Free Highland Passage by J.L. Jarvis Page B

told to be quick.”
    “You’ve a strange sort of speech. From whence come you?”
    Mac tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong.
    “I said, where are you from?”
    Mac turned her ear toward the sound of his voice, but she could not be sure. “Far away, sir.” Loud footsteps sounded from the stairway. Mac looked but saw no one.
    “Mac?” said the voice from the other side of the door.
    “Ciarán!”
    He loosened his grip on her hand. Then he put his other hand over hers and tenderly stroked the inside of her palm and wrist.
    She smiled, thrilled by the touch of his hand stroking hers.
    “What are you doing here, lass? How on earth did you find me?”
    “We’ve come to bring you home.”
    “We?”
    In a futile effort to draw nearer, Mac reached her other hand under the door, desperate to touch him as much as she could while they hurried to whisper all that was on their minds and their hearts. “Hamish and Fergus are with me.”
    “God’s teeth, lass, how did you come upon them?”
    “Remind me to tell you that later. Right now, I need to know who has the key to this door.”
    “I dinnae ken, lass.”
    “Okay. I’ll try to find out.” She pressed her cheek to the door as though it might bring her closer to him.
    Ciarán’s voice caught in his throat. “It isnae safe for you here in the castle. Hamish shouldnae have allowed it.”
    “I insisted.”
    “And he let you. I’ll have words with him when I see him again.”
    “Don’t blame him, Ciarán. I had to.”
    “Och, Mac.”
    “It’s your fault. If you weren’t such a good kisser, I might not have.”
    He tried to laugh, which was what she wanted him to do, but their feelings were too deeply rooted. His grip tightened around her hand.
    Mac squeezed his hand in response. Hasty footsteps drew near. Mac looked but still saw no one. “I work in the kitchen, so I’m not far away. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
    She screamed as a hand gripped her rump and then pulled at her hips. Her hands were pulled from Ciarán’s grasp, but she gripped the bottom of the door with her fingertips. Ready to kick and fight off her attacker, she turned. But no one was there.
    Ciarán’s voice was frantic as he reached under the door. “Mac!”
    “I’m okay.” Her voice was breathless. She stood and searched the hall, pulling aside tapestries to make sure they were alone. But her fearful panting betrayed her. “Someone touched me, but no one is here.” She reached under the door for his hand. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
    He gave her hand a squeeze. “Be careful, lass.”
    “I promise I will.” She squeezed his hand in return and then hurried back down the stairs, her heart still pounding.
    All eyes were on her as she came into the kitchen. It made her uneasy.
    The cook asked, “Are you all right?”
    “Yes,” she lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “No reason.”
    With that, everyone returned to their duties.
    Mac started helping one of the girls make some oatcakes. “What is it? Tell me.”
    “I dinnae ken what you mean,” said the girl. She could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen, and she blushed far too easily.
    “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
    The girl’s eyes opened wider. “Seen who? I dinnae ken what you mean.”
    “Yes, you do. Tell me.” Mac looked her straight in the eye until she glanced around to make sure no one was looking. Finally she gave a weak nod.
    “Who’s up there?” asked Mac.
    “Och, no! Did he do something to you?”
    Mac gave a slight nod. “He touched me. Who is he?”
    “Did you see him?”
    “No, I just felt him—or rather, he felt me.”
    Now overwhelmed by sympathy, the girl leaned closer and said in hushed tones, “Black Andrew.”
    “Black Andrew? But how could he have climbed up that narrow stairway and then just disappeared?”
    The maid whispered, “Because he isnae a man; he’s a ghost.”
    A week ago, Mac would have laughed, but too much had