Ghosts of Culloden Moor 06 - Fraser

by L. L. Muir

  FRASER

  The Ghosts of Culloden Moor (No.6)

  By L.L. Muir

  AMAZON KDP EDITION

  PUBLISHED BY

  Lesli Muir Lytle

  www.llmuir.weebly.com

  Fraser © 2015 L.Lytle

  The Ghosts of Culloden Moor © 2015 L.Lytle

  All rights reserved

  DEDICATION

  To all those readers

  with PTSD…

  who have a difficult time

  with the trauma of reality

  and need a place to escape to.

  BOOKS IN THE SERIES

  The Ghosts of Culloden Moor

  1. The Gathering

  2. Lachlan

  3. Jamie

  4. Payton

  5. Gareth (By Diane Darcy)

  6. Fraser

  7. Rabby

  8. Wyndham

  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 fallen warrior, it is purely accidental.

  FRASER

  CHAPTER ONE

  It had been a strange night on Culloden Moor, far more eventful after the Solstice revelers had left the grounds. If they had any ken of what was transpiring at the moment, they’d be back in droves. As would the ghost seekers, hoping to see what was never meant for them to see.

  Standing before the memorial cairn, Culloden’s ragtag collection of 79 Highland spirits had been gathered, enthralled by Soncerae Muir, their wee mortal mascot-turned-witch. With a promise of revenge, the sixteen-year-old had begun luring them, one by one, to step close to her unworldly fire and leave the moor for a brief quest. Only after winning their enthusiasm had she declared that, whether or not they succeeded, they would be moving on to the afterlife.

  Number 18, Lachlan McLean had been the first to depart. Jamie Houston, Number 64 had followed soon after with no hesitation. Fitz Payton, Number 48, had just stepped forward and been welcomed with a smile from the lass—which proved the order in which they’d risen from their graves had nothing to do with the order in which they would be sent away. A pity, that, since the laddie’s number was 8, his chance would have come soon.

  In case there was some reason for the order in which they’d risen, they’d always held tight to their number in line, so to speak. Some had even forgotten they’d had a name to go along with their number. So Alexander had remembered for them.

  But if God or the devil were calling them out of order, then perhaps the wee laddie could go straight away! Camhanaich, the dusk of morning, wouldn’t be long in coming. And if only a few could depart this night, he’d rather young Rabby was part of the first wave.

  The concern was whether the boy would be up to the quest he was given.

  Alexander glanced to his left, locked eyes with Rabby, and read the same question there. The wee lad’s hand gripped his hound’s fur and held—a stark variation from petting the animal continually for nearly two hundred seventy years. A mortal dog would have lost its hide a thousand times over from all the comfort this one got.

  “Best stay alert, aye?” he told Rabby. “And ye as well, Dauphin,” he said to the dog simply because it pleased Rabby when anyone addressed his loyal beast.

  The lad nodded solemnly and Dauphin’s ears pointed forward as if he’d understood his instruction too.

  After a quick nod to the witch, Fitz Payton disappeared into nothing, but not before the rest of them caught sight of an excited grin on his face.

  Alexander glanced at the boy again and found the light of hope gleaming in his eyes like heavy tears waiting to fall. “Would ye care to give her a try, Rabby?” For he could think of nothing more satisfying than getting that brave child off the moor and where he belonged. Culloden, with all its horrors and memories of horrors, was no place for one so young. And if there had been someone to whom Alexander could have complained, he’d have done so the first day they’d risen from their graves.

  The lad shook his head quickly. “I canna do it, sir. I canna! What if they’ve gone…to the devil?”

  Alexander laughed quietly so as not to draw attention from the others. “Can ye imagine our Soncerae doing such a thing? Suggesting such a thing?” He shook his head with a touch of reproach. “For shame to think it, Rabby. For the lass is as good as one of us, aye?”

  Rabby nodded, placated. Then he brightened. “Would ye go first, sir? I believe I could do it, if…if ye go first.” He swallowed painfully, then began petting Dauphin again as if it was the animal that needed soothing. “And perhaps, if ye find something…disagreeable-like, ye’ll find a way to let me know?”

  The lass had warned that once a man left the moor, he wouldn’t be coming back again. But surely, if God was in his Heaven, he’d allow Alexander to get word to the laddie. It was plain all the boy needed was a nudge and he’d jump at the chance to leave.

  As would Alexander.

  Thanks to the fictional character named Fraser, in a well-loved Scottish novel, Alexander’s existence on the grounds of Culloden had become its own bit of Hell. His common Scottish name had become nigh unto a war cry for romantic minded lasses the world over. And for a man who’d been denied his own true love in life, it was torture to see so much affection wasted on a fellow who had never truly existed in the first place. And it was getting worse by the day thanks to the story being played out on film.

  Aye. It was a fine time for making his own escape.

  Alexander nodded to Rabby, then motioned for Number 55, to watch over the lad. The other ghost, Kennedy, had a way with Rabby the others did not. And if Alexander couldn’t be by the boy’s side, 55 was the next best thing.

