Gerard

by L. L. Muir

  “Sacrifice?” Assa clutched at his shoulders. “Two weeks?”

  Gerard looked at the love of his life. What had she done?

  Soni continued. “Aye, and…well, I’m sorry if ye’d like to have done with this world, but it seems…ye’re staying.”

  “Stayin’?”

  “Aye.” Soni shrugged. “But Kennedy is a different story—”

  “Wait. Dinna say it!” Whatever the wee witch was about to decree could not be good. If she were set on taking Assa away from him, he couldn’t bear it. Alive or dead, he’d be condemned to Hell. But if one of them could stay… “The lass is young and fine, and has the world ahead of her, a life she’s already begun again. Let her stay, and take me instead, aye? I’m not so used to my skin and bones that I’d miss them much in any case—”

  “No!” Assa shook her head frantically at Soni. “I don’t know what ye’re talking about, but don’t listen to him.”

  Her memory! Of course! An idea struck Gerard, and though he couldn’t bear to look away from Assa, he spoke to Soncerae. “Tell me. Do ye have the power over memory like yer uncle? Can you make her forget me? Forget all of it?”

  Soni shook her head. “No. But Wickham can. He can come quickly.”

  Assa jumped back and out of reach. “No! I don’t want to forget ye!”

  He smiled into her eyes. “I promise I’ll remember all of it, for both of us.” He swallowed again and looked away from the tears gathering in Assa’s eyes. To Soni, he said, “Call him.”

  Soni laughed. “Gerard Ross, I knew I could count on ye to do the noble thing.”

  Noble or not, leaving Assa again would likely prove more difficult than joining up with Clanranald even when he suspected he would die for doing it.

  He finally faced the lass again and opened his arms. “Let me hold ye a wee while longer, Assa.”

  “No need,” Soni said. “I cannot take either of ye now. Yer offer of sacrifice was all I needed, my friends. Mortal ye are, and mortal ye’ll stay, though I cannot know how long yer lives will be.”

  “Mortal?” Assa shook her head, confused.

  “Aye.” Soni gave him a tearful smile. “So ye can hold her all ye wish.”

  Gerard strode quickly to his precious Soni, lifted her into the air, and swung her around in circles. “Ye mean it? This is what ye had in mind for us all along? For all the 79?”

  She grinned and nodded, holding on for dear life until he lowered her back to her feet again.

  “Thank ye, Soni. Thank ye from the bottom of my very foolish heart.” He held onto one hand and held the other out to Assa, but his dearest love hesitated. He frowned at Soni again. “Do ye need to call Wickham? Or are ye able to remove that stubborn butterfly’s wing from her memory?”

  Soni laughed, gave Assa a wink, and nodded. “Done.”

  “Just like that?” He studied the lass’ face for a sudden sign of understanding, but instead of running into his arms, she backed away, slowly.

  He advanced, step for step, refusing to allow her to put any more distance between them.

  “Assa Kennedy,” he said carefully, “what are ye thinkin’?” Was she remembering something he hadn’t foreseen? “Remember Dunvegan? Haven’t I come looking for ye, just as I promised?”

  She finally stopped, but held out a hand and waved him back. He retreated a few steps. His heart stood on a crumbling ledge, threatening to plunge into a rocky sea if she rejected him, as he feared she was about to do. He dared not breathe.

  She looked to Soni and shrugged. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

  Soni smiled and shook her head. “And I don’t know what to tell ye.”

  Gerard swallowed a lump of emotion blocking his throat, along with an equally bothersome bit of pride, and opened his arms to her again.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “if ye trust me, ye can start with who ye’re supposed to love.”

  Assa quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know. I’ve already loved ye for centuries. Isn’t that enough?”

  “One day more, aye? Just one day more should do it.”

  She laughed and took a step forward. His heart stumbled and started beating again.

  “And I suppose tomorrow, ye’ll ask the same favor?” She tilted her head in mock exasperation.

  He nodded quickly. “Aye, my love. And every day thereafter.”

  She pointed her chin at his uplifted arms. “Aren’t those great arms of yers getting heavy?”

  “Nay. I’ll hold them open for as long as it takes.”

  “Well, then…” After a hop and a skip, she ran into his arms, lunging at the end so he had to catch her.

  Soni laughed. Assa gave him only the briefest kiss and looked into his eyes.

