Page 20 of The Return of the Heir

“The promise of a ghost.”

The promise of a mother.

That motive Gwendolyn understood. It was how she felt about her siblings. She’d do anything to protect them. That thought helped her step forward into the darkened space and behind the barrels of aging wine. Once she was settled in place, the Grey Lady left her in a flash of white light.

Gwendolyn remained where she was as silence settled around her. She sat back and prepared to wait. It was not what she wanted to do, but she had made a promise. Now that she was freed from most of the bonds that had kept her a prisoner for so long, she wanted to do something that would take her small family far away from Dunvegan, the MacDonalds, even Alastair. It would be better to leave and start fresh. Alastair would never want her to stay, not after humiliating him in from of his clan, even though she had not done so intentionally.

Worse than breaking her promise to him, she had done something he might not realise she’d done yet. But if she escaped her current predicament and found her way back to Alastair, she would have to reveal that she had stolen his clan’s most prized possession. She’d stolen the Fairy Flag because Garrick had forced her to do so and then he’d handed it over to his clan. She was responsible for its loss, and for that unforgivable sin she might find herself hanging from the end of a rope. At the thought, her breath caught.

She had promised the Grey Lady she would stay. But perhaps it was better to leave now while she was still in control of her own fate. Garrick had not found her. And she knew from her past experience of the castle that there was a doorway from the old kitchen that led to the garden at the back of the castle. She could hide outside and find some way to sever her bonds until she could retrieve her brother and sister. Finally freed from those who would imprison or punish them, they could begin their lives anew.

Mustering her courage, Gwendolyn stood up to leave.

*

Garrick raced throughthe darkened passage, cursing himself a fool for allowing Gwendolyn to escape. He’d been making his way through these passageways for the past five years. He knew every inch of them. There was nowhere Gwendolyn could hide in the dark, narrow place. She could only follow the path to the old kitchen or to the old servant’s hall.

He should have expected she’d fight back. Even after all these years he hadn’t managed to tame her. Carrying the heavy glass panel he’d used to project her image had given her an advantage. He should have abandoned the glass the moment she’d turned towards him. He knew, even in the dark, that wild look in her eyes. She would fight him to the very end, which was why he’d chained her up. And even then, she’d almost bested him once.

She would not best him again. Gwendolyn Harris was a crucial element in exacting his revenge on the MacLeods. Garrick had to find her before Alastair did.

*

Alastair paused fora moment in his search to listen. Graeme stopped behind him and waited. The castle seemed strangely quiet from within its walls.

Several long moments passed when Graeme finally asked, “Did you hear something?”

“Nothing. That is what has me concerned.”

“Because you think Gwendolyn truly is a ghost?”

Alastair turned to his friend with a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s as alive as you or I. It means she and Garrick may have settled in somewhere to wait us out.”

“Where is there to go inside these walls?” Graeme asked.

“There is only one place that truly makes sense. Follow me.”

*

Garrick entered theold kitchen. It appeared empty, but then again Gwendolyn would hardly be waiting for him out in the open even though there were few places to hide. He checked the empty hearth, searching the darkened spaces at the corners that were large enough to provide some sort of shelter if someone was desperate enough.

He turned back to the room, and suddenly a grey hazy light appeared before him. The light brightened, became dense, until the image of the Grey Lady hovered above the stone floor. Garrick winced at the look of displeasure upon her face.

Begone.

Her voice filled his thoughts. “You are no barrier to me,” Garrick said as a nervous laugh escaped him. He walked through the lady’s unsubstantial form.

Begone!

The word seemed to echo all around the mostly empty chamber. The specter backed up, blocking his path once more.

“You don’t scare me,” he said in an unsteady voice that belied his words.

He saw the ghost’s eyes narrow just as pain erupted at the back of his head. A single candleholder with the stub of a candle crashed to the stone floor and rolled back towards the hearth where it had previously sat.

Garrick brought his hand to the injured spot just as a ladle that had been on a hook near the hearth slammed into the right side of his face. “Argh! Stop that.” He ducked, barely avoiding a pewter mug that also came at his head.

Begone!