by L. L. Muir
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
AIDEN
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor (No. 9)
By Diane Darcy
www.DianeDarcy.com
Copyright This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Aiden: ©2015 by Diane Darcy
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor series ©2015 Lesli Muir Lytle All rights reserved.
Cover Art design by Kelli Ann Morgan
DEDICATION
To Chantel—Quirky girl extraordinaire.
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 Cullen’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.
Book Description
Be sure to read THE GATHERING first to avoid confusion.
Aiden MacGregor gets a second chance at life and finds himself enchanted with the fairylike girl who believes in magic, moonbeams, and dancing in the rain.
Free-spirit cartoonist Zoey Barnes has been waiting for her fate. As a teen her Aunt Thea foretold that the love of Zoey’s life would appear to her—but at 25 years of age, she’s tired of waiting.
Internet dating, crazy cats, and a stalker later, the love of her life finally appears.
She wants forever and a day. Too bad he can only give her two.
CHAPTER ONE
Culloden Moor, April 16, 1746
They broke through the English line to the sound of musket fire and cannon blast. The dull roar of the fighting and dying surrounded Aiden as he tested his strength against a worthy Scots opponent fighting for the false king.
With his usual methodical precision, he blocked with his targe, tilted his dagger in his left hand, and used his size and strength to lift his long sword, slicing and hacking as the space became closer and more limited, watching the fear on the other man’s face as he realized he’d die this day.
He wasn’t the only one.
Gasping for air, he withdrew his sword from the man’s stomach and inhaled the stink of his own sweat, and the blood of the men dying around him. He admitted to himself they fought a losing battle.
His brother Gareth attacked like a demon in front of him, berserking, killing government troops with rage and efficiency.
Liam, their youngest brother, fought at Aiden’s side. He snarled and slashed, his normally smiling face twisted with hatred.
Aiden sliced two men open at the gut with cold competency, but could see Redcoats swarming closer, approaching fast with muskets and bayonets.
He exhaled heavily, then struck fast and hard at the oncoming enemy.
He and his brothers would die this day. There was no stopping it. Too many fought against them. But he wouldn’t go alone and intended to take as many enemies as possible with him. He’d personally drop them at the gates of hell.
The soldiers with the muskets shot and reloaded with incredible speed. Dragoons rode behind them.
Aiden thrust with his sword, slashed with his dagger. He could feel his steel sink deep into another of the Redcoats as the man screamed.
Aiden kept slashing.
He cut, gouged, and tore at faces, necks, arms. Whatever he could reach.
Liam went down first. A musket ball to the chest throwing him backward, killing him slowly.
Grief bit Aiden hard as he continued to fight, knowing he’d join him soon.
Pain exploded in his leg as a musket ball plowed through muscle and bone, crippling him, sending him to the ground. A heartbeat later, a bayonet stabbed through his chest, taking air, draining life onto grass and mud.
Gareth lifted his ax, battling four men at once, a madman, grief stark on his face, his attention torn as he fought back to back with a MacBean, stealing glances at his fallen brothers.
Mistakes had been made. None would end as heroes this day. Not even the victors.
There was a ringing in Aiden’s ears, but no pain. He breathed blood and watched his invincible brother fall, three government men stabbing as another shot a gaping hole in his chest.
Gareth hadn’t believed they could lose. None of them had. With the victories at Prestonpas and Falkirk and even on their retreat from Derby they’d remained heartened, certain of ultimate victory.
He tried to turn his head to see Liam, but couldn’t move. Too many fought to give a clear view anyway, and Aiden, as one of the fallen, was soon mashed into the cesspool of mud, blood, and despair.
So much for invincible. He couldn’t see anymore. Couldn’t feel or hear anything.
“Number 75?”
He started awake.
It took him a moment to realize he was once again buried amongst the bones of his brothers and comrades. He let his noncorporeal self lighten, disentangle from skulls, jawbones, femurs. He floated to the top, to grass, heather, and dark skies—into the half-world they inhabited.
On the moor the other wraiths surrounded the wee witch, Soncerae.
“Aiden?”
Compelled, he followed the young witchling’s voice, floating over grass and through his kindred. When he drifted to her side, she studied him, her beautiful eyes merry, bright with excitement. “’Tis yer turn to go again.”
“I’ll go next.” Liam inserted quickly and wafted to the front. “If Aiden gives his agreement?”
Aiden moved backward, willing.
Soncerae’s face crumpled with anger, a charming sight on one so delicate. “Nae.” She jabbed a finger in the air directly at Aiden. “I told ye that yer the next. This time ye’ll be listenin’ to me, hear?” With a wave of her hand, the witch blew them all back. “No one will be gettin’ by me again, I can tell ye that’s for sure.” She wiggled her fingers, beckoning. “75?”
Aiden floated forward, alone, unwilling to disobey.
