A man, feet pounding up the steps of the bus, spread his arms and called out, “All right ye party animals! Is everyone ready for two days of fun!”

“Yes!” Everyone on board yelled back.

Of medium height, thin, and wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and a traditional Scottish hat he looked fun, jaunty, and ready for a good time.

“Right you are! My name is Logan Moultrie, and I want to welcome you all to The Edinburgh to Culloden Paranormal Tour, where the next two days will be filled with fun, history, and scares!”

Ashley glanced around to see a smattering of people ages between twentyish and seventyish smiling, ready and willing for the fun to begin.

“Now, I know it’s early.”

Groans met that statement.

“But we’ve a lot of travelin’ to do over the next two days. Ye were all warned when ye signed up that there will be plenty of walking, bus time, and scares, so I’ll not listen to ye’re bellyaching’, do ye understand?”

The crowd laughed.

“The good news is that ye’ve come at the best time of the year! The spirits are always out and about in Scotland, but never more so than in the month of October!”

“Yay!” Ashley yelled as cheers rose from everyone on the bus. She had to admit she was amused by the fact that Logan’s Scottish accent seemed to come and go. He was probably deepening it for their sake.

Logan lifted his arms up in the air. “As I was saying, I’m sorry for the early morning, but we have a schedule to keep and I’m sure you’ll all be more than happy with the day by the time we drop you off at your hotel in Edinburgh tonight. Today we’ll do the majority of the walking, and tomorrow the majority of the driving. Sound good?”

“Yes!”

Logan glanced around at everyone. “Now, we’ve packed all your luggage in the bottom of the bus, and we’re about to start day one of our tour. There are haunts to see, places to eat, and things to shop for.”

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “So, on to the next and, as we’re not doing the driving, let’s thank Lewis Smithy, our bus driver, for staying sober while we have a merry old time!” He tipped head and hand back in a drinking gesture, making his audience laugh again.

“Thanks, Lewis!” several called out.

Lewis a young, thin man with wavy dark hair and skinny jeans, waved, then started up the bus again to more cheers, before pulling out into traffic.

“Isn’t Logan’s accent great!” Monica put her hand to her chest.

Garth snorted. “If you like that sort of thing.”

“For those of you who havenae read the itinerary, we’ll be going to Blackness, Prestonpans, Edinburgh, Stirling Castle, Glamis Castle, Crathes, Cawdore, and last on the list is Culloden Moor. So, sit back, get to know your neighbors, and plan to be entertained. Besides the sights, we’ll be seeing plenty of Scottish scenery, have time to stop and take pictures, and I’ll be telling you a bit about the history of Scotland, and its ruins as we go on.” Logan lifted his arm in the air in a gesture of triumph and said, “Yay!”

“Yay!” Everyone copied him.

Ashley couldn’t help but wonder if their guide had had a bit too much to drink. Just as she thought it, Logan took out a silver flask and lifted it to his mouth. “Cheers!” He took a drink and recapped it. “Just what we need to see us on our way!”

“Drinking at seven-thirty in the morning?” Garth asked.

