Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Alexander
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor (No. 36)
by Cassidy Cayman
Copyright © 2018 Cassidy Cayman
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Series © 2015 Lesli Muir Lytle
All rights reserved
Cover art by Kelli Ann Morgan
A NOTE ABOUT THE SERIES
Although the individual stories of Culloden’s 79 need not be read in order, The Gathering should be read first to understand what’s going on between the Muir Witch and these Highlanders from 1746.
The names of Culloden’s 79 are historically accurate in that we have only used 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 coincidental.
Chapter 1
Mia couldn’t find her skirt. She definitely unpacked it the night before so it would be all ready for her interview today. The blouse was still hanging where she left it but the skirt was gone. She was trying desperately not to swear these days, even in her mind. It set a bad example for her six-year-old son who’d unloaded an unsavory word in the taxi from the train station just a few days ago.
She hadn’t cared for the raised eyebrow the driver gave her in the rearview but knew exactly where Kevin had heard the word. She hadn’t liked spending the money for the taxi either, but it was the only means of getting from the train station to her new tiny town of Castle on Hill, way, way in the highlands of Scotland. Far, far away from civilization.
Or so she thought. While it was certainly a very small town, the friendly, outgoing nature of everyone who lived there made it seem much bigger. She’d already met her next door neighbors, a sweet couple named Sam and Evie who were around her age and had two little ones.
They not only told her about the job opening at the town’s historical museum, but had recommended a few babysitters to her as well. And before Mia could even wander around and find the museum, Evie came knocking on her door once again to tell her she’d set her up an interview.
“Padma runs the place with an iron fist but she’s all right once you get to know her. It’s only part time but it’s better than nothing, right? At least until something else comes up. Oh, you have the same linoleum as us, only ours is yellow.”
Mia had been taken aback at the robust American. Tall and redheaded, her eyes taking in every aspect of her messy, unpacked house, she rattled off more information about Castle on Hill than Mia could possibly remember. But as grateful as she was for the job interview, she wasn’t used to people being so nice to her. It rather unsettled her.
“Mellie’s our number one babysitter,” Evie continued. “But she’s applying to medical school so she’s hardly ever available. I’ll give you Mrs. Croft’s number as well. She’s up the street and is a bit strict but she’ll make cookies if you have the ingredients, so that’s always a plus. Oh, and Shane! Don’t let his looks fool you, he’s an angel. The last time he sat for us, my eldest, Magnus, actually cried when he left.”
Mia had barely been in her new home three days and she already had a job interview, a babysitter, and four invitations to supper from people on her tidy little lane. She was sure they were all dying to know why she’d come to their quiet little town. And she was also sure they wouldn’t actually die when she didn’t tell them.
“Kev, where’s Mummy’s skirt?” she hollered, padding along the hallway in her robe.
“Don’t know,” her precocious son answered from his room.
It was the only room in the house that was anywhere near fully unpacked and set up. It was bad enough they had to leave their old house so suddenly, but this new place was about a third of the size. She didn’t want him to think it was a punishment so made sure finding his toys in all her hurriedly packed crap was a top priority.
“Do you want to play under my tent?” he asked as she walked past his doorway. “I’m preparing my men for battle.”
She stopped to admire the blanket fort he’d made. It stretched all the way from his bedpost to his closet and even had a jaunty blue flag hanging from a cricket bat.
“Kevin!” she said, grabbing the flag. Which was also her skirt. “I just asked you if you knew where this was.”
He blinked owlishly behind his little round glasses. Oh, she did love him so. But he’d wrinkled up her skirt so she had to be firm.
“Oh, there’s your skirt, mum,” he said with a big gap-toothed grin.
She sighed and ruffled his sandy hair, not wanting to get into it with him minutes before a new babysitter showed up. The sweet boy had such an imagination, got so caught up in his games, that he probably made himself believe it wasn’t her skirt anymore once he’d strung it up on its makeshift flagpole.
She had no idea if that was his true personality or if he’d been driven to it to block out the bad times. Guilt stripped her stomach raw and she pressed on her middle. She promised herself she’d stop with the recriminations. She should have left sooner, sure. But she didn’t and all she could do was pray her baby didn’t suffer anymore.
Once in her clothes, she realized how late it was. “Where is he?” she said, pacing in front of her big picture window.
She couldn’t wait for Christmas so she could put up a brightly lit tree for all the neighbors on the lane to admire.
“Where’s who?” Kevin asked, a pirate hat rakishly settled on his head.
“Are you a pirate? You weren’t preparing to go into a pirate battle were you?”
“Only to get enough gold to ransom — wait, did you just distract me?”
She sighed and pointed to her nice outfit, only slightly wrinkled. “I have to go to a job interview so you’re going to have a babysitter. At least I hope so. He’s late, darn it.”
“Why do you need a job?” he asked, joining her at the window.
