Once Upon a Christmas Past

by Regan Walker

  Muriel took a bite of the shortbread. “Oh my. This is quite wonderful.”

  Ailie glanced at Nash, wanting desperately to be close to him again. “Here’s something we can agree upon,” she said, picking up a piece of shortbread with her free hand. “It melts in the mouth.”

  In a low voice, discernable only to her, he said, “I’m happy to eat it with one hand.”

  In truth, Ailie would gladly forego dessert for the comfort of his touch. It wasn’t like any other man’s touch. And it wasn’t just the powerful attraction she felt for him. Holding Nash’s hand made her feel like a ship moored in home port.

  Ailie’s grandfather pushed aside his empty plate, took up his wine and, with Muriel’s encouragement, began to speak of Dunnottar.

  The conversations around them died as he recited the words of the poem by Mrs. Carnegie:

  “High on a rock, half sea-girt, half on land,

  The castle stood, and still its ruins stand

  Wide o’er the German main the prospect bent,

  Steep is the path and rugged the ascent:

  There hung the huge portcullis—there the bar

  Drawn on the iron gate defied the war.”

  Her grandfather took a swallow of his wine. “Many wars have come and gone an’ still Dunnottar stands, a broodin’ fortress, aye, but nae alone. Her ghosts are many and they dinna sleep. ’Tis guid ye willna be visitin’ her at night when the witches burned at Dunnottar cry from the cliffs.”

  Kit looked up with a fearful glance at Ailie’s grandfather. “Witches?”

  Will nodded. “In the sixteenth century, several were seized in Aberdeen and burned at Dunnottar. Lord only knows the torture they endured before their deaths.”

  In a voice Ailie was certain was designed to add to the mood of the evening, her grandfather intoned, “The anshent ruins speik wi’ a loud voice. Every turret ha’ a tongue. Ye may nae see a spectre, still, ye’ll hear their screams. ’Tis as if the verra walls remember.”

  Will leaned in, the flickering candle casting shadows on his face and his auburn hair. “A woman is said to wander about in a green tartan dress. No one knows who she is.”

  Emily, who Ailie knew had never visited the castle, drew close to her husband, a frightened expression on her lovely face. “So many ghosts?”

  Will wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Aye, Leannan, and there’s more of the wee ghosties. The spectre of a young deerhound runs about the castle grounds, looking, they say, for his master. A Norseman frequents the guardroom at the main entrance yet if you were to follow him, he would vanish. And near the cave entrance leading from the sea, a soldier, dressed in military regalia from some past era, stares out to sea as if watching for a ship.”

  Grandfather Ramsay turned to Muriel. “Ye still be wantin’ tae see it, Countess?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “You’ll not frighten me away so easily!”

  Ailie’s grandfather laughed. “Then I shall take ye meself an’ we’ll see if we can find a ghostie or two.”

  Ailie glanced out the large windows. Outside, night had descended and inside, the fire had burned to smoldering remnants, the candles now mere stubs. Shadows lurked around the room, calling up images of the ghosts they had spoken of. It was not difficult to believe that not far away stood an ancient castle where those same ghosts still roamed. In her mind, she could imagine them; she could hear their wails.

  Nash must have sensed her disquiet, for he squeezed her hand. Her heart, which had been beating rapidly as Angus and William had spoken of ghosts, calmed as Nash’s warmth and strength flowed into her. He was her anchor to all that was real. But could she forgive his deception?

  Into the eerie silence, Robbie uttered the words that made everyone laugh. “Well, ain’t it fortunate they’re all dead?”

  Chapter 21

  30 December, Stonehaven

  After a sleepless night, Nash had come to the dining room early, grateful for the hot coffee Fiona handed him. He did not feel up to returning her smile. Instead, he idly pushed his eggs about his plate, all desire for food having deserted him as he considered how to handle his stubborn Scottish lass.

  Ailie was his or would be when he sorted all this out. She could not deny the passion between them. The fire was there, smoldering beneath all that had happened. He had only to rekindle it.

