Ghosts of Culloden Moor 25 - Kenrick (Diane Darcy)

by LL Muir

  Kenrick

  A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 25)

  Diane Darcy

  Contents

  Quote

  A Note About The Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Quote

  Kilt— ’Tis what happened to the last person who called it a skirt.

  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.

  FINLAY IS NEXT!

  Chapter 1

  “Another shooting star! Quick, make another wish!”

  Allison King managed not to roll her eyes. Listening to her best friend, Tara Romano, had gotten her into trouble since their first day of kindergarten. In their senior year, they’d gotten to know Miss Jensen—the teacher assigned to detention—well enough that they’d served at her wedding reception. Ten years later, they still debated whether that had been yet another punishment, or a gesture of friendship.

  Now they were relaxing at one of their favorite places; a park on top of a hill that had plenty of rocks and trees for the dogs to investigate and several large rocks that Tara and Allison loved to sit against and star-gaze.

  Shaking her head in exasperation, Allison sighed. “I already wished for a gorgeous, fake fiancé. One wish per customer.”

  Tara made a scoffing noise. “Give me a break.” Her drawl was scathing. “You can have as many wishes as there are shooting stars. Do you want a guy or don’t you? Keep wishing.”

  “You’re making me sound pathetic. Do I want a guy?” She snorted. “Do you know what? I’m pretty sure the stars could care less whether I have one or not. I could care less. So this entire exercise is pointless.” Allison leaned back against the boulder, crossed her long legs on the ground in front of her, and linked her fingers behind her head.

  Tara wrapped her arms around her knees and lifted her chin, undeterred. “Do you remember the movie Stardust?”

  Allison was only half-listening as she turned her attention to the two dogs running around in front of her, sniffing at plants, rocks, and dirt. Rory, an insecure Border Collie, occasionally glanced at her to make sure she was still there. “Of course.”

  “And,” Tara’s bracelets clinked together as she gestured vaguely toward the sky, bringing Allison back to the conversation. “Do you remember how the stars were alive; how they were people in that movie?”

  Allison glanced at her friend, not sure where the conversation was going but already starting to grin. Tara would argue for magic until her last breath. “Yeah, so?”

  Shrugging, Tara responded, “So who’s to say they aren’t real? That they aren’t entities like fairies, sprites or genies who can grant wishes.”

  Allison arched a brow and replied, “In the movie, the star didn’t give a crap about what people were doing down here on Earth. Remember?”

  “Yeah, that particular star, but what if you wished on another one and they did care and granted your wish?”

  Allison couldn’t help herself; she giggled and elbowed her friend. “Have you been drinking?”

  Tara laughed. “I had some blue raspberry punch at my Wicca meeting earlier.”

  “Is your tongue blue?”

  Tara stuck it out.

  Allison leaned forward but finally had to shrug. “I can’t tell in the dark.”

  “Way to try and change the subject. You’ve got to let the universe know what you want, or you’ll never get it.”

  “I suppose you have what you want?” It was a bit of a low blow considering Tara dated a new man every week. This week it was an unemployed musician with delusions of grandeur.

  Tara brushed off the comment and raised her brows saucily. “We’re not talking about me tonight, are we? You’re the one who needs help. Make another wish. A real one this time.”

  “Fine.” So, what did she really want in her heart of hearts? A guy to stand by her, through whatever life threw at her. With everything going on in her life, that would be pretty awesome. And if she was going for broke, she’d like someone dashing, handsome, and manly. That would show everyone, wouldn’t it? Of course there was the small difference in the type of man she was attracted to, versus the type she seemed able to attract. The thought brought her crashing back to Earth. “Maybe I’m just too boring for even a fake fiancé.”

  Tara smacked her on the arm. “Bite your tongue! You’re not boring! If you were, I wouldn’t want to hang out with ya all the time, would I? Are you calling me boring?”

  Allison laughed. “Heaven forbid anybody do that!”

  “Of course not. So make a wish, and this time I want you to use this.” She pulled a vial containing a blue, slightly iridescent liquid out of her belt and held it out to her friend.

  Allison eyed the vial warily. “What is it?”

  As if the answer were obvious, Tara rolled her eyes and pushed to vial toward Allison again.”It’s a love potion! I’ve had it warming against my skin so it’s at full potency now.”

  “Eww! What’s the alcohol content?”

  Tara laughed and shook the vial. “Zero. It’s blue raspberry punch. It was freshly charmed tonight, so it’s ready to go.”

  Visibly skeptical, Allison took the warm vial. “So, what? I drink this love potion, make a wish, and all my dreams come true?”

  Tara flipped her hair and admonished, “Sarcasm doesn’t become you. Besides, this is the real deal. It’s been blessed by a white witch and everything.”

  Allison gripped the vial doubtfully. “A witch, huh? Does that mean you’re the one who blessed it?”

  She shook her head and sighed wistfully. “I wish. I haven’t reached that level yet.”

  Allison took the tiny cork off the vial and sniffed it. “It is warm, and it smells good.”