She didn’t know how much more she could sigh without floating away so she refrained. She’d never had a proper paying job during Kevin’s entire life. She felt her fists clenching and slowly stretched out her fingers, wanting to be calm and collected for the interview.
“Money,” she finally said.
It was the truth, after all. Instantly she regretted it. Knowing Kevin, he’d worry they would starve.
“Are we going to go hungry?” he asked.
Yes, just as she expected. He gripped the dusty curtains in his little hands. They’d been left by the previous resident and were a bit ugly, but curtains were the last thing on her list right now.
“Not with all the supper invitations we’ve been getting,” she teased. It didn’t work and she knelt to get on his eye level. “We aren’t rich anymore, lovebug. But we aren’t going to starve. Not even close, okay?”
“We were rich before?” he asked incredulously. “I wish I paid better attention.”
She burst out laughing and hugged him, then saw a man walk halfway up their drive and stare at the house with a quizzical look.
“Thank goodness, Shane is finally here. I have to fly, but be good and do what he says. He’s meant to be heaps of fun, so maybe he’ll help you get your gold to ransom whatsherface.”
“Why’s he wearing a dress?”
“It’s a kilt,�
�� she corrected. “They used to wear them all the time way up here in the north.”
“Can I get one?”
“Maybe. Now I really have to go.”
She kissed him on the forehead, leaving a pale pink lipstick smudge, and raced outside. She’d already been warned not to judge Shane by his appearance, but she faltered a bit anyway.
He didn’t exactly look gruff, but his gaze wasn’t warm or welcoming either. A hint of beard shadowed his chiseled, firmly set jaw. His hair was a mass of dark waves that hung around his shoulders and his deep green eyes seemed to sear right through her when she stopped dead in front of him. He was big. Really big. She had to look up to keep eye contact and when she gazed into those green depths she wondered if she should skip the interview. There was an historical reenactment camp in the woods and he worked at the castle the town was named for, so the fact that he wore a kilt put her off less than those fathomless eyes. They seemed to look straight through her.
No, he had glowing references from not only her neighbor but by his full time employer at the castle. She couldn’t risk losing out on this job or her promise to Kevin that they wouldn’t go hungry might turn out to be a lie.
After a moment of mutual staring, he awkwardly dipped a short bow. “Ma’am, if ye could be so—”
There, he was polite. That should put her mind at ease. “I’m so sorry,” she called. She wondered why she was apologizing to him since he was the one who was late. She hustled to the beat-up car she’d bought the day before from an old man who lived on the other side of the bridge. “Eat what you want and don’t let Kevin climb on the bookshelves.”
It turned out her son thought the empty bookshelves made a very fine jungle gym and couldn’t keep from trying to scale them. She got in the car and slammed the rickety door shut, giving him one last worried glance before backing out of the drive.
She just had to get that job. Her freedom and Kevin’s happiness depended on it.
***
Conall Alexander tried to keep himself from swearing. His granny never liked to hear him use foul language and though it had been well over two hundred years since he’d seen the dear woman, he still tried to keep a clean tongue.
But he found himself in the middle of what seemed to be a small village. He could see a church spire at the very end of the high street he was on and woods as far as the eye could see after that. He knew at once he was still in Scotland, and the Highlands to boot. Bless wee Soni for that. Bless the wee witch for telling the truth of it.
He’d thought he’d walk into that mist of hers and end up in the very pits of Hell. He never could have hoped for Heaven. But Scotland. He’d take that as a close second any day. He was as confused as ever, not having any idea about what to do now, but at least he was close to home.
Someone bumped into him. Not through him, but into him, even going so far as to bounce off him. The man grumbled a bit before looking up to see Conall’s great height and then begged his pardon and was off at quite a quicker pace.
“Ah weel, I hope I’m no’ that frightening to behold,” he said, turning to look at himself in the reflection in the nearest shop window. “Same as always, though have a look at that.” He rubbed the spot in his side that hadn’t been there a bit ago, having been torn away by a cannon blast. He poked at the spot where his broken ribs usually stuck out and it was all firm flesh. “This is a verra nice surprise.”
He took a deep breath and decided to go into the shop and see if there was an obvious reason he’d ended up here. And where exactly here was.
“Welcome,” a voice called, followed by a head popping up above a stack of books. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“Perhaps a history of this place? Or a map? Or a … what are they called, then? A newspaper?”
“We have a weekly gazette. You can get it at the library.” The man said the word library as if it was one of the foul words Conall’s granny would have whipped him for. “But we’ve got a local history section. By the poster of the castle over there.”
Conall nodded and inspected the picture of the castle. The place looked much more vast than the tiny town seemed to warrant.
“This around here?” he asked.
“Aye.” The man put his pile of books down and followed Conall, smiling proudly at the poster. “My wife’s best friend owns that pile of rocks, if you can believe that. The Glens have owned it since it was first built. You can take a tour if you like.”
