CursedLaird (6 page)

“I have come to give ye a message.”

“A message,” Caledonia managed to sputter through dry lips.
“Who are you?”

“I am Mary Campbell of Breadalbane,” she stated proudly with
her chin tilted, giving Caledonia the impression she was considered an
important person in her time. “Ye have found a lost MacKinnon
brathair
.
It is up to ye to free him from the curse.”

Caledonia quickly darted a glance to the bed to see if she
were actually still lying there and this was a strange dream. Nope, she wasn’t
having an out-of-body experience, so this must be real. She pinched herself and
instantly knew she was awake. Staring at the ghost, she stumbled over her
words.

“Whhhhaaat…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Save
who from what? I don’t understand.”

“Let mi explain,” the ghostly figure said.

It settled on the bed beside her as if they were two young
girls at a slumber party and one was about to spill a secret. Coldness wafted
off the spirit’s form in waves. If she’d known company was coming she would
have dressed proper for bed, instead of wearing nothing but a towel after her
shower. Caledonia shuddered as she tucked the blanket tighter around her
against the chill. She did a double take to make sure nothing peeked out from
beneath the blanket.

Not that she was modest or shy. She couldn’t count the
number of times in her life she or the O’Reillys changed in front of one
another, but she’d grown up with them. They were like her brothers. This ghost
wasn’t. From her appearance, Caledonia knew this spirit was old. If she had to
guess from Mary’s clothes, seventeenth or eighteenth century, maybe, but
clothing fashion of the past wasn’t her forte. Kip had handled dating items of
that nature they found. She shook the unwanted image of him from her head and
focused on Mary’s ancient dialect. She didn’t want to miss one word.

“Many years past, a curse was cast upon the
brathairs
o’ Clan MacKinnon. It turned them into stone statues. For their safety, the
brathairs
were hidden so they could not be destroyed. Ye have found the
brathair
,
Struan MacKinnon, fourth son o’ Farlan MacKinnon.”

“Fourth son,” she repeated. Caledonia’s eyes widened as
another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Chained within the center floats thy fourth

Was this fourth son of Farlan MacKinnon the fourth from the
poem?

Safe beneath thy watchful eye of Breadalbane

What did she say her name was? Mary Campbell of Breadalbane.
Was she this watchful eye? This ghost. A forgotten image from her past shot to
the forefront of her exhausted brain as recognition kicked into gear. Caledonia
slid from the bed and spun to face this ghost, this Mary of Breadalbane.

“You were the one who screamed at us in the root cellar.”

“Aye,” Mary simply replied as if it were common knowledge.
“It was mi sworn oath to protect Struan. Ye stole the riddle.”

“Riddle?” Caledonia’s brow bunched. “It’s not a poem?”

“Nay,” Mary answered. “The
brathairs
were separated
and given to different people in league with the MacKinnons to hide. Mi cousin
accepted the responsibility but he took ill before he completed the task. I
stepped into his place and upheld his oath o’ sanctuary for Struan. Once he was
hidden, we were obliged to provide clues on how to find him. It was mi which
chose his location and mi which writ the riddle.”

Caledonia paced. This had to be a dream. Her mind whirled. A
curse. A
brathair
, which she knew from studying Gaelic meant brother.
Brother. Brothers? She stopped and faced Mary, who still sat on her bed as if
she belonged there.

“
Brathairs
as in plural?” When Mary gave her a
confused look, she quickly added, “Was more than one
brathair
cursed?”
She said the word but she wasn’t sure if she believed it. A curse? Really?

“Aye.” Mary nodded. “Clan MacKinnon was blessed with seven
boys. All fell victim to this curse. One
piuthar
, sister, Akira survived
and saved them from destruction.”

“Seven brothers,” Caledonia stated on a hushed breath as she
plopped onto the bed beside Mary. “And this Struan was the fourth brother, umm,
brathair
,” she quickly corrected and used the Gaelic term so as not to
add to Mary’s confusion.

“Aye.”