  Tara grinned. “The better to warm your heart, my pretty!”

  Allison smiled at the corny fairy tale reference, then lifted the slender length of glass up to the moon and stars. Squaring her shoulders, she looked toward the night sky. “Okay, if this is the real deal I’m going to lay it all out there. I want a fiancé who loves dogs.” She looked at her two little friends running about. “He must want me, and no one else. He needs to be good with children, and old ladies, and he especially needs to love me like crazy. He really needs to like my house. And I’m going to need him quick for the family reunion on Saturday. Oh, and he has to be way, way better looking than Isaac ‘The Toad’ Miller.”

  “Here, here.” Tara grinned. “Bottoms up, baby.”

  Allison tossed back the flavored liquid and, as she was still looking up, saw a shooting star flare brightly across the sky.

  Tara gasped. “Did you see that?”

  Allison lowered the tiny bottle and looked wide-eyed at her frie
nd. “I did.”

  Tara was practically vibrating with excitement. “That was the brightest one yet—you’re wish is sure to come true now!” She paused for a minute, then turned to her friend as realization dawned on her. “You forgot to mention you wanted a fake fiancé.” She was an absolute believer, so, in her eyes, the omission was a game-changer.

  Warmth expanded within Allison as she followed Tara’s line of thought. After a moment Allison slowly smiled. “Does that mean I’ll get the real deal?” This time there was no sarcasm. She allowed a little bit of hope to flicker to life in her heart, even if it was temporary. There was something magical about the moment—shooting stars and magic potions—and she didn’t want to ruin it. If she wanted to join in the game of make believe for a few minutes, why shouldn’t she?

  Tara giggled, breaking the spell. “If you did, it would let your sister off the hook.”

  Not long ago, Allison’s fiancé, Isaac, or Isaac the Toad as she now thought of him, had left her for her sister.

  “Yeah, that would be a downside, wouldn’t it?” The thought caused some warring emotions inside of her. She hated being mad at her sister, but what she’d done was deplorable.

  “But it’s too late to worry about that.” Tara threw her arms up in the air and her voice dropped dramatically. “Your wish has been spoken.”

  Allison grinned. “It has, hasn’t it?”

  “Now let’s just sit back and see what the universe comes up with.”

  They both leaned back against the boulder and looked up at the stars in silence. One of the reasons that Allison enjoyed spending time with Tara was that they knew each other so well that conversation was often optional. At times like this, when she felt like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, she just enjoyed the companionable silence. Tara got her.

  Allison sighed, eyeing the stars above her longingly. Okay, Universe, if you’re really listening, please, please smile upon me before Saturday.

  Ten minutes later, Allison broke from her reverie and looked over at Tara, who was still gazing at the stars, lost in her own thoughts. “It would be great if the wish really came through, wouldn’t it?”

  The wistfulness in her voice was so plaintive that Tara sat up and placed an arm around her. “Have faith!”

  They stood up and Allison brushed the grass from her pants, a self-deprecating smile on her face. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Tara’s eyes sparkled as she gave Allison a quick hug before heading toward her car. “Call me when you see it,” she called over her shoulder.

  Allison opened the back door of her truck and whistled for the dogs. Within seconds, Rory and Billy jumped onto the seat, tongues lolling happily. She quickly strapped them into doggy seat belts and shut the door.

  She slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out behind Tara as she drove onto the dirt road that led down the hill. At the bottom, they both waved at each other, leaving in opposite directions.

  Even though it was so late—after eleven—she wanted to look in on Checkers, a German Shepherd that landed in the clinic a week ago, so she headed toward the clinic. Starved and abused, Checkers only allowed Allison near her at the moment, but she was hopeful that, with a lot of love and attention, the dog would learn to trust again.

  She glanced at Billy in the back seat. The golden retriever had made such good progress in the last year that it gave her hope for Checkers. If she could ever get her hands on whoever had hurt the dog, she’d rip into them with her bare hands.

  No chance of that happening. The dog had been found under a trailer in an industrial area, and it had taken Hearts of Love, a local dog rescue organization, an hour to crawl underneath and pull her out. Food and water hadn’t tempted her, and a loving voice hadn’t done the trick. They’d had to wrap a catch pole around the traumatized dog’s neck and haul her out. Poor thing. She’d growled and snapped in terror, visibly shaking as she was finally loaded into the crate.

  If Allison had been able to—

  Suddenly, man appeared out of nowhere right in front of her truck. Allison didn’t even have time to swerve; she hit him dead on with the front grille guard. The thud was sickening, and the man bounced off the hood and flew into the darkness of the deserted road.

  Screaming, she jerked the wheel and slammed on the brakes. As the truck skidded, she straightened the wheel and pulled onto the side of the road. Her dogs barked furiously. She slid to a stop in the dirt and gripped the steering wheel, gasping for air as her heart did its best to pound out of her chest.

  Dear, Lord. She’d hit somebody.

  She might have killed someone.

