Highlanders Short Story Collection Read online

  Bedchamber.

  Brianna wiggled out of his arms, not an easy task since her husband’s strength was the source of legends. He was a Highland warrior known for his fearlessness and tremendous strength. But to her, he was a tender and loving man, which made her demand all the more difficult and sounded ridiculous to her own ears.

  “I will not return to our bed chamber until you banish the ghost.”

  Royce shook his head. “There is no ghost.”

  “Then who tugs at my toes at night waking me and moves things around in our bed chamber?” Brianna raised her hand, stopping him from responding. “Do not bother to tell me that the tugs are nothing more than dreams. The servants have been refusing to enter the room, noticing themselves that things have been moved around that normally are not. They believe it is haunted.” She took a breath. “They believe in the legend of the Christmas ghost.”

  “It is pure nonsense,” Royce snapped. “There is no Christmas ghost.”

  “Then find the prankster responsible. Until then I will sleep in our daughter’s bed chamber.”

  “That bed is not big enough for us both.”

  “Then you best hurry and solve the problem.” With that Brianna turned and hurried out of the Great Hall.

  It wasn’t the mumbling oaths that frightened the servants away but the furious scowl on Royce’s face. They scurried out of the hall like mice being chased by a hungry cat.

  He stormed over to a table near the large stone fireplace, plunked himself down on the bench so hard that it sounded as if it would split in two and poured himself a tankard of ale some of it splashing over the sides.

  The Christmas ghost.

  That damn myth had haunted the castle for years. He didn’t believe any such nonsense, though he did recall his mother recounting the tale each year, no doubt fostering belief in it. It seemed every Christmastime the ghost would haunt the laird’s bedchamber. Some servants had claimed to have seen the ghost, though Royce believed it was more their own hysteria that caused the visions. But there were those who claimed to have seen an apparition of a cloaked man.

  He took a generous swallow of ale. The myth was utter nonsense and had grown over the years with the retelling of the tale. It was no ghost responsible for the senseless antics and he would just have to prove it and fast. There was no way that Brianna and he would sleep in separate beds. The idea was absurd and he would never allow it. He grew more annoyed just thinking about it.

  A chatter of voices behind him drew his attention and he swung around. Several servants had entered the Great Hall and stopped abruptly frozen by his feral scowl.

  Royce grumbled, stood, and hurried out of the hall, hearing sighs of relief from the servants as he went. He took the stone steps two at a time and hastened down the hall to his daughter Breda’s room. He entered quietly not wanting to disturb her naptime. She lay on her stomach, her legs crunched beneath her pushing her tiny bottom up. Her black hair stuck out of her head in tufts of soft curls and though her eyes were closed the color was vivid in his mind... a blue as beautiful and brilliant as the morning sky. Even at only a few months it was easy to tell that she was going to be a beauty just like her mother. He tucked the soft wool blanket around her and patted her bottom. He then added another log to the fire to make certain the small room stayed warm.

  He eyed the narrow bed with disdain. His wife would not be sleeping there. The small bed was for Sara, the servant who tended Breda.

  “It will do until you chase the ghost.”

  Royce turned to see his wife standing in the doorway. He went to her and slipping an arm round her waist scooped her up, gently shut the door with his foot, and carried her to the bed. “Shall we see if it will do?”

  Before Brianna could protest he placed her on the bed and followed her down. There was barely room for them to move, Royce sprawled half around her, his feet hanging off the end. She could not help it, she giggled.

  He squeezed her waist playfully. “You would have me suffer to sleep here?”

  The bed protested with a squeak and a crack.

  “It will not hold us both.”

  “And I will not be separated from you.” His hand roamed intimately over her.

  Passion sparked in an instant and though she should have objected she didn’t. She turned her head, her lips finding his and was soon lost.

  Royce kissed her like a hungry man who could not get enough, but that seemed to be the way of it with his wife. No matter how much they loved, he wanted to love even more and she felt the same.

  His hands were soon maneuvering her garments, eager to touch her soft skin, eager to make love with her. She tried to help him but their tight quarters and fumbling soon had them laughing. They kissed in between laughs and their passion grew. Soon their hands turned frantic as did their movements.

  One swift move and Royce was on top of her and she welcomed him… the bed didn’t.

  It splintered in two and they both landed with a thud on the floor.

  “Are you all right?” Royce asked quickly moving off her.

  It took a moment for her to catch her breath Royce’s weight having knocked the breath out of her.

  “Brianna?” he asked anxiously and eased her to sit up.

  Breda cried out and they both turned to see that they had woken their daughter.

  Brianna waved at her husband to take care of their baby while she regained her breath. When she went to stand, Royce’s arm was at her waist helping her up as he cradled his daughter in his other arm.

  Brianna smiled, her daughter’s eyes already closing. “She is forever content in her da’s arms.”

  “Are you all right?”

  She saw the worry in his eyes. He had protected her from the moment they had met and he always would. It made her feel safe and it made her feel loved.

  “I’m fine, though… I do need a bed tonight.”

