Ghosts of Culloden Moor 08 - Duncan

by L. L. Muir

  “Night, Duncan,” Molly raced in her stumbling way to throw her arms around his neck as he knelt to catch her. He inhaled her scent; something fresh and fruity from her bath.

  “Good night to ye, sweeting.” He kissed her forehead. “May the angels bless and keep ye.”

  “Do you really have to go after tomorrow? Can’t you stay with us? Please, Duncan?” She ran her palm down the stubble of his cheek, her lips smashed together, chin jutted forward. “I want you to stay.”

  Duncan glimpsed Lainey, waiting a few feet away, her worry for Molly pasted on her face. “The time is set, lass, and canna be changed.” He tugged on one of her curls. “But I’ll ever be grateful for the memory of ye and ever be wishin’ to be back here with ye.”

  Molly blinked several times and pressed harder with her lips to still her quivering chin. “I love you, Duncan.”

  “Ahh lass,” he gathered her into his arms, feeling himself shatter into irreparable pieces. It was hard to release her.

  He watched Lainey take Molly down the dim hall, into her room. Had it not been for his yearning for vengeance, he’d not have found them. Had it not been for his vow of vengeance, perhaps he’d not be leaving them.

  Soni, ye didna explain the overwhelmin’ price of it all.

  ~

  Duncan looked lost when Lainey entered the kitchen, much the way she’d felt while comforting Molly, trying to explain why it was impossible for Duncan stay.

  Lainey understood it herself. She just couldn’t reconcile her degree of disappointment with the logic of only knowing him a few hours.

  “Would you like some coffee?” She placed two mugs on the counter before he answered, needing to stay busy.

  He folded his arms over his brawny chest, the muscles flexing as he leaned back against the counter, watching her.

  “Aye, if ye’ll sit with me a while. Molly’s asleep and ye’re free now to share a bit of the troubles ye’ve been havin’.

  Her gaze lingered on his chest and arms, remembering what he’d looked like earlier when he’d labored on her fence, bare-chested and gleaming in the harsh sun. His size and power had been startling then. And still was.

  When she turned away to start the coffee maker and hopefully wipe the image from her mind, the power flickered a few times and went out, plunging them into total darkness.

  Lightening flashed, too quick and fleeting to allow any light inside as thunder rumbled around them.

  Lainey listened a moment for sounds of alarm from Molly but heard nothing except the elements doing battle outside and Duncan’s steady breath behind her. “There’s a flashlight in the drawer beside you,” she directed. “And some candles in the cupboard, below.”

  She could hear him opening the drawer and rummaging a bit.

  “Could ye describe, precisely, what I’m feelin’ around for?”

  “It’s just a tiny LED light I use for emergencies.

  “Auch! Ye mean a torch. I’ve seen them used at the visitor’s center, but in all shapes and sizes, over the years. What would yers feel like?”

  Is that where he worked? A visitor’s center? That would explain his clothing. “It’s about the size of a tube of lipstick.”

  “Lipstick?”

  She chuckled. “Here, let me.”

  She moved to his side, listening carefully for his steady breath to avoid bumping into him. The softness of his plaid surprised her when she brushed his hip and she jerked her hand back before she encountered anything else. “Sorry.”

  “Doona fash yerself, Lainey.” His voice was as soft as the breath brushing her cheek. “‘Twas only a wee bit of cloth.”

  It was the first time he’d used her name instead of ‘lass’. She liked the sound of it, wrapped in his brogue.

  Though he hadn’t touched her, she could feel him next to her. His warmth. His size. His—

  The lights snapped on, scalding the room in their brilliance. She stepped back, realizing she’d been nearly on top of him. “Well,” she laughed a little nervously. “Crisis averted, it seems.”

  “Aye.” He nodded, pinning her in place with the intensity of his gaze. “‘Twould seem.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lainey busied herself gathering candles and matches while the coffee brewed, in case the power went out again. Out here the power supply was notoriously unpredictable, even without a storm.

  She poured two steaming mugs and sent them to the family room with Duncan while she set a couple of brownies on a plate. Duncan had eaten two at dinner, but she suspected he wouldn’t turn down another.

