Donna Fletcher Short Story Collection (8 page)

Bed chamber
.

Brianna wiggled out of his arms, not an easy
task since her husband’s strength was the source of legends. He was
a Highlander warrior known for his fearlessness and tremendous
strength. But to her, he was a tender and loving man, which made
her demand all the more difficult and sounded ridiculous to her own
ears.

“I will not return to our bed chamber until
you banish the ghost.”

Royce shook his head. “There is no
ghost.”

“Then who tugs at my toes at night waking me
and moves things around in our bed chamber?” Brianna raised her
hand stopping him from responding. “Do not bother to tell me that
the tugs are nothing more than dreams. The servants have been
refusing to enter the room noticing themselves that things have
been moved around that normally are not. They believe it is
haunted.” She took a breath. “They believe in the legend of the
Christmas ghost.”

“It is pure nonsense,” Royce snapped. “There
is no Christmas ghost.”

“Then find the prankster responsible. Until
then I will sleep in our daughter’s bed chamber.”

“That bed is not big enough for us both.”

“Then you best hurry and solve the problem.”
With that Brianna turned and hurried out of the Great Hall.

It wasn’t the mumbling oaths that frightened
the servants away but the furious scowl on Royce’s face. They
scurried out of the hall like mice being chased by a hungry
cat.

He stormed over to a table near the large
stone fireplace, plunked himself down on the bench so hard that it
sounded as if it would split in two and poured himself a tankard of
ale some of it splashing over the sides.

The Christmas ghost.

That damn myth had haunted the castle for
years. He didn’t believe any such nonsense, though he did recall
his mother recounting the tale each year, no doubt fostering belief
in it. It seemed every Christmastime the ghost would haunt the
laird’s bedchamber. Some servants had claimed to have seen the
ghost, though Royce believed it was more their own hysteria that
caused the visions. But there were those who claimed to have seen
an apparition of a cloaked man.

He took a generous swallow of ale. The myth
was utter nonsense and had grown over the years with the retelling
of the tale. It was no ghost responsible for the senseless antics
and he would just have to prove it and fast. There was no way that
Brianna and he would sleep in separate beds. The idea was absurd
and he would never allow it. He grew more annoyed just thinking
about it.

A chatter of voices behind him drew his
attention and he swung around. Several servants had entered the
Great Hall and stopped abruptly frozen by his feral scowl.

Royce grumbled, stood, and hurried out of the
hall, hearing sighs of relief from the servants as he went. He took
the stone steps two at a time and hastened down the hall to his
daughter Breda’s room. He entered quietly not wanting to disturb
her naptime. She lay on her stomach, her legs crunched beneath her
pushing her tiny bottom up. Her black hair stuck out of her head in
tufts of soft curls and though her eyes were closed the color was
vivid in his mind... a blue as beautiful and brilliant as the
morning sky. Even at only a few months it was easy to tell that she
was going to be a beauty just like her mother. He tucked the soft
wool blanket around her and patted her bottom. He then added
another log to the fire to make certain the small room stayed
warm.

He eyed the narrow bed with disdain. His wife
would not be sleeping there. The small bed was for Sara, the
servant who tended Breda.

“It will do until you chase the ghost.”

Royce turned to see his wife standing in the
doorway. He went to her and slipping an arm round her waist scooped
her up, gently shut the door with his foot and carried her to the
bed. “Shall we see if it will do?”

Before Brianna could protest he placed her on
the bed and followed her down. There was barely room for them to
move, Royce sprawled half around her, his feet hanging off the end.
She could not help it, she giggled.

He squeezed her waist playfully. “You would
have me suffer to sleep here?”

The bed protested with a squeak and a
crack.

“It will not hold us both.”

“And I will not be separated from you.” His
hand roamed intimately over her.

Passion sparked in an instant and though she
should have objected she didn’t. She turned her head, her lips
finding his and was soon lost.

Royce kissed her like a hungry man who could
not get enough, but that seemed to be the way of it with his wife.
No matter how much they loved, he wanted to love even more and she
felt the same.