“Glen, ye say? I think there was a Glen in my line, a hundred years or so back. Sixteen hundred and something, but I’d have to— well, I dinna know who I’d ask at this point. They’ve all passed on, no doubt.” Perhaps he’d ended up here to find out something about his ancestors.
The man looked at him for a moment before nodding understandingly. “Did you just join the historical camp? I suppose I should have known by your clothes. Then you’ve already seen the castle, I’m sure.” He chuckled. “Sixteen hundred and something only a hundred years back. Good show staying in character.”
“I dinna know of your historical camp,” he said, looking down at his kilt.
At least it wasn’t bloodstained. He’d have to mind his words though, and try not to slip up again. If he had a quest to fulfill here, he couldn’t get tossed in bedlam before it was finished. Not if he wanted to beat the stuffing out of the Bonnie Prince. Which he did. Very much. It was time to leave this shop before the man grew suspicious and reported him as a mad vagrant.
“I’ve no interest in seeing a ruin, thanks,” Conall said.
He didn’t want to be impolite but he’d been surrounded by his ruined mates for two centuries. If he had but a day or two in this world, he only wanted to see things that were happy and whole.
“No, it’s just as you see in the poster,” the bookseller said. “Nicer, actually. And all historically accurate. Except the barns, which are practically space age.” The man snickered. “Those horses live better than me, that’s for certain.”
“Horses?” Conall asked.
He thought of his own loyal mount, run ragged on the road from Falkirk. How sure they’d all been of themselves then. His poor Dealanaich had finally collapsed, along with so many others’ horses of Lord Pitsligo’s cavalry. They’d continued on foot, still eager, still hopeful. And then he’d lost half his torso. He often wondered as he walked endlessly on the moor if Dealanaich had become a ghost as well. He hoped not.
“I might be interested in seeing these barns and horses ye speak of. I have a great interest in the beasts.”
“Let me get you the map to the place, then. It’s quite a walk, but there’s a taxi service.” He smirked. “Sometimes.”
“I’ve no fear of walking,” Conall said, glad to have a purpose now. “And I’ve no coin to pay for a map. Just point me in the proper direction and I’ll be sure to find my way.”
That had been more than an hour ago and now he was hopelessly lost. It was his own fault for thinking he could find a shorter way than the one pointed out to him by the man who’d lived there all his life. His granny did always chide him for his touch of arrogance.
The only thing for it was to retrace his steps to get out to the main highway that supposedly went straight to the castle entrance. That thought didn’t appeal.
He knew about cars, had seen them plenty in the parking lot at Culloden. But he didn’t know how fast, smelly, and noisy they were. Every time one whizzed past him, he jumped, not wanting his precious hours off the moor to be ended with him broken in a ditch.
He didn’t like the cowardly feeling one bit. Hadn’t he faced down far worse than a few speeding automobiles? He had. And look where it had gotten him. Wandering a field with half his side missing for so long he could barely remember his own name.
The others only called him by a number, twenty-three. When Soni called his name to signify it was his turn to walk into her witchy mist, he’d stood there dumbly until she rolled her eyes and called out his number.
“Twent
y-three, go and do what ye must, so ye can have yer revenge.”
He’d been nervous, watching the others go and never come back, but the word revenge got him to jump into that mysterious mist. He could only hope his mates had left a bit of Charlie for him to trample.
He was good and lost if he was suddenly surrounded by cottages. The lane he’d turned on, thinking it would lead to the woods, turned out to be a cozy residential street. As much as he hated the idea of it, he was going to have to ask for directions.
He turned to the house he happened to be standing in front of and shook his head at the state of disrepair. It looked much like the other houses but its shingles were askew in some places and missing in others. The shutters were chipped and the roses that grew against the stone walls of the place were leggy and sparse.
The house next to it looked far more reputable, but then the curtains of the sorry looking house flew open and a woman appeared in the window.
His vision had never been affected during all those long, lonely years on the moor and he could see that she was lovely. Quite lovely. And yes, those years had been lonely. It was one thing to completely give up and think he’d never feel a woman’s warmth again, but now he’d been offered this miraculous second chance at life.
“A second chance to complete Soni’s quest,” he muttered. “Not gawk at unsuspecting ladies.” A moment before he turned away, thinking he might shame his granny’s memory if he went much closer to the vision in the window, a young lad popped up at her side. “Ah, and she’s married, then. All the worse for ye, Alexander.”
He still needed directions but he’d have to find another house to knock at. His hopes had foolishly gone up at the merest glance of a fine face. The good Lord only knew what he’d do if he got close to her. He couldn’t risk it.
And all of a sudden she was smack in front of him. Prettier close up, with masses of golden yellow hair streaming down her back and big, blue eyes. He’d grown used to the way ladies dressed in this time, but this particular lady had especially shapely calves and it was all he could do to keep from sneaking another look at them.
Alexander: A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 36) Page 1