Once Upon A Haunted Castle: A Celtic Romance Anthology

by Eliza Knight

At first, he had tried again and then a different ploy to make her fall over him as the others had. Then, when she just shook her head and laughed again at his antics, he changed. It was in that moment of change, when she glimpsed something within him that he hid from most, that she began to fall in love with him.

  The next encounters and interludes together just confirmed it—for good or bad, familiar or stranger, she wanted him to be the one to whom she gave herself, heart, body and soul.

  And now she had done that.

  “I love you,” she whispered as he moved within her. She pushed herself up as though to sit and he moaned then. Now she smiled. “Am I hurting you?”

  He laughed aloud and shook his head, grabbing her by her hips. Now it was her turn to moan, for somehow, somehow, he managed to thrust deeper with just a move of his hips. But, he did it slowly and she could feel as each and every inch of him plunged into her and then withdrew almost to the tip. She was the one to cry out then and she clutched his hips by tightening her knees around him.

  He wanted it slow. She wanted it fast.

  In the end, they both won that battle for their loveplay continued for several hours, as the storm she had predicted would be bad was just that. But in their cottage, closed away from the world, it was just the two of them and, for a while, their troubles seemed to melt away.

  When the morning arrived, clear and crisp and dry, Isabel felt better than she had in weeks. In the dark of the night, they had renewed their vows, one to the other and in the light of day she knew one thing—nothing or no one would ever part them again.

  Chapter Nine

  They remained for one more day, enjoying the lull before the next coming storm that had little to do with the weather on Skye. Isabel remained at the cottage while Alex rode out to see if they were being followed. And to find additional food for the rest of their journey. Once rested, Isabel felt as though nothing could stop them.

  “I have never been past Edinbane,” she admitted as they set out for that small village.

  “Never to Uig then?” he asked as they left the village and headed north and to the west now.

  “Nay.”

  Isabel had traveled over the sea to one or two of the outer islands where her father held power, but never to this other side of Skye. These were heavily contested lands that switched back and forth, from clan to clan, every few generations depending on the whims of chieftains and kings. For now, that part belonged to the MacLeods.

  “You have been here before?” She glanced at his face and saw guilt in his gaze. “What did you do?” He seemed surprised by her question, but then laughed.

  “My brother asks me that question in the same way you just did—expecting me to confess my sins readily.”

  “Do you have sins to confess?” The words escaped before she could stop them. “I have no right to ask that, Alex.”

  “Do not look so distressed,” he said, tugging his reins to slow his horse. Coming next to her, he shook his head. “I may have committed many youthful transgressions, but I assure you, nothing compares to my current crimes of debauching and then stealing a chieftain’s daughter.”

  She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks at the memories of his debauchery with her.

  “But, to answer your question, aye, I have been to Trotternish lands before. My brother and I went on a quest in response to a challenge by our cousins.”

  “How old were you?” she asked as they continued along the road. Alex was a wonderful storyteller and she could not wait to hear this tale.

  “I had about twelve years and my brother three more when we crept through and around your father’s lands to visit the places that used to belong to our family. Have you heard of Duntulm?”

  A shiver raced along her skin at the mention of the ruined castle that faced the Minch. It had fallen out of use and into disrepair many years before because of several mysterious deaths and the stories told about ghosts that now haunted the place.

  “I see you have,” he said. “My cousins laid bets that we could not spend a day and a night there.”

  “And did you?” Curious because she had heard others who had tried and failed.

  “Nay!” He laughed loudly then and shrugged. “Two brave lads, even my brother and me, could not stand up to the spirits that inhabit that place. The shrieks, the cries? Nay, we lasted until sunset before we pissed ourselves and got out of there.”

  Isabel laughed at his honesty over his failure. She could picture two boys trying to be brave and being scared witless, instead.

  “Were your cousins there? Did they witness your. . . failure?”

  “Oh nay, they wisely remained back in Sleat.”

  “And they won the wager? You told them the truth of it instead of embellishing what had happened?”

  He frowned then, an attractive mix of horror and insult and humor, and shook his head at her, denying her accusation.

  “I am a MacDonald and we stand by our word. We may have left out the pissing part, but we admitted our failure.” Another laugh followed. “We made the same wager to them, but our fathers found out. We did not return to Duntulm or, alas, sit much for a long time after that.”

  They continued along the road and reached Uig late the day. As they had in Edinbane, they sought refuge in a secluded place off the road to keep away from prying eyes. For Isabel, it was a chance to become more familiar with her husband before they were forced to meet their fates. As the days passed and as Kilmalaug neared, she wondered if her father would catch up with them before they escaped.

  For now, they were simply two travelers along the roads of Skye.

  The weather that had gifted them with clear and chilly days changed as they reached the place where the road would turn north. A thick fog rolled into place around them and it was nigh to impossible to see but a few feet ahead of themselves. After a few hours of attempting to get through it, Alex brought them to a halt.

  “We have but another hour or two of light anyway,” he said. “I like it not, but we will camp here this night.”

  Instead of being secluded, they were near the road and could see no place to shelter in the mist. The sound of the sea was louder here, so they were close to it.