His hands were soon maneuvering her garments,
eager to touch her soft skin, eager to make love with her. She
tried to help him but their tight quarters and fumbling soon had
them laughing. They kissed in between laughs and their passion
grew. Soon their hands turned frantic as did their movements.

One swift move and Royce was on top of her
and she welcomed him... the bed didn’t.

It splintered in two and they both landed
with a thud on the floor.

“Are you all right?” Royce asked quickly
moving off her.

It took a moment for her to catch her breath
Royce’s weight having knocked the breath out of her.

“Brianna?” he asked anxiously and eased her
to sit up.

Breda cried out and they both turned to see
that they had woken their daughter.

Brianna waved at her husband to take care of
their baby while she regained her breath. When she went to stand
Royce’s arm was at her waist helping her up as he cradled his
daughter in his other arm.

Brianna smiled, her daughter’s eyes already
closing. “She is forever content in her da’s arms.”

“Are you all right?”

She saw the worry in his eyes. He had
protected her from the moment they had met and he always would. It
made her feel safe and it made her feel loved.

“I’m fine, though... I do need a bed
tonight.”

“You’ll sleep beside me tonight.” He stopped
any protest she would make with a kiss. “I will settle the problem,
though I don’t know if I can catch the culprit in one day. Will you
give me until Christmas to finally lay this myth to rest?”

“You must banish the ghost by Christmas Eve
for Christmas Day he will once again vanish until next year.”

“I will see it done.” He was surprised and a
bit annoyed to see his wife’s brow crinkle. “You don’t believe me
capable of seeing this done?”

“I wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“How will you banish the ghost when you do
not believe the myth?”

~~~

Royce walked in the woods the cold air
clearing his mind while his fur-lined wool cloak kept him warm. A
trickle of snow had fallen since yesterday but the gray sky and
biting chill promised more would follow.

Brianna had inadvertently given him an idea
when she had accused him of not believing the myth. If the myth was
the cause of the problem then it was the myth that needed solving.
If he could prove to everyone that there was no ghost then the
matter would be settled. Everyone’s imaginings would cease and
sensibility would once again prevail.

He had decided that the best place to start
was with a visit to the old woman in the woods. She had been around
for as long as Royce could remember. He had recalled a time when
his mother had taken him along when she had paid the woman a visit.
She had seemed old then to him having long white hair though he
couldn’t recall if her face had worn wrinkles. He mostly remembered
her shiny hair and the cakes she had offered him and his mother had
allowed him to eat. They were sweet and flavorful and he would have
eaten the lot of them if he’d been allowed to.

The other thing he recalled about her cottage
that seemed strange was that...

He stopped, stared and shook his head. He had
thought perhaps he had been wrong in his recollection but it seemed
he hadn’t been. Her cottage looked as if it sat suspended by two
trees, though it wasn’t. It was actually built between two trees.
It was the few steps to the front door that gave the illusion that
it sat suspended. Still, it gave one pause.

With quick, strong strides he approached the
stairs. The door opened before his foot reached the bottom step. He
would have jumped back but the warrior in him held his ground,
though he couldn’t stop his startled expression. Age may have
claimed the woman with a degree of wrinkles, but her beauty shined
through along with her smile.

“It is an honor to welcome the laird into my
home,” she said and stepped aside and with a wave of her hand bid
him to enter.

Royce nodded and accepted her respectful
invitation, his eyes still wide as he glanced over her. Age
certainly hadn’t marred her body. She was tall and slender, no
hunch to her shoulders but rather a regal grace to her movements.
And her hair was as white, shiny and long as the day he had seen it
those many years ago.

The one thing he could not recall about her
was her name. With most of the clan seeking her help he wondered
how it was that her name was not mentioned by many.

Witch.

He turned his head the whispered word 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 her had
grown with each passing day.

Quickening his steps, he reached her side and
leaned down and kissed her soundly.

Her cheeks flushed red and she hid her face
in the crook of his neck and whispered, “That kind of kiss is best
saved for our bed chamber.”

“Does that mean you wish to retire?”

She came out of hiding, though he much rather
her face remained tucked in his neck, her soft breath tickling his
skin and arousing him as much as the kiss.

“I want very much to retire with you but the
ghost—”