  “You’ll sleep beside me tonight.” He stopped any protest she would make with a kiss. “I will settle the problem, though I don’t know if I can catch the culprit in one day. Will you give me until Christmas to finally lay this myth to rest?”

  “You must banish the ghost by Christmas Eve for Christmas Day he will once again vanish until next year.”

  “I will see it done.” He was surprised and a bit annoyed to see his wife’s brow crinkle. “You don’t believe me capable of seeing this done?”

  “I wonder.”

  “Wonder what?”

  “How will you banish the ghost when you do not believe the myth?”

  Royce walked in the woods the cold air clearing his mind while his fur-lined wool cloak kept him warm. A trickle of snow had fallen since yesterday, but the gray sky and biting chill promised more would follow.

  Brianna had inadvertently given him an idea when she had accused him of not believing the myth. If the myth was the cause of the problem, then it was the myth that needed solving. If he could prove to everyone that there was no ghost, then the matter would be settled. Everyone’s imaginings would cease and sensibility would once again prevail.

  He had decided that the best place to start was with a visit to the old woman in the woods. She had been around for as long as Royce could remember. He had recalled a time when his mother had taken him along when she had paid the woman a visit. She had seemed old then to him, having long white hair, though he couldn’t recall if her face had worn wrinkles. He mostly remembered her shiny hair and the cakes she had offered him and his mother had allowed him to eat. They were sweet and flavorful and he would have eaten the lot of them if he’d been allowed to.

  The other thing he recalled about her cottage that seemed strange was that…

  He stopped, stared, and shook his head. He had thought perhaps he had been wrong in his recollection but it seemed he hadn’t been. Her cottage looked as if it sat suspended by two trees, though it wasn’t. It was actually built between two trees. It was the few steps to the front door that gave the illusion that it sat suspended. Still,
it gave one pause.

  With quick, strong strides, he approached the stairs. The door opened before his foot reached the bottom step. He would have jumped back but the warrior in him held his ground, though he couldn’t stop his startled expression. Age may have claimed the woman with a degree of wrinkles, but her beauty shined through along with her smile.

  “It is an honor to welcome the laird into my home,” she said and stepped aside and with a wave of her hand bid him to enter.

  Royce nodded and accepted her respectful invitation, his eyes still wide as he glanced over her. Age certainly hadn’t marred her body. She was tall and slender, no hunch to her shoulders but rather a regal grace to her movements. And her hair was as white, shiny, and long as the day he had seen it those many years ago.

  The one thing he could not recall about her was her name. With most of the clan seeking her help he wondered how it was that her name was not mentioned by many.

  Witch.

  He turned his head, the whispered word so strong in his ear that he wondered who stood behind him. And who dared to call her a witch. She had always been known to his people as a healer… never a witch.

  “May I offer you a hot brew to chase away your chill?” she asked and her smile grew. “And perhaps a few of those sweet cakes you favor.”

  “You remember.”

  “You would have eaten all of them if your mother had let you,” she said and pointed to a chair at a table near the hearth, then slipped his cloak off his shoulders to hang on a peg near the fireplace.

  Royce sat. “Why is it that I cannot recall your name?”

  “Most don’t,” she said ladling steaming liquid from a pot hanging in the hearth into a tankard and when finished she placed it in front of Royce. “It is hot. Be careful.”

  “Your name,” he reminded then smiled, “or is it a secret?”

  “The only true secret is one that a person keeps to himself.” She removed a cloth from a plate on the table. “Have as many as you’d like.”

  Royce grinned like a young boy about to enjoy a treat and reached for one.

  “You have come for help?” she asked, after pouring another tankard and joining him at the table.

  “I have,” he said, “and I hope you can help me.”

  “I will do my best.”

  “Would you know anything about the Christmas ghost myth that haunts my castle?”

  “I have heard snippets but no more. Most dare not whisper a word about a ghost for fear the ghost will haunt them.”

  “I have no such fear and it is I who will be haunting this culprit who fancies himself a ghost until I vanquish him from my castle.”

  “You do not believe in ghosts?”

  “It is nonsense. Someone got wind of this myth and perpetrated a hoax for his own delight. I thought to discover the origin of the myth in hopes of proving it false.”

  “Tell me about the ghost.”

  Royce related the toe-tugging problem and objects being moved and told her about a few sightings, and how his mum had experienced the same.

  “It sounds as if the ghost is searching for something and had sought your mum’s help and is now seeking your wife’s help in finding it.”

  “He’ll not be getting any help from my wife. She refuses to return to our bed chamber.” He cringed. He had had no intentions of sharing that information with her, but then she was easy to talk with and, oddly enough, he felt comfortable discussing the matter with her.

  “If he wants her help, he’ll follow where she goes,” she explained.

  “When I catch him, he’ll be sorry he ever began this foolish game.”

  “And if it is a ghost you chase, what then? How will you deal with him? He will not fear you for there is nothing you can do to him… he is dead.”

  A shiver ran through Royce, not out of fear but resolution. “How do I protect my wife against a ghost?”

  She smiled. “You do not believe in ghosts and yet you will battle one for your wife. You must love her very much.”

