Ghosts of Culloden Moor 30 - MacBean (Darcy) Read online

  MacBean

  A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 30)

  Diane Darcy

  Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Up next!

  Author note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  MacBean: ©2017 by Diane Darcy

  The Ghosts of Culloden Moor series ©2015 Lesli Muir Lytle

  All rights reserved.*

  Cover Art design by Kelli Ann Morgan

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  To Alan of the Bute. I thought of you when I wrote this one. It’s probably too mushy for you, but I still hope you like it.

  Quote

  Ghosts never make good liars. Ye can see right through them.

  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.

  Chapter 1

  “Number 53?”

  He did not wish to go. Life, or rather, death, was good. Or good enough anyway.

  Alan MacBean tried to dodge, to hide in the crowd, but his brothers pushed him forward, laughing. He felt bashful and embarrassed, and hoped he’d not hurt Soni’s feelings by refusing to answer her call immediately. But he wasn’t ready yet.

  With his brothers at his back, he faced the pretty young witch who had been so helpful to them all. A hint of green mist swirled about her ankles, and she was looking at him in that excited way she had, her smile so bright and cheerful.

  “Ah, there ye are, me laddie.”

  If he’d a heart it would have pounded out of his chest by now. He was going to have to speak his piece or she’d send him willie-nilly away from this place. “I doonae wish to go. I wish tae stay behind to watch out for my brothers.” His voice was strangled and thick with panic.

  “Brothers?”

  He swished his hand in a circle. He meant the men here on the moor. He hadn’t any blood brothers, never had, but these on the moor meant more to him than if they’d been born and raised together.

  “Alan, ’tis yer turn. There’s nae stoppin’ these things. Ye ought to know such by now.”

  But he didn’t wish to go. It wasn’t a good time to leave the moor. Not at the moment, anyway.

  Feelings of unease … they’d all had them. All felt something bad was to happen, and soon.

  Nae, ’twas not a good time to leave his brothers.

  Some said they’d seen men, dressed in black, at the edge of the moor. They’d had vandals in the past, of course, but it didn’t feel like that. This felt more ominous … something was amiss. How could he leave when there might be trouble afoot?

  If they were vandals, they’d be handled as before. Those who cared enough would frighten them away with mists, cold air, and rage.

  But this felt different.

  Was the feeling growing stronger?

  Or mayhap he was just fanciful. With so many comrades leaving of late, they were all unsettled anyhow. Perhaps change was causing this unease, setting them all on edge like a bunch of flustered youngsters at a dance.

  Still … it wasn’t a good time for him to leave the moor.

  He looked at the tiny witch in front of him and couldn’t quite hold her gaze. He’d never been about females before, in life, or in death. Even with Soni, he’d always stayed in the background, unwilling to catch her attention.

  His brothers, he knew them well. He’d fought with them, drunk with them, slept next to them under the stars. They’d watched out for each other, until finally he’d died with them. Aye, he knew the ways of men, but the ladies—they’d always remained a mystery. He’d not a mother, a sister, or even female cousins to grieve his death.

  The little witch studied him intently. “Why would ye wish to remain?”

  He didn’t want to be separated from the only family he’d ever known. The stress of losing the ones who’d gone before was taking its toll. He’d never in life left a man behind, nor would he in death. If he’d his way, he’d be the last to go.

  She watched him patiently. “Weel, laddie, what have ye to say for yerself?”

  He could tell the lass would stay until he gave his answer. He jerked his chin at her, deciding certainty was the best way to respond. “I’m to stay upon the moor until all others have departed.”

  “Ah, so that’s the way of it.” She nodded as if she understood. “Ye want to see for yerself the men are safe, taken care of. That nae one is left behind?”

  She did understand. Relief flooded him as he nodded once. He’d been a bit happier than some in this place because he’d not a soul to mourn or miss him as most of the others had, nor had he felt the loss of being separated from loved ones. Anyone who’d have missed him, or visited his grave, had died with him in the muck and the mud. He was happiest with his brothers.

  “But what of the task ye’re to perform? Ye doonae seem like a man to shirk his duties.”

  That stung. He didn’t like that at all.

  “Do ye nae wish to make yer brothers proud?”

  Of course, he did. He’d like to make the wee witch proud as well. What if he could be the one to punch Bonnie Prince Charlie into eternity?

  To do so he’d have to leave. But if he left, who’d be there to insure no one was left behind, alone and forgotten? Who’d be there to calm Ronan Finnie when he flew into one of his rages? Or to talk to Niall MacDonald when he sank into the depths, wondering what happened to his girl all those centuries ago? Who would stand beside Ewan MacNabb, his best mate, and listen to his schemes? If he left them, they’d be alone.