  “Gerard Ross, ye’re a blind man if ye never recognized me. Nearly three hundred years—”

  With another kiss he put a stop to his very first lecture from his future wife. And when it worked so well, he decided he’d use the strategy whenever he could.

  She pulled back after a moment. “I love ye, Gerard Ross. It was the only thing I never truly forgot.”

  Soni cleared her throat again. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Assa is not quite finished here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Assa’s joy was short-lived. After all the turning and stretching her mind had done that day, she didn’t know if she could handle another surprise from her magic friend. And reluctantly, fearing she would have her beloved Highlander taken from her again, she finally let go of him and turned to face her fate.

  Mortal. Together. Soni had already pronounced it, hadn’t she?

  The witch pointed to the car park where Jacky and her three cousins stood beside the old lorry, and the rest of her memory slid into place. Tears rushed to her eyes and she flung her arms wide, hoping they would come to her for she certainly couldn’t see clearly enough to go to them.

  The four hurried to her with grins on their faces…and something akin to regret in their eyes.

  Jacky hugged her first. “Love ye, sister mine.” He pressed a kiss on her cheek and stepped back to let her cousins do the same. When she finally released Jamie, the four stood in a line again.

  She turned to Soni. “How can I thank ye for giving my kin back to me.”

  Soni scrunched up her face. “Oh, I’m afraid I couldn’t do that. My bargain was for 79 lives restored, and only so many days. Without a sacrifice, the others won’t be so lucky. As for yer kin,” she smiled at the four, who grinned back at her, “they were eager to make amends for the years ye spent on the moor, angry with them for not heeding yer warnings.”

  The boys all nodded vigorously.

  “But I’m afraid the embraces ye just shared with them is all I could manage. A few seconds is all. For the past two weeks, ye might have noticed they haven’t touched ye much. They’ve had the power to move things, but had no physical contact. I think they would have liked to give Gerard here a sound thrashing if they’d been able.

  Everyone laughed, including Gerard, whose hands fidgeted against his sides. She hoped it meant he couldn’t wait to get a hold of her again, and not that he wanted to beat her kin bloody.

  Go on, laddies,” Soni said. “Blow her a kiss, for ye must away now.”

  “I’ll always watch o’er ye, sister.” Jacky blew her a kiss, then gave Gerard a glare. “Take better care of her, Ross, else ye’ll hear from me again.”

  “I swear it,” the man said, then stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle.

  Ian, Hughie and Jamie blew her kisses too, and they all began fading from sight. At the last second, Ian tried to step forward with a mock frown for Gerard. “And keep yer arse covered, mon. Have ye no shame?”

  She could hear the rumble of their laughter long after they were all gone.

  Gerard gave her a squeeze, but said nothing, giving her the moment to come to grips with losing them all over again.

  “Ye’ll find the land and the house have come down through Kennedy ha
nds and into yers,” Soni told her. “I hope ye like Filberts.” She glanced at the car park. “And old, ugly trucks.”

  With her heart full to overflowing, and her eyes temporarily dry, she turned in Gerard’s arms and looked into his cherished face. “A fine dowry, I would think. An entire farm, and a lorry, aye?”

  He lifted a brow. “Is that a proposal, my love?”

  “Auch, no. Ye’ll have to do it proper, once ye have a ring—and a real stone.”

  He grinned and stepped back from her, reached in his sporran, and pulled out the white translucent rock. “It’s a start, is it no’?”

  She rolled her eyes and let him kiss her anyway. “Ye’re going to need a great deal of training. I can tell already. Auch, and a pair of glasses besides.”

  “Glasses? Are ye saying I’m blind, my gentle Assa?”

  “I am at that. And if ye must know, I prefer Nessa, for I find I’m not really the gentle type.” She took a hold of his ear and pulled his head closer. “Let me show ye what I mean.”

  And with a kiss, she did.

  EPILOGUE

  “Knock him on his arse, Aggie!” Gerard shouted from the sideline where he was in danger of being banned from the football fields all together. His daughter, wee Aggie, whom he and Nessa had adopted along with her younger brother and baby sister, was trying to get her foot on the ball, but a larger boy was determined to keep it to himself.

  Nessa stomped over to Gerard and pressed the baby into his arms.

  He grunted. “Nessa. Lass. I cannot coach our daughter verra well with a babe in my arms, aye?”

