Free Donna Fletcher Short Story Collection by Donna Fletcher

so
strong in his ear that he wondered who stood behind him. And who
dared to call her a witch. She had always been known to his people
as a healer... never a witch.
    “May I offer you a hot brew to chase away
your chill?” she asked and her smile grew. “And perhaps a few of
those sweet cakes you favor.”
    “You remember.”
    “You would have eaten all of them if your
mother had let you,” she said and pointed to a chair at a table
near the hearth, then slipped his cloak off his shoulders to hang
on a peg near the fireplace.
    Royce sat. “Why is it that I cannot recall
your name?”
    “Most don’t,” she said ladling steaming
liquid from a pot hanging in the hearth into a tankard and when
finished she placed in front of Royce. “It is hot. Be careful.”
    “Your name,” he reminded then smiled, “or is
it a secret?”
    “The only true secret is one that a person
keeps to himself.” She removed a cloth from a plate on the table.
“Have as many as you’d like.”
    Royce grinned like a young boy about to enjoy
a treat and reached for one.
    “You have come for help?” she asked after
pouring another tankard and joining him at the table.
    “I have,” he said. “And I hope you can help
me.”
    “I will do my best.”
    “Would you know anything about the Christmas
ghost myth that haunts my castle?”
    “I have heard snippets but no more. Most dare
not whisper a word about a ghost for fear the ghost will haunt
them.”
    “I have no such fear and it is I who will be
haunting this culprit who fancies himself a ghost until I vanquish
him from my castle.”
    “You do not believe in ghosts?”
    “It is nonsense. Someone got wind of this
myth and perpetrated a hoax for his own delight. I thought to
discover the origin of the myth in hopes of proving it false.”
    “Tell me about the ghost.”
    Royce related the toe tugging problem and
objects being moved and told her about a few sightings, and how his
mum had experienced the same.
    “It sounds as if the ghost is searching for
something and had sought your mum’s help and is now seeking your
wife’s help in finding it.”
    “He’ll not be getting any help from my wife.
She refuses to return to our bed chamber.” He cringed. He had had
no intentions of sharing that information with her, but then she
was easy to talk with and oddly enough he felt comfortable
discussing the matter with her.
    “If he wants her help, he’ll follow where she
goes,” she explained.
    “When I catch him, he’ll be sorry he ever
began this foolish game.”
    “And if it is a ghost you chase, what then?
How will you deal with him? He will not fear you for there is
nothing you can do to him... he is dead.”
    A shiver ran through Royce, not out of fear
but resolution. He had to consider that the ghost might exist for
his wife’s safety.”
    “How do I protect my wife against a
ghost?”
    She smiled. “You do not believe in ghosts and
yet you will battle one for your wife. You must love her very
much.”
    “I would do anything to keep my wife safe...
even believe in ghosts if I must.”
    She nodded slowly. “Then find out what this
ghost searches for and find it for him or he will never stop
haunting her.”
    ~~~
    Royce went over the plan again with a group
of his warriors as he kept watch on his wife sitting at a table in
front of the hearth in the Great Hall. Breda had been abed for a
couple of hours with Sara in attendance. She would fetch them if
needed. He had made certain that the bed he had broken had been
replaced and with a bit larger one just in case, though he doubted
there would be any need for it.
    He dispersed his men and approached his wife.
She grew more beautiful each day. Her long dark wavy hair glistened
from the fire’s light and her stunning blue eyes shined brighter
than a spring morn. Then there was her creamy complexion, so soft
to the touch. He wondered if it was possible to fall in love more
deeply with one’s wife for it seemed that his love for