  It felt unusually good to feed a man who appreciated the effort.

  “I’d be needin’ to expand my belt, if I stayed here long,” Duncan commented, eyeing the treat.

  The thought that he wouldn’t be staying seemed to hit them both at the same time. They glanced at each other, then quickly away.

  “Lainey,” Duncan drew out the sound of her name as he tugged softly on her hand, urging her to sit beside him on the sofa. “I wish you to know, ‘twould have been my desire to stay, if circumstances allowed, and you wished it, also.”

  She raised an eyebrow, waiting for the, But—.

  “‘Tis as I said earlier. A commitment. A pledge I’m bound to honor in a time frame I doona have the power to alter.”

  Lainey shook her head, wanting it not to matter. “You don’t owe us anything, Duncan. We’re not your obligation.”

  His face twisted. “Aye. Though I wish—” He shrugged and stroked the tips of her fingers, still held captive in his. “Auch. Well. We wilna speak of that.” He released her hand and took up his coffee mug. “Now that ye can talk more freely, would ye tell me about these troubles and who ye think is behind them?”

  She hesitated, unsure if discussing her ex-husband with a literal stranger was wise. On the other hand, Duncan was leaving tomorrow and as far as she knew, never coming back. Would it hurt to see if her conclusions about Mark were way off target? Had she let her personal issues color her judgement?

  Taking up her own mug, she used the distraction of a sip of coffee to clear her mind

  “I’m not exactly sure when they started,” she began, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the mug. “Sometime after Mark and I separated, I guess. He’d been trying to talk me into selling for a couple of years. I refused, of course. He was angry, wanting his investment, in money and time, returned to him.

  “‘Twas a large sum?”

  She shook her head. “No. Just a few thousand he put into improvements when we married. I thought it might make him feel more a part of the place. I was wrong.”

  Duncan sipped his coffee, his expression urging her to continue.

  “It’s a long story, and rather clichéd I’m afraid,” she warned, not wanting to sound either pissy or pathetic. “The judge ruled that he only had a right to his initial monetary investment, and since he’d defaulted on all child support, the money he would have had coming would be applied to that. He didn’t take the ruling very graciously.

  “But, I don’t really think it’s about the money,” she continued. “There’s not enough to matter. I think it’s more about losing. He hates to lose at anything. He’ll sulk for days over losing a card game.”

  “Did he threaten ye in any way?”

  “No, not outright. I’d say he nagged and complained more than anything. But after a while, things began to happen. Gates were left open for no reason; a dead animal in one of the ponds, and recurring problems with the windmill. All things easily dismissed as routine out here.

  “Then they escalated. A haystack caught fire. Some cattle went missing. And suddenly I couldn’t get anyone to work for me. Men I’d hired off and on for years were no longer interested.”

  She set her coffee on the table and wiped her palms on the legs of her jeans. “It’s tough, lonely, dirty work at best. I offered higher wages, as much as I dared, but it still wasn’t enough. I couldn’t keep paying more and risk the cushion I need to run the ranch
.”

  How could she explain the constant worry? “Ranchers only get one payday a year, in the fall when we ship our calf crop. That money has to be managed very carefully to last until the next year.”

  “Aye. I ken,” he nodded. “‘Twas so where I come from.” He seemed lost for a few seconds, before pulling himself back to the present. “Have ye been separated from Molly’s father long, then?”

  Lainey half-laughed. “Longer in theory than actuality, I’m afraid.” She sighed a heavy, weighty sigh that didn’t seem to relieve any of the pressure. “He checked out on us, emotionally, when Molly was born. His physical absences were a pattern by the time she was a year old and we separated just after Molly turned two.” She picked at a small tear in her jeans. “Our divorce has been final for a little more than a year.”

  “And ye’re quite sure ‘tis him making these attacks on yer home and property?”

  “No, not by himself, anyway,” she snorted. “He’s a schemer, not a doer. He’d hire it done. He likes being the head that wags someone else’s tail.”