  One minute no one was there, and the next—she replayed the scene in her head.

  She hadn’t glanced away, she hadn’t looked at her phone; she hadn’t even seen him run out into the road. Allison automatically reached into the back seat to calm her whimpering dogs as dread rushed through her. Trying to catch her breath, she threw open the door and stepped into the dark Texas night. There was no traffic, but she realized if she didn’t get to the man, there was a distinct possibility he could be hit again if another car drove by.

  With trembling hands, Allison plucked her cell phone from the passenger seat, straightened, and shut the car door. She quickly turned on the cell phone flashlight and hurried back up the road.

  Using the light, she searched the pavement and, when she didn’t find anyone, hunted down the grassy sides of the old highway. She heard a groan.

  Relief flooded her as she rushed toward the sound, her flashlight casting shadows as she ran.

  There was a lump on the side of the road that was roughly the size and shape of a man. He seemed to be dressed in camouflage, because when her light first passed over him, she mistook him for a rock rather than a person.

  She flung herself to her knees and started to touch him, but thought better of it. What if he was seriously injured? “Mister? Are ya all right? I … I swear I didn’t see you. I swear I wasn’t looking at my cell phone or anything! I just didn’t see you.” She cursed herself for her selfishness. She was making excuses as he lay injured. “Are ya all right?” Belatedly she realized she should have immediately called 911. Where were her brains? In an attempt to sooth the man, she told him, “Don’t worry, I’m calling an ambulance. You’re going to be okay.”

  As she punched in the numbers, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist, immobilizing her.

  “Soncerae?”

  Confusion muddled Kenrick’s thoughts.

  He had hold of a woman. A flesh and blood female with the sweetest voice he’d ever heard and skin so soft it felt like satin.

  She held a light and her face appeared and disappeared before the glow blinded him. He squinted and tightened his hold on her wrist.

  “Oh, sorry.” The light angled away from his face.

  Kenrick was still trying to make sense of the situation. It was dark again, and he could feel dirt, rocks, and grass underneath him. The air was warm and sweet-smelling.

  The lass peered down at him. “Are ya all right?”

  “Soncerae?” He didn’t think it was her, but asked again anyway. He knew it wasn’t his wife. She’d been dead for centuries, as had his son.

  “No, I’m Allison. I’m so sorry, but I hit you with my truck.” She tugged against his grip again. “If you’ll just let me go, I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  He held the lass tight within his grasp, her presence keeping him grounded, present, and among the living. “Is Bonnie Prince Charlie about? I can hardly wait for my time with the man.”

  The woman fumbled a moment, then shone the light in his eyes, blinding him again.

  “Sorry. I’m just concerned that you hit your head.” She knelt over him and began running her fingers through his hair. He enjoyed her touch, the feel of her, even her smell as she leaned over him.

  She smelled of nighttime and sweetness, like a summer night in the valley, when the blooms cluttered the trees, and the br
eeze turned warm.

  He chuckled at himself for waxing poetic in the presence of this unknown lady. Mayhap he truly had hit his head. He couldn’t see much, but to smell again was an incredible gift. Even the small rocks, grass and dirt poking into his back and legs were welcome.

  The light flashed on the woman once more, and this time he noted a mass of silvery hair surrounding pretty feminine features. “Lass?”

  “I’m here. You’re not alone. But I don’t have reception here. Can you please let go of my wrist? Maybe if I move down the road I can get a call out.”

  He didn’t want to release her. He ran his thumb over her soft skin again. “Doonae fash yerself. Just give me but a moment.”

  “We need to get you help.”

  “Nae, lass. In short order, I’ll be fine as a fiddle. Ye’ll see.”

  “Are you Scottish?”

  “Aye.”

  Her question made him realize she was not. If he wasn’t mistaken, her accent was American. In the last decades Culloden Moor had been overrun with her countrymen, sporting a myriad of different accents. “Where am I?”

  “We’re a ways outside of Abilene, Texas.” She sounded concerned and tentatively ran fingers through his hair. “Does this hurt? Can you tell me where you feel pain?”

  Pleasure flooded him as her fingers sifted through his hair and his eyes drifted closed. “Nae, lass. I like the feel of it.”

  She immediately withdrew her touch, and he felt the loss.

  “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  He processed the information she had given him, trying to put the pieces together. If he was alive, it apparently wasn’t yet time to make his peace with Bonnie Prince Charlie. That meant he had work to do here first. The last thing he needed was to be holed up in a sick bed. “Nae, lass. I’ll not let a sawbones detain me.”

  “But—”

  “I said, nae,” he repeated a bit more forcefully. He forced himself to sit up and dizziness assaulted him. He delighted in the feel of it. He noted the moon, the stars, sights familiar to Culloden Moor. Here they seemed bigger, richer, and all of his senses engaged. He heard crickets and scurrying creatures. He reveled in the heat of the night wind, and almost tasted the sights, sounds, and smells of the place. He inhaled deeply and captured the scent of woman once more, but resisted the urge to draw her closer.