A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love (Highland Passions Book 1)

by Madeline Martin

  Then it was dark and strong arms clamped hard around her.

  *

  Gavin had meant to calm Senara.

  But her screams only intensified when he caught her in his arms. A sharp elbow jabbed into him and his hold loosened on her. She quickly darted to the other side of the hall and came up with a dirk pointed in his direction, her body crouched low and tense for a fight.

  Her eyes were wide and wilder than he’d ever seen. They caught his gaze and widened further still.

  “Gavin?” she gasped his name. The dirk fell from her hands and landed with a clang on the flagstones.

  Even in the yellow-orange glow of the candlelight, her face was white, her expression stricken.

  “Senara, what happened?” The hall was warm and the air thick with a suffocating stuffiness. Her candle stood upright on the ground, the wick black from where the flame had been snuffed.

  “Did ye see him?” she asked and pointed behind her to where a stone was missing from the wall.

  Gavin shook his head. “There’s no one there.”

  “No’ now, but there was.” She kept her hand raised and pointing toward the spot in the wall. Her finger trembled.

  The missing stone lay on the ground amidst a sifted white powder. Most likely the mortar from the stone.

  Gavin reached for her and folded his hand over hers. Her flesh was so icy cold, he almost jerked back in surprise. “Senara.” Perhaps he’d said her name too harshly, but an urgency prodded at him, demanding something was not right.

  She looked up at him. Her pupils were pinpricks of black in the sea glass green of her large eyes.

  “Who did ye see?” He worked his fingers over her hand in an effort to warm her. She winced, and he realized her fingertips were all scraped raw. Clearly, it was she who had taken the stone from the wall.

  She was silent for a long moment, watching him warm her small hands. She drew in a long, deep breath and blew it out. “It must have been a play of the shadows.”

  He looked into her face and her gaze slid away. She was lying.

  At least her pupils were of a normal size once more.

  “Did ye pull the stone from the wall?” he asked.

  Her stare swept to the ground. She pursed her lips and nodded. “Forgive me, laird. I’ll pay for its repair with my wages.”

  Her hands were warm now, yet Gavin still held them in his own. Her skin was so silky soft, save for the little balls of calluses where she’d obviously been doing sword work. The idea of her training on a small farm somewhere lifted his lips in a smile. “If ye give all yer money away, ye’ll no’ ever afford Geordie a knighthood.”

  “But I shouldna have—”

  “I believe ye had yer reasons.” He released her hand and found his fingers reaching for her face before he could stop himself. “Though I hope one day ye’ll trust me enough to tell me what’s happened here.”

  If her hands were silk, then her face was gossamer – flawlessly smooth and warm beneath his palm. He curled his fingers around the delicate line of her jaw and she tilted her gaze toward him. Her green stare was so deep and fathomless that he could imagine himself lost in them.

  “I’d left my room to find ye.” She spoke softly, as if she didn’t want to offer this confession and hoped he wouldn’t hear her.

  “Ye’ve found me.” There was an implication in his tone he hadn’t meant. Or rather, hadn’t intentionally meant.

  Where Senara’s cheeks had once been devoid of color, they were now brilliant with it – rosy and warm with the bonniest of blushes. She flicked her tongue over her lips, wetting them so they shone like temptation in the candlelight.

  Gavin had prided himself on never taking advantage of his position with his staff. Never once had he allowed himself to sample the women in his employ.

  Since having met her earlier that day, all he could think of was Senara. The way she smelled like sunshine, the way she laughed and smiled as if she held enough joy for all the world, the way she moved through life without the burden of others’ opinions to drag her backward. His mind ached for more of her conversation and his body burned with a throbbing lust.

  And now she was beneath his fingertips, all smooth temptation, and gazing up at him as if he were the only man in all of existence.

  “I wanted to thank ye.” Her sweet, warm breath whispered over his lips when she spoke.

  God, how he longed to press his mouth to the fullness of hers. He near groaned with the desire to do so.

