The Deepest Cut (4 page)

I walked out of the room and headed down a hallway that had black-and-white photos of landscapes, all in black frames with white matting.

I came upon the spiral staircase and my heart started racing. The first landing was the entryway where visitors were greeted by an ancient-looking sword that was taller than I was. It had been carefully displayed against a tartan, in what I assumed must be the family’s colors. I hesitated, wondering what in the hell I was thinking. True, Ian had lived here hundreds of years ago, but it was someone else’s home now. What if there were hidden security cameras?

Despite my misgivings, I pushed on. After all, it’s not like I was here to steal anything. I just wanted to see where Ian had lived.

The first room I came to was an office.

Plastic covered the bookcases, chairs, computer equipment and desks, and the smell of paint was very strong.

The next doorway led into the dining room. I stepped inside, my heart hammering in my ears. A large table sat directly beneath a large, ornate golden chandelier. Near the fireplace were two red-velvet chairs and a coffee table.

My eyes were drawn to the painting of a beautiful woman that hung above the fireplace, her resemblance to Ian unmistakable.

She had the same dark hair, light blue eyes, and sensual lips. Was she his mother? It was impossible to know the age of the painting, and there was no nameplate or date to help me figure it out.

Is this where Ian died, I wondered, imagining what the space must have looked like two centuries ago. Suddenly a strange pressure started in my chest and throat. I pressed my hand to my chest and winced.

Was Ian here now?

I headed for the stairs when a cold blast of air enveloped me. I stopped in my tracks and turned just in time to see a black figure dart across the room. Startled, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.

As the seconds ticked by, a wave of uneasiness washed over me. “Ian,” I said, growing more restless by the second.

There was no answer.

I heard a loud whistle though, followed by the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel.

Shit!
I rushed out of the room and down the spiral staircase. My heart thundered in my ears as I raced into the room where Shane had his face up to the window.

“Hurry,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

I pulled the ladder over to the window and scrambled up and out. I closed the window, leaving it open a couple inches—just as I’d found it. Hopefully no one would be the wiser.

A car door shut and Shane put his finger to his lips. A painter, dressed in white cover-alls and work boots strode into the courtyard, whistling. We hung back while he un-locked the castle’s front door and stepped inside.

After the entry door closed, we walked fast toward the entrance, out onto the lawn, keeping close to the wall, before rushing toward the trees.

A strange chill worked its way along my spine, signaling we weren’t alone. A spirit was in the vicinity. I hoped it was Ian, but for some reason I didn’t think it was. The presence felt dark.

“Fuckin’ A, that was close,” Shane said, looking back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, it was.” I had to pick up my pace to keep in stride with him. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“It was fun,” Shane said, even though his expression said something altogether different.

We came upon the cemetery and that’s when I saw her—a girl about my age, sitting on the stone wall. She was a spirit, her figure not at all solid, but transparent. I could see her well enough to make out her strange style of clothing, and knew that, like Ian, she wasn’t from my time.

She had long brown hair that fell in thick curls to her tiny waist. A plain green gown came to her ankles and she was barefoot.

There was no expression at all on her pale face, but there was something intensely creepy about her dark eyes. I looked away, but knew with a sickening feeling I had stared too long.

My thoughts were confirmed when she followed us across the road, and into the meadow which backed to the inn.

I so didn’t want her following us home.

My throat felt tight, and I found it harder to breathe by the second.

I started choking, the tightening around my neck growing more intense by the second. Was the girl signaling to me she had died by way of strangulation?

“Are you okay?” Shane asked, and I nodded, unable to form a reply.

Miss Akin stepped outside onto the back porch, a basket of laundry propped on her hip. Seeing us, she waved.

I waved back, never so relieved to see anyone. Maybe the ghost would leave—

“
Riiileeeey
,” came a chilling whisper in my ear.

The breath lodged in my throat, and when I turned, the ghost was gone.

“Are you alright, my love?”

