J. Lee Coulter
Authors: Spirit Of McEwen Keep
Spirit Of McEwen
Keep
By
J. Lee Coulter
Copyright 2013 ©J. Lee Coulter
License Notes
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Credits
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Contents
Chapter
Three
Chapter One
His bloodshot eyes darted apprehensively about the shadowy chamber as he nervously licked dry lips.
He spoke in hushed tones to his companion.
“Do ye see anything, Nab?”
His companion stood two steps behind him, ready to flee if need be. After a thorough search, he shook his head, then realized that his laird was not looking at him.
“Nay, m’laird. I see naught. Mayhap the witch grew weary of tormenting us and went elsewhere.”
Both men jumped as the door slammed shut behind them.
“...or mayhap nae,” he squeaked.
Conan peered at his squeamish squire before resolving himself to another sleepless night. He was exhausted. He had not slept the night through for almost six moons now. That is when
she
had begun to appear at McEwen Keep. Conan shuddered as a chill ran through him.
At first he had thought he was just
sloshed...but that opinion soon changed when he saw the apparition without a drop of spirits touching his lips. Next came the sounds. Little moaning noises was how it started...weeping sounds barely audible to the ear. Now...now she screams like a banshee, scaring the wits out of his servants. It did not do much for
his
nerves either!
He had tried everything he could think of to banish the ghost...to no avail.
Father Grant will nae step foot in the keep for his meals anymore...and he detests his own cooking! Nae even auld Aggie seems ta be up ta the task!
Conan’s auburn hair stirred as he shook his head at his thoughts. He was at the end of his patience, certain that his sanity would soon snap. Nab shuffled closer to his laird.
“Should I aide ye with your bath, m’laird?”
He glanced over at the gangly squire
and seeing his terror, gave a curt shake of his head.
“Ye may leave once ye remove me boots, Nab. Tis doubtful I will get much rest this eve anyway. I may as well occupy me time with useful pursuits.”
His young squire released a sigh of relief. Everyone knew that the spirit clung to Conan although they did not know why. For that matter...neither did he. The result was the same though. His clansmen avoided him like the plague! He did not blame them. If it were possible, he would stay clear of himself as well. This night he was determined to get at the truth of the matter! He was going to demand an explanation from the wraith...come what may!
“Ye may go, Nab.”
Glancing at his laird apprehensively, he gave him a curt nod and hurried from the chamber. He did not wish to give Conan a chance to change his mind.
The handsome laird stripped out of his cloth
ing and sank into the relaxing water. Sighing deeply, he allowed his eyes to close for a few moments rest. Moments were all he had been allowed ever since the spirit had appeared.
True to form, there was a throaty chuckle in his ear as it grew cold from the wraith’s breath. His
aqua eyes shot open as he jolted upright, sloshing water to the floor. Conan ran his hand through his hair to steady himself.
Anger flared as he cast a glance about the chamber.
“Who are ye? Why do ye torment me, Spirit? I have done naught ta deserve your scrutiny! Be gone and leave me in peace!”
As always...there was only silence in
answer to his rantings. Discouraged when he received no response, he finished his bath and sat before the fire with a flagon of ale.
“Why will ye nae answer me? Is there nae way ta satisfy ye that ye may go on ta your final reward?
I grow weary of your games.” The torchlight flickered for a brief moment...then stilled.
“If ye do this because I sullied your daughter then I ask your forgiveness. I would nae ken who she be. I have
nae bedded any virgins that I am aware of,” he muttered as he drifted off to sleep.
Iona was incensed!
What a conceited man he is! I do nae understand why they always assume it is about them...nae matter what!
He is right about one thing. I, too, grow weary of this game. Tis time ta set him off on his task.
She sighed as she examined his strong, muscular body. If only she were still alive...! Shaking her head, she set about her business of informing young Conan McEwen of his mission. It had taken six moons to get him desperate enough to accept any deed she set him to do, although she had been waiting for years to get to this point.
As he gently snored in his sleep, Iona prepared to slip into his dream. Normally, it would have been a smooth transition...but, apparently, Conan did not have
normal
dreams! Just as she entered his dream world, she yelped as she was knocked flat on her arse!
He towered over her, sword in hand, as he battled a huge green dragon.
She watched his mastery of the weapon in awe as sweat trickled down his spine from his efforts. His deadly dance mesmerizing her.
Conan was startled to see the lass when she appeared in the middle of his battle, pushing her out of harm’s way. He had not intended to knock her down. Focusing on the enemy before him, he shoved all thoughts of the lass to a
dark corner. It was a dream he had often when he was over-tired...with no one the winner...just a constant battle until he woke.
Iona watched and waited...and waited...and waited! More than an hour had passed before she had had enough.
