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“The ... the gardens? Did you say they met in the gardens?” I gulped.
“Yes. They had the most beautiful gardens at Castle McCallum. Actually, I think they are still there.”
“They are.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat.
“So, what happened?” Sylvie asked.
“Well, her father finally chose the man to give her hand to. Some old lord who had the most money and position, but he was rumored to be brutal to his wives. Two had died in mysterious ways. Agnes was horrified and decided to run away with Duncan. That night, they were to meet in the garden, and then they’d steal two horses and leave together forever.”
“And did they? Did they make it?” Marge asked, leaning forward.
Ewan slowly shook his head. “No. That night, she climbed out her third-story window and down the trellis she’d always used. But this time, it broke. Agnes fell to her death, landing beside her beloved who’d rushed forward to catch her too late. He was so distraught that he carried her into the gardens where they’d always met and kissed, then he pulled out a knife and took his own life right there beside her. Legend says you can still see them walking through the garden on nights when the moon is full.”
My heart had stopped beating at some point in his story, and it felt like cold fingers grasped the back of my neck. “In ... the gardens? You said in the gardens?”
“Yeah. The gardens,” he repeated.
“Whoa.” Marge turned to look at me. “You said it was a man and woman’s voice in the garden, right? I bet it was them! Agnes and Duncan! Wow! You really did hear ghosts.”
My face went cold as I stared at them, blinking.
“Whoa. Talk about ghosts. You look like you’ve seen one,” Ewan said as he stared at me.
“She heard one,” Marge whispered. “She didn’t see one, but she heard one.”
“I ... it was the wind,” I said quietly. “It must have been the wind. The wind. Yes, the wind.”
My mind refused to process that the voices I’d heard were of two young lovers who’d died hundreds of years ago.
“You picked a haunted castle!” Marge grinned. “Nice, Doris! Two wishes in one!”
Sylvie slid a hand along my back. “It’s not haunted. It’s not, Doris. Ghosts don’t exist.”
“Oh, it’s haunted,” Ewan said with a puff of air. “I know plenty of people who have seen spooky shit happen there.”
“Are any of them the ghosts of Jamie Fraser by chance?” Alice leaned forward.
Ewan chuckled. “If it was, I think every single woman on the planet would be fighting over a stay in that castle.”
“Damn it,” she breathed.
“Okay, enough ghost talk,” Sylvie said. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Let’s order.”
Even though I tried to rationalize the crazy notion of ghosts out of my mind, I couldn’t erase the clear voices I’d heard in the night. A man and a woman. I was certain of it.
“You got any haggis back there?” Marge asked. “Always wanted to try that.”
“You’re in Scotland.” He smiled. “Of course, we have haggis.”
“Fire it up!” She slammed her menu down.
“Gross.” Alice groaned.
“You don’t even know what it is,” Marge countered.
“The name is gross. Haggis. That’s all I need to know. I’ll take a salad.”
“Sissy,” Marge taunted, but Alice ignored her.