  She might have decided to go to London but, if he were successful, she would greet the ton on his arm.

  Robbie and the rest of their company filed in a short while later, complaining of dreams haunted by Dunnottar’s ghosts. Angus had come for breakfast and claimed the chair next to Muriel.

  Ailie had yet to appear.

  Nash knew he had taken a risk when he reached for her hand the evening before, but she had not pulled away. It had taken all his resolve to keep from dragging her outside and reminding her of the passion and the love that lay between them.

  “Says here tensions are running high in Glasgow,” said William, poring over the Stonehaven Journal, the newspaper Angus had brought with him. “The weavers are none too happy.”

  Angus paused in the act of his lathing butter on a scone. “’Tis nae over yet.”

  Muriel looked up from her chocolate. “I do hope they do nothing foolish.”

  “If they do, they’ll be in for it,” predicted William. “The yeomanry is still camped around the city.”

  “Can I see that?” Robbie asked. William handed him the paper and returned to his omelet.

  Nash glance at his brother as Robbie pulled his spectacles from his pocket and, careful not to scrape his healing wound, put them on. He still wore the small bandage. Nash had the impression he did so not because it was necessary but to hide the ugly scar forming on his temple.

  Robbie bent his head to the paper. “Good Lord, according to this, it’s getting worse. Won’t be pretty if Sidmouth decides to make an example of Glasgow’s weavers.”

  Hugh shook his head. “Parliament doesn’t see the need for reform.”

  Nash agreed, doubting reform would come anytime soon. The Six Acts, robbing men of freedoms they had long held, discouraged him beyond hope.

  Angus finished his haddies, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “A nod’s as guid as a wink tae a blind horse.”

  Eyebrows rose around the table, including Nash’s, but it was Muriel who spoke. “Whatever does that mean?”

  “It means,” said Ailie, entering the dining room, “if a horse is blind, it matters little if you nod your head or wink your eye, he still cannot see, just as the government is blind to what is happening in Scotland.”

  “Oh,” said Muriel. “Yes, I quite understand.”

  Ailie turned to the sideboard, adding small bits of food to her plate. Nash remembered she had not eaten much at dinner, so perhaps she was hungry. Since they’d been at odds, neither of them had much of an appetite.

  She took a seat across from Nash. Her expression disclosed nothing until she glanced up at Robbie and a look of surprise crossed her face. “You wear spectacles?”

  Robbie peered over his spectacles to look at her. “I do. Nash and I are the only ones in our family unlucky enough to require them to read.”

  Why did she ask? Then he remembered the day he had gone to town and Robbie took his place in the library. Had Robbie been wearing spectacles when she found him? He wondered again what kind of a kiss his twin had given her.

  “Do you read horticulture books like Nash?” she asked.

  Robbie paused, flicking a glance at Nash before returning to Ailie. Nash was certain each read the other’s thoughts. Finally, Robbie said, “Rarely.”

  Ailie looked up from her plate and shook her head. “Robbie Powell, you are a rogue. Worse than I’d imagined.”

  “Likely so,” Robbie admitted.

  Nash believed the only one at the table who understood something had been left unsaid was Muriel, whose eyes bore into him and then moved to stare at Robbie.

  “As soon as you’ve finished
your breakfast,” announced William, “we’ll be off to the castle. We’ve two large sledges to accommodate us. That’s a sleigh to you, Tara.”

  “I can hardly wait!” said Nick’s wife.

  A half-hour later, Nash had donned his hat, gloves and greatcoat and assisted Ailie into the sledge carrying Emily, Muriel and Angus. William took the seat next to the driver as he did the day they had gone in search of the Yule log.

  With a nod to Nash, Robbie climbed into the second sledge with their two older brothers, their wives, and the Ormonds.

  It was much like their earlier trip into the woods near Arbroath, the runners on the large vehicles easily traversing the road leading south to Dunnottar.

  The brisk air chilled their faces even though the sun was shining. Only a few white clouds drifted in the blue sky. The inn had supplied them with lap blankets and beneath the one Nash shared with Ailie, he took her hand. Their gloves did not allow him the warm touch of her skin, but he was encouraged she did not resist the gesture.