  Only after he got a nod from Kennedy did he start forward, weaving between his comrades as he closed the distance between himself and the wee witch. But he stopped when 26 started kicking up a ruckus. Apparently, the man was trying jump the line when it was clear his brother had been invited forward at the whim of the witch. But it seemed she didn’t wish for Gareth MacGregor to be next.

  Alexander waited for the argument to end, and while he waited, he met the gaze of the others who stood at the perimeter of the witch’s fiery display. Without a word, he made it clear that he would be the next to step forward, if Soni would allow it—as soon as the troublesome MacGregors worked out their family squabble.

  Finally, the hot-headed Gareth MacGregor was allowed to have his way, but instead of disappearing into nothing, as the others had done before him, he darted off, defiant as ye please, ignoring Soni’s demands to return. The others watched him go, but Alexander was more interested in the witch. He kept his gaze upon her, waiting for his opportunity to speak up for himself.

  Soncerae turned back to her fire and the trace of a smile was quickly wiped from her expression before she faced the rest of Culloden’s 79, a number quickly dwindling. The fleeting smile left Alexander wondering if the hot-headed Gareth hadn’t been as defiant as he’d supposed. For wherever he’d gone, it seemed Soni was all too pleased about it.

  Alexander spoke quickly before he had time to reconsider. “Soncerae!”

  “Alexander Fraser,” she said. “Ye’d like to go next, would ye?”

  “Aye, lass,” he said, s
tepping forward. “I have reason to.”

  Soni glanced past him in the direction of a certain young lad and his dog. “I see.”

  She waved him closer for a private word, as she’d done with some of the others. If she’d had any instruction for MacGregor, he’d missed the chance to hear it by running off.

  “Alexander,” she said, then bit her lip for a moment. The action tightened his belly with worry. “’Tis a noble thing ye do, even now.”

  He frowned down at her. “Surely ye’d not reward a boon just for my volunteering. As ye can guess, the lad watches me to see that it is safe to go. So ye must send me…somewhere. And if it is possible, in any way, for me to come back and tell Rabby there is nothing to fear, I must do it. The lad trusts ye, no mistake. But he…trusts me more, ye ken?”

  Soni nodded with a knowing smile and a wink. “Oh, I’ll be sending ye somewhere. Never fear. Only…”

  Again, his belly tightened. “What is it, lass?”

  She inhaled loudly through her nostrils as if inflating her courage. Then she let the breath go quickly and forced her lips back into a pretty bow. “Only, if ye wish to come back to speak with Rabby, there will be a price to pay.”

  “Ye mean to tell me that I’ll lose my boon? That I’ll lose my chance to call out Bonnie Prince Charlie?”

  Her lips twisted in regret and she nodded.

  “Done.”

  “Just like that?” The lass was taken aback.

  “Just like that. Now, let’s get on with it. I dinna wish for Rabby to fret overlong.”

  Soni shook her head. “The sun will rise soon, and I’ve a mortal body to care for, aye? Ye’ll be the last to leave this night. Rabby and the others may find their rest for a few days while I tend to…business. Do ye understand?”

  He nodded his head. “Auch, I understand only one thing, truth be told.” He braced his feet apart and held out his hands for balance, unable to imagine what might truly happen to him next. “I only ken that it is high time Rabby left this place.”

  “Oh?” she said. “And what of ye? Will ye miss the chance to bask in the celebrity of being a Fraser? Even the ghost of one?”

  He snorted. “Even as a man, I would not welcome such a thing.”

  Soni clicked her tongue and shook her head, a look of mischief in her eyes. “’Tis too bad then…”

  “What do ye mean?”

  She bounced her brows and grinned. “Ye’ll see.”

  With Soni’s teasing still ringing in his ears and the sight of her not yet faded from his vision, he felt the ground disappear from beneath him. And though he had no sensation of falling, he had sensations a’ plenty. But just as he was beginning to revel in the feel of blood coursing through his veins again, a wave flooded him and washed him out into a deep sea of slumber.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chelsea stood before the framed, oval mirror and stared at her reflection because that was what she was supposed to do, right? Once a bride was dressed in her dress and the last touches were touched, she was supposed to stand and stare at herself and concentrate on burning the memory into her brain. Wasn’t she?

  She wished Austin was there with her. Then the picture would be complete. He always made her calm, happy, relaxed. Like nothing in the world could be wrong as long as they were together. She really was the luckiest girl in the world.

  A wedding in Scotland, something she never would have dreamed of, never would have been greedy enough to ask for, but Austin had insisted.

  She stood in the bride’s room of what was called a small chapel. But Scotland’s version of small was an American version of cathedral. The ancient stone walls were covered with tapestries depicting equally ancient wedding ceremonies. In one, the bride and groom stood with their arms tied together with a cloth, and she was pretty sure the red splotches were supposed to be blood, because some guy standing next to them was holding up a red-tipped knife. She could almost imagine him grinning.

