Chapter Two

"W ait a minute," said Keithen, slowly lowering himself atop a wooden bench, still trying to catch his breath. "Ye mean to tell me I'm marryin' the ghost's granddaughter, and he doesna like it?"

Callum shrugged. "Mayhap no'. But once we have an alliance, he'll settle down I'm sure."

"Well, I'm no' sure," snapped Keithen. "How do ye ken this isna what has him upset in the first place?"

"I dinna," said Callum. "So, that is why ye've got to get rid of Lennox now, as well as marry his granddaughter for the alliance. I dinna want him scarin' off my customers or stoppin' this weddin'."

"I will no'!" Keithen's anger grew. He didn't like his life being planned by a madman.

"Ye are a MacKeefe now, and need to prove yer worth," Callum reminded him. "Ye will do what I say, or I'll make ye an outcast and no' welcomed back here."

"Ye dinna want that," mumbled Gavin.

"Bein' an outcast isna a good thing. We ken from experience," added Cam.

"Callum, isna Lennox MacNeil the man ye killed, thereby makin' our clans enemies in the first place?" asked Gavin.

"It wasna my fault. I didna kill him. No' really. It was an accident," said Callum, taking another swig of whisky, looking the other way.

"What happened? I mean, how did the man die?" asked Keithen, having to know this answer.

"Lennox and I were friends at one time," explained Callum. "He surprised me one day when I was makin' whisky in my still out in the woods. While sittin' atop his horse, he tried to find out my secret recipe. When he leaned over to see what I was doin', I pushed him away. Well, the horse reared up on him. The bloody fool Lennox—who had drunk too much in the first place—fell and broke his damned neck. Honestly, I think it was his fate, since I found out afterwards he was only tryin' to steal my secret recipe to sell it to our enemies."

"That's just speculation." Gavin shook his head. "Nothing has ever been proven."

"I say it's true, and that is enough proof!" Callum seemed to be angered by Gavin's words.

"Either way, I'm no' marryin' the man's granddaughter, and neither am I goin' to get rid of a ghost." Keithen reached over and snagged the bottle from Callum, taking a swig to calm his nerves. "That ghost wants me dead!"

"Ye have to marry the girl to make peace," said Callum. "It's more important now than ever."

"Make peace with who?" Keithen's eyes opened wide. "It is no secret Lennox doesna want peace. He wants my head."

"The betrothal is set and the girl is en route," Callum reminded him.

"He's right," agreed Gavin. "If ye break the promise, our clans will have a bloody battle on our hands. It is the last thing we want or need."

"And if I go through with it, it'll be my blood that's spilled instead," Keithen ground out, wondering if anyone really cared what happened to him.

"Ye need to find a way to make Lennox leave my tavern," said Callum. "If no', I will be ruined. Ruined, I say! He has already scared away all my customers."

"I agree," said Cam. "I dinna think anyone will return after what they witnessed here tonight."

Gavin put his hand on Keithen's shoulder. "The MacKeefe clan depends on the sales from Callum's Mountain Magic. It is our main source of income. Without it, we'll really struggle. It's up to you now to save the clan from failing."

Keithen didn't want the clan to struggle. Neither did he want the clan to fail, since he and his sister were now part of the family. Since he was a MacKeefe now, he wanted to do whatever he could to help out. And earning favor in Callum's eyes couldn't hurt him any, either.

"How do ye suggest I get rid of a ghost?" Keithen's head spun with concern, and he desperately needed suggestions. After all, this wasn't something he had ever encountered before.

Callum shrugged his boney shoulders. "I dinna care how ye do it, but just dinna let yer betrothed ken that the ghost of her grandda is trying to ruin the marriage. If she finds out, she might be the one to break the alliance instead. I warn ye, only trouble will result in either side breaking the betrothal."

"Ye think so?" Keithen felt his heart racing. He needed this marriage to work out more than the rest of the clan, because he was the one with the most at stake.

"Ye'll do it, then?" asked Cam.

"I dinna see that I have a choice," mumbled Keithen, taking another swig of whisky. "But how the hell do I kill a ghost?"

"Nay! Ye canna kill him," shouted Callum, his hands waving in the air like a madman once again. "He's already dead. Ye just need to convince him to leave, that's all. Leave here for good, and never return."

"If only it were that easy." Keithen ran a weary hand through his long, blond hair, wishing he had the skill of the Highland warriors and also the cunning of old Callum. Sadly, he had neither.

