Stirring Up Trouble: A Warlocks MacGregor Novella by Michelle M. Pillow
Authors: Michelle M. Pillow
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moving her finger to magickally rearrange a few ornaments, so they were no longer perfectly aligned. Seeing Donna, she chuckled. “Don’t tell Cait. This will drive her to distraction.”
Donna nodded and moved toward the front door.
“What it is it, dear?” Margareta followed her to the doorway.
“I’m late for work,” Donna mumbled.
The woman looked worriedly up toward where Fergus’s bedroom was and then back to Donna. She stared with a strange look on her face.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone about anything.” Donna glanced at the magickally decorated tree. “No one would believe me, and I value my reputation for sanity.”
“Elspeth?” Margareta whispered.
“Yes. He told me about her.” Donna wondered at the dynamics of this family. Clearly they were close if generations of them had lived in the same house for presumably hundreds of years.
Margareta reached for her shoulder. Donna started to smile politely at the kind gesture when the woman suddenly pushed her aside and hurried out into the front yard. “Elspeth, wait!”
Donna gasped. She looked over the yard. The slender woman she’d had glimpses of around town a few times was walking toward the trees. Her brownish blonde hair flew behind her in the breeze and the hem of her green dress dragged in the snow behind her. There was a translucence to the woman’s appearance that made her more of a projection or an apparition than an actual presence.
“Fergus!” Margareta ran to the doorway and screamed, “She’s here. Elspeth is here.”
Donna bit back her tears as she stumbled away from the house. She stared at the trees where the woman had disappeared until movement caught her attention.
“Elspeth?” Fergus appeared in the doorway fully dressed. “Are ya sure, Margareta? I do not see her.”
Donna took small steps away from him, walking backward down the hill. Fergus found her and stiffened mid-motion. He glanced at Margareta and then back to her, clearly torn as to which direction to run.
The cold caused the tears falling down her cheeks to sting. Donna shook her head in denial and lifted her hand to keep him from coming after her. She’d make the choice easy for him. She could not compete with the memory of Elspeth. There was no way she was competing with Elspeth now that she’d come back.
Chapter 8
F ergus searched the woods for hours. He had not seen his wife, but Margareta had been so certain he had to keep looking. There were no tracks in the snow where his sister had claimed she’d appeared. That could only mean Elspeth was in spirit form, not corporeal. Spirits were hard to find, but not impossible. When searching proved fruitless, he then went to the stone altar in the back gardens and lit candles. He’d tried his spirit board many times. It had never worked. But now Elspeth was close. She’d been seen.
Had his feelings for Donna stirred his wife’s spirit? Was it jealousy that had brought her back to him?
Donna.
Being with Donna had been like the answer to a prophecy—meant to be. She was smart and witty, and a strange combination of sweet and saucy. Now, as he tried to call Elspeth to him, he felt as if he was betraying Donna. The guilt he’d felt over Elspeth was now amplified, as if he cheated on both women.
He needed to be here, calling Elspeth. Never had he been this close to finding her. He wanted to be with Donna, erasing that parting look of pain off her face. He’d never meant to hurt her. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he loved her.
He loved Donna.
He loved Elspeth.
The knowledge shamed him.
“Elspeth?” Fergus whispered, looking around the gardens bathed in moonlight and snow. “It feels like the night I lost ya, love, the cold snow and a bitter chill to the air. Do ya remember what I promised? Whatever lies ahead, I’ll find you. I’ve tried, but I need your help, love. Ya were always the one who knew what I should do.” He waited, but there was no
Donna nodded and moved toward the front door.
“What it is it, dear?” Margareta followed her to the doorway.
“I’m late for work,” Donna mumbled.
The woman looked worriedly up toward where Fergus’s bedroom was and then back to Donna. She stared with a strange look on her face.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone about anything.” Donna glanced at the magickally decorated tree. “No one would believe me, and I value my reputation for sanity.”
“Elspeth?” Margareta whispered.
“Yes. He told me about her.” Donna wondered at the dynamics of this family. Clearly they were close if generations of them had lived in the same house for presumably hundreds of years.
Margareta reached for her shoulder. Donna started to smile politely at the kind gesture when the woman suddenly pushed her aside and hurried out into the front yard. “Elspeth, wait!”
Donna gasped. She looked over the yard. The slender woman she’d had glimpses of around town a few times was walking toward the trees. Her brownish blonde hair flew behind her in the breeze and the hem of her green dress dragged in the snow behind her. There was a translucence to the woman’s appearance that made her more of a projection or an apparition than an actual presence.
“Fergus!” Margareta ran to the doorway and screamed, “She’s here. Elspeth is here.”
Donna bit back her tears as she stumbled away from the house. She stared at the trees where the woman had disappeared until movement caught her attention.
“Elspeth?” Fergus appeared in the doorway fully dressed. “Are ya sure, Margareta? I do not see her.”
Donna took small steps away from him, walking backward down the hill. Fergus found her and stiffened mid-motion. He glanced at Margareta and then back to her, clearly torn as to which direction to run.
The cold caused the tears falling down her cheeks to sting. Donna shook her head in denial and lifted her hand to keep him from coming after her. She’d make the choice easy for him. She could not compete with the memory of Elspeth. There was no way she was competing with Elspeth now that she’d come back.
Chapter 8
F ergus searched the woods for hours. He had not seen his wife, but Margareta had been so certain he had to keep looking. There were no tracks in the snow where his sister had claimed she’d appeared. That could only mean Elspeth was in spirit form, not corporeal. Spirits were hard to find, but not impossible. When searching proved fruitless, he then went to the stone altar in the back gardens and lit candles. He’d tried his spirit board many times. It had never worked. But now Elspeth was close. She’d been seen.
Had his feelings for Donna stirred his wife’s spirit? Was it jealousy that had brought her back to him?
Donna.
Being with Donna had been like the answer to a prophecy—meant to be. She was smart and witty, and a strange combination of sweet and saucy. Now, as he tried to call Elspeth to him, he felt as if he was betraying Donna. The guilt he’d felt over Elspeth was now amplified, as if he cheated on both women.
He needed to be here, calling Elspeth. Never had he been this close to finding her. He wanted to be with Donna, erasing that parting look of pain off her face. He’d never meant to hurt her. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he loved her.
He loved Donna.
He loved Elspeth.
The knowledge shamed him.
“Elspeth?” Fergus whispered, looking around the gardens bathed in moonlight and snow. “It feels like the night I lost ya, love, the cold snow and a bitter chill to the air. Do ya remember what I promised? Whatever lies ahead, I’ll find you. I’ve tried, but I need your help, love. Ya were always the one who knew what I should do.” He waited, but there was no
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