  “For the heather,” she said.

  Heather?

  She must have caught his pause of momentary confusion, for she gave him a smile, which could have felled a weaker man. “The vase of heather. It’s lovely.”

  Her hand went to the expanse of his chest, small and hot and so damn inviting. “Thank ye.” She rose higher and pressed her mouth to his.

  It was an innocent’s kiss, close-lipped and over far too quickly, but it was the most beautiful kiss he’d ever received. She did this not once, but twice and then lowered herself and stepped back from him, her fingers to her lips.

  “Forgive me. I forget ye’re the laird.” Her brows flinched and the confidence she wore with such ease wavered for the first time since they’d met. “No’ that ye dinna seem to be a laird, only I find ye…that is…ye dinna act as if ye’re better…” She stopped and shook her head with a self-chiding, mirthless smile. “Forgive me.”

  She snapped up her candle and darted off into the dark.

  Gavin stood there for a long time, in the broken hall with the steady glow of candlelight the only company to his thoughts. His lips hummed with the memory of her mouth on his. They’d been soft and lush, more than he’d imagined.

  And he had imagined many times that day.

  It was too easy to let his mind take the kiss further. Imagining the part of her lips, the soft stroke of her virgin tongue.

  He gave a hearty sigh and pushed himself from such thoughts. It was certainly not healthy for a man to stand around in the middle of the night when he ought to be resting.

  He lifted the stone and set it against the hole from where it’d been pulled. It was not easily replaced into the gaping hole. Though considerable mortar showed on the ground below, the stone resisted his push. He pushed the whole of his weight, and only then did it finally glide in to fit flush against the wall.

  He stared down at it a moment and pondered how the hell a lass of Senara’s size could have tugged it free in the first place. No matter. With it fitted so well and being an internal wall, it wouldn’t even require a mason.

  He stepped back to confirm the thought when he almost tripped over something hard on the floor.

  Senara’s dirk winked up at him in the candlelight. He lifted it with a slow grin.

  Regardless of what happened the following day, he now had an excuse to see Senara again.

  Chapter Five

  It had all been a dream.

  Surely it had to have been.

  Though Senara tried to tell herself otherwise, the scrapes and raw pink skin of her fingertips were certainly not part of her imagination or some ridiculous dream.

  But how could something so fantastical have been real?

  “Did ye hear me speaking to ye?” Lady Edana’s voice snapped Senara from her daze.

  “Forgive me, my lady. What do ye need?” Senara gave her a quick curtsey and rushed over to where her lady sat with rigid posture before a squared mirror.

  Lady Edana lifted one of the many glass pots from the littered table in front of her and handed it to Senara to open. Senara complied, using the edge of her thumb and her ring finger to pull at the stopper, the two places most untouched by the evidence of the prior evening’s events.

  There, lying on the table beside where the pot had been, was a simple cross made of wood affixed to a long chain. The kind of chain that might be belted to a monk’s habit.

  Senara jerked back instinctively.

  It was her. The dark-haired woman.
>
  It was Edana.

  Chills prickled over Senara’s arms and left the hairs along the back of her neck standing on end.

  “It’s cold this morning.” Edana scooped some of the murky balm from the pot and spread it over the loose flesh on her cheeks. “Bring me my shawl.”

  Senara turned from her mistress, grateful for the distraction to recover from the shock of having seen the monk’s cross among Edana’s things.

  Balthasar.

  A shiver squeezed down her spine and left her skin dotted with chill bumps.

  It was cold, indeed. As though the chill had only now come on.

  Senara added an extra log to the fire for good measure before grabbing the fine wool plaid for the lady.

  She turned back to her mistress and froze.

  There, beside Edana’s table, stood a man in a brown monk’s robes staring down at an unsuspecting Edana, who continued to smooth the face balm over her worn skin. His eyes were narrowed into slits of hatred and glowing with the same deep, cold gray they had the night before.