  “Why? If what ye said is true, and he didna want to stay with ye after Molly was born, nor since, why carry on with pestering ye all these years? Especially after yer divorce? What’s to be gained? Then or now?”

  Lainey raised her face to meet Duncan’s questioning gaze. “I don’t know,” she stated emphatically, lifting the hot weight of her hair off her neck and letting it fall again. “I keep asking myself that exact question. Sometimes I wonder and if I’m just looking for someone to pin it on and he’s the easiest target.”

  “If he couldna pay for Molly’s care how would he hire these…tails, he likes to wag?”

  “He has money. He probably has the first dollar he ever cheated someone out of. It’s just never enough. If he truly is hiring someone, it’s because the prize he’s after is big enough to make it worthwhile.” She shook her head. “Which is why it’s probably not him. There’s nothing on this ranch worth the bother. At least to him.”

  She stood and paced a few steps beyond the sofa, studying the room that represented the labor and sacrifices her parents and grandparents had made.

  “This ranch has been in my family for three generations. They homesteaded it. They lived and died on it, and for it.” She pushed away the emotion rising in her throat. “I’d hoped to hold onto it for Molly, to live on or not, as she chooses, but the legacy belongs to her.”

  She turned back to Duncan and shrugged, “I told Mark I would pay him when I could, despite the court’s ruling. It would have taken ten times that amount to orchestrate all of this, which obviously delays my ability to pay him, so it just doesn’t make any sense that it is him.”

  “Nay,” Duncan replied, watching her. “None a’tall.”

  She threw both hands up and paced a few more steps. “I’ve pondered and puzzled over every possibility I can think of. Other ranchers, random acts, just plain meanness. I don’t understand why no one will work for me. The couple of times I lucked out and found someone, they didn’t last more than a few days. They left and refused to say why.”

  She shook her head, tamping down the familiar frustration. “I don’t know what to think, anymore. All I know is, whoever is behind this, is winning. This is the worst attack, yet. But even if they stopped, it wouldn’t matter. I can’t continue to run this place alone, despite my legendary stubbornness.”

  She turned to him with a futile smile and shrugged a shoulder. “So there you have it. My sad tale.”

  “And these authorities ye speak of? That ye’ll talk with again, on the morrow? They wilna come and help ye catch them, whoever they be?”

  “They’ll probably send someone out to take pictures and a report. But until there is actual evidence of some kind, or a lead to follow-up on, there’s not much they can do.”

  Duncan nodded, his thoughts clearly churning, but he kept them to himself. How could she blame him? What could he possibly say that could change anything?

  She gathered up the mugs of cold coffee. “There’s plenty of clean bedding in the big cupboard in the bunkhouse. Help yourself to whatever you need.” She took the mugs to the sink and pulled the little flashlight out of the drawer. “Take this just in case.” She held it out to him. “The only predictable thing about this place is how unpredictable everything really is.”

  “Lainey, I doona—”

  “It’s late, Duncan, and I’d like to get an early start tomorrow. I’m not sure how these dirt roads are going to be with all the rain. Washed out, possibly. Muddy and slow, for certain.”

  He nodded, continuing to study her face. His eyes seemed troubled with the intensity of the thoughts crowded behind his furrowed brow.

  She shifted a little under his scrutiny. “Thank you, again, for your help today. I…it was nice to have…someone…to…”

  His first touch was a knuckle along her jaw. So light she might have imagined it. Then the pad of a finger beneath her chin before his hand slid, palm open, across her neck, into her hair. She could feel the play of his fingers at her nape, teasing the strands. He studied her face; her eyes, brows, and finally, her lips. He licked his own and sighed, gently, as if finally coming home.

  It seemed a long distance, his coming to her. She must have lifted her face to his, but she couldn’t remember. When she glanced from his lips to his eyes, what she saw there quickened her breath.

  No words came to mind to pinpoint what she felt as his mouth took hers, beyond the urgent need to move closer, deeper into his embrace. His lips, gentle at first, then demanding, drew her in as surely, steadily and boldly as his broad arms.

  When the kiss ended, one painful word slithered between them.

  Goodbye.

