My Highland Laird - J.L. Langley Page 0,43

eerie feel. He half expected to see ravens shoot out of the trees in a loud ruckus.

Wasn’t Agatha afraid of living so far out? Not that it was far out, really. He could still see the castle walls from here over his shoulder, but it did seem awfully secluded.

“You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?” Louie whispered beside him, her voice pleading with him to say no.

“Of course not.” He gave Louie what she wanted and what they both needed to hear, but after today, he was no longer so sure. That plate had not just fallen; it had moved like someone shoved it. But then again, given the setting, it was probably only Timothy exaggerating.

Bushes rustled and a twig snapped to his left, but when he looked, no one was there.

Probably. Timothy and dramatic went hand in hand.

More rustling and a high-pitched wail erupted through the trees and echoed off the castle walls, and Bannon froze. A banshee. He was no longer so sure about probably.

Louie’s fingers dug into his arm, and she let out a little eep.

The swish of leaves being kicked around increased, and maybe it was his imagination, but the fog seemed to seep out from beneath the trees, reaching toward them. Bannon glanced behind them to gauge their guard’s reaction, but he was not there. “Where is Hamish?”

Another high-pitched squeal sounded, this time closer, and a huffing sound followed.

“I don’t know, but I think maybe we should get out of here,” Louie whispered again, even quieter than before.

He nodded, thinking she might be right about being as quiet as possible. Whatever was in that forest was about to make itself known, and since he didn’t have a safe place to sit and observe—waaaay out of the way—it was probably best to get inside. Trying to act like he wasn’t the least bit nervous, Bannon led Louie briskly toward Agatha’s house.

Halfway there, stampeding footsteps sounded behind him along with grunts and that horrible scream.

He whirled around, ready to face the banshee, but his feet were knocked out from under him, followed by a very human shout of “Look out!”

That voice did not belong to Hamish.

§ § § §

Ciaran stared in shock as the boar mowed Red down and scrambled inside the open gate of Maggie’s vegetable garden. This was not good. Hadn’t he told Agatha hunting boar with just the two of them was a bad idea? The only reason he’d gone along was because she would’ve gone by herself otherwise. She should have waited long enough for him to get a group of men together or even a bow and arrows, but she hadn’t, and now… disaster.

Poor Red was paying for their folly. How had he just happened along at the absolute worst time? Wincing, Ciaran hurried over to where he lay flat on his back.

Red stared up at him with blinking green eyes. He lay perfectly still, with a lock of red hair right down the center of his nose. He looked both adorable and miserable. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and his skin took on a grayish pallor.

“Red, are ye—”

“Shut that gate, lass!” Aunt Agatha raced past him, waving her arms in the air.

Shut the…. What? With a hitch in his chest, Ciaran glanced up in time to see Louisa slam Maggie’s garden gate shut… with the boar inside. Och!

Seconds later, Agatha latched the gate.

Bam! The boar headbutted the gate, and Agatha and Louisa both jumped back.

Louisa let out a little squeal.

Ciaran slapped a hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face.

The boar postured, stretching his back leg out and kicking up dirt, like a bull.

Please let the gate hold. At least till I get Red up and out of the way. Ciaran turned his attention back to the man lying prone. “Red, can ye stand?”

Wide-eyed, Red sucked in a loud breath and clutched his chest, completely ignoring Ciaran’s question in favor of getting air into his lungs. He took another deep inhalation, then put his hands over his face, and the breath stuttered out of him. “I’ll live.” He dropped his hands back to his sides. “Maybe next time you can give me a better heads-up than just yelling ‘look out’ a split second after I’m boardozed?”

“Boar what? What is…?” Ciaran shook his head. “Never mind. I dinna ken ye were there until I yelled a warning.” He frowned and glanced around. What was Red doing here, and where was his guard? “How do ye manage

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