Free CursedLaird by Tara Nina Page B

cheek. If he felt
the chill, he didn’t show it. Caledonia chewed the edge of her lip, nervously
watching and wishing this sad scenario were simply a dream.
    Pain and confusion wafted off the man in waves, attacking
her sense of caring, pushing her to want to soothe his anguish. No words formed
in her throat. Nothing came to mind that didn’t sound contrite inside her head.
What did you say to a two-hundred-plus-year-old Scottish laird who woke to a strange
world and learned the fate of his family was not a desired one? She chose to
remain still, watch and listen, hoping to learn a way to ease his discomfort
without ending up on the sharp end of that claymore.
    “ M’Gaol ,” he stated on a hushed breath. He sheathed
his sword. When he attempted to touch her cheek, his hand penetrated her head
and he jerked it back to his chest. Caledonia’s heart hurt at the sight of
pure, anguished surprise upon his face. All he wanted was to touch Mary and
even that had been taken from him. The lump in Caledonia’s throat grew.
    “ M’Gaol ,” Mary repeated then smiled. For several long
seconds, they stared longingly at one another as if it finally sank in that
they’d admitted their love for one another. But it was too late. No matter how
hard she swallowed or sniffed, Caledonia couldn’t have stopped the slow slide
of tears this time.
    “Your brathairs Gavin and Ian can be found along with
Akira’s spirit at Castle MacKinnon. It is a time where thy tongue is no longer
Gaelic. It is English,” Mary continued. Mary cupped his cheek and he closed his
eyes as if relishing her touch, though Caledonia doubted he actually felt
anything other than sheer cold upon his flesh. “ M’Gaol , with your
release comes mine. I leave ye in safe hands.” She looked over her shoulder.
“Caledonia’s.”
    She turned then floated closer. Mary touched Caledonia’s
cheek and proved her right in her thoughts. Icy coldness skittered across her
flesh all the way to her toes, but she refused to visibly shiver. Instead, she
met Mary’s gaze. If she read it right, the ghost appeared relaxed, at peace.
    She leaned in close to Caledonia’s ear and whispered, “Take
care o’ him. He deserves a second chance at love.”
    Mary’s chin tilted heavenward and she nodded as if she
answered someone’s silent call. She returned to Struan then placed a kiss upon
his cheek. A bright flash of light occurred and cold mixed with hot in the air
around them. Mary disappeared, leaving behind a show of stars that sparkled a
multitude of colors then dimmed into nothingness.
    “She’s crossed over,” Caledonia stated in awe.
    This was something she’d never forget. She witnessed one of
the most beautiful love scenes ever. A woman lingered for centuries as a ghost,
protected the man she loved, not knowing the truth until the very end. Mary
went to the Garden of Angels with the knowledge her sacrifice was not wasted.
He loved her as well, which set her soul at peace. Caledonia swore she saw that
in Mary’s eyes the moment before she crossed over.
    Mary’s whispered words filtered through her head. Kiss
him, Caledonia. Make him yours and love him as well as I did and more.
    Caledonia took several steps toward Struan, uncertain if she
should follow Mary’s wishes. He looked befuddled by the whole thing. Yet, for
some unexplainable reason, Mary’s words refused to dissipate. It was as if the
ghost controlled her actions. She grabbed him by the back of his neck and
jerked him down to kissable level. Without giving him a chance, she planted a
hot, plundering kiss. His mouth parted and she didn’t hesitate to sample his
flavor. Masculine and seductive. Caledonia commanded this kiss in much the same
manner as he had their first—just not as brutal.
    As fast as it started, she ended it. Out of breath and
wanting more, she managed to place a gap between them. She released her grip
and met his confused stare. Caught up in the moment, she poked his
muscle-ripped