Page 38 of Highland Renegade
“I doona ken if that will happen,” he answered, “but I think ye should consider changing your quarters to be nearer to your sisters.”
So they were back to that. “Do you think I am in danger?”
He shook his head, maybe a little too quickly. “’Tis just that the old part of the castle is drafty and the timbers creak and groan, which can lead to nightmares.”
She gave him a curious look. “You do not believe the ghost is real, do you?”
“I have nae seen him.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
He smiled noncommittally. “Ye are in Scotland. All of our castles are haunted.”
Emily tried another tack. “Hasanyoneseen your father’s ghost?”
“I doona ken for sure. There have been reports of strange noises, but as I said, the castle is old.” He hesitated. “Shortly after the incident happened, we had a terrified maid insist she heard screams, but she was a girl come up from the village to clean.”
“A vivid imagination probably, especially if she were cleaning…that room.”
“Aye, but…” Again, he paused. “The sounds were coming from the room ye are in. The lass ran screaming from the castle. By the time we checked the rooms, there was nae one there.”
She tilted her head to study him. “Is that why you gave me that room when I first arrived? Hoping to scare me and my sisters away?”
Ian had the grace to look sheepish. ‘”I canna deny it.”
Somehow, she refrained from rolling her eyes. “Well, if I hear screams, I will let you know.”
He frowned. “Ye still want to stay in that chamber?”
“Oh, yes.” She certainly wasn’t going to let him “scare” her with silly stories about ghosts. To move to the newer section of the castle would make her seem weak. “I will not be moving.”
“As ye wish then.” He pointed to a cottage in the distance. “We can make our first stop there.”
She nodded and they rode on in silence. In spite of what she’d just said, she felt a chill run down her spine.
Chapter Eleven
They spent the next several hours visiting various crofters who, although they looked a bit wary, acknowledged Emily cordially enough. Ian was glad he’d made these rounds earlier, when she’d first arrived. It had given his clansmen time to mull the situation.
Now there was only one other person that he felt needed an introduction. And he had no idea how it would go. Old Gwendolyn took no council but her own. Some claimed she had the Sight. He wasn’t sure he believed that, any more than his father’s ghost roaming the halls, but the healer did have an uncanny sense of whom to trust. More than once, she’d warned of someone about to turn coat on the MacGregors.
“Whose place is this?” Emily asked as they neared the small, whitewashed cottage with its thatched roof.
“’Tis where the MacGregor healer lives.”
“Old Gwendolyn?”
He looked at Emily in surprise. “Ye have already heard of her?”
She smiled. “Fiona told us.”
“Och, aye.” He wondered just what his talkative sister had said. Hopefully, she hadn’t mentioned the Sight or worse, the rumors from those who feared the healer and called her a witch. It was bad enough Fiona had talked about the ghost. Emily certainly didn’t need her head filled with the possibilities of witchcraft among the clan.
“What did my sister say?”
“Not much, just that she was a healer.” When he looked askance at her, she shrugged. “Fiona said she had taken one of the housekeeper’s tisanes to a neighbor, and I asked if Maggie had healing skills.”
“Ah.” Good, then. Emily would not have formed an opinion. Old Gwendolyn’s crone-like appearance could be startling—with her long white hair, gnarled hands, and stooped shoulders. That, and the fact that her eyes were black as ebony, had probably led to the onset of witch rumors more than the herbs she used.