I turned to Miss Akin, who was busy kneading dough on the kitchen counter.

Since returning to the house some twenty minutes before, I hadn’t left her side. Honestly, I was afraid to. Not that I believed the ghost could hurt me, but she had unsettled me in a way that would make falling asleep tonight tough.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said to pacify her. I was far from fine. I could still see the ghost, those dark eyes—that terrifying stare and the dread that had filled me when I’d noticed her sitting on the cemetery stone wall.

I glanced out the window, half expecting her to be there, staring back at me.
Would
she dare come in
?

Did Ian know her? I mean, was it possible for two ghosts to exist and not be aware of

the other? I chewed my bottom lip. But why would he not see her and I could?

“So, did you and your brother go to the castle?” Miss Akin asked.

My heart gave a jolt. “Yeah, I wanted Shane to see it.”

“I figured that’s where you must be coming from. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I would call it lovely, but it has elements that are,” I said, and Miss Akin laughed, immediately lifting my somber mood.

“I suppose it’s more formidable than beautiful, but the setting is quite unique,”

she said in the castle’s defense.

“Do you know anything about the castle’s history?”

Miss Akin nodded. “Sure, what are you curious about?”

I couldn’t very well just come right out and ask about Ian or the picture of the woman hanging above the fireplace in the

castle’s dining room without blowing the fact that I’d broken in. “Well, it’s kind of a creepy place and I’m wondering if there are any scary stories.”

“You mean ghost stories?” she asked, lifting a brow.

Anticipation built within me. “Yeah.”

She grabbed a rolling pin from a cabinet and went at the dough like a maniac. “Any dwelling that has been around for as long as the castle is bound to house a few ghosts.

One story is about a man known as Hanway, who was the MacKinnon’s most ardent en-emy, and who made a large sum by stealing cattle right beneath his victim’s noses. Hanway and his sons stole upwards of forty head of cattle from Laird MacKinnon one night. A servant keeping guard saw him, shot him, and he fell from his horse. The servant brought Hanway to his master, who in turn saw to his wound, and when the man was

well enough, he was promptly imprisoned in the castle dungeon.”

“How long was he imprisoned for?”

“A year, I believe.”

“A year? That seems like a long time for stealing a few cows.”

Miss Akin snorted. “Perhaps to you it might sound like a long time for such a deed, but given the fact they used to hang people for such offences, I say he got off lightly.

However, Hanway did not take to his imprisonment very kindly, and each night everyone from miles around could hear his screams.

Rumors suggest he was tortured, which I do not believe to be the case since Laird MacKinnon was known for being a fair and just ruler. Others say Hanway was slowly losing his mind, screaming for his family and loved ones. Well, one night, the screaming ceased and Laird MacKinnon checked the dungeon and found the man dead as could be, his nails ripped off and his fingertips

bloodied from where he had clawed at the door. There are some who say his spirit still roams the castle, and visitors have commented on hearing a scratching sound coming from the basement, which happened to be used as the dungeon.”

Thank God I hadn’t seen the Hanway ghost while I was at the castle. Or maybe I had. Maybe the dark shadow in the dining room had been his spirit? “Are there any others who died at the castle?”

Miss Akin’s brows furrowed. “Well, let’s see, during the eighteenth-century the castle laird had been killed during a bloody battle with a rival clan, and his cousin, who was living on the Isle of Skye, moved into the castle with his new wife. It is said that the woman’s beauty was talked about all over Scotland.

They had four children, all of whom resembled their lovely mother. The eldest boy was truly a handsome young devil, and the girls from the village and beyond took notice

of him. Many believed he would marry a family friend, the daughter of a wealthy landowner named Murray, who lived in an adjoining county.”

“Why didn’t they marry?”

“This is where the story turns tragic. You see, there was a young servant girl who worked in the castle, along with her father, and she became enamored with the young MacKinnon.”

My pulse skittered. “Do you remember his name?”