  Balthasar did not shift his focus from Edana, not even when Senara approached and carefully placed the plaid over her lady’s thin shoulders.

  Edana gave a visible shudder. “Took ye long enough. Now pass me the blue bottle.”

  Senara glanced at Balthasar before hesitantly reaching for the bottle her mistress had indicated. Before she could curl her fingers around the smooth glass, Balthasar snatched up the cross from the table and hurled it to the ground where it smacked against the flagstones.

  Edana gave a sharp cry and leapt up.

  A cold grin lit Balthasar’s face and he faded from view.

  Edana stared down at the cross for a long moment before turning her hard glare on Senara. “Ye wretch!” She pulled her arm back with the obvious intent to strike. Something dark flitted over her face, and her expression puckered to one of rage. She lowered her arm. “Get ye from my room.” Her voice was low and measured. “I’ll expect an apology from ye later.”

  Senara nodded and bobbed a curtsey before readily complying with her lady’s wishes. The hall was far warmer than the room had been. Her chilled fingers tingled with the relief of it and then throbbed with the ache of her injuries.

  The scent of the noonday meal tinged the air with something roasted and juicy. She would be needed in the kitchens to prepare her lady’s meal specifically, as she’d been told by Edana herself the prior day.

  Not wanting to be late, Senara raced to the stairs and ran directly into Gavin.

  Again.

  Her nerves were gritty, worn down by exhaustion and confusion and, if she were being entirely honest, fear.

  Never had she encountered the strange happenings anywhere else as she had here at Castle of Park. And now she’d once more run directly into the castle’s laird.

  Tears grew hot in her eyes, and she quickly turned her gaze downward to blink them away.

  “I was hoping I’d see ye.” Gavin’s voice was gentle, not at all upset with her folly at running into him once more.

  She looked up and found him smiling down at her. There was a softness to his brown eyes, which smoothed away everything ragged in her soul.

  He held out her dagger to her, the worn leather hilt facing toward her. “Ye left this. I thought ye’d like it back.”

  Her cheeks burned with the memory of the prior evening. How she’d screamed, how he’d found her.

  How she’d kissed him.

  She took the blade from him as if she hadn’t a care in the world or feared its loss when she’d woken – though certainly she had. “Thank ye, laird. That was kind of ye.”

  His gaze searched her face. “Ye know ye can talk to me, aye?”

  She stared up into his handsome face and tried to keep from glancing at his mouth, from remembering how soft and warm his lips had been against hers. “We’re talking now, are we no’?”

  She’d meant it playfully, but there was something coy and husky in her tone, which made it come out far more flirtatious than she’d intended.

  His lip quirked into a half-smile and now her gaze did fall to his mouth. Oh, how she longed to press a kiss to him once more. Perhaps linger a moment more this time.

  “Aye, lass – we are.” He looked as though he meant to say more when footsteps sounded behind Senara.

  The scant meeting was drawing to a close far sooner than Senara wished it to.

  “I hope to see ye again.” Gavin’s gaze flicked toward the approaching person. “Perhaps tomorrow, around the same time?” He said it with nonchalance, as if his words had not set Senara’s heart racing and her whole body warm with a ridiculously silly giddiness.

  “On the stairs?” she asked, a soft laugh teasing through her words.

  “Aye.” His serious gaze settled on her once more.

  She nodded and the smile returned to his lips. A small dimple showed on his right cheek. She hadn’t noticed that before and found she rather liked it.

  “Tomorrow then.” His stare caressed her face and he proceeded up the stairs.

  “Did the laird need help wi’ something?” Anice’s voice sounded behind her.

  Senara turned and found the red-haired servant staring after Gavin with a hand propped at her waist.

  “It’s been handled, but thank ye for asking.” Senara slipped downstairs before more questions might surface and tried to keep the joy from showing on her face.

  There was something terribly exciting about meeting the laird on the stairs alone, something taboo and altogether very romantic.