Soni smiled kindly. “Now, I know yer’re a bit nervous of what goes next. But ye have someone waitin’ on ye and ye’re to go now before ’tis too late. Ye are a braw lad. I’ve no doubt ye will get the job done.”
“I’m to do a good deed?”
“Aye. I expect great things from ye. Dinnae disappoint me.”
He straightened his shoulders, what there was of them anyway, hoping to please the young girl. He’d make the most of his time, wherever the witch sent him. “Where am I to go?”
She smiled impishly. “Oh, I think ye will quite enjoy where I’m sendin’ ye.” As she said the words a green mist swirled around her feet, her middle, then over her head, engulfing Aiden in its churning wake.
Aiden felt a tremor of fear but tried to remain unmoving and stoic. It wasnae possible. Caught by a whirlwind and a flash of green light, his lungs burned as breath filled his body. His heart pumped blood again, his feet landed on solid ground, and he threw out an arm to balance himself.
A shrill scream
rang out behind him.
~~~
Her fate would appear to her, huh? No, fate ignored her. It was the only explanation.
Zoey Barnes suppressed a sigh as she pretended to be interested in the man seated beside her at the bar.
She could be at home right now, curled up with her cats in front of her little gas fireplace. That sounded pretty good right about now. Her mother sent a facial cream in the mail, guaranteed to beautify her to the point she would attract the man of her dreams.
She could have that on her face.
She could be watching a romance movie with fireplace, cats, and face mask. If she couldn’t find the man of her dreams, she could at least watch movies about others doing so, right? That would be more fun than this.
Instead she smiled as the man beside her continued to talk about himself.
Were all men really so boring?
And really, was the guy’s expression truly as smarmy as she thought?
What was his name again? Oh, right. Kurt something or other. Named after Kurt Cobain, which was just wrong on so many levels, because when he smiled again, and when his eyes dipped to her well-covered cleavage, yes, he really was that smarmy. A man named after Kurt should at least be a little bit cool.
“So, you’re an illustrator, you’re single, a Libra, and you have two cats. And did I mention that you are simply beautiful?”
She dropped her gaze and stirred the ice cubes in her drink with her little straw. “Thank you. Again.” And thanks, chum, for summing my life up in a single sentence. Her mom and dad would love that. And her brother would laugh, or punch the guy in the face, depending on his mood.
She suppressed another sigh. True love wasn’t supposed to be this hard.
Kurt lifted a hand to caress her shoulder and she barely managed to hold still. This was just getting ridiculous.
True love was supposed to be flowers and rainbows and dancing in the rain. Not sitting on a bar stool talking to a creep. If she wanted a creep, she could go find her former boyfriend and sit with him. She was ashamed to remember how his good looks had sucked her in. For a while, anyway. The guy sitting next to her was definitely not her type. His aura was predominately red. Too bad you couldn’t spot that on a dating website.
She considered excusing herself to go to the little girl’s room, then sneaking out the back door.
She quickly discarded the notion and decided honesty was the way to go. She didn’t want to deal with his emails later. What happened? Where did you go? Or even nastier comments. You—insert expletive—I can’t believe you sneaked out on me like that!
They were on the same dating website, and she liked that website, and her optimism had led her to give him her email address. When would she learn? She could always block him though.
She was simply glad she’d stuck to her guns and hadn’t given out her phone number or address, and insisted on a rendezvous at Jimmy’s for the meet and greet.
Jimmy dried a glass and watched her, a knowing look in his eyes. She grimaced at him. If he was hoping for another show, he was out of luck. She’d learned her lesson.
Claiming she’d just realized she was more interested in women than men hadn’t worked out well in the past. The guy hadn’t minded in the least. Claiming, I’m sorry it’s not you, it’s me, had been a disaster. At this point everyone knew it was them. Pretending she was simply trying to make a boyfriend jealous had been disastrous! And trying to become the ditchee by giggling like an idiot hadn’t worked. The guy had liked it. This guy probably would too.
So, she was going to have to go with the honesty thing. Blunt honesty. It was the only way she’d keep her self-respect anyway.
Time to cut and bail. She hated this part. In a practiced gesture she slid off the barstool and placed money on the bar.
Kurt waved his hand. “ Oh no, don’t you worry about it, babe. I’ve got it.”
“Yeah, no thank you. I just don’t see this working out, so I’d prefer to buy my own drink. Thank you for meeting me here, and—” and what? And have a nice life? And don’t contact me again? She watched the man’s face harden. She really hated this part.
“What’s the deal? You’re too good for me?”
She exhaled. Did all men have to have that exact line memorized? It didn’t matter how many times she heard it, it still made her uncomfortable and cringe. “Chill out. We met to see if we’re compatible, and in my opinion we’re not.”