The door to the tavern burst open, and in walked a line of Highlanders clothed in dark green plaid. Since the MacKeefe's plaid was purple, brown, and green, he knew they weren't men from his new clan.

"So, where is this man who'll be marryin' my daughter?" asked the gruff-looking man who was surely the chieftain. He held an air of pride and command about him. He also wore more weapons than the others.

"Oh no," said Keithen.

"I thought they werena comin' until mornin'," commented Cam.

"He's right here, Laird Bhaltair MacNeil." Callum hurried across the room, grabbing Keithen by the arm and pushing him forward. "His name is Keithen. Keithen MacKeefe. He's the groom."

"So, ye're the MacKeefe who is goin' to marry my wee Lorna?" The man was big and burly, with a long, reddish-brown beard and thick brows. He also had the largest sword strapped to his side that Keithen had ever seen in his life.

"Aye. I am Keithen," he said, clearing his throat. "But I'm no' really a Mac—"

"Best MacKeefe in the clan," said Cam, slapping Keithen hard on the back to shut him up. "Go with it," he whispered from the side of his mouth.

"That's right. Keithen will make a wonderful husband for yer daughter, Laird MacNeil," added Gavin.

The newcomer's head snapped around, and he scowled at Gavin. "Chieftain. Call me Chieftain," growled the man, looking no happier about this arrangement than Keithen was at the moment.

Keithen opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a beautiful lassie marched in, stopping next to Chieftain MacNeil.

"I thought I told ye to wait outside," Chieftain Bhaltair MacNeil scolded the girl.

"If I am the one marryin' the man, then I have a right to meet him, and no' be kept in the dark. Well, which one is he?" she asked, looking at each of the men in turn.

Keithen was tongue-tied by her beauty. She had long, golden hair like spun sunshine. It was braided and entwined with colorful wildflowers. She held a sprig of heather in her fingers, twirling it around and around as she waited for her answer. Her eyes were bright blue like the sky, but filled with intense scrutiny, like a hawk. Her figure was curvy in all the right places. The lass's lips were full and red, and her cheeks were rosy. Keithen had been around whores his whole life while working in his tavern. However, even with all their tricks to look enticing to men, none of them could hold a candle to this lassie's natural beauty.

"I– I am Keithen. Yer groom," he finally managed to say.

"Yes. I can see that." She raised a curved brow and nodded. That was when Keithen realized Cam, Gavin, and even old Callum were all pointing directly at him behind his back. "These are my friends, Cam and Gavin, and the tavern's proprietor, Callum MacKeefe," he introduced the others.

"Ye seem as if ye were hesitant to admit ye are the groom," said Bhaltair. "I warn ye, if ye ever think of lyin' to my daughter, or doin' a thing to hurt her, I'll personally have yer head." The chieftain's beefy hand covered the hilt of his sword.

"Of course no'. Why would I even think of doin' somethin' like that?" Keithen asked nervously, not able to push the thought from his head that Callum told him he had to keep the ghost a secret. Wasn't that the same as lying? God's eyes, he hoped not! And now that so many had seen the spirit, did it even matter what he said?

"Where is everyone?" asked the girl, quickly scoping the room.

"Aye. If ye're goin' to support my daughter, I'd think this tavern would be busy, which it's no'." Bhaltair stared with dark, penetrating eyes that went right through Keithen. This didn't feel good at all.

"It's early yet," explained Callum. "It'll be busy soon. Right, boys?" Callum glared at Keithen and his friends, as if they actually had control if customers came to the tavern or not.

"Right," said Cam.

"Sure," agreed Gavin.

Both of them just stood there.

"Well? Go see what is takin' the customers so long to get here," said Callum through gritted teeth. "Bring them in here anon."

"Yes, we'll do that." Keithen took one step forward, but his path was blocked by Bhaltair, who crossed his thick arms over his broad chest.

"I'd think ye'd want to stay here and get to ken yer betrothed, Keithen MacKeefe," said the gruff man. His intentions to keep Keithen from walking out were clear.

Lorna MacNeil watched as two of the MacKeefes ran out the front door. The one named Keithen, who she was to marry, seemed to want to leave as well, but her father stopped him. She couldn't blame her future groom. After all, her father was demanding, overbearing, and downright rude. He scared anyone who met him.