  She smiled up into his face. “Exactly. For she’s already got a coach, aye?” She gestured in the direction of the very capable and cool-headed man who volunteered to coach the team of six-year-olds.

  Wee Georgie ran up to his mother and threw himself at her legs. It was a good thing she was braced for it or she might have toppled over. The poor laddie wouldn’t let her out of his sight these days, for a number of reasons, but mostly because he was afraid she’d disappear on him as his deceased parents had. Assa’s dearest friend, and her husband, had been killed in a car wreck, in a freak winter storm.

  The second biggest reason Georgie clung to Nessa was his age. He was four.

  She picked up the boy as an excuse to keep Gerard from handing the baby back, and finally, her husband turned his attention to the game again.

  Aggie had the ball in her control and raced down the field toward the nervous goalie. The big boy ran past her, cut her off, and took the ball. When she fell, her face struck the ground hard enough to make her head bounce.

  Every parent on the sidelines gasped.

  Nessa took a step toward the field, but Gerard’s hand stopped her. They both held their breath and waited to see what Aggie would do. Once she started crying, it was hard to get her to stop, and they were trying not to baby her even though there was every reason in the world to do so.

  “Aggie’s okay,” Georgie said and pointed. “Uncle Jacky’s got her.”

  Nessa met Gerard’s gaze behind their son’s back, then together they looked at their daughter who, except for the goalie, was alone at her end of the field. But she climbed to her feet, and after she wiped some grass off her mouth, she ran back into the fray with a smile on her face and a bit of dirt on her chin.

  Nessa was careful to sound casual when she put the question to Georgie. “You know Uncle Jacky?”

  Georgie nodded.

  The memories of Culloden had all but disappeared, as if their lives before the battle had come forward to join with their current lives. But she still remembered enough to know that her brother, Jacky, had been killed on Culloden Moor, and there was nothing at all left of the man but the memories she was able to hold onto. And certainly, not a picture.

  Gerard’s eyes widened. “And do you see Jacky now?”

  “Nah,” said the boy. “He comes and goes. Wears a kilt like Da’s.”

  “I see.” Nessa tried again. “And does he talk to you?”

  Georgie nodded. “Tells me I’m verra brave. Like you, mum.”

  Gerard looked a bit insulted. “Nothing about me?”

  Georgie grinned at him. “Sure!”

  Gerard brightened.

  “He says I’m to take pity on ye for not being a Kennedy.” The boy frowned. “What’s pity mean?”

  Nessa laughed, giddy over the conversation, dying over her husband being insulted by the ghost of her brother, and teary to think that Jacky was near. And he was watching over her—and her family—as he’d promised to do.

  With wet eyes, Gerard gave her a wink to say none of it had been lost on him. Then he looked into Georgie’s face, sober as a priest. “It means, son, that ye must love me extra much, aye?”

  Georgie leaned so far that Nessa nearly dropped him, but held tight so he could kiss his da’s whiskered cheek. Then they all turned to watch the field again. She and her husband then leaned against each other since they couldn’t spare their hands, silently communicating that they would much rather be wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Nessa wondered if Gerard was watching for as many members of the family as she was…

  THE END

  IMPORTANT NOTICE!

  If you mention this book on Facebook or in a review anywhere, please don’t refer to the heroine as Kennedy, so those who have not yet read KENNEDY can have their surprise. Thank you!

  Next will be Malcolm’s story, by Cathy MacRae.

  If you want to read Wickham’s insane story, What About Wickham, you can find it here.

  Sign up for my newsletter at www.llmuir.weebly.com to be notified when all the ghosts get their turn. And if you care for any of Culloden’s 79, be a sport and leave a review.

  The lads have a website.

  www.ghostsofcullodenmoor.weebly.com

  And they have a Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/GhostsofCullodenMoor

  Seriously, thank you for playing!

  About the Author

  L.L. Muir lives on the Utah side of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and family. She appreciates funny friends, a well-fed campfire, and rocking sleepy children.

  A disturbing amount of Mother’s secret recipe cheese ball was consumed while writing KENNEDY.

  If you like her books, be a sport and leave a review on the book’s Amazon page. You can reach her personally through her website— www.llmuir.weebly.com , or on Facebook at L.L. Muir.

  Thank you for playing!

  Amazon KDP Edition License Notes

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  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 
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