  “Alan, I’d heard ye were a fighter, that ye had tenacity, and ye never quit.”

  His fellow ghosts said such things of him? Again, his emotions rose. “What if … what if I was to leave the moor, accomplish the task set before me, and return once again?” If he left and came back, he’d also be able to tell of his adventure, and of what they might face. He’d be able to reassure them, as most were nervous about what lay next. Not himself, of course, but some.

  Soni smiled, and the glow of it, so bright and cheerful, lit her beautiful face. “What of this. If ye still wish to return, I’ll let ye.”

  Of course, he would wish it. He’d wish to tell of beating Prince Charlie. Of making them all proud. Excitement stirred within him. They would all complete their tasks, he’d no doubt of it. The men he’d lived and died with upon this moor had honor, constancy, bravery. He would make them proud in turn.

  When they met up once a
gain, t’would be a celebration like no other.

  Excitement building, he stepped forward, ready to take his place.

  As the witch cast her magic about him, as green mist encircled him and voices called out, he smiled.

  Aye, come what may, he’d do his duty, and then return to his brothers to tell the tale.

  Lilith Clarke carefully put together the appetizers. Oh, strike that—she put together the hors d’oeuvres. Appetizers were for football games. Hors d’oeuvres were for séances. Grandma had been quite clear about that.

  She couldn’t help but smile. The difference, according to Grandma, was in the presentation. Blue cheese pecan spread, chilled artichoke dip, and cucumber caviar rounds were for special occasions. As were the creamy shrimp cocktail, and the variety of vegetables and crackers.

  Some of these dishes they’d never made in their lives, but Grandma planned to go out in style. If Herrick House was to be foreclosed upon, they’d go out with a séance, and food that would be talked about for years to come.

  Lilith opened the refrigerator to replace the sour cream and noted, with no small amount of satisfaction, the little cakes, stacked cookies, and eclairs. They’d be displayed on the sparkling crystal dishes already stacked on the counter.

  Lilith was more than happy to help. Anything to make the transition less painful for Grandma.

  Not that it wouldn’t be painful for her and Olivia, her five-year-old daughter, as well.

  Thinking about her little girl, she glanced about the kitchen. “Olivia?”

  There was no response, but she hadn’t really expected one. In a house this big, the entire place was filled with nooks for forts, bedrooms that could be turned into Arabian nights’ tents, and even a cupboard under the stairs that they’d made into their own haven, complete with pillows, blankets, and a television to watch DVDs on.

  She continued to whip the artichoke dip.

  She’d looked into renting a storage shed the day before. They’d need more than one and the rent would cost her far more than she was able to afford as a chef in Salem, but Lilith wanted to make sure Grandma had room to keep all of her many possessions until she decided otherwise. She might need to ask her parents for a little help on the cost.

  She’d already lined up many of Grandma’s friends and they planned to come over and move them in four days.

  She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.

  She’d already started to pack. Thinking of that, she set the dip aside and sent another folded stack of laundry up the dumbwaiter to the second floor.

  Grandma walked into the kitchen with the family skeleton key around her neck on a long chain, her hair a billowing cloud of white tamed with a multicolored scarf. The heirloom opened every door in the house, and it made Lilith smile to see it. To her, it represented the magic of her childhood, remembered bedtime stories of treasure, and fun.

  No more magic for her. Especially now that she was in survival mode. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  Grandma smiled, and moved to the huge kitchen counter to look at the hors d’oeuvres. “I am. Oh, Lilith these look wonderful! You’ve really outdone yourself.”

  Lilith hoped so.

  She hesitated to bring it up, but thought the subject was better broached ahead of time, rather than waiting until the last minute. “So, have you started to pack?”

  Grandma’s chin rose. “I have not. Because it’s all going to work out in the end.” She scooped a bit of the artichoke dip onto a cracker and popped it in her mouth.

  Grandma’s attitude really concerned her. What was going to happen when the police arrived to evict them? To force them out of Herrick House? She’d pictured the scene in her mind innumerable times over the last few weeks, and it grew more and vivid and horrible every time she imagined it.

  “Grandma, we really do have to face the fact that the house is in foreclosure.”

  Grandma waved a wrinkled hand in the air, unconcerned. “It will all work out—you’ll see. Perhaps today is the day we’ll find great-great-grandfather’s treasure. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

  “Oh, Grandma.”

  “Well, the man did jump off the roof and abandon his family. It seems only fair he should tell us where he hid the treasure before he went.”

