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“I begin to understand why the king’s men fear Highland women.”

“They should,” Morag said, examining the old pulley. “Now fetch that ladder before I decide to climb it myself.”

The next two hours proved considerably more entertaining than he’d expected.

Olivia divided the volunteers between the tower, the gallery, and the chapel passage, taking care that each person could reach a hiding place without crossing another’s path. Sorcha organized the women who would manage the linen, while Ewan worked out how to run a cord beneath a loose floorboard so the figure in the tower could move without anyone standing near the window.

Jamie climbed the broken stair to secure the new line, then looked down to find Olivia directing Alasdair to hold a polished plate beside the lantern.

“A little farther to your left,” she called.

Alasdair shifted the plate.

“Your other left.”

He turned it again, and a brilliant streak of reflected light struck him squarely in the eyes.

“Mother of mercy!” he shouted, dropping the timber he’d been carrying.

“There,” Olivia said, plainly delighted. “We know that works.”

“It works on a man trying to keep his eyesight, that’s what it does.”

Jamie laughed and nearly missed his footing on the stair. He caught the rough stone with one hand and looked down to find Olivia glaring up at him.

“Would you please stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Climbing things that are falling apart.”

“It’s my castle, lass.”

“Then you should know better than anyone how likely it is to fall.”

He promised to mind his feet and finished securing the cord before coming down to inspect their handiwork.

Their first full rehearsal was a disaster.

The figure in the tower appeared before Sorcha had taken her place, a bell rang while everyone was still arguing about whose turn it was, and Fergus produced such a dreadful groan from behind the chapel wall that Morag demanded to know whether he’d eaten something disagreeable.

“I thought it sounded convincing,” Fergus protested.

“Aye,” Morag said. “If we’re trying to frighten a cow with a bellyache.”

Olivia bent over laughing, one hand pressed against her middle, while Jamie leaned against the wall shaking his head.

They tried again after supper, when the last of the daylight had faded and the castle’s broken passages were full of shadows.

This time a pale figure glided across the tower window, though no one stood behind it. A heavy knock came from the chapel passage, followed by the scrape of something moving along the gallery overhead. Just as the watchers turned toward the sound, a second white shape appeared briefly beyond the stair, then vanished into the darkness.

Even knowing precisely where everyone was hidden, Jamie felt the hair rise along the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said, looking toward Olivia, “that’s considerably better.”

“Only considerably?”

“Lass, I’ve lived with one ghost for years. Ye’ve given me an entire family of them.”