"Faither, I'm sure my betrothed would like to show me to the room where I am to stay until the weddin' takes place. I am tired from the trip, and would like to rest."

"Yer room," repeated Keithen, his gaze roaming over to Callum who nodded slightly. "We happen to have a few rooms vacant upstairs, but perhaps ye'd be more comfortable stayin' elsewhere."

"Elsewhere? Like where?" asked Lorna. "Do ye have a castle nearby that I can stay in?" She knew full well the answer, but was just trying to get the man to talk so she could get to know him. After all, he would soon be her husband, and he'd barely said much to her at all. She actually preferred the silent type, since her father was so boisterous that it was a nice change. Still, her husband should be strong, able to stand up for and protect her. Keithen didn't look like the rest of the Highland warriors, and he wasn't even wearing any weapons other than a small dagger.

"Nay, the MacKeefes only have a camp in the Highlands," Keithen informed her.

"Hermitage Castle is ours, but it's too far for ye to journey there before the weddin'," said Callum. "I've made plans for the ceremony to happen right here at the Horn and Hoof in three days' time."

"Three days?" Both Keithen and Lorna said together.

"That soon?" gasped Keithen, sounding as if he wasn't fond of the idea. Actually, she wasn't sure she liked it either.

"We havena even posted weddin' banns yet," Lorna pointed out. "And Keithen and I dinna ken each other."

"No need for postin' banns. And ye'll get to ken each other once ye're married," Callum told them. "Now, the marriage should happen right away. Our clans have been enemies for too long, and it is time for an alliance. Chieftain MacNeil, come to the drink board with yer men. I'll pour ye some Mountain Magic. No charge." He extended his skinny arm, showing the way.

"I have heard good things about yer whisky, though I've never tasted it for myself," said the chieftain.

"Nay? Why no'?" asked Keithen with a chuckle. "I thought everyone in Scotland has had it at one time or another."

"My faither died over that whisky," said Bhaltair through clenched teeth. "On second thought, I dinna think I want any at all. Mayhap this whole alliance was a mistake."

"Nay! Nay, it's no' a mistake. I have to marry yer daughter," said Keithen, sounding a bit desperate for some reason.

"Ye have to?" questioned Bhaltair.

"Want to. He meant that he wants to marry her," said Callum, throwing Keithen a look that could kill.

Lorna didn't want trouble between the clans. She just wanted to be married, and who better to wed than one of the strong MacKeefes? "Please, Da. Just have a drink. To celebrate my betrothal."

While her father was a hardened, headstrong man, Lorna was usually able to get him to bend to her will. Since she was his only daughter, her father favored her, and sometimes Lorna took advantage of that.

"Well, mayhap just one drink." Her father and the other men of the traveling party headed over to the drink board with Callum, leaving Lorna alone with Keithen.

"Well, will ye show me to my room now?" asked Lorna. She walked over to the stairs with Keithen, looking up to see a man watching them from the upper floor. As soon as she noticed him, the man ducked down the corridor and disappeared. "Who is that man above stairs who seems to be watchin' us?"

Keithen stopped so fast that she went crashing right into the back of him. He turned and caught her, keeping her from falling. His arms felt strong around her. She looked up into his oaken eyes, noticing the scent of woodsmoke and whisky on him. A heat engulfed her from just being touched by this handsome man.

"Mayhap I'll show ye the kitchen first, since I'm sure ye're hungry from the journey," he suggested.

"Nay." She reluctantly pushed out of his arms, knowing if she stayed with him another minute, she'd want to kiss him to see how it felt. That wouldn't bode well with her father watching. "I'd prefer to go to my room for now." She looked up the stairs again, and once more she saw the flash of a man hiding at the top landing. He was dressed all in white, and looked very pale. "That man up there is actin' odd. Is it safe for me to stay here?"

"What man?" growled her father from the drink board.

She was about to tell her father what she'd seen when Keithen interrupted.

"No one, Chieftain. There is no man, nor anyone else up there, and no need to worry," Keithen blurted out. "Come, Lorna, let me escort ye to the kitchen." He put his hand on the small of her back and led her away.

It felt good to be touched by him, and Lorna quickly forgot about the strange man upstairs lurking in the shadows. Since it made her feel uncomfortable, she decided to stay with Keithen for now. After all, the only thing that really mattered at the moment was getting to know the man, since she would be his wife in just a few short days.