Chapter Ten

S he heard a crash behind her, following by a dragging sound as awful as doom—then footsteps and a shout. "Elinor!" Gavin called.

Then he was there, falling to his knees, reaching for her, his hands strong and firm on her waist. As he drew her back, her forearm twisted, and he stretched further to free it so that she fell back in his arms.

"Come here—" He held her, just that, then helped her to her feet, though her limbs trembled. She rubbed her bruised arm, gasping. "What happened?"

"The outer door slammed shut—I could not open it. I felt so furious, knowing he has haunted Braemore for centuries, and done such harm! So I went over to the pit to tell him to leave, and the grate broke under me."

"I should never have left you. But you faced him on your own, lass." Drawing her into the shelter of his arm, he moved her away from the pit.

"And then I saw him, saw the shadow. Look!" She pointed. In the pit, darkness swirled, and the floor seemed to shiver under her feet.

"Stay there." Gavin stepped away to drag something heavy toward the grate—a coiled black chain. "I remembered that an iron chain was part of the medieval door mechanism. A length was still stored in a garden cupboard. This ought to do," he said, and pushed it into the pit.

Slithering like a great beast, the massive chain fell into the darkness, smashing and clanging as it reached the bottom. Gavin wiped his hands.

"Sir Archibald Erskine," he called, "as laird of Braemore and a descendant of your son Gabhan through Lady Matilda, I order you to leave this place. Depart now or be trapped in irons forever."

He caught Elinor's hand in his. Silence. She leaned forward to see a dark swirl.

"Gavin," she whispered. "The shadow is still there. He is not gone!"

"Look. She is here," he whispered, pointing upward toward a little glow of light.

Elinor gasped. "Has she ever been seen in the tower?" He shook his head.

The light swirled over the broken grate, then dipped inside. "Lady Matilda—" Elinor reached out.

"Wait," Gavin murmured.

Peering down, she saw the light bloom in the darkness, saw the weave of the massive chain. Then all went dark. "No—"

"Wait. She is still here, see," Gavin whispered, holding her hand.

The light reappeared, swirling upward and over their heads. Elinor watched as it moved toward the outermost door, where it whirled, stretched, took form.

A woman stood there, pale, dark eyed, beautiful, translucent. The old, scarred door was just visible through her. She held out her hand—

Another light bloomed beside her, larger, taller: a man, long-haired, translucent, wearing a tunic. Lady Matilda smiled as she took Sir Archibald's hand—

"Oh," Elinor breathed. "She came in here to free him. The iron diminished his anger. He needed Matilda's forgiveness."

"More than forgiveness," he whispered, "he needed her love." As he spoke, the lady and her baron entwined, faded, and vanished.

"Oh!" Elinor gave a little sob, and Gavin kissed the top of her head.

"And I needed your forgiveness."

"No need. I love you," she said simply.

"And I love you. Do you feel a change in the air? It is calmer. Cleaner."

"Aye, but I have a sense," she said, smiling, "that we will see her again. She watches over you—the son, through generations, of her son."

"Then she will watch over both of us, my love." He leaned to kiss her.

"Gavin," she murmured then, "come outside." She took his hand to lead him toward the outermost door, which opened easily to the garden path.

The storm had cleared. Above heather-covered hills, the sky was deep twilight blue, scattered with stars. In the glen below, Elinor saw more stars—the golden torches carried by Samhain revelers whose faint songs and laughter lifted on the wind.

"Beautiful night," Gavin murmured, slipping his arm around her waist, the wool of his coat warm against the chill wind. "Peaceful."

"It is. Do you think we will see Edgar and Angus tonight?"

"And if we do not?"

"I think that would be fine." Elinor welcomed a tender kiss and hoped no one would visit Braemore that night. The thought felt wicked, exciting, perfect.

For now, she only craved the tranquility of standing beside him in the crisp, cool, autumn air with the castle soaring behind them, its happiness restored.

"I am thinking," he murmured, "that we need not sell Braemore after all. We will find a way to keep it."

"We," she said. "I like that."

"And I think," he went on, "Braemore needs a new lady. I wonder if she would do me that honor again."

"She would," she whispered, pressing close, feeling his heartbeat, hers, together. The same breeze sifted her hair and his, the same thoughts and desires shared between them. Lifting on her toes, she kissed him and felt her heart open, felt joy ripple through her.

Leaning back, she smiled. "We could have our wedding here."

"We could, with a few repairs."

"I have another thought. A plan."

"Miss Cameron does love a plan."

"What if we allowed tourists to stay here now and then, in small groups, when we are away? They would love this beautiful place—and the story of haunted lovers."

"I like that plan. Braemore would benefit."

"Another thought," she said, as Gavin chuckled. "We could hold romantic weddings here. Braemore would benefit from that too."

"Excellent. Let us hold our own first, my love, and consider it, aye?"

"Oh, aye," she said, and went into the circle of his arms.

The End