The tiny Reddoch twins did not. Lyla offered them both a breast, relieved when they latched on and hungrily rooted. There would be no more talking tonight for several reasons. The children needed to sleep, and it appeared to anger the evil bogle. She leaned back against the headboard and released a heavy sigh. It was a long time ’til dawn. All she could do was pray they all lived to see it.
*
Normally, the sightof his beloved wife nursing his precious bairns filled him with more love and contentment than he ever thought possible. But tonight was different. Tonight, it made him afraid for them and flooded him with a sense of helplessness he hated. He fought enemies with a blade, brute force, and stealth. How could he fight something he couldn’t even see?
Lyla looked up from the bairns at her breasts and met his gaze. He gritted his teeth, knowing the fear in her eyes reflected the fear in his. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head with a frightened jerk. She was right. Earlier, their talking had angered the vile wraith.
He rolled the dagger in his hand. Its familiar leather-wrapped haft comforted him. The blade might be useless against the spirit, but it gave him strength. The knife caught the moonlight and sent it back out the window in defiance. It stirred his own boldness. He refused to cower in his own keep. “Have the courage to face me, Merideth. Leave my wife and children be.”
He waited, staring all around. No response came other than Lyla’s sharp intake of breath.
With slow, purposeful steps, he walked the length and width of the room. He reached out with his anger, hoping the wickedness would answer and meet him head on. Not a sound filled the room other than the pounding of his own heartbeat. He risked sitting on the edge of the bed, remaining vigilant.
Lyla shifted with the babes, scooting around Rory to rise from the bed.“They need changing,”she mouthed.
He rose and joined her at the table bearing all the necessities the babies needed. She handed him Hope, then lowered Joy to the padded cloth on the table. He wrinkled his nose and tried to breathe through his mouth. How could something so small create such a stench? “Make haste, m’love. This one is ripe.”
“Maybe the odor will protect us,” she whispered. She cleaned the babe, swaddled her in a fresh diaper, then held her out. “Trade.”
“Gladly.” He prayed none of Hope’s mess had escaped the cloth and gotten on him.
“Ye smell much better,” he said, then kissed wee Joy’s head.
Lyla picked up Hope and held her close while eyeing the cradles. “I’m almost afraid to put them in their beds.”
He felt the same. “Our bed is big enough for all, and I doubt verra much that either of us sleeps.” He eased down beside Fawna and leaned back against the headboard. With a knee bent and his foot planted firmly atop the bedclothes, he settled his wee daughter on his chest.
Lyla smiled and joined them, settling on the other side of Rory. She curled onto her side, still a bit upright, and settled the wee one more comfortably in the crook of her arm.
“We will be all right, m’love,” he softly reassured. “I swear it.”
She gave a subtle nod. “I pray you are right.”
“I will see to it.” One way or another, he would put Merideth’s angry spirit to rest.
Chapter Two
Abby, Lyla’s twinand fellow time traveler after they made the mistake of toasting a meteor shower with homemade wine, pointed at the tall wooden stool beside the window. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
“It’s only a few scratches, but you know how Grant worries.” Lyla perched on the stool with her injured shoulder toward the window for better light.
“Did you sleep at all?” Her sister dabbed at the wounds with something that burned like the dickens. “This one needs stitches to avoid a nasty scar.”
Lyla flinched, sitting taller while forcing herself not to dodge the cleaning. “I have seen your sewing. I will take my chances. Thank you very much.” A relieved breath escaped her as Abby finished and discarded the cloth soaked with the remedy that seared like liquid fire. “And no, I did not sleep after the midnight attack.”
“Well, the keep reeks of sage smoke and at the rate the maids are spreading salt, they’ll not be able to cure any meat for the winter.” Abby removed an oiled cloth from the crock she held, sniffed the green paste inside, then wrinkled her nose. She offered it to Lyla. “Does this smell like it’s gone off to you?”
Lyla pushed it away. “Yes. Rancid. Use some of the fresh balm we mixed for the babies.” She hitched out another jaw-cracking yawn. “Merideth never troubled us until the bell came.”
“You’ve named the thing?”
“From everything Grant shared about his first wife and how she adored that garden where the bell tower now stands, it makes me believe it’s her.”
“All done. You can straighten your shift now.” Abby gave her an affectionate pat and moved to stand in front of her. Her concerned scowl mirrored Lyla’s feelings. “I suppose it makes sense that it could be Merideth’s ghost. After all, the attack seemed focused on you. Do you think she’s waking the babies, too?”
“That’s what really concerns me. When Father Rubric rings the bell at noon, it doesn’t bother them in the least.”
“Well, it’s not the bell then.” Abby wiped her hands on her apron. “Has Grant ordered the tower torn down?”
