CursedLaird (5 page)

Her
brathair
Ian’s fiancée, Izzy, stumbled upon a
picture on the internet in some couple’s’ photos of their hiking trip through
the Grampian Mountains. It showed a statue in the overgrown garden of this
church. Though it wasn’t a great picture, it did resemble what might possibly
be a cursed brother. After contacting the owners of the picture, they
calculated their route. Unfortunately, most of it would be by foot.

The woman who befriended Akira after she purchased MacKinnon
Castle, May, took her English Springer, Belvedere, and went to London for an
art show. According to an article she read, a private collector was displaying
an entire collection of Irish and Scottish antiquities. In the listing of the
items for the show was a set of statues labeled as the
sleeping twins
.
Akira knew May was hopeful she’d found the youngest of the MacKinnon
brathairs
,
the twins Donnell and Dour.

Akira spun around at the sound of a creak in the castle then
laughed at her silliness. Being a ghost, nothing could harm her any more than
being dead. This edginess didn’t fit her normal calm demeanor. She skulked
about the room then stopped to stare out the window. Maybe it was because she
was alone in Castle MacKinnon for the first time in months. She sighed, taking
in the lack of a clear reflection in the glass.

Only a hazy outline appeared, but she knew what she looked
like. Long red hair dropped to her waist, which had always been a task to
untangle. Bright-green eyes that Gavin claimed couldn’t hide a lie if she tried
would be staring back at her if she weren’t a ghost. Absently, she brushed her
hair back from her eyes then laughed at her absurdity. In her spiritual form,
even if the wind blew, her hair always remained perfect. What had Izzy said
about that? Oh yeah. It was a trick most women would die for. She couldn’t help
but smile at the memory of that discussion.

Ever since Ericka freed Gavin and Izzy freed Ian from the
curse, her spiritual existence had taken a more positive spin. No longer was
she alone in her quest to free her
brathairs
. The castle was filled with
voices and life again after years of solitude and silence. What seemed like
eons had passed before her eldest
brathair
was freed. During those
centuries, she’d protected Gavin until the woman he was destined to love
crossed his path. Akira sighed.
Gaol
, love, played an important role in
their freedom.

She floated from the window and settled her ghostly being on
the settee near the empty fireplace. It mattered none that no fire warmed the
room. Neither cold nor heat normally affected her. Then why did it suddenly
seem frigid to her?

A whoosh filled the room and she sat erect. Nothing appeared
but she sensed something reached out to her. It weakly called her name, but she
could not follow nor could she answer. Her deal with the angels bound her to
the castle and immediate grounds until the last
brathair
was found. Then
she’d seek her rest in the Garden of Angels and not one moment before.

Akira focused on the voice. It grew stronger. Maybe
it
would find her, since she could not leave, if she concentrated on it. Seconds
seemed long before a being formed in the room near the window. This was a
first. In all her centuries of death, no one ever contacted her other than the
angels who wanted to guide her over into the spirit world.

“Who are ye?” she questioned the fuzzy image of the other
female ghost. “And what business do ye have at Castle MacKinnon?”

“I am Mary Campbell of Breadalbane, cousin of the Campbells
of Glenorchy and I have come to seek council with Akira.”

She eyed the other ghost suspiciously. “I am Akira MacDonell
of Castle MacKinnon. How have ye found mi?”

It appeared as if Mary was uncertain if she should speak.
She glanced around the room then back to Akira. “May I speak in confidence?”

“Aye, it is safe. We are alone.” Akira’s curiosity rose.

“I found ye because we are bound by a common thread. Your
husband gave something to mi cousin to hide. Something I took a solemn oath to
protect ‘til it was deemed safe for his return.”

If her heart still beat, Akira knew it would pound heavily
at the moment. “Aye,” she stated softly as she forced the word to form across
the excited knot in her throat.

“Your
brathair
, Struan, has been found.”

Instantly, Struan’s riddle recited in Akira’s head.

