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

at Cadha’s precious sacrifice, he didn’t wish for her to have died in vain.

Both Raithwaite and Alexander took hold of his wrists and pulled, giving him the needed support to climb up onto the ledge. He’d never been so thankful to stretch out across cold, hard rock in his life.

“Thank God Almighty, ye’re safe.” Brenna crouched at his head, raining kisses on his face and in his hair. “I feared ye dead,” she wept as she pulled him into her arms and hugged him to her breast. “I’ve ne’er been so afraid in my life,” she whispered.

Magnus rolled to sit and scooped her into his lap as he leaned back against the cavern wall. He crushed her to his chest, closing his eyes as he breathed her in and held her. “I thank God for ye, m’love.” And he meant it. For it had to have been Divine Providence alone that had kept him hanging on that ledge. “Thank God Almighty.”

“What say we hie to the keep?” Alexander asked, crouching down beside them. “Can ye walk?”

“I shall be more than happy to help if not,” Raithwaite volunteered. “But before we emerge from the caverns, I’m none too sure the keep is the safest place for Master de Gray. Especially not with both the commander and Lieutenant Cawldrake dead.”

“What about yerself, man?” Magnus asked. “Will ye be safe as the sole survivor?”

“I do have an idea,” Raithwaite mused with a cocked brow, then his smile beamed brighter than the torchlight. “I truly believe it will work.”

*

“Here lies Magnus de Gray and his beloved wife Brenna Maxwell de Gray,” Brenna read aloud. “It feels strange to visit yer own grave and read the inscription on the headstone.”

“Now, now Renna MacCoinnich,” Magnus said as he hugged her close and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Magnus and Brenna were dear friends whom we shall never forget, aye?”

“Aye, Jedidiah MacCoinnich.” She smiled, praying that Archibald Raithwaite’s plan worked. From now on, all would know her and Magnus as Jedidiah and Renna MacCoinnich, long-time residents of Tor Ruadh. Their old selves had fallen to their deaths in the caverns of Ben Nevis, along with Commander Barricourt, Second Lieutenant George Cawldrake, and poor, misunderstood Cadha. Her gaze fell to the bundle of flowers she held. “I brought these for Cadha. We should pray for her, aye?”

“Aye,” Magnus agreed with a quiet reverence, shifting his stance and situating his cane to firmer ground. He couldn’t bear the same position for longer than a few moments. His injuries forbade it.

Brenna bent and placed the bough of vibrant pink heather and ivy at the base of Cadha’s tombstone.

“It’s a shame we didna ken her surname.” Brenna kissed two fingers, then pressed them to the marker located beside their own. “I pray the poor lass has, at last, found peace.”

“I do, as well.” Magnus frowned down at the maid’s grave with a sad shake of his head. “From all I gathered about her, she never knew peace in life.”

Brenna rose, her heart aching for the troubled girl. Aye, the maid had been a thorn in her side, but toward the end, she felt sure they had developed something akin to friendship. She returned to Magnus’s side, walking on his right since he held his cane on his left. “Do ye think Raithwaite will be able to convince them we died?”

“I will consider nothing to the contrary.” He gave her a smile, but she wasn’t fooled. Concern tightened the corners of his mouth.

They strolled through the peaceful kirkyard, taking advantage of one of the last days of balmy sunshine before bitter winds brought frost to paint the Highlands with the vibrant colors of fall. If Raithwaite’s report, filed for the next commander’s review, didn’t conceal them, then passage on one of Duncan MacCoinnich’s smuggling ships would have to be booked before the seasonal storms made it impossible to reach his island and take up residence with him, his wife, Tilda, and their children.

Magnus flinched, then grunted, his knuckles whitening on the handle of his cane.

“We’ve walked too much. Yer leg will never heal if ye dinna rest it.” She and Gretna had hurt his pride as well as his arse by digging out several shards of stone embedded deep in his right buttock. His right knee, badly wrenched and swollen to twice its normal size, received herbal wraps daily. He would heal, but it would take time, and Brenna feared he might be left with a permanent limp. She turned them toward a secluded bench beside the low wall separating the chapel garden from the rest of the keep. “What say we sit here a while, aye?”

“Ye treat me like a sickly bairn.” His growling sounded like a wounded beast, but Brenna heard the relief in his tone.

“And I’ll tell Keigan that a ride this afternoon is out of the question.” The child would be disappointed, but it would be an excellent lesson in compassion and consideration. “He and the lads can hunt with Merlin instead, aye?” Keigan enjoyed working with the falcon almost as much as he loved riding.

Magnus huffed out a disgusted snort as he lowered himself to the bench. He rested both hands atop the cane planted between his feet and rocked forward and back like a sulking child. “I dinna wish the lad to think me weak.” He cut a dark glare in her direction. “It isna fitting, ye ken?”

“Weak? How many times has he made ye repeat yer story of all ye endured in the caves?” She resettled her skirts and met his dark scowl with a stern frown of her own. “Ye’re a hero to the lad. Ye heard him retelling yer tales to the other children. He doesna think ye weak.” After an unladylike snort, she added, “And I havena heard a peep from the rotten wee scamp about my adventures or all I endured!” She flicked a hand and laughed. “’Tis obvious—only his father’s bravery matters!”

“Which reminds me.” Magnus sat straighter on the