Caledonia stared at Mary. Disbelief warred with the
incredible information this spectral being shared with her. This was a definite
test of her faith in the other world. Time and time again, she’d fought with
Kip over the fact spirits walked among them. She’d sworn to have seen them.
Even heard them. But never had one sat beside her and held a conversation with
her. Man, would Kip take back every mean word if he could see this.
He
was a true nonbeliever.

But was she truly a believer in the supernatural? Here sat
the test of a lifetime. Caledonia studied Mary from head to toe. Though
transparent, her overall appearance was that of a lady, prim and proper,
perfectly dressed and not one hair out of place. The look in her green eyes
touched Caledonia’s heart.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “You were in love
with him, weren’t you? That’s why you hid him.”

Mary did the first nervous thing Caledonia saw her do. She
bit the edge of her lower lip as if she contemplated her answer. The sight of a
crystal-clear tear slid down the spirit’s face then disappeared. No moisture
hit the floor. No sign of wetness followed its path but Caledonia knew what she
saw. The woman cried for the man she loved.

“Aye,” she finally admitted on a soft sigh. “Mi heart
belonged to Struan. But it was not meant to be.”

“Did he love you?” For some reason she couldn’t explain,
Caledonia wanted to know.

“That is an answer I cannot give.” Mary shook her head. “The
words were never spoken. Struan was a respectable man. We honored an unspoken
decision between us not to act upon the feelings we both sensed grew. It is the
reason mi heart aches.”

Wow. Caledonia was floored. Here sat a woman of pure
conviction and dedication. She obviously loved this Struan. If what she said
was true, then she’d been protecting his hiding place for centuries and for
what? Unrequited love? Words tumbled from her lips. “You did all this without
knowing if he truly felt the same way? You never acted on your feelings. Why?”

“In mi time, much was expected o’ a woman. We held no power,
yet we were traded ‘n’ bartered between clans for better stations in society. A
woman o’ mi position chose no husband. He was chosen for ye.” Sadness tainted
her tone and Caledonia swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She had
no choice. That was unfair. But that was how it was. Caledonia gritted her
teeth at the injustice of the era.

“
Gaol
is a powerful ruler of the soul. When ye find
it, peace will follow. I let the pressures o’ mi family rule mi decision and
did not follow mi heart. It was a wrong that cost mi life. That is why the
angels let mi linger to protect Struan.” Mary touched Caledonia in the center
of her chest. Ice cold shot through her but she didn’t flinch. Something in
Mary’s eyes made her sit still and listen as she continued. “Ye must learn the
anti-curse. Ye must speak it clearly. It is up to ye to set him free.”

* * * * *

Bright light shone through the window. Caledonia woke with a
start. She sat upright, rubbing her eyes. When the clock came into view, she
stopped mid-stretch. Nine o’clock. Oh god, she’d overslept. Never had she slept
this late. Not since she was a teen. Caledonia flipped the covers off.
Something went flying across the room. Her notebook hit the wall with a thud
then slid to the floor.

When she picked it up, she froze. Written in her handwriting
were words in Gaelic. Some she recognized. Others she didn’t. As she straightened,
she read the verse.

Ceum saor de clach

Be Ye Biast air duine

Tis Gaol dara slighe

Ge Ye be mèinne

Dh’oidche mur dh’là

What the… Caledonia’s knees gave way and she sank onto the
foot of her bed. It wasn’t a dream. Mary truly visited and spoke with her. Here
on this page sat the proof. She could have sworn it was a bizarre, complicated
dream brought on by sheer exhaustion.

Maybe she walked in her sleep and wrote this then. After
all, she was overly tired when she went to bed last night. Anything was possible.
She desperately tried to convince herself, but knew the truth. Mary Campbell of
Breadalbane visited her from the spirit world and gave her a mission.

Save Struan MacKinnon from the curse.

Was there really a curse? Was any of this real? Caledonia
sighed heavily as she stared at the words in her hand. She shook her head. What
if this was a curse? What if a man was entombed in a statue by said curse? What
if he would come to life if she simply stated these words as Mary claimed?

What if?
That’s what her life had boiled down to… A
bunch of
what-ifs
.

