My Lady Captor. Hannah Howell

didnae answer my questions. Why are there ghosts, and why should they come to ye?”

      “I dinnae ken why these spirits linger,” she replied. “My mother believed it was because they had left something undone, and until they felt that all was cleared away, they wandered the earth. As far as I ken, none of my kinswomen have met a spirit who died peacefully, his priest at his bedside, and his death not only expected but accepted. The spirit who spent the most years with my mother was a young woman named Mary who had been cruelly murdered by her husband. It took years for the truth to be discovered but when it was and the mon was punished for his crime, she left and my mother never saw her again.”

      “And ye said this Crayton was murdered.” Despite himself, Ruari was interested, although he tried to convince himself that it was simply because he liked a good tale.

      “Aye. An English raiding party stumbled across him and his lover, Elspeth. The poor lass was raped and murdered before his eyes, and then he too was murdered. The men responsible must all be dead by now, for it happened so long ago, but Crayton lingers, needing someone to be punished.”

      “He cannae find many Englishmen here.”

      “Nay, but he died not far from here, and I think he may be stuck here. Why do ye ask so many questions if ye think I am mad?”

      “Mayhap I but try to see the reasoning behind your delusions.”

      “And mayhap ye are just bored.” She stood up and moved to the door. “Ye will have to seek your entertainment elsewhere, sir. I dinnae really like being the source of your amusement.”

      Ruari sat up as she opened the door. “Ye cannae expect everyone to believe ye without question.”

      “Nay, I dinnae ask that of anyone. I do not, howsoever, expect to be thought mad or made an object of ridicule.”

      He winced when she left, shutting the heavy door behind her with a distinct thud. Sending her away angry and offended had not been his plan, he thought as he slumped against his pillows. When she had arrived after hiding from him for two days, his first thought had been to cheer the opportunity to steal another kiss and to hope for more, much more. Instead she had begun to speak of ghosts and talked to someone who was not there. He, in turn, had acted as if she were foaming at the mouth and waving a bloodstained battle-axe around. That was no way to accomplish a seduction.

      “But she speaks to the air,” he muttered angrily then took several deep breaths to calm himself.

      Many people believed in ghosts. Even though he had never met anyone who thought he could talk to them, he had no right to scorn her beliefs. She was right to get so angry. He stared at the door and wondered how long she would hide from him this time.