  She couldn’t say it. Not tonight.

  She pulled out of his embrace and walked down the dark hall to the familiar emptiness of her bedroom.

  ~

  From the front porch, Duncan peered through the steady rain at the feeble efforts of daybreak to penetrate the dismal, leaden sky. The clouds lay low and dark, reflecting his mood.

  He’d been a fool to kiss Lainey. Hadn’t he spent the night telling himself so? ‘Twas a memory he’d cherish all the long days of whatever hell he ended up in, but ‘twould be a curse as well.

  Laying in the mud and blood of Culloden, with his hatred of Bonny Prince Charlie eating at his wormy soul, was an easier eternity to bear than caring for Lainey and Molly, knowing he’d abandoned them to dangers they could not defend themselves from.

  He’d been unable to make himself go to the bunkhouse last night. He told himself he’d stay on the sofa to be close in case anyone came to cause trouble in the night. It was true, of course, but so was his need to just be in the house near Lainey and Molly.

  One scrawny, rainy day remained to see the threats and dangers removed from their world. He had no idea the size of the village Lainey intended to visit today, but he hoped to track down the blackguard, Mark, and ascertain for himself the man’s intentions.

  Duncan had no patience with the local authorities and their slow methods. He preferred the Highland way. Strike quick, fast and sure. Oh, he’d allow Mark a chance to give a convincing depiction of his innocence, for Duncan was not yet convinced he was truly behind the deeds done to Lainey’s ranch. But he wanted to see the man’s eyes for himself. And even if he was innocent of the dealings out here, he was guilty of turning his cowardly back on Molly. That alone deserved a singular comeuppance.

  Duncan flexed his hands, wondering what was keeping Lainey and Molly. The chores had been done long before daybreak.

  “Morning, Duncan,” Molly cried, stepping from the house with a basket of steaming muffins. Lainey followed with a covered mug in each hand and another tucked into the crook of her elbow.

  Last night’s kiss rose up between them like a ghostly soul from the moor. He could tell she was as uncomfortable as he, and he didn’t want anything to mar this last day together.

  “Let me help.” He took the mug
from her arm and one from her hand and turned his attention to Molly. “I see ye’ve been baking this morning, Miss Molly.”

  “Mama did,” Molly laughed. “But I put jam on them. Strawberry! And that’s hot chocolate.”

  “Ohh,” he raised an eyebrow. “We’ve a fine treat to break our fast, then.”

  “I’ll get the truck,” Lainey stated, hunching slightly as she left the cover of the porch.

  Duncan watched her go, her form fading into the sheets of rain and the shadows of the barn, almost as if she’d never been.

  “Look!” Molly cried. “It’s Patches.”

  Duncan couldn’t see anything. “Where, sweeting?”

  “Over— Oh. She’s gone,” Molly said dejectedly. “She was there, waiting for me to help her. She needed me. She doesn’t like the rain.” Her voice broke, on the last word. “Now she’s gone.” She raised her face up to Duncan. “Is it too late?”

  A ghostly chill skittered up his spine. He shuddered and pulled Molly to him. “I’m sure she’s just disappeared into the barn, like yer mother. She’ll likely be waiting, nice and snug, when ye return.”

  Duncan looked around, half expecting to find Soni. Had she decided to come early? Is that what this odd sensation was about? Were these eerie feelings, ghostly premonitions? Could his time here to end sooner than he’d expected?

  He felt a momentary panic. He wasna ready.

  Lainey pulled the lorry up to the porch and Duncan lifted Molly inside before climbing in.

  “What took you so long, Mama?” Molly asked, clipping her seatbelt in place. “Our muffins are getting cold.”

  “Sorry. For some reason the truck didn’t want to start.” She tweaked Molly’s nose. “Maybe it’s just grouchy in the mornings and doesn’t want to wake up.”

  Duncan couldn’t shake his unease. He felt the urge to touch Lainey, to reassure himself she and Molly were real.

  He stared out the window instead. Mayhap ‘twas just the rain. Or nothing more than too little sleep and the strain of getting used to a body again. Surely, that would tax a man.