Caledonia stood, grabbed the robe off the back of her door
and slipped it on. She sat at her desk with the notepad and her laptop. After
logging on, she located a Gaelic–English dictionary. It didn’t take her long to
translate the verse.

Step free of stone

Be you beast or man

It is love either way

Though you be mine

By night if not by day

Cute. It translated into a nonsensical verse. If she spoke
these words would he be free? From the first line, it seemed that was the case.
The second line confused her. Beast or man? What did that mean? After all these
years, could he have turned into some sort of beast? Nah, it didn’t compute. If
he was cursed as a man it led one to believe he’d remain a man.
If curses
were real.
She sighed as a smidgeon of doubt filtered into her thoughts.
Did she truly believe this?

Caledonia read the next line. What did love have to do with
this? Thinking about it, love had a lot to do with it. Mary lingered, caught
between heaven and Earth because of her unwavering love for Struan. Mary didn’t
know if he felt the same for her. According to her, he never actually spoke the
words. But in her heart, she believed he did. Caledonia leaned back in her
chair.

What would it be like to experience a love like what Mary
felt for Struan? She closed her eyes and tried to visualize anyone who’d love
her strongly enough to beg the angels to let their spirit remain to guard her
cursed and trapped soul for all eternity—or until someone found her and set her
free, whichever came first. She opened her eyes and knew only her parents loved
her like that.

A tap on her door snapped her from her thoughts.

“Caledonia, are you well?” The sweet lilt of her mother’s
brogue filtered through the door.

“Aye,” Caledonia replied as she opened the door. “I
overslept.”

“Nay, you didn’t oversleep. I heard the shower and know you
didn’t stop working until the wee hours o’ the morning. Your body needed the
rest so it took it.” She walked into the room with a tray resting on her hip.
She set it down on the desk. “I made your breakfast. Your poppa’s already down
at the shed. He said not to wake you. So I didn’t. I waited to hear you moving
about before I came up.”

Caledonia couldn’t help but smile. Her parents had the best
relationship. It’s what she wanted and thought she had when she married Kip.
The thought of him chased the smile from her lips so she quickly lifted the
teacup and blew across its rim. No need for Momma to see her smile disappear.
Any discussion of Kip always upset Momma and that was the last thing Caledonia
wanted.

A soft mew and the brush of fur against her ankle made her
almost snort tea through her nose. Even before she looked down, she knew the
source. She set her cup on the desk and scooped up the tiny, gray kitten. It
had the oddest jet-black stripe running from the bridge of its nose down its
back to the tip of its tail, giving it a distinctive appearance.

“I see we’ve gained another stray to the brood,” Caledonia
said as she stroked the velvet-soft kitten. Big blue eyes stared up at her
while it attached its claws to her robe as if afraid Caledonia would drop him.

“Not a stray,” Momma proclaimed proudly as she detached the
kitten from Caledonia’s robe. She took it and snuggled it close. Extreme joy
showed on her face. “Tabby had a litter. We now have five new editions to our
brood. You’re going to love the little buggers when you see them.”

“So that’s where she went.” It was good to know Tabby had
returned safely. She’d become the family pet and when she disappeared for a few
weeks, Momma was heartbroken. Seeing her with this new kitten made Caledonia’s
smile return because she knew it healed Momma’s heart.

Tabby was near death when she landed on the stoop about a
year ago, and didn’t leave like the others once they were well. Momma never
turned away a stray animal, especially an injured one. It didn’t matter that
they lived on a tight budget. She somehow managed to make ends meet, fed the
stragglers and healed whatever illness the animal might have when it showed up.
But that was Momma, tenderhearted and loving.

Caledonia plopped into her chair. Did Momma believe in
curses? She was the one who enlightened Caledonia to the fact that spirits
walked among them. She taught her to recognize the signs that a spirit may be
near. A chill in the air when there was otherwise none, a scent or fragrance
that seemed out of place or a faint vision of a person in the form of a shadow
or transparent figure. If anyone could help with this, it would be Momma.

“What’s your opinion of curses?”

Momma’s brows bunched as she carefully stroked the kitten.
“As in the use of naughty language or in the form of a spell?”