Thy mighty Ben Lawers surrounds thee

Four rounded forts protect thy sleeping bairn

Chained within the center floats thy fourth

Safe beneath thy watchful eye of Breadalbane

Rest ye weary one fer yer day of release shall come

Lest nay be the month of one when thy favored fish of
Balloch run

Was Mary of Breadalbane the watchful eye? Considering Akira
had chosen to linger in this world as Gavin’s protector, maybe this Mary had
done the same for Struan. Were they lovers? As women of 1740, it was not proper
to discuss such matters, but being dead, Akira felt that trumped society’s
rules.

“Why did ye protect mi
brathair
? Why did ye not cross
over?”

Mary’s chin tilted and a shy smile formed. “Honor and
gaol
bound mi to your clan.”

“Ye were in love with Struan?”

“Aye, but we never acted on our feelings.” Mary shook her
head sadly as she paused, then added, “I was betrothed to another. When mi
cousin died, I alone knew where Straun lay hidden and vowed to protect him even
in death, which came sooner than anticipated. Mi husband poisoned mi for not
providing a male bairn.”

Akira hugged Mary. “It is a sorry fate ye received but I
thank ye for your sacrifice.”

Mary pulled from the hug. “It was not easy. Though the
angels took pity on the way I died, I had to bargain with them in order to
protect Struan.”

Akira laughed. “So did I. But how is it ye can travel when I
am bound to MacKinnon land?”

“As I said,” Mary replied. “We are tied by a common thread.
Both protect the ones we loved within the same clan. I reached out to ye but
cannot reach out to any other. Mi travel is restricted to ye and limited in
time. I have but a wee few minutes to visit before I shall be returned home.”

Suddenly something clicked inside Akira’s thoughts. She
protected Gavin. Izzy’s mother lingered to watch over her little girl and thus
protected Ian in the process. Mary protected Struan. All were women who chose
to linger to protect a loved one or a MacKinnon
brathair
. Were there
others like them? It warmed her cold, dead heart to know each o’ her
brathairs
may have a guardian assigned to watch over them.

“Where has Struan been found?” she asked.

Mary looked at Akira as if she warred with the decision to
answer. “Loch Tay.”

Akira floated over to the giant map that hung on the wall.
She located Loch Tay and wished she could stick a bright-blue pin in it to show
the others when they returned. She turned to look at Mary. “Who found him?”

“A woman named Caledonia.”

“Caledonia,” Akira repeated on a heavy sigh. “A strong,
Scottish name. A woman given the proper name of Scotland should be perfect to
save mi
brathair
.”

“He has already been saved. They lifted him from the bottom
o’ Loch Tay at dusk.” Mary’s perplexed look made Akira smile. The other ghost
had no idea what they were dealing with in the form of this curse.

“Mary, he has simply been found. Not saved.” Akira floated
in a circle. “It is
gaol
which shall set him free.”

“How?” Mary questioned.

“As ye know, mi
brathairs
were cursed into stone
centuries ago by Hume MacGillivray. He hated mi
brathair
, Gavin, for
marrying Tavia. He issued the curse of the gargoyle against them and imprisoned
them. But the curse was not final. When he realized his mistake, he set out to
find their statues and destroy them. That is why they were hidden. I was given
an anti-curse with which to free them.”

“And ye didn’t. Why?” The judgmental implication in Mary’s
tone irked Akira, but she stifled the anger and explained.

“It was a partial release. I could not in good conscience
release them to suffer a half-life. Man by night and stone by day.”

“Oooo,” Mary sighed, sadness lacing her tone. “It is a
horrid design to this curse.”

“Aye, but there is a path to true freedom,” Akira proclaimed
with a smile. “
Gaol
, love.”

“
Gaol
?” Mary’s brows bunched and Akira read her
confusion.

Akira placed her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “
M’Caraid
,
let mi teach ye the verse of the anti-curse with which ye are to share with
this Caledonia. Ye must teach her to speak it clearly in Gaelic for it to
work.”

“Will it save Struan from the curse?”

“It shall be a start,” Akira claimed. “The rest lay in the
hands of
gaol
. May his cold heart open for the arms o’ love.”

Chapter Three

Caledonia cleaned the statue into the wee hours of the
morning. Long after the others went to bed, she stayed and worked. Something
inside her drove her to continue, until her arms ached and her hands cramped.
She cupped the statue’s cheek and stared at his eyes.