  It was like a Scottish version of a blood-brother ceremony only with a couple. But lucky for her, she wasn’t marrying a Scot and she was pretty sure they didn’t do that anymore anyway.

  The closest she and Austin had come was to have a blood test, and only because his mother insisted on it. The woman was almost disappointed when Chelsea’s report came back with no dormant family illnesses lurking in her, waiting to spring up and taint the Forbes family name.

  Just a few more hours, and she’d be able to latch on to Austin and never let him out of her sight, leaving the wedding party behind while they started their honeymoon trip around country. But it didn’t matter how much she wanted to tour castles and listen to Scottish legends, she would much rather lock herself away in a cottage with her new husband for a few weeks and let the stress of the wedding fade into a memory.

  She would never truly be able to relax, though, until the best man left the island. He was scheduled to fly to Paris the next morning, but she wouldn’t believe it until she saw it. He was so attached to Austin, she could just imagine waking up after their wedding night to find Rick sitting at the end of the bed, glaring at her whenever Austin’s back was turned.

  The vivid memory of that glare sent a shiver through her that rippled up her spine and shook the layers of her dress.

  A knock on the heavy wood door made her jump, and before she had time to take a step, it opened. She smiled, hoping it was Austin, sneaking in for a quick kiss and a promise it wouldn’t be long now. In the mirror, she could see the clear white vee of a tux shirt front glowing in the dim light of the hallway.

  “You’re not supposed to see me yet,” she said as she turned. But she dropped her smile when Rick barged his way into her cold and lonely sanctuary. “What do you want?”

  He sneered. “Careful, Cheese. You don’t want Austin to hear you use that tone with me.”

  He called her Cheese when he thought someone might hear. Others assumed it was a form of endearment, telling her she was one of the guys, but when they were alone, he called her Cheesy, and he meant it in the worst way.

  She was so close to finally getting between that weasel and Austin, she really should have expected him to attack her one last time. But at least she wasn’t stupid enough to rise to the bait. He had to feel desperate at the moment, and there was no guessing how dangerous he could be. His eyes always promised she would pay for rejecting him once. And what better time to make her pay than on her wedding day?

  She braced her feet apart a little, hidden by the wide white skirt, just in case he tried something physical.

  He closed the door and locked it. The snap of the bolt slipping into place turned her stomach. It also made her regret every chance she’d had to tell Austin his best friend hated her, but it was too late now. Holding her tongue and hoping for the best had been the stupid move. And Rick had promised that Austin would believe his very different version of the truth if she ever tried to come between the two men.

  He walked a slow circle around her, and though every instinct screamed not to turn her back on him, she never moved. He looked down his nose at the dress, then brought his gaze slowly up to her face before stopping in front of her again. But he didn’t speak. No off-handed compliments. No glaring. Nothing.

  She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes. Could she hold her tongue that long?

  “Not much time left,” he said quietly.

  Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

  He frowned. “If you’re going to do it, you’d better hurry.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, and she wasn’t gullible enough to ask. She knew she should stick her fingers in her ears until someone came to say it was time to head down the aisle, but her pride wouldn’t let her do anything Rick might laugh at.

  He snorted. “You stupid cow. Don’t tell me you haven’t at least been considering it.”

  She raised an eyebrow. She instantly wished she could have taken the move back.

  “Leaving, you idiot. You should leave, now. You know you sh
ould. You’re not good enough for Austin and you know it. You understand the kind of woman he needs—not a low-class waitress from the wrong side of the tracks. You know he wants to do well in politics and you will only be the death of him.” He pointed his finger at her. “You see? Even now you don’t say anything because you know I’m right.”

  He’d grown more passionate as he spoke, but still hushed. He knew that someone would be knocking on the door in the next few minutes, and he was always so clever about keeping his revulsion of her a secret.

  All she had to do was wait for that knock.

  It didn’t matter what the hateful pig said, he was just making a last ditch effort to stop the wedding. If he got rid of her, he would be more careful about the women Austin was able to meet. But he’d made a fateful mistake one night when he’d gotten the flu and allowed his friend to go to the Celtics game without him. And Austin, being Austin, hadn’t thought twice about stopping at a diner that was so unworthy of someone like him.

  She smiled at the memory of a too-charming blond guy with rows of dimples dumping his pie on his own lap just so she would have to come to his rescue.

  “I’m so sorry,” she’d said, trying to wipe up the mess on the bench beside him with a wet towel.

  “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he’d said quietly. “But I am sorry about the ice cream hitting the floor.”

  She’d looked at him sideways. “You’re not right in the head, are you? You’ve stolen the doctor’s nice clothes and escaped from the facility, right?”

  Austin shook his head. “I’d never do that to someone else’s pants.”

  They’d laughed together then. The first of a thousand laughs.

  “Maybe this will help convince you, Cheesy.” Rick said, holding up a small digital recorder. He pressed a button and sat it on the dressing table, then walked out.