The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

“Aye,” she said, adding the washed dish to the stack of clean ones on the back of the table. “Bait. Ye said there are many children at yer Tor Ruadh. I’m sure ye know how young lads love to take every step the older ones do. They look up to them as if they’re gods.” Her scrubbing grew fiercer as she continued. “Ye knew Keigan would go with ye easier if ye had bait with ye.”

Hell’s bells, the lass kept her rage well fed. “Actually,” Magnus propped the door open with a stone, inhaling a deep lungful of the clean, rain-washed air. “Evander’s mother forced him to come. Alexander, the chieftain, agreed, so the boy might learn that everything we do in this world has a consequence. Appears they caught him with the smithy’s daughter, and Gretna doesna think him ready to be fathering a brood of his own.”

“And they thought ye to be a good teacher of this important lesson?” The huffing noise she made echoed with bitterness.

“They thought me to be a good example. Not a teacher.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice to ensure it wouldn’t carry outside to the boys. “I understand yer anger. The resentment. Hatred even.” He threw up his hands. “Whatever ye wish to call it. I canna imagine all that ye’ve had to endure these past few years—but I also canna undo a bit of it. All I can do is attempt to make what lies ahead easier. For Keigan and for yerself.”

Turning to watch the lads untie the horses and head toward the stream, he thumped a knuckle on the window ledge, then held up a finger. “One time I laid with yer sister. One time because she hoped to use the loss of her virginity to trade the prison of a forced marriage for the prison of a lonely nunnery. I never once told her I loved her nor ever tried to seduce her. I considered her a friend—and she knew that.” He rapped the windowsill again, harder this time. “But that doesna mean I willna honor my obligation to Keigan. I refuse to desert him as my father deserted me before I was born.”

Brenna propped both hands on the table and stared down at it. “She loved ye as a dear friend,” she said without lifting her gaze. “Said ye were the kindest man she had ever met.” She looked up at him, her face filled with pain and sorrow. “Even when we were running, even when we were starving, she never once spoke ill of ye.” The furrow between her fair brows deepened as she straightened and stared out the window. “And she also told me ye had never lied nor tried to deceive her.”

“I am so sorry she died,” he said, thankful that now the truth stood open between them.

“I am, too,” Brenna replied, swiping away an escaped tear as she turned away. Head bowed and her back to him, she pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, then blew it out.

Magnus waited, giving her the time she needed to settle what had to be a terrible storm within her. He understood little about women, but he felt in his heart that this one had been through what amounted to a terrible battle. All because of him.

She turned and faced him, a vision of composure and determination. “I am finished in here. Shall we wait outside for the lads to return with the horses?”

Magnus managed a smile and stepped aside for her to exit in front of him. “A fine idea.”

He meandered around the muddy clearing, glancing at the overgrown path that had brought him to her. Every person he had spoken to in the nearby village had talked of her with enough awe and reverence to stir the memory of a terrible time in his life.

His mother had been a white lady. A fine healer everyone sought for cures from the mildest maladies to the worst. When she had erred by insulting the vain wife of the procurator fiscal by telling the woman there was nothing to change her enormous nose, they had accused her of witchery. The court had then ordered his beloved mother crushed between boards laden with stones. To squeeze the evil from her soul, the parish priest had said. Magnus had arrived too late to save her and never forgiven himself for leaving her so unprotected.

With a glance to ensure the lads had not yet returned, he motioned toward the path leading to town. “Superstitious folk can be dangerous when they perceive themselves wronged. Ye dinna fear witch hunters?”

Brenna frowned. “I have had no trouble so far. They have been nothing but grateful and share whatever they can spare for my herbs and remedies.” Her chin lifted to a defiant angle. “Unlike many places where I sought help, including those on Nithdane land, the folk here seem generous enough. Our lives have been a great deal easier because of them.”

But the way she fidgeted in place, folding her arms, then letting them swing free, told Magnus more than her words. “Something troubles ye. Pray speak it. Let there be no lies or deceit between us.”

“No lies or deceit,” she repeated with a snide cut of her eyes over at him. “That’s the only way I have kept us safe and fed most of the time since the banishment.” She began gathering up sticks and loose debris that had blown into the clearing during the storm. “Rest assured, I trust no one. I have learned the hard lesson of misplaced trust. Dinna doubt that I take the greatest of care with my healing and limit any dealings with the villagers. I let no one close, and neither does Keigan.”

“What kind of life is that for a child?”

“A safe one,” she snapped, hefting a stick as though ready to throw it at him.

“A lonely one,” he corrected. He knew. His mother had done the same to him. That’s