Page 82 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Chapter Ten
Alex remembered thispart of the structure. Connor and he had made it this far on their quest before being scared witless by the noises that seemed to come from the very stones of the walls. Still shocked and surprised, and more than a bit confused by what had just happened, he wanted to see Isabel safe. Though he should question the strange occurrences and the appearance of that mysterious woman, something told him to do as she bade him do to save Isabel.
And their bairn!
Was that what troubled Isabel? He had seen her staring off into nothing and thought she was struggling with pain or the loss of her family and life. Had she been worried about a bairn? And how had she managed to carry it through the vicious whipping she had endured? He had so many questions, but first he must see to their safety for the night.
He found one inner chamber intact, part of the door even hung from the hinges, so he helped Isabel inside. ’Twas only then that he noticed the candles flickering in the chamber. And the ones along the corridor they had followed went out as he closed, or rather lifted the door into place to block the winds.
“Did you see anything like that woman here when you and your brother snuck in years ago?” Isabel asked. Her head was tilted and her gaze questioning.
“That is not the first question that needs an answer, Isabel,” he said, walking to her. The corners of her mouth curved up into an enticing smile and then she nodded.
“I thought I had lost it,” she said softly. He watched her hand move as though to shield her belly in that unconscious movement of pregnant women. “I bled after the whipping but my normal courses never came.”
“You never said,” he whispered, lifting his hand to caress her cheek. “I....”
“There was nothing you could do,” she explained. “Then, as I healed and the fever left me, I realized I’d missed three months.” He counted backwards and smiled.
“Our wedding night.”
“Aye, that night.” A lovely blush filled her cheeks then.
“How did that woman ken?”
Part of him already knew the unbelievable answer and part could not accept it. Had Isabel seen the same strange things he had? The way the woman faded from sight at times and seemed made only of fog and mist? The way the storm had seemed to wait on her? The way she had known that Isabel carried his child?
Before she could answer him, the winds picked up outside and a loud and mournful wailing began. His skin broke out in gooseflesh at the very sound of it. He reached over and pulled Isabel close to him when she shivered. If that sound made him ill at ease, the very-human screams that followed and melded with it were worse.
“What is happening?” Isabel whispered.
“She is protecting us, Isabel. As she promised.”
“That woman was not... a woman, Alex.” She had voiced what he had not.
“I think we have met the ghost of Duntulm,” he said, understanding now who or what they had met out on the road.
If they had not known, the terrible shrieks and screams and the way the lightning crashed in time with the noises would have been a sign of otherworldly involvement. He held her until the sounds ended and the storm blew itself out to sea. After a time, they settled on some blankets on the floor, Alex holding her in his arms.
Would they see the ghost again? What had she done to those who were following them? As much as he wanted to ken, he did not wish to face her ghostly fury to find out.
The night passed and Alex could not sleep. The revelation of a coming child kept him awake even while Isabel slept next to him. His responsibilities had caught up with him and there was no way he could allow his father to turn his back on them now. He could not. He would not.
In the next hours, he thought on the arguments he would use to make his father understand, but it all came back to one—they had spoken marriage vows before God that he would not allow anyone to break apart. Regardless of her family or his, regardless of exile or remaining on Skye, they would do it together.
Just as dawn’s light crept into the chamber from the corridor outside, a milky mist entered around the broken door and formed before his eyes. It was the ghostly woman.
“What is your name?” he asked in a quiet voice so he did not disturb Isabel’s rest.
“Agneis MacDonald,” the ghost replied, though whether she spoke aloud or he heard it in his own thoughts he knew not.
“Why are you here, Agneis?” Souls wandering had a task to carry out or were being punished for some wrongdoing. She began to sob then, a low keening sound that Isabel did not seem to hear.
“I was nursemaid to the laird’s wee bairn,” she said. “During a storm, lightning struck the keep and I stumbled nearer to the window than was safe. The puir wee’un slipped through my hands.” Tears streamed down her pale, almost-translucent face. “The laird cursed my soul to never find peace since he would not.”
Pity struck him hard, making his own eyes burn and his throat tighten. Now that he knew about their coming child, he could almost imagine the horror of losing one in such a way. He could understand the laird’s need to strike out. Still....
“How did you die, Agneis?”