  “I have no wish to walk over the edge of a cliff,” she said, nodding in agreement.

  Darkness overcame what daylight there was soon after they found a place and Alex laid out some blankets in a makeshift pallet for them. He built a fire for a bit of added warmth, but the dampness did not favor keeping it burning without constant care.

  “Leave it,” she said, holding out the thick, woolen length of tartan she had wrapped around her. “You will keep me warm enough.”

  It took only a second for him to accept her invitation and soon they sat, huddled together, eating what was almost the last of their bannocks. Alex had managed to heat the last bit of wine before the flames sputtered out and it warmed her as she swallowed some.

  Isabel first noticed the woman when the sounds around them stopped. Complete and utter silence surrounded them and neither the sounds of the sea and birds nor the winds disturbed it.

  She did not walk towards them so much as she seemed to glide. At first, Isabel thought her old and wizened, but, as she grew closer, her appearance grew much younger until she seemed no older than Isabel was herself.

  “Do ye seek shelter for the night?” she asked in a soft crooning voice that echoed around them. “From the cold and coming storm?”

  Isabel felt Alex tense as he saw and heard the woman. He slid his hand onto his sgian dubh in an instant, a protective gesture that somehow Isabel knew was not needed. He stood and helped Isabel to her feet, wrapping the tartan around her shoulders first. Isabel noticed the woman’s sad smile as she witnessed Alex seeing to her comfort.

  “Aye, mistress,” Alex said. “But we are strangers here and ken not where to find a place to rest.”

  The woman turned her head towards the sea and stared off in silence for a long moment. When she faced them o
nce more, Isabel could see terrible loss and pain in her gaze.

  “Would you share our meal, mistress? ’Tis not much to offer but we would share it with you if you are in need.” Alex’s brow furrowed but he did not naysay Isabel’s offer. Instead, he reached over and poured some of the warmed wine into a battered cup they had brought and held it out to her.

  “’Twill warm you on the chill night.”

  The woman did not speak then, but only shook her head, declining their meager hospitality. There was a restlessness to this woman, as though she fought some battle to stay here or to go elsewhere.

  “Do you live nearby, mistress?” Isabel asked. “Have you lost your way?”

  Isabel could not figure out what or how she knew, but this woman had lost everything. She doubted there was a cottage or farm she claimed as hers. She wanted to reach out and offer comfort to this. . . lost soul.

  The woman turned sharply and stared in the direction to where they would go then. She gasped and became agitated.

  “Follow this path towards the sea. Seek comfort there,” she said. “Take yer things, yer horses and shelter amongst the ruins. Go now, I pray ye.”

  “Ruins?” Isabel asked.

  “Is that not Duntulm?” Alex stared into the swirling mists but neither of them could see past the woman. Isabel turned in shock as she waited for the woman’s reply.

  “Aye,” she said. “Duntulm.”

  For a moment, Isabel thought the woman’s form shifted and she was harder to see. The strange, thick fog was playing its tricks on them. Then the woman turned her gaze on Isabel and she could not breathe.

  Eyes like the rippling and strange color of the iridescent lights in the winter’s sky to the north met Isabel’s stare. Then, the woman seemed to disappear and reappear several times. All the while, Isabel could not move.

  “Ye must go there now,” the woman said.

  The woman reached out to touch Isabel yet ’twas not a hand Isabel saw. A band of swirling mist encircled Isabel’s wrist. She could feel it as though it were someone’s hand, but no hand sat there. Then, a moment later, Isabel felt nothing.

  “Isabel.”

  Alex’s voice was a whisper though she heard the alarm in it. Turning around, she saw the woman once more standing now before Alex, reaching towards him. The same mist encircled his arm then and he stumbled, as it seemed to pull him from his place.

  “Ye must protect the wee bairn,” the woman said. Her voice raised to a wail now, one that blended into the returning sounds of the sea and approaching storm. “Protect the bairn there.”

  Isabel’s hand dropped protectively over her belly.

  Did this woman ken she carried? How could she? Then, what began as a raised hand, pointing in the direction of the sea, became a bright swirl of fog that drifted against the winds. Alex strode to Isabel’s side as she tried to understand it all.

  “What does she mean, Isabel? What bairn?” he asked.

  “I was not certain, Alex, so I did not tell you. I carry your child.” Joy filled her at the sudden revelation. But how had this woman known?

  “Come, Isabel,” he said. “Grab what you can and I will get the horses.”

  Not a moment later, the sound of approaching riders could be heard. The fog and the sea and the strange crying sounds made it difficult to tell how far away they were. No matter, they were riding fast and foolishly through the fog.

  She picked up several sacks, their food and skin of wine and tossed the plaid over her shoulder. She followed closely on Alex’s heels, not wanting to lose him in the mist.

  “Lady?” the woman spoke from just behind her, scaring Isabel. She turned to face the woman and found no one there.

  “Alex! Wait.” He stopped and listened with her.

  “Lady, seek refuge in the lower chamber. ’Tis drier than the rest.” The words floated around them, coming from all directions and yet none she could find. A strange caress moved over her belly then. “The bairn will be just fine now.”