  In no time at all, they arrived at the approach to the castle and the sledges came to an abrupt halt, the horses snorting after their run. At this point, they were level with the top of the rocky snow-covered precipice on which the castle ruins stood, defying time. Behind the immense rock, the vast expanse of the blue sea stretched to the horizon.

  Nash tried to envision Dunnottar as the castle it might have been, its battlements bright with colorful banners, the walls bristling with cannon and weapons, its practice yard crowded with men-at-arms, not the unroofed and untenanted sepulcher it had become. “It must have been magnificent.”

  “Aye,” said Angus on a sigh. “She were a braw stronghold once.” Nash wondered if the old Scot longed for the former times when the castles of Scotland were the bastions of powerful lairds.

  “What happened to the roofs?” Nash asked.

  “When the castle was forfeited after the rising in 1715,” said Ailie, “the roofs were removed and sold. A travesty, as some might have survived to this day.”

  William shouted, “Hold on, everyone!”

  At the driver’s command, the horses plunged down the snow-covered slope. Nash gripped Ailie’s hand and braced himself against the side of the sledge as the horses, seemingly unafraid, lunged forward and then veered to the left bringing them to the bottom of a valley in front of the castle’s rocky foundation.

  Ailie laughed. “A much wilder ride than in the summer when we walk.”

  “Indeed,” said Muriel, hand over her heart. “But I quite enjoyed it.”

  Angus gave her a huge grin. “Ye’re a grand lady, Countess.”

  “Nonsense.”

  William turned to Emily. “Are you all right, Leannan?”

  “I am fine,” she said. “It’s the ghosts that have me worried.”

  Nash tilted his head back to look up at the formidable mound of rock looming hundreds of feet in the air. He could no longer see the ruins atop the massive rock. Looking behind him, he glimpsed the second sledge, smiles on everyone’s faces.

  “Your brother has a sense of the dramatic,” he said to Ailie.

  “He does. I suspect he wanted you to be surprised.”

  “When do we get to set our feet on the ground?” asked Muriel turning in her seat to look up at William who sat above her with the driver. “I’m anxious to see the castle.”

  “You can alight here,” he replied. “The path leading up to the castle’s entrance is too narrow to take the sledges farther. They will remain here until we are ready to return. If some of you want to go back early, just let the drivers know. They will take you to the inn and return for the rest of us.”

  They climbed down and trudged up the long steep path. At the top, stood a tall opening, carved into the rock, as if beckoning them to enter.

  Beside him, Ailie stared at the entrance.

  “You don’t fear the ghosts, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s just that I’ve not seen Dunnottar in winter. ’Tis different with all the snow, colder and more forbidding than in summer.”

  They entered an arched stone passage, musty with age. Nash had the sense the tunnel slanting upward was taking them to another time. At the end of the passage, they encountered another gate that opened to the castle area where a dozen stone buildings, or parts of them, still remained.

  At that point, the group broke apart, heading in different directions.

  Nash paused to take in the breathtaking sight. At his side, Ailie said, “’Tis as if we have been lifted into the air, suspended high above the sea.”

  He took her hand. “Come, let’s find a building to explore.” He had in mind more than exploration of an ancient ruin but, for his purposes, they needed to be alone and more protected from the wind.

  “The tower house?” she suggested, pointing to a multi-storied building, or at least the skeleton of one.

  “Fine, let’s go there.” As they set out toward the looming keep, above them storm petrels took to flight, the small birds’ shrill cry echoing off the stone walls.

  “Just think,” she said, as he tugged her along, “Mary Queen of Scots walked this same ground.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Considering what happened to her and many of the castle’s ‘guests’, I am none too eager to follow in their steps.”

  They stepped inside the ancient tower house. Roofless, it provided no warmth, but its thick stone walls sheltered them from the wind. For the moment, they were alone and Nash planned to take full advantage. “Ailie, we must talk.” He’d rather kiss her but talking had to come first.