  She wished Grandma was joking, but suspected she wasn’t. She knew the older woman hoped to commune with the dead tonight, but since it had never happened in the past, Lilith wasn’t really holding out much hope it would happen tonight either.

  “We were quite rich before Grandpa Herrick jumped, you know.”

  “I know.” She’d heard the story many times in her life. How great-great-grandfather had hidden his wealth and committed suicide, thereby leaving their family in gentile poverty.

  Of course, they couldn’t have been too poverty-stricken, as somehow the preceding generations kept hold of Herrick House. Until now, anyway.

  “Have you considered dating any of the men I’ve mentioned?” Grandma had been pushing her to date—to find a man who would make her happy and save the house in the process.

  “Nope.”

  “If you married someone rich, you could pay off the house.”

  Lilith bit back a smile. “Not going to happen. It’s too late now, anyway.”

  Lilith would love nothing more than to save the place to hand down to her daughter. What was left of it anyway. They’d been selling off family heirlooms the last few years to keep it going. At this point they owed so much in back payments that selling anything more was pointless. They needed a big chunk of change, like yesterday.

  “Maybe I should marry rich, then.”

  Lilith grinned. “You do that, Grandma.”

  “Or better yet,” she replied, “let’s ask great-great-grandfather tonight where he stashed the treasure, and pay it off ourselves. You can start the bed and breakfast you keep talking about, and while you cook, I’ll be the handywoman.”

  “Right, Grandma. I’ve seen you with a hammer and it ain’t pretty.” She looked at the baby monitor sitting on the counter and realized again she hadn’t seen or heard her daughter in a long while. Have you seen Olivia?”

  “I saw her heading up the stairs earlier wearing her superhero cape.”

  They shared a grin. Olivia was going through a superhero phase, and hadn’t settled on a favorite. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, even the Hulk. All were favorites, and all got a turn in Olivia’s role-playing fantasies.

  “Well, I’d better run upstairs and see what she’s up to.”

  Grandma popped another hors d’oeuvre into her mouth as Lilith went out into the foyer and checked behind the huge staircase. She looked into the hidden room, their closet under the stairs, but Olivia wasn’t there.

  She ran up the stairs and called her daughter’s name again.

  Still no response.

  She poked her head into the three bedrooms in use on the second floor and the bathroom, peered up the second set of stairs to the attic, and then looked over the banister. Maybe Olivia was in the ballroom downstairs. She paused and glanced back over her shoulder at the stairs leading to the attic.

  She might as well look while she was here.

  She hurried up the stairs, pushed open the attic door, and her blood froze.

  Olivia had somehow opened the attic window and climbed out onto the roof in her Superman cape.

  “Olivia! Don’t move!”

  “I can fly, Mama!”

  “Olivia, no! Stay right where you are!” she ordered as she rushed, panicked, across the attic toward the window. Horror-stuck, she watched Olivia fling her arms wide and jump.

  “No! No, baby, no!” Abject terror gripped Lilith and she practically flew through the window opening and scrabbled out onto the roof.

  Sick with dread, she looked over the edge.

  In a whirling, spinning, colorful eddy of wind, Alan landed on his feet. It took a bit of balance, hands thrown wide, but he was quite proud of the achievement.

  Hi
s mouth gaped as he glanced down. Feet. Legs. He patted his body, amazed to feel solid flesh, then held out his hands, gazing at the flesh-and-bone fingers splayed in front of him. He took a deep breath of sweet air and threw his hands in the air and laughed!

  He was alive again!

  He glanced around at the beautiful countryside. Trees, big homes such as he’d never seen before, hills covered in grass, green-leafed trees.

  The smells, the warm air, the beauty of it all!

  When he’d tried to naysay the witch to keep from coming, he hadn’t considered how the rush of life and blood and the beating of his heart would feel!

  ’Twas fine, indeed!

  He looked down the hill, and then up again, and noted the trail that led to a grand, though slightly shabby, mansion. The property and grounds were run down and in need of care.

  He pulled in another life-giving breath and let it out again. As he was so close to the place, he might as well go and see what was what.

  Mayhap the people living there knew what he was to do.

  He started up the trail, and considered his mission. The little witch had not been clear in the least. All he knew was he’d a deed to accomplish, and if he finished, he’d get back to the moor that much the sooner.

  Was he to save someone?

  Extend a hand to those in need?

  Fight for justice of some sort?

  He knew not, and continued to the large home.

  There was a swing in an ancient oak tree, and the charm of it made him smile. Toys littered the side of the house, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many children were about the place.

  As he rounded the side, he happened to glance up and found one of the wee children he’d been curious about. A female from the looks of it.

  His brows bunched together. Surely the child shouldn’t be on the ledge like that?