  The woman now addressed Alex. “Sir, keep yer wife and babe away from the cliffs and windows in the storm,” the voice warned. “And do not leave the castle until dawn. No matter what ye hear. No matter what happens.”

  Something pushed them then. A not-so-gentle nudging by the winds to get them moving. This was so strange and Isabel should be terrified. Alex led the horses carefully along the path they could now see until they reached the ruins’ perimeter wall. He tied the horses there, within the shelter of a half-fallen wall, and then led her down and into the ruins of the ancient keep.

  Chapter Ten

  Alex remembered this part of the structure. Connor and he had made it this far on their quest before being scared witless by the noises that seemed to come from the very stones of the walls. Still shocked and surprised, and more than a bit confused by what had just happened, he wanted to see Isabel safe. Though he should question the strange occurrences and the appearance of that mysterious woman, something told him to do as she bade him do to save Isabel.

  And their bairn!

  Was that what troubled Isabel? He had seen her staring off into nothing and thought she was struggling with pain or the loss of her family and life. Had she been worried about a bairn? And how had she managed to carry it through the vicious whipping she had endured? He had so many questions, but first he must see to their safety for the night.

  He found one inner chamber intact, part of the door even hung from the hinges, so he helped Isabel inside. ’Twas only then that he noticed the candles flickering in the chamber. And the ones along the corridor they had followed went out as he closed, or rather lifted the door into place to block the winds.

  “Did you see anything like that woman here when you and your brother snuck in years ago?” Isabel asked. Her head was tilted and her gaze questioning.

  “That is not the first question that needs an answer, Isabel,” he said, walking to her. The corners of her mouth curved up into an enticing smile and then she nodded.

  “I thought I had lost it,” she said softly. He watched her hand move as though to shield her belly in that unconscious movement of pregnant women. “I bled after the whipping but my normal courses never came.”

  “You never said,” he whispered, lifting his hand to caress her cheek. “I. . . .”

  “There was nothing you could do,” she explained. “Then, as I healed and the fever left me, I realized I’d missed three months.” He counted backwards and smiled.

  “Our wedding night.”

  “Aye, that night.” A lovely blush filled her cheeks then.

  “How did that woman ken?”

  Part of him already knew the unbelievable answer and part could not accept it. Had Isabel seen the same strange things he had? The way the woman faded from sight at times and seemed made only of fog and mist? The way the storm had seemed to wait on her? The way she had known that Isabel carried his child?

  Before she could answer him, the winds picked up outside and a loud and mournful wailing began. His skin broke out in gooseflesh at the very sound of it. He reached over and pulled Isabel close to him when she shivered. If that sound made him ill at ease, the very-human screams that followed and melded with it were worse.

  “What is happening?” Isabel whispered.

  “She is protecting us, Isabel. As she promised.”

  “That woman was not. . . a woman, Alex.” She had voiced what he had not.

  “I think we have met the ghost of Duntulm,” he said, understanding now who or what they had met out on the road.

  If they had not known, the terrible shrieks and screams and the way the lightning crashed in time with the noises would have been a sign of otherworldly involvement. He held her until the sounds ended and the storm blew itself out to sea. After a time, they settled on some blankets on the floor, Alex holding her in his arms.

  Would they see the ghost again? What had she done to those who were following them? As much as he wanted to ken, he did not wish to face her ghostly fury t
o find out.

  The night passed and Alex could not sleep. The revelation of a coming child kept him awake even while Isabel slept next to him. His responsibilities had caught up with him and there was no way he could allow his father to turn his back on them now. He could not. He would not.

  In the next hours, he thought on the arguments he would use to make his father understand, but it all came back to one—they had spoken marriage vows before God that he would not allow anyone to break apart. Regardless of her family or his, regardless of exile or remaining on Skye, they would do it together.

  Just as dawn’s light crept into the chamber from the corridor outside, a milky mist entered around the broken door and formed before his eyes. It was the ghostly woman.

  “What is your name?” he asked in a quiet voice so he did not disturb Isabel’s rest.

  “Agneis MacDonald,” the ghost replied, though whether she spoke aloud or he heard it in his own thoughts he knew not.

  “Why are you here, Agneis?” Souls wandering had a task to carry out or were being punished for some wrongdoing. She began to sob then, a low keening sound that Isabel did not seem to hear.

  “I was nursemaid to the laird’s wee bairn,” she said. “During a storm, lightning struck the keep and I stumbled nearer to the window than was safe. The puir wee’un slipped through my hands.” Tears streamed down her pale, almost-translucent face. “The laird cursed my soul to never find peace since he would not.”

  Pity struck him hard, making his own eyes burn and his throat tighten. Now that he knew about their coming child, he could almost imagine the horror of losing one in such a way. He could understand the laird’s need to strike out. Still. . . .

  “How did you die, Agneis?”

  The ghost began to twist her hands and rock side to side. His question had agitated her greatly.

  “I beg your pardon for asking such a thing of you,” Alex said. “No one should have to think on their own death.”

  Her response was unexpected and almost gleeful. The tears stopped and she smiled at him. She would have been a fine looking woman in her lifetime. Alex could almost see the color of her hair and her eyes.