“Do ye ever win, me laird?”
“Nay.”
“Then why battle?”
He glanced over his shoulder and glared at her.
“If I do nae...he will win and I will die.”
“But it is only a dream.”
“Aye. What is your point?”
How does she ken this is a dream? For that matter...who is she?
His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Iona graced him with a dazzling smile. “M
e point is that ye could vanquish the beast with a thought. The battle is nae necessary.”
Conan slapped his hand over his face, wondering why he had not thought of that. Trying
not to look ridiculous, he answered, “Where be the fun in that?”
Her eyes widened, surprised. She swept her delicate hand in an arch. “Ye think this is fun? It appears tiresome ta me. But do, please, continue...if that be your wish. I do nae mind watching your muscles ripple as sweat beads on them
. Tis quite pleasurable ta watch.”
He arched his brow, grinning, as his ego swelled.
Who is this brazen lass? If I do nae ken her, then how did she come ta be in me dream?
Iona continued after faltering at his devastating smile.
Tis too bad that I am dead...and him promised ta another. Oh well...
She sighed.
“I just thought that ye wished your queries answered
. I suppose it will keep for another day...”
“What? Who are ye?” All thoughts of the battle with the dragon disappeared...along with the beast, as he focused on the lass. “Are ye the one who will nae let me sleep?”
She eyed him nervously for a moment. Old habits die hard...some never do. With a nod she spun about and quickly put a little distance between them. Once she felt safe, she continued.
“M
e name is Iona, that is all ye need ta ken, and I have chosen ye ta avenge me death!”
Conan’s mouth dropped open as his mind raced.
“Ye want me ta kill someone just ta get a night’s sleep?”
She began to protest when he held up his hand to silence her. “Do nae get me wrong, lass. I did nae say I would nae do it. I would probably kill me own maither right now if it meant I could sleep,” he muttered the last part under his breath.
“I did nae ask ye ta kill anyone! What I have in mind is more devious than that. I want this man ta die a thousand deaths!” She rubbed her hands together with glee as she saw Conan waiver.
“Then go and haunt
him
! He will pray for death once ye are through with him...I ken that
I
have!”
Her laughter quavered through the air.
“Forgive me, me laird, but it has ta be ye that accomplishes the task I ask of ye...nae other.”
His head snapped up as he eyed her suspiciously.
“Why me?”
“
That
is for me ta ken.”
Conan mulled over what she had told him thus far, and could find nothing objectionable about her proposal. He grunted to himself.
“So ye want me ta torture some man for...how long?”
“Did I say ‘torture’? Nay, ye will nae torture him in the literal sense.”
Frustrated, he snarled, “If nae ‘torture’...then what must I do?”
Iona turned innocent blue eyes up at him.
“Why…ye are going ta steal his daughter… wed her...and bed her!”
Chapter Two
“Ye want me ta do what?” It was bad enough the McEwen Keep was being haunted! But now he found that the spirit was insane, as well! “Why should I wed this lass? Can I nae just ruin her and be done with it?”
Iona’s smile turned into an icy glare. Conan shivered as the temperature plummeted around him.
“Ye will wed her! Otherwise it is all for naught!” she replied through clenched teeth. “Your way does naught but punish the lass...nae the faither! He would simply retrieve her and carry on with his wicked ways. By wedding her, ye deny him of his heart’s desire! Only then will he suffer.” Her body shook with vehemence.
Conan was no fool. He knew there was more to this than the wraith was telling. It was too important to her. Why was she so adamant about keeping the lass from her father? Revenge? That did not add up. No...there was more to this story. A crafty look flitted across his face.
“Mayhap, I could wed her and bed her...and
then
return her to her faither.”
“Nay!” she screeched. “Ye must keep her with ye!”
He arched a brow. “Why?” Crossing his arms, he awaited her reply in silent scrutiny.
Damn him! Why will he nae simply heed me? Mayhap I have underestimated
Conan McEwen.
A slow smile crept across her lips.
Or mayhap, he be just what I need ta match wits with Clyde Ramsey. It will nae hurt ta tell him some of it. Stubborn man!
She sighed in resignation.
“I was wed ta the man once and grew quite attached ta his daughter. She is sweet and kind beyond measure. If she has a flaw, twould be her naiveté!
”
“I am listening.”
She must be hard on the eyes if this spirit refers ta her personality ta describe her instead of her looks! Wonderful!
A wicked smile crossed
Iona’s face. Conan did not realize that she could hear his thoughts.
“Anyway...one day, as the lass matured, I noticed her faither giving her unnatural looks. I confronted him about it and he
broke me neck for me trouble!”
He snapped to attention at her declaration.
“She is in danger?”