“Oh, if you were real,” she whispered longingly.

Tired fingers traced his masculine jaw then dropped to
linger on his chest, before absently trailing lower. His shirt was tucked
neatly into the waistband of his kilt, which ended above his knee. A belt
wrapped his narrow waist. What looked like a rabbit-fur sporran hung at his
right hip. Solid, muscled calves were visible and she bet if she lifted his
kilt, matching thighs supported this gorgeous hunk.

Not to mention what she might find between them.
She
trembled at the thought.
Don’t go there. You really are suffering from sleep
deprivation if a statue’s making you horny.
Caledonia stepped back but
couldn’t stop her seriously tired perusal of this masterpiece. She’d scrubbed
every section of this creation and studied every nook and cranny. Nowhere on it
did she find the artist’s signature, a date, or any indication as to who posed
for this statue.

Caledonia continued to linger in its presence, even though
her body begged for bed. She shrugged off the tiredness for a moment longer as
she circled the statue one more time, trailing her hand along its fine
attributes. There were no visible flaws in this man’s physique. Strong arms
meant to protect. She palmed his biceps. Massive. Before she could stop
herself, she fantasized about being wrapped in those arms. Warm. Safe.
Protected.

She shook her head and glanced around to make sure no one
witnessed her moment of insanity. Nope. What did she expect? It was three in
the morning. No one else was even up at this ungodly hour. She took one last,
long look at her prize then put her tools away. Dead tired, she locked the side
door to the oversized shed they’d converted into the central station for the
salvage business. Its location at the dock behind their family cottage made it
convenient. She hesitated with her hand upon the outside handle.

Was he safe?

He?
The statue, was
it
safe? she silently
reprimanded.

Normally she didn’t think twice about leaving anything
inside the salvage shed. Something sparked mistrust to skitter across her skin
in the form of chills, which ended with the tiny hairs on the back of her neck
standing on end. Caledonia tried to swallow the unsubstantiated sensation. No
one stole in this village. Everyone knew everyone. They were one big, extended
family. But Kip wasn’t a part of the village and
he
was here. Would he
steal from her?

Again.

Caledonia double-checked the lock as she tried to douse the
flame of suspicion igniting in her gut. Not in her hometown. He wouldn’t have
the nerve to try anything. Rubbing the back of her neck, she decided this line
of thought wouldn’t have occurred if she weren’t so tired. Kip didn’t have the
balls to act against her, not with Abel and Percy as her bodyguards. A smile
upturned her lips and she noted the effort even that small action took. She
walked the short distance across the yard, entered through the back door and
painstakingly dragged her tired butt upstairs to her room.

The quick, hot shower did nothing to ease the ache of her
strained muscles, but at least it removed the dirt and silt. Afterward, too
tired to care or dress, she dropped face-first onto the bed, wrapped in an
oversized towel. Images of him filled her brain. No matter how she tried, she
couldn’t stop thinking of the mystery man behind the statue. Was he a member of
a royal family? What was his place in Scottish history? Was he kind, loving and
passionate?

She bet those lips were tasty. And those hands… Umm, they
probably knew how to touch and tease a woman to perfection. If the size of his
hands were any indication, then his penis probably wouldn’t fail to please,
either.

Oh god, was she exhausted. Caledonia huffed, dragging the
pillow from under the bedspread and tucking it beneath her head. Squeezing her
eyes shut tight, she urged her thoughts to cease. She needed to rest and
thinking of a hot Scottish laird who didn’t exist got her nowhere. Instead it
made her ache for something she couldn’t have.

“Caledonia.”

Her eyes opened wide, but she saw nothing but the bedding.
Cautiously, Caledonia lifted and slowly turned to look in the direction of the
voice. Beside her window stood the female ghost she swore she saw earlier on
the
Marcail Struana
. She sat upright, rubbed her eyes, but the spirit
remained. It didn’t disappear.

The woman floated closer and coolness surrounded Caledonia
to the point she wrapped the bedspread around her to fight the sudden chill.
The woman stood small in size, had large doe-like eyes that were striking in
her petite, oval face. Her hair was coifed in an ancient do that Caledonia knew
from her studies meant she was a woman of privilege.