Page 16 of The Curse of McMillan Castle
She’d always wanted to see a ghost anyway.
Chapter 11
Duncan
For the first time in a week, he slept dreamlessly. When he woke with the sun, all of the anxiety of the past week was lifted. His mother was right. Returned to her home, the lass in the painting no longer haunted him. If that were the only result of his trip, the journey would’ve been worth it. But now, with a job secured—a good paying one at that—he found himself almost grateful to the lass for haunting him as he slept. Without Osla’s haunted portrait, he would’ve never had reason to travel to McMillan territory.
A restful night’s sleep, a day of hard work ahead of him, and—the thought that appealed to him the most—another chance to speak to the strange and intriguing lass, Madeline. For the first time in a long time, Duncan found himself excited for the days ahead of him.
A soft knock on the door to his room preceded a voice he’d grown quite familiar with over dinner the night before—wee Cooper.
Stepping away from the letter that was now ready to send his mother’s way, he rose to answer the door.
“Good morning. Are you hungry?”
Confused, Duncan nodded slowly. “Aye, I am lad. Why are ye here at the inn?”
“I work here.” The boy smiled and shrugged. “Well, I say work. It’s really more like I volunteer here. I don’t really need the money, but I do need to keep myself busy—at least that’s what everyone at the castle tells me—and I just love Isobel and Gregor, so I help out here when the inn is really full. She sent me up here to see if you were hungry. She said she has food for us downstairs if you want some.”
By God, the lad spoke quickly.
“For us, ye say?”
The young boy shrugged again. “Yeah. If it’s all right, I thought I would join you again. I’m pretty hungry too.”
“O’course. Give me but a moment to seal me letter, and I shall be right down.”
With wax already melting, he sealed the message to his mother, and made the short trip downstairs to breakfast. The entire inn smelled heavenly. Fresh baked bread and some sort of seasoned meat had his stomach growling by the time he reached the table.
As expected, the moment he sat down, Cooper began to speak again.
“How did you sleep?”
“Better than I have in ages. It seems returning the portrait did just as me mother hoped. I am no longer haunted by her.”
“Huh?”
Duncan’s blood suddenly chilled all the way through as his mistake reverberated through him. How could he be so daft? The boy’s familiarity had confused him. Cooper hadn’t been the child there when he arrived. It had been Madeline’s daughter. This child knew nothing of the haunted painting.
“Ach, nothing, lad. Doona fash over it.”
Cooper didn’t believe him. The expression in the young boy’s eyes made that clear.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing. What painting? And what haunting? Ireallydon’t like ghosts.”
“Have ye seen one then?”
“What?” The young boy’s voice went up an octave. “Of course not, and I really don’t want to either. Is there a ghost haunting you?”
“Nae, lad.”
“But there was?”
The child was relentless. Mayhap ’twas a blessing he’d ne’er had any of his own. His patience grew thinner by the second.
“I was speaking nonsense, lad. Please. Leave this be and eat yer breakfast.”
Cooper hesitated, but Duncan could see that the boy was incapable of doing as he’d asked. It only took a handful of seconds for Cooper to insist once again.