As she turned away, he grabbed her arm. Her brother had taught her a long time ago how to escape a hold like that, so before the guy had a firm grip, she was free.
He stared at his empty hand. She understood. She was slender and blonde, and he was big and strong.
“Let me at least walk you to your car.”
She knew she should consider the offer a gentlemanly one, but past experience had taught her not to let creeps get her alone. Anyway, she didn’t have a car. “No thanks. Have a good one.”
The nasty name he called after her let her know she’d made the right choice. She refused to glance over her shoulder though she felt a little chill at the back of her neck.
How many of these meet and greets could she tolerate? Why did the men she chose always look so good on instant messaging? She might be able to weed out some of them if she were willing to chat on the phone, but no. She didn’t want to give out her number, and figured a face-to-face greeting would tell her more anyway. It was the only way she could read auras.
But how many of these could she take?
When she’d been sixteen her aunt, a fortuneteller extraordinaire, had assured her true love was on its way. That her fate would appear to her.
Well, she’d waited until she was twenty-five years old, and true love had not come knocking on her door. To be perfectly honest, she was a little miffed about the whole thing. Aunt Thea was known for being correct about the fortunes she read. She was not only a local phenomenon, but people drove for miles around to get their tea leaves read, and Aunt Thea made a fortune doing it.
So why hadn’t she gotten Zoey’s right?
Aunt Thea had tried to get Zoey to stay in Harmony Falls. They all had—Mom, Dad, her brother River. But she hadn’t been willing to wait a minute longer. Growing up in an artistic community had been great, but the dating pool was limited. She’d spent nine years selling illustrations to tourists, drawing funny portraits, and working in her parents’ store, Herbal Harmony—all the while waiting for Prince Charming to show up.
He never did.
Her fate would appear to her. Ha!
She headed toward the front doors, and when a beefy hand didn’t land on her shoulder, she was relieved.
She walked out into the cool crisp Seattle night and started down the sidewalk. She didn’t live far, which was why she chose Jimmy’s. She made it as far as the little corner store when she was grabbed and dragged into an alley.
She screamed, part fear and part rage. If this was her fate, it sucked.
~~~
Aiden spun around, blade in hand. Dizziness assailed him, strange noises assaulted, and his stomach roiled. He blinked to clear his vision, but realized he couldn’t blink away darkness and was thankful for the small bits of light coming from the tops of nearby poles.
The stench hit him next, and he swallowed against nausea. Another scream, a woman’s, cut short.
His vision adjusted to the dim light and he glimpsed a small wisp of a girl, between two buildings, fighting off an attacker.
Realization slammed him all at once. He was there to do a good deed. And right in front of him was a villain attacking a girl. He didn’t need to be shown twice.
He surged forward across smooth, hard packed dirt. No, not dirt. Asphalt. They’d all been very interested in the stuff when they laid the parking lot at Culloden Moor. His feet became steadier as he neared the grappling couple before him.
“Here now, by all the saints and the virgin, what is goin’ on?”
The man, still grasping the girl, gla
nced up and dim light from atop a pole illuminated his face, or what there was of it.
Aiden stumbled, slowed. The man was part snake! His head was smooth, black, hairless. And he had slits for eyes, and a slit for a mouth. He was some type of monster.
Chills ran up Aiden’s body. Of course, they’d occasionally seen films in the middle of the night. A guard at the visitor center had been particularly fond of documentaries featuring vampires and werewolves and even aliens. But Aiden had never known such a creature as this could exist.
The girl continued to struggle, and Aiden was ashamed of his momentary hesitation. He’d slain worse than monsters and feared not snakes. He rushed forward, releasing a battle cry, rusty from centuries of enforced silence. My life for hers.
Surprisingly, the monster jumped back, let the girl go, and fled.
Aiden caught the girl in one arm as she stumbled, and the monster jumped into an automobile. A big square one, without windows, the kind repairmen or deliverymen used.
“This isn’t the end of this!” screamed the snake in a man’s voice.
Sweating, unnerved by the confrontation, Aiden sheathed his knife and lifted the girl into his arms, cradling her as she whimpered. She clung to him, sobbing, no doubt relieved at the human contact after such a foul beast had touched her. He crooned at her while enjoying the warmth of her touch. “’Tis all right. I’ve got you now.”
His chest puffed out as his muscles bunched. He felt big, strong, and capable as he held her close. To have routed the enemy so quickly, well, it had to be a record of some sort. Though he did hope the witch didn’t take him back until he knew the girl was to be all right.
She sniffled, and relaxed a bit, as she started to calm. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I… I was so scared.”
He smiled down at her, pleased by the way she cuddled close to him, clung, as if she continued to seek protection. Though she shook slightly, she felt warm, supple, and female. He enjoyed the physical sensations very much. “Think naught upon it. ’Twas my duty, and my pleasure, to keep ye safe and protected.”