to extend condolences from his family to your father and me.” Darla fussed over Wesley.

  “The nerve of the man—”

  “Now, now Wesley. It’s not the first time Bryce made the request. Let’s not dwell on that. We’ll find a solution.” Darla encouraged everyone to the table. “Ann laid out our meal. I’m sure Jamie is hungry after a long ride. Besides, I’m eager for the news from Caerlaverock.”

  Chapter Two

  It had been nearly two years since Laura had seen Cousin Herbert, his wife and children. For years, Herbert worked on constructing his new Caerlaverock Castle, the old one prone to flood. These last years with the work nearing completion, the family held off travel to Scotland.

  “Is Cousin Herbert well?” Laura asked sitting next to Lisbeth at the table. The enjoyment of visiting her mother’s Maxwell family was well worth the torture of a four day carriage ride.

  “Cousin Herbert regrets they couldn’t be here, pressing obligations at the Parliament in Scone. Besides the completion of the castle, these are hard times at Caerlaverock. The late season crops did poorly. Grain is rationed and winter will be here soon enough. People look somewhere to put the blame.” Jamie took a pull on the ale. “Excellent, Sir. Excellent.”

  Everyone enjoyed Glen Kirk’s ale. Only her father and his brewer knew the full list of ingredients and their proportions. Her father enjoyed that his friends and sometimes his adversaries tried to get the recipe out of him. That usually required drinking a lot of ale. Her father always had the last laugh. He walked away, not always steady, but he left them to sleep on or under a trestle table, no wiser.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying the ale. Now what is this about blame? Everyon
e understands no one’s responsible for a poor yield.” Her father, who hadn’t had an appetite for days did more than pick at his food and she was grateful.

  Her mother glanced at Jamie and gave him an appreciative nod.

  “The crops did poorly. Of course, you’re right. It’s not one’s fault, but the people want to blame someone. They think they’ve found their suspect, the ghost.” Jamie took a gulp of ale and then another.

  To Laura, it didn’t appear that he was in any rush to continue the tale. Her ankles crossed under her chair and her foot wagged. She tore a piece of bread from the loaf with a bit more force than planned.

  “Ghost? What ghost? Caerlaverock doesn’t have any ghosts. The stones are barely completed,” her mother said as if ghosts were an everyday occurrence.

  Ann carried in a platter of meat pies.

  “Our ghost is a new addition to the castle family. Several people have witnessed it including Herbert and his wife.” Jamie closed his eyes. She watched as he spent several moments enjoying the aroma of the platter of meat pies in front of him.

  “Are you going to inhale the meat pie or put one on your trencher and eat it?” Laura asked. She glared at Lisbeth who didn’t try to hide her smirk and daintily took a pie off the platter.

  “Cousin, you have no idea how wonderful Ann’s meat pie smells. For weeks, we’ve had nothing cooked with grain, but I won’t bore you with my trials and tribulations.” He took a pie and bit into it.

  “Tell me more about this ghost,” her mother asked. After days of worrying about her parents, Laura was glad to see them both engaged in a lighthearted conversation.

  “It’s a thorny issue. It appears to be a love story gone wrong,” he said between bites. “Evan, a footman, was betrothed to Angel, a housemaid. You may remember them, Darla.”

  “Yes, a pretty and lively young woman. She helped me several times when I stayed with Herbert,” her mother said. “Herbert planned to elevate Evan to the castle Marshal.”

  “You’re correct. He gave Evan the position when they moved into the new castle. Evan and Angel have been part of the castle staff since they were children and grew to be very much in love, so I’m told. With the recent concerns and difficulties, their wedding was a welcome distraction.” Jamie went on for several minutes, devouring a piece of venison.

  “Go on, don’t stop telling the story now,” Laura demanded. “What has that to do with the ghost?”

  He let out a heavy sigh, put the meat on his trencher, and turned to her. “After a rather loud argument, a castle servant found Evan dead, stabbed in the chest.” He took another bite of meat.

  “And?” Lisbeth asked.

  He ignored her outburst.

  “And?” Her voice held a warning.

  He drained his tankard dry then turned toward her.

  “They found Angel’s dead body under his. Apparently, he killed her. Would you please pass the ale?” he asked Laura with a smile.

  “Jamie, please. No more teasing,” her mother said.

  He sat back in his chair. “The rumor is Angel learned Evan tainted the castle grain. She approached Evan to get his confession. They argued then fought. He killed her. Distraught over what he’d done, he killed himself.

  “Not long afterward the ghost appeared. Those who have seen the apparition believe the ghost is Evan’s. No one has any idea how to put the spirit to rest. Personally, I think they’ve all had bad ale. Nothing compares to yours, Sir.” He lifted his tankard to his host.

  Her father smiled with a small chuckle. He raised his tankard in salute then continued to eat.

  “I don’t believe the story. Evan would never hurt Angel. I remember them clearly. She was sensible and reliable. And Evan was devoted to Herbert. He would never be unfaithful to the family. Something here is amiss. When did the deaths occur?” her mother asked.

  “Three weeks ago. I know your next question, so if the ghost’s appearance is so recent, why is he blamed for the hardship?”

  “Precisely,” Laura, Lisbeth and her mother said in unison.

  “There is nothing or no one else to blame.” Jamie’s gaze went from her mother, to Lisbeth and to her. Gone was his playful manner. “It wasn’t until after his death that the idea he was responsible for the crop failures arose. To be honest, better to blame someone already dead than some living person they all trust.”