  “Aye.” She dropped the hood of her cloak to fall to her shoulders, giving Nash a splendid view of her glorious copper hair. Then, as if to delay what she knew was coming, she said, “Some of Dunnottar’s buildings are not yet two hundred years old while others, like this one built by the Keiths are from many centuries ago.”

  Nash drew her to the window, an open portal to the castle’s grounds. He could see no reason to delay. “Are you going to forgive me or not?”

  She bit her full lower lip. “Would you ever do it again?”

  “Do what?”

  Her sherry eyes flashed. “Spy… lie. All of it!”

  He stepped closer, placed his hands on her waist inside her cloak and gazed deeply into her eyes, wanting her to see the sincerity of his words. “My days of acting the spy are over, Ailie. As for lying, I did not lie to you. Well, not exactly. I just didn’t—couldn’t—tell you all I was about. The nature of the work required our silence and, at times, the assumption of a disguise.”

  A frown creased her forehead.

  He glanced out the window, seeing only the ruins, the snow-covered ground and the sea beyond. “Once I learned how unjust it would be to return Kinloch for trial, I thought to let him escape. And when you spoke of him as wanting only good for Scotland, I knew you would feel betrayed if I did not let him go.”

  “Robbie was against it?”

  Nash turned to face her. “He was, but I do not fault him. We had agreed to do the job for Sidmouth. I thought to persuade Robbie to let Kinloch escape, but I was not successful. In the end, Robbie paid a terrible price for being more constant than I.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I’ve been miserable thinking you have rejected me, but last night you gave me hope. Forgive me, Ailie.”

  She brought her hands up and draped them around his neck.

  “I suppose I shall have to forgive you since I love you.”

  Their eyes met. “You do?” He felt a silly grin spreading on his face.

  She nodded. “Aye, for quite some time.”

  “Just as well,” he said, more casually that he felt, “because it so happens I love you, too. Might have done since the first time I saw you waiting to meet us on the dock. Or perhaps it was that first morning you taught me about haddies. Or when I followed you into the woods to gather greenery and kissed you. You have a mind of your own, Ailie Stephen, and are not afraid to stand up for what you beli
eve. How could I not love you?”

  Nash bent his head to kiss her. “I love your freckles, Aileen Stephen, every one.” He kissed the sprinkling of freckles on the top of her cheeks and then he took her mouth in a kiss he had waited too long to bestow. At first, their lips were cool from the chilled air around them but, soon, the kiss became one of passion and the blood running through his veins heated as his body melted into hers.

  She welcomed his kiss and, when he slipped his tongue inside the sweet recesses of her mouth, she pulled him closer. He reached inside her cloak to fill his hand with a warm breast, drawing a moan from her throat.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat caused Nash to lift his head. Turning, he saw the Ormonds standing just inside the entrance, smiling.

  Peeling his body from Ailie’s, Nash said, “Time we saw another part of the castle.”

  She nodded and he took her hand and led her toward the door.

  “May I recommend the chapel?” offered Hugh. “I believe it’s one of the oldest buildings and, I daresay, has been host to many a wedding.”

  Ailie felt her face flush with heat despite the cold as Nash took her hand and led her across the castle grounds to the quadrangle where the palace and chapel were located. Even though the buildings themselves were free of snow, a thin carpet of white still covered the ground.

  Nash gave her a wide grin. “The chapel is the perfect place for what I have in mind.” Now that all had been forgiven and they had confessed their love, the whole world had come right for Ailie. “Wherever you like.”

  The chapel, at one end of the quadrangle, was not hard to spot with its arched doorway and window. Unlike the tower house, most of one side of the chapel was missing. She stepped into the ancient church and followed Nash to the far wall, away from the windows and doorway. Sweeping his greatcoat behind him, he took her hands and dropped to one knee. Her heart rose in her throat and tears welled in her eyes as she anticipated his words.

  “Aileen Stephen, I will never be the man I could be without you. You complete me. My heart is yours; I willingly lay it at your feet. Make me the happiest man in all of Britain and marry me.”