  Nothing would keep her from their meeting the following day. Not her lady, nor even the ghost of Balthasar.

  *

  6 months later

  “I want her let go.” Edana’s voice rose in a high pitch.

  Gavin leaned back against the stone wall of his solar and watched his aunt pace the room. Winter was upon them and left her joints stiff, as was evidenced by the uneven gait of her agitated stride.

  “Having a couple items put in the wrong place is no reason to relieve someone of their position.” Gavin tried to keep the patience in his voice, a feat becoming more and more difficult with Edana.

  The cold was hard on her body and only served to fuel her bitterness. At least he’d had no reports of her having beaten any of the servants.

  He glanced toward the large clock in his room and saw the time was nearing noon. While the thing seemed to often border on inaccurate, it was at least near enough to remind him of the time when he would meet with Senara. Neither of them had missed a day, not once in the last six months.

  Edana spun around to face him and thrust one of her bony fingers in the air toward him. “I know why ye want her to stay.” Her eyes glittered with accusation. “Ye fancy her. I see the way ye watch her, like she’s something special.” She spit out the last word with obvious contempt.

  “My affairs are none of yer concern.” Gavin left the warning in his tone blatant, but his aunt did not back down.

  “They are when ye’ve no heir. When ye’ve all but stopped seeking out a wife.” She hobbled toward him. Her eyes were still sharp despite the age withering her thin flesh. “If ye dinna have an heir, yer land and all its people will go to that damned king. It’ll be part of England.”

  Gavin slapped his hand on the flat of his desk.

  Edana’s mouth snapped shut.

  He didn’t want to hear this. He already knew all of it.

  Aye, he had not been seeking a wife. Not for some time.

  Truth be told, he’d even declined a potential match with Seton’s daughter some time back. The lass was bonny enough, agreeable even, and Fyvie Castle was a fine estate far larger than his own. The union would have allowed his land to prosper with the Seton wealth and further backed the protection of his people.

  They would most likely be wed by now, had he agreed. Their attempts at an heir underway.

  The clock was near striking noon.

  Declining the match did, indeed, have
everything to do with Senara, yet he found he could not regret having done so.

  “Ye’ve gotten yer answer, Aunt.” Gavin went to the window and looked down below where Senara was strolling back to the castle from the stables. Her hair was braided back and shone like spun gold in the sun.

  A smile touched his mouth. The lass spent any free time she had in the stable with her horse. Renny had told him she always brought bits of things from the kitchen as treats for the beast.

  “She will be the end of this clan if ye canna get her from yer mind. Ye mark my words.” A slamming door followed Edana’s statement and he knew she was gone.

  Gavin’s chest ached with his aunt’s declaration. There was far too much truth in her words for comfort.

  The clock struck noon and he strode to the door, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He went to the stairs and found Senara there, resplendent in a green dress, which made her eyes shine like polished emeralds. “Gavin.”

  He loved how she said his name, like a breathy exhale of excitement. A glance behind her confirmed no one appeared on the stairs below.

  He caught her face in his hands, her skin still cool from having been outside, her cheeks and lips pink with it.

  He pressed his mouth to the chill of hers. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue grazed his. His body went hot with a fire of lust and he returned her kiss with a passion, which left them both trembling with need.

  Gavin pulled back abruptly and captured her hand in his. The thrum of her pulse matched the frenzy of his own.

  Her chest rose and fell with excitement and her eyes shone with desire.

  He could not kiss her too thoroughly, touch her too much, lest he lose control. Each time they met, his hold on restraint became more and more difficult.

  Long after she’d gone, his mind played out their conversations far too often and his body burned with a lust even his fist could not slake.

  He plucked a bit of hay from her hair. The slender stalk shook between his fingers. “We canna see one another anymore.” His voice was deep with desire.

  Senara nodded in agreement and her hands gripped the banister of the stairs, as if she were holding on for dear life.