  The sobering thought lingered.

  “Mother, too bad you can’t go to the castle and help poor Evan,” Lisbeth said.

  “No, I can’t leave now, but it is a pity.” Her mother paused, her food almost to her mouth. “I wonder what he’s trying to tell you.” She shrugged and continued with her meal.

  “Tell me? I hardly knew him in life. What could he possibly want to tell me in death?” Jamie asked. “Although Herbert agrees with Lisbeth, he said you had a way with ghosts and it was unfortunate you weren’t available.”

  “So does Laura.” Her mother sat up and elbowed Father.

  “Me?” Laura dropped what was left of her meat pie onto her trencher.

  “You have a special skill of getting to the bottom of issues. If anyone can find out the truth of their deaths and how to put Evan’s poor soul to rest, it’s you,” her mother said, a smug look on her face.

  Laura stared at her mother. Of course she wanted to help her cousin, but she couldn’t leave now. Surely her father would bring Mother to her senses.

  “You’re right, Darla. Besides, a trip would be good for Laura and the sooner the better.” Laura stared at her father. What was going on?

  “No, no, that’s not necessary.” Jamie appeared as perplexed as she. He looked downright agitated. Why didn’t he want to take her to the castle?

  “Jamie, you know I can’t leave Glen Kirk now. Nor can I stand by and watch my cousin suffer when help is easily at hand. Take Laura to Caerlaverock with you. If there’s nothing she can do, at least she will have a long overdue visit with the family.” Her mother’s tone and convincing words didn’t fool her. What was her parents’ hidden plan?

  “Of course, Darla. I’m sure Herbert will be happy to have Laura visit and accept any help she is able to provide.” Annoyed, Laura scrutinized his reaction more carefully. The fact that he didn’t want to take her to the castle was evident in the death grip he had on the tankard. She lightly touched the top of his wrist and hoped he’d relax his hand before he crushed the cup.

  His muscles jolted under her fingertips. He put down the tankard and tucked his hand under the table.

  “I’m glad that’s decided,” her mother said.

  “Ah, roast duck.” Wesley rubbed his hands together like a child at the holidays. “Has Herbert’s design solved the problem with the flooding? I was quite taken with his plans when I visited with him last. Unique, very unique.”

  Lisbeth leaned toward her.

  “Do you think Mother’s eagerness to get you away may have anything to do with Bryce being here?”

  Laura chewed on her fruit fritter. She had conveniently forgotten about Bryce.

  “You don’t think he had the audacity to come here and offer for me now, while we mourn Richard?” She knew the answer as soon as the words left her lips and disliked him even more.

  “Yes, I do. And I think the sooner you’re safely away from Glen Kirk, the better.” Lisbeth straightened.

  Laura swiveled and faced her sister. “Why won’t Mother and Father tell me? This isn’t the first time he’s offered. Why do they keep Bryce’s proposal from me?”

  “I can think of several reasons. One, they don’t like or trust him. Two, they don’t want you to think you’re obligated to marry him. And three, these are tenuous times and they don’t want you in the middle of the politics.”

  Ann brought in the spiced wine signifying the end of the meal.

  “Don’t fret. Mother knows what she’s doing.”

  Laura listened to Jamie paint a picture with words for her parents about the castle and how the stones glowed with the colors of t
he sunset. He went on and on and made Caerlaverock sound special.

  “Come Wesley.” Her mother rose from her chair. “That’s enough about the castle architecture. You’ll forgive us. It’s been a long day.”

  Laura watched her parents leave, their heads together in deep conversation. The talk at the table had brightened them both.

  “That leaves the three of us,” Jamie said.

  “No, the two of you,” Lisbeth replied. “I’m glad you’re here, Jamie. I thought they would never smile or laugh again. If you’ll forgive me, the stress of the last few days has taken its toll on me as well. I’ll see you before you leave.” She kissed her sister and left the hall.

  “Do you have any idea why Darla wants you away from Glen Kirk?” Jamie asked.

  Laura’s back stiffened. “I see that she wants me to visit Caerlaverock to help Cousin Herbert in her place. The bigger question is why are you against taking me? Because if you are, James Maxwell Collins, I’m sure Gareth or one of the men will gladly escort me.”

  “Wait, Lass. I’ve not said I wouldn’t take you with me. I’m simply inquiring as to why Darla is so anxious to have you away.” His soft tone and softer eyes quieted her. Lisbeth’s words were right. She cringed at the idea of marrying Bryce. He wasn’t where her interests lie.

  “Has Bryce said anything?” He moved forward in his chair. “Has he done anything to—” His fist pounded the table making her jump.

  “No, never.” Her hand instinctively covered his fist to ease his concern. “He makes me uncomfortable. That’s all.”

  She removed her hand once his fist relaxed. “You said the ghost appeared after Evan died three weeks ago. You don’t have much time.” She removed her hand, got up and sat by the dying fire. Jamie followed.

  “What do you mean? Much time?” he asked as he stirred the embers to life.

  Laura sat and watched muscles under his shirt as he stretched and maneuvered the heavy log. The glow of the fire reflected off the gold strands threaded through his dark ginger hair and gave a soft halo effect. A smirk touched her lips. Jamie was no saint and the gossip of his escapades was legendary with the girls and women in the village. She dreamt of him at one time, a young girl’s fascination.