Her brow furrowed. “Let’s see, there were two sons. I think the names were Ian and Duncan, and if I’m not mistaken, Ian was the eldest.”

The hair on my arms stood on end. Now we were getting somewhere. Plus, for the first time ever I was getting validation about the spirits I was seeing.

“This servant girl fell desperately in love with Ian, who in turn was expected to marry

someone of his own station. This would be common knowledge of the time, but this did not stop the servant from falling in love with him. So when it came to pass that the young MacKinnon began spending time with Murray’s daughter, a woman who would be considered a suitable match for a laird’s son, the servant became so jealous she poisoned him.

Ian died right there in front of his devastated family.”

“What happened to the servant?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my seat.

“The family had her hanged from a tree on the castle grounds.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

What if the ghost I had seen had been the servant who had killed Ian? “Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Akin?” I asked, shifting in my seat as I waited for her to answer.

She watched me for a long, uncomfortable minute before responding. “Yes, I do,

and I take it you do as well given your questions.”

I nodded.

“Let me ease your fears, my dear. I have never heard an instance where a ghost has harmed a human. True, they have scared a fair share of the living nearly out of their skins, but as far as doing true harm, that can never be.”

I was ready to question her more when I felt a strange vibration race through me. A familiar quickening that made me aware someone was with us.

I stood up. “I just thought of something,”

I said. “I uh—might need to switch a class.”

“If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know, my dear,” Miss Akin said, but I was already heading for my room.

· · · · ·

I opened the door to my bedroom and found Ian sprawled out on my bed, his arms pillowed behind his head. He looked entirely too comfortable, and I was absolutely ecstatic to see him.

“Make yourself at home,” I said, and he turned to me, a heart-melting smile on his gorgeous face. Not taking my eyes off of him, I shut the door behind me and walked toward him, intent on finding answers.

“I did not think you would mind, Riley.”

I liked when he said my name, the way he rolled the R. “I don’t mind,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I tried not to let his good looks or close proximity get in the way of the questions I had, but I couldn’t ignore the sudden racing of my heart. “So…I went to the castle today.”

He sat up on his elbows. “Yes, I know.”

Now that surprised me. “How?”

The sides of his mouth curved in a boyish grin. “I have my ways.”

I hated that I was being serious and he wasn’t. I was happy he was here, but also wary that he hadn’t been straight with me about the servant. “I think I saw the girl who killed you today.”

He immediately dropped his gaze to my comforter, and ran his hand over the material, tracing the filigree pattern with a long finger. “I didn’t want you to be afraid of her.”

“Have you been able to see her all this time?”

Sliding off the bed, he walked over to the window, looked out. “Yes, but Laria stays near the graveyard, away from me…and I stay away from her.”

No wonder I had felt such a creepy sensation when I first saw that cemetery. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“It’s difficult to say,” he said, turning to face me again. “You see, time is not the same for you as it is for me.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Time in the spirit world is different than time as you know it.”

What did that mean, anyway? Frustrated, I ran my hands down my face. “Should I be afraid of Laria?”

“You should be wary.”

“Miss Akin said ghosts can’t harm the living.”

I could tell by his expression that he felt differently, and that made me nervous.

“I believe Laria is as dangerous in death as she was in life,” he replied. “Perhaps more so. I don’t know if it’s her connection to the Black Arts that makes her so powerful, but you must be careful.”

Black Arts?
As in witchcraft? “How much harm can she do? I mean…she’s dead.”

“You would do well to remember that she’s the one who cursed me.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” I said, even though I actually was. Laria made me really nervous. And I could tell by Ian’s reaction

that I needed to be worried. “I wonder if there’s a book about witchcraft and spells that can help end the curse?”

“It’s generous of you to try and help me, but I can’t ask you to put yourself in harm’s way.”

“I want to help you,” I said, pulling off the elastic band from around my ponytail and running my fingers through my hair. Ian’s eyes followed my movements, and when our gazes locked again, he smiled.