  “I would do anything to keep my wife safe… even believe in ghosts if I must.”

  She nodded slowly. “Then find out what this ghost searches for and find it for him or he will never stop haunting her.”

  Royce went over the plan again with a group of his warriors as he kept watch on his wife sitting at a table in front of the hearth in the Great Hall. Breda had been abed for a couple of hours with Sara in attendance. She would fetch them if needed. He had made certain that the bed he had broken had been replaced and with a bit larger one just in case, though he doubted there would be any need for it.

  He dispersed his men and approached his wife. She grew more beautiful each day. Her long dark wavy hair glistened from the fire’s light and her stunning blue eyes shined brighter than a spring morn. Then there was her creamy complexion, so soft to the touch. He wondered if it was possible to fall in love more deeply with one’s wife for it seemed that his love for her had grown with each passing day.

  Quickening his steps, he reached her side and leaned down and kissed her soundly.

  Her cheeks flushed red and she hid her face in the crook of his neck and whispered, “That kind of kiss is best saved for our bedchamber.”

  “Does that mean you wish to retire?”

  She came out of hiding, though he much rather her face remained tucked in his neck, her soft breath tickling his skin and arousing him as much as the kiss.

  “I want very much to retire with you but the ghost—”

  “I had another chamber prepared for us.”

  Brianna smiled, grabbed his hand and tugged him along.

  Royce laughed, aroused even more by his wife’s eagerness and rushed to scoop her up and take the stairs two at a time.

  “We’ll not be bothered by ghost or prankster tonight,” he said, brushing a kiss across her sweet lips. “I have two warriors standing guard outside our door and the chamber has been examined to make certain no one lurks in hiding. We are free to enjoy ourselves and you shall have an uninterrupted night of sleep.”

  “Bless you,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Can you not do better than that?”

  Brianna laughed and whispered in his ear and Royce raced up the stairs.

  They wasted not a minute once in the room. Their lips met and their hands were quick to help each other shed their garments, but it wasn’t fast enough. They fell partially clothed on the bed together, their lips sealed in a never-ending kiss.

  When passion could be denied no longer Royce rose up off his wife to rid her of her clothes. His eyes remained on hers as his hands hurried to undo the ties of her blouse. He loved seeing how her desire for him danced like firelight flames in her eyes.

  Suddenly her eyes grew wide and desire quickly vanished replaced by fear… and she screamed.

  “Someone tugged at my toe.”

  He was off her in a flash, reaching for his sword near the bed.

  The door flew open and the guards rushed in swords drawn.

  The three warriors glanced quickly around the room but saw nothing.

  Royce nodded at them and they spread out searching in the dark corners and under the bed. One even opened the small chest in the corner, though it was too small even for a child to hide in.

  The two warriors remained silent, waiting for their laird’s command.

  “No one slipped past you?” Royce asked but knew the answer.

  “No one has entered the hallway,” one said.

  “Remain on guard,” Royce ordered and the two men left, closing the door behind them.

  Royce rested his sword against the wall by the bed, then joined his wife, much too pale to his liking, in the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried herself in the strength of his embrace.

  “Why does the ghost torment me?”

  Was the old woman right? Did the ghost want his wife’s help? If so, why her and not him? Royce didn’t wish to further upset her so he did not tell her about the o
ld woman’s warning. She might do something foolish like try and help the ghost.

  “You will sleep with your feet tucked beneath my legs tonight,” he said. “If the ghost intends to tug toes again, then only mine will be available to him.”

  “I do not know if I can sleep. This troubles me so, especially now that the ghost has not waited for me to sleep but interferes in our lovemaking. What could he possibly want from me?”

  “I will find out and settle it, this I promise you.” He kissed her forehead, then her cheek and lastly brushed his lips across hers. “You are not to worry, I will see this done.”

  They snuggled beneath the heavy quilt after Royce added several logs to the hearth and blew out the candle. He wrapped his muscled legs around her feet, the ghost not able to touch them without touching him. And he swore to himself that he would not sleep. He would keep watch over his wife and keep watch for the ghost.

  Brianna drifted awake and cringed; her feet cramped from the strength of her husband’s legs. She would move them for a minute just to stretch the cramps out of them and then return them where they were… safe and sound wrapped in Royce’s legs.

  Help.

  Did that whisper come from Royce? She looked up from where she rested, tucked against her husband’s chest to see him sound asleep.

  Help.

  There it was again, though a bit stronger this time and it came from the foot of the bed. She didn’t want to look fearful of what she would see. She poked her husband’s chest. He didn’t respond.

  Help.

  She poked much harder and Royce sat up in a flash, taking her with him.

  He looked at his wife and her eyes were so wide that he feared they would pop from her head. He followed her glance and his eyes widened, as his hand reached for his sword, though what good it would do against a ghost he had no idea.

  The apparition of a man stood at the foot of the bed. Tall, lean, fine features, a cloak draped over his broad shoulders and with his arm stretched out and his finger pointing at Brianna.

  With a crook of his finger he beckoned her to him.