“Aye. He has done naught yet, but he grows bolder each day. Now do ye understand?”
A rescue mission!
That
he could do!
“I still do nae ken why I must wed the lass.”
Peering at him steadily, she shook her blond curls. “Your head must be made of stone! If ye do nae wed her, he will simply take her away from ye and ye will have nae legal ground ta stand on.”
“I
see. I will need some time ta consider your words, wraith...and sleep. I will need a clear head ta do such a deed.”
Iona grew frustrated. Time was of the essence.
“If ye do nae do this by tomorrow eve...twill be too late. He means ta fulfill his dream in two days’ time when she turns ten and eight.”
“How do ye ken this?”
She smiled as she began to fade away. “Did I nae tell ye that I can hear thoughts?”
Startled, his eyes widened as he watched her body become more transparent.
“Wait! Whose daughter do we speak of? I must ken if I am ta plan anything.”
“Clyde Ramsey.” Her voice echoed off the walls of his dream as she
vanished.
Ramsey? The man lives in a virtual fortress! Nae one has ever broken through his walls! We would need ta leave at first light ta get there by mid eve...and our mounts will be spent.
I suppose we will need ta do some horse trading once there.
He smiled as a plan took shape while he slept the night through, uninterrupted for the first time in many moons.
Blast the man! He is shrewder than I thought. I had hoped ta keep that information ta
me self...at least for a time! He must take Kyla away from that monster though, and if that is the payment then, so be it! I would have told him eventually anyway.
Sighing, she floated aimlessly through the dark halls of the keep as she plotted her next move.
For the past six moons she had been dividing her time between the two castles, reassuring herself that Clyde had done naught to harm Kyla. Thoughts of Kyla brought Iona to her chambers as she slept peacefully.
She had made plans of her own as she prepared Conan to accept the task. She would lead them through the secret passageway which led to this chamber. That was the easy part. Finding fresh mounts would be harder...but not impossible. She would have to return ahead of them to make the arrangements. Iona smiled.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside Kyla’s door. The spirit spun about in alarm!
Nay! Tis too soon!
Her heart pounded as she gasped for breath until she remembered that she had no heart...or breath...any longer. Clyde took all that away from her.
The footsteps continued on after a short pause at the door. Relaxing her stance, Iona once again focused on the young lady in the bed.
Soon love...ye will be safe soon.
“Fire!
The stables be a fire! Get those bloody horses out of there!” The alarm echoed about the inner bailey as men frantically snatched up buckets of water while others struggled with terrified steeds.
Clyde rushed out of the keep as he wrapped his kilt about him haphazardly, barely avoiding being trampled by the panicked beasts stampeding through the courtyard.
“Bloody hell!”
He arrived at the stables just in time to see the roof
collapse as the inferno consumed all of the hay and oats stored there. He turned hard eyes on Donald...his lieu-tenant.
“What caused this?” he roared in rage.
Donald eyed the angry Scot with trepidation. The laird was a hefty man and he had no wish for those meaty paws to wrap about his throat.
“I ken nae, m’laird. Mayhap a steed knocked over a torch.”
Clyde ground his teeth as his fists clenched.
“Nae bloody likely!” he muttered.
“Find out who is responsible and bring him ta me!”
“Aye, m’laird. What shall I do with the mounts? There be nae fodder within the bailey for them.”
The laird was angry. He had no wish to be bothered with such trivial details. His mind was on his plans for the next eve...and Kyla.
“Do nae trouble me with the keeping of horses. Take them ta the pasture and let them eat the stubble once they are calmed. Leave a few guards ta watch over them. They will do well there
until I find an alternative.” He spun about and stalked back to the keep, cursing as he slipped in some horse dung. “And clean up the bailey once they be gone!”
Donald stifled a snigger as he replied, “Aye, m’laird. Straightaway, m’laird.” Seeing that the flames were under control, he set about doing Clyde Ramsey’s bidding. He did not respect the obese laird...but he did fear his power. He was a cruel man who would execute a man for simply gazing on his daughter’s face. Donald had no desire to get on his wrong side.
Tis a sorry state for the lass. Most would have been wedded by now with weans of their own. I would have asked for her me self but I fear he would strike me down for the thought. Tis odd...that.
Banishing the thoughts from his head, he directed the men to gather the steeds to remove them and recruited some villagers to clean the bailey, as he went about his tasks.
The rotund laird sat heavily in his chair as a servant brought him ale. There had been a string of accidents in
his fortress as of late.
Too many ta be considered coincidence!
His brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. Clyde ran through his list of enemies in his mind but could not settle on just one name.
I will have ta double the guard and hope I get lucky. Whoever is causing these mishaps will slip up sooner or later.
