Page 13 of Only a Highlander Will Do

Good evening, my children. The ghost’s words filled Fiona’s mind.

“Greetings, Mother,” Tormod replied beside her.

He must have heard the spirit’s words as well. Fiona shifted her gaze from the apparition to the man beside her. “I always knew the MacLeod clan was steeped in fairy lore as bearers of the Fairy Flag, but you also have a ghost?”

“Aye. You’re not frightened?” Tormod asked.

“What is there to be frightened of? I find it comforting to know there is some sort of other-worldly space between life and death.” Ulster Castle was said to harbour the ghost of the young wife of the first laird who died during childbed. But she had never seen evidence of such. And never in her life had she expected to be within a few feet of any ethereal being.

Part of her wanted to lean closer and explore, while the other part wanted to be respectful of the woman who had obviously suffered something traumatic if she’d ended up as a ghost. A multitude of questions crowded Fiona’s mind, but she held them back, suddenly feeling like an outsider in this intimate family gathering.

It was all suddenly too much. She needed air and space to clear her head. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “It’s been a long day. Much has happened, and I need some time by myself to come to terms with it all. If you will all excuse me.”

On unsteady legs she walked towards the chamber doorway, and when no one followed behind, she kept walking, not to her bedchamber, but down the hallway to the stairs. With each step her determination grew. On the first floor, she headed towards the back of the keep, to the rear courtyard. She’d seen a sea gate from her window above. With any luck it would be unlocked and she could at least walk along the shoreline and formulate a plan for her future. She had no real options other than marrying a MacLeod. If she escaped and went back to her father, he would only send her back to Alex MacDonald. She had no means to support herself. If she stayed or if she left, she would be forced into marriage.

If she didn’t want to marry either of these men, then her only other choice was to journey to Fraserburgh and beg her own estranged clan to take her into their fold once more. And even then, they would marry her off to someone. Fiona clenched her fists as she continued. It wasn’t fair that women had so few choices in this world other than marriage.

Bathed in moonlight, she crossed the courtyard and followed a path towards the sea gate, when she heard footsteps pounding behind her. Instead of looking back, instinct took over and she lifted her skirts and ran towards the iron grate. It wasn’t until she was enclosed on both sides in the narrow pathway that she saw the chains on the sea gate door. An iron clasp hung down, requiring a key to open the lock. She looked behind her to see Tormod coming towards her. “What are you doing?” There was no anger in his voice.

“I wanted to take a walk along the shoreline.”

Tormod’s gaze moved from her to the gate beyond. “I can understand that sentiment. A walk along the shores of the loch often calms my soul.” He opened his hand to reveal an iron key.

He had known all along this was where she was headed and had taken the time to gather the key. “A walk would be nice.”

He squeezed past her on the narrow path and slipped the key into the lock. A heartbeat later the lock snapped open and the chains were removed. He opened the gate and signalled with his hand for her to go through first. “The loch awaits, milady.”

She brushed past him and took the rough-hewn steps down to the shore. The cool breeze, laced with tangy salt, and the glimmer of the moonlight off the water, calmed her immediately. She drew a deep breath and let all the anxiety of the past few moments slide from her. How had he known she loved the feel of the wind on her face and that the smell of the sea relaxed her as much as sitting amongst her flowers?

As they walked side by side along the shore, Fiona wondered why Tormod had not appeared angry with her for running away from their family dinner. Instead, his features had pinched as he gazed at her trapped by the gate as though he were clearly concerned about her welfare. She cast her gaze sideways, taking in his features. He was at ease and relaxed. He hadn’t lied about the effect of the loch on his temperament. And in the moonlight, all traces of the warrior disappeared leaving behind a ruggedly handsome companion.

Heaven help her, she was letting her thoughts run free. Surely his changed demeanour was a trick.

“I can understand if you were unsettled meeting my mother. It’s not every day one meets a benevolent ghost, or any spirit for that matter.”

“I wasn’t unsettled by her. I’ve always been intrigued by ghosts. Why are they here? How do they communicate with us? What keeps them here? What can they do while caught between two worlds?”

He chuckled. “I’m sure my mother would be willing to answer any of your questions.”

“What about your family? Will they be as understanding of me running off the way I did?”

“No one will judge you, Fiona. We’ve all had challenging days as of late. And, if you’re not used to big, loud family gatherings, that in itself can be a little unsettling.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve dined with anyone other than my father,” she said, latching on to the excuse he’d provided her. She was exhausted and confused by the day’s events, but her behaviour had more to do with the realisation that the MacLeods had not proven to be as villainous as the rumours she’d sometimes heard about them.

Was the same true about the MacDonalds? Tormod seemed to agree with their reputation as warmongers. Still uncertain about what to believe, Fiona lifted her skirt to step over a rocky patch of the shoreline. Instantly Tormod offered his hand to guide her. She hesitated, but when her footing wobbled beneath her, she took his outstretched hand, allowing him to guide her safely across.

His fingers wrapped around hers.

When they reached the end of the rocks she drew her hand from his, flexing it at her side, trying to rid herself of the warmth and safety he’d provided. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, when she realised they were heading towards either the forest beyond or the inlet that carried water from farther inland into the loch.

Instead of heading towards either, he moved to the shoreline and a small boat waiting there. “I want to show you someplace special.” At the boat, he paused. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you inside.”

She hesitated, eyeing the small vessel. “If I do, will you promise I will be safe?”

His features softened with a wry smile. “I want to marry you, not drown you, if that’s what you are thinking.”

Fiona fought to ignore the tug of his gaze. “That is no answer, m’laird.”