Page 10 of Highland Ghost

“Bram likes it as well,” said Matilda, doing the same.

Ian shook his head. Could things get any worse? “Well, I dinna like it. Ailbeart, please go to the kitchen and help Flora. Fraser, check the troughs of the horses and make sure the water is fresh.”

“Go to the stable? Now? In the dark? By myself?” asked Fraser, sounding scared. “I think I’d rather help in the kitchen instead if ye dinna mind. Mayhap I can trade chores with Ailbeart.”

“Nay,” said Ailbeart. “I’m no’ goin’ out there in the dark. I’m helpin’ in the kitchen. Ye heard our laird.”

North laughed. “It seems the scant amount of people livin’ here are all spooked by somethin’. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”

“Or mayhap they’re just a bunch of cowards,” Nash mumbled into his tankard as he took a drink of ale.

“Nash, that wasna nice,” scolded Kellina. “Remember, we are guests here, and need to be respectful.”

“Sorry,” said Nash. “But I still dinna understand where everyone is. Hermitage Castle is bustlin’ with life all day and night long. I didna think the MacKeefes were a bigger clan than the MacBains. Why is this castle so empty?”

“I let a lot of the castle’s occupants have time off since I was away,” explained Ian. “They will be back by the morrow, I assure ye.”

“That’s right.” Finn looked over at Ian from the sides of his eyes and made a face. “They will?”

“Och, here comes the food now.” Ian got everyone to sit down. “Flora has made a delicious beef stew that I ken ye will all enjoy. Please eat yer fill of stew and freshly baked bread. I will excuse myself for a moment, but just briefly. I think we have some Mountain Magic in the undercroft that will complement the food nicely.”

“Mountain Magic?” Nash looked up in surprise and smiled. That got his interest. “Now, that is somethin’ I like to hear.”

“Me, too,” said North. “Be sure to bring plenty of it.”

“Of course, I will bring all that we have left,” Ian answered, looking over at Finn. “Cousin, will ye assist me, please?”

“Me?” Finn looked down at the bowl of stew that Flora’s daughter placed in front of him. “Now?”

“Now,” said Ian in a stern voice. Finn got up and followed Ian down to the undercroft.

“I dinna think it takes the both of us to carry up a few jugs of Mountain Magic,” complained Finn.

“Of course no’, ye simpkin. I just said that because I wanted to talk to ye. Alone.” Once they closed the door behind them, Ian held up a torch and they headed down the stairs to find the whisky. Mountain Magic was brewed by Old Callum MacKeefe, the oldest living man in all of Scotland. The whisky was so strong, it sometimes knocked a man on his arse for days at a time.

“I’d rather talk somewhere else, if ye dinna mind. I dinna like the undercroft.” Finn looked back and forth with wide eyes. The undercroft was dark, dank, and musty. A rat ran past Finn’s feet, making him jump.

“Calm down,” said Ian, leading the way. “Yer uneasiness is only goin’ to cause more suspicion from the MacKeefes.”

The stairs creaked as they headed into the bowels of the earth, the cold, damp air closing in around them. Since it was a cool area, they stored apples, and root vegetables and even some wine down there where it was sure to stay good throughout the winter.

“I want ye to go out first thing in the mornin’ and bring back the priest from the neighborin’ village,” explained Ian.

“If he’ll come,” said Finn, walking slowly, looking back and forth.

“He will, because ye’re goin’ to give him this.” Ian pulled a gold crown out of his coin pouch and handed it to his cousin. “Also warn him no’ to say a word about the . . . about ye ken who.” Ian didn’t want to say the names of the ghosts aloud, because he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t provoke them. “Did ye recognize the gown that Caitlin is wearin’?”

“Nay, why?” asked Finn, finding the Mountain Magic and picking up two bottles and shoving it under his arm.

“It’s Sylvia’s gown.”

“What?” Finn almost dropped the bottle but caught it at the last moment. “Ye mean the gown that our grandaunt . . . died in?”

“That’s the one.”

“Blethers, that is no’ guid, Ian. Sylvia is no’ goin’ to be happy.” He looked over his shoulder in the dark.

“Mayhap she willna notice. In the meantime, let’s get these bottles upstairs and hope our guests are too far in their cups to hear anythin’ that goes bump in the night.”