Page 3 of Rohaise the Red

A bigail watched Kerrick remove his horse’s bit and harness. Lord help her, the man was handsome. With a straight nose and a nicely formed mouth over a cropped beard, he would catch any woman’s attention. His wavy brown hair fell almost to his strong jawline. He was broad and as tall as William, maybe taller. He wore a leather doublet over a white linen tunic and tall leather boots that reached just below the edge of his great kilt. Kerrick Hay’s strength was quite obvious.

She smiled, their gazes connecting. Kerrick frowned as he studied her and looked away. Maybe he was hungry. “I can put together something for us to eat with your supplies,” she said.

“That would be much appreciated,” Kerrick said. “The bag with some food is on the table in the kitchen. I’ll take care of Leum and wash out here.”

She walked through the gate into the back courtyard. Certainly, she could be of use here. I will not be a show piece for you to bring out to entertain your friends and then lock me back away. Her fist clenched against her chest as she remembered the last words she’d shouted at William.

You will come to heel, Abigail, once I have you in my bed. William’s reply made her shiver as she walked through the splintered kitchen door. With a deep inhale, she pushed the nightmare aside. Yanking the cords open on Kerrick’s satchel, she pulled out a wrapped wedge of cheese, along with apples and milled flour.

A slight breeze tickled her cheek, and Abigail jumped, her hand going to her chest. The woman with red hair stood opposite her at the table. “Rohaise,” Abigail whispered. The spirit looked hazy and stared down at the food. “You can have some,” Abigail said, holding out a plump apple.

Rohaise met her gaze. Sorrow filled her eyes, along with hunger. Could she not eat or taste? “I am sorry,” Abigail whispered, and the woman vanished.

*

“Surprisingly good,” Kerrick said. He took another bite of the apple and cheese tart Grace had fashioned for their dinner.

“I melted the cheese to use with the flour to form the crust. The apples were sweet, and I found chestnuts in the side yard to crumble on top.” She smiled, pride filling her lovely eyes. Her skin was smooth and her nose and chin perfectly matched. And her lips begged to be kissed.

Damn fool . He dropped his gaze back to his plate. “I’ll get supplies from town in a few days and ask about chickens and a milk cow.”

“Eggs will help,” she said. “And this one will like pouncing after the chickens.” She set her new kitten on the floor.

Kerrick had found the sweet ball of fluff with its mother and siblings in the barn. It had been the runt, and the other kittens didn’t like to share the mother cat’s teats. Luckily it had survived long enough to be able to eat mashed apples and bits of dried meat.

The kitten rolled, leaped up, and pounced on a dry leaf that had come in on his boot. Grace laughed. The sound matched the flowery smell that emanated from her. Grace smelled like summer, sunshine, and joy. Bloody hell.

Tap, tap, tap, creak , creak… creak . Kerrick lifted his gaze overhead. “Footsteps?”

Grace lifted her gaze also, exposing the slender column of her throat. “I spent the first day chasing them around, but Rohaise will not be seen unless she wishes it.”

“A damn unwanted guest,” he said.

“At least she doesn’t require food and warmth.”

“That is looking at the positive,” he grumbled and set his cup back on the table. “’Tis been a long day. I’m heading up to bed.”

“Which bed?” she asked.

“The largest one.”

She tipped her head. “I cleaned the master bedchamber first, but Rohaise seems partial to it, so I cleaned the one next door for me to use.”

“I will take the master since I am the master of Delgatie,” he said.

“You might end up with a bed partner.”

He looked at the ceiling. “I will send her on her way.”

“Shall I lock the skillet in the brick oven tonight, just in case?”

His chair scraped as he pushed back, making the kitten leap onto Grace’s lap. “I’ll lock my bedchamber door. If she can float inside, the bloody skillet cannot make it through the wood.”

Kerrick never thought to utter such ludicrous words. He shook his head. When wagering to win his place in the family after returning from Cromwell’s war, he thought the only ghosts plaguing him would be from his time on the battlefield.

His gaze rested on Grace as she held the kitten against her cheek. Such a soft cheek. “Good eve,” he said and traipsed away before his gaze could linger.

Kerrick carried his satchel upstairs and quickly started a fire in the master bedchamber hearth. He went next door to build one for Grace. She had done an excellent job cleaning both chambers. His gaze strayed to the medium-sized bed that she had been sleeping in. It was probably filled with her sweet flowery scent.

“Will you sleep with me?” The faint voice came from the hallway, and for an instant Kerrick’s heart pumped blood hard through his body as he turned on the toes of his boots, still in his crouch. “I think I will call you Boo for Boudica, the powerful warrior queen of the Celts.”

He straightened, exhaling as he realized Grace was inviting her cat into bed with her, not him. Good . He certainly didn’t need an entanglement with a lass right now.

“Oh,” she said, walking in to find him there.

“I was starting your fire,” he said. “’Tis a cold night.”

The flickers of light cast gold across her, and the curve of a smile relaxed her mouth. “That was most kind.” The kitten jumped from her arms, making her look down, breaking the tether.

He nodded. “Let us hope for a peaceful night.” Striding past her, he made it to his room and shut the door. Nay. He wouldn’t let her flowery scent distract him from his need to get Delgatie running.

Kerrick scanned the corners of his room as he undressed. No red-haired spirit. He stalked over to the bed, yanking back the covers. “’Tis my room,” he said and climbed in. “’Tis my castle.” He leaned over and blew out the taper he’d brought up with him, leaving the room lit only by the hearth fire.

“Dammit,” he murmured, and got out to pad across the room to turn the iron key in the lock. He’d escaped death by sword and artillery in Cromwell’s army. He would not be killed by a spirit brandishing a flying skillet.

On the other side of the wall Grace was probably washing her face and combing through all that silky hair of hers. Did she sprinkle lavender on her pillow to make her hair smell more enticing? “Fool,” he murmured and climbed back in bed, turning his thoughts to the sheep he needed to house. But as the exhaustion from the day of mucking the ancient stable, fixing the back door he’d splintered, fighting off a vengeful ghost, and hauling a body half a mile away caught up to him, Kerrick fell into a dream. But it wasn’t of sheep. It was of red hair that smelled of flowers.

Grace. She smiled at him, turning in a circle of falling flower petals. They stood in a hazy field outside Delgatie’s walls. He tried to walk to her, but his feet felt stuck. When he looked down, they were caught in a peat bog, trapping him.

“Kerrick,” she said, and he saw that her smile had fled. She pointed behind him, and he twisted his body to see. Suddenly he was inside the wall, and Rohaise stood directly before him, only inches away. He yelled, raising his sword … and jerked awake.

Flat on his back, his eyes snapped open to darkness and a pale ghostly face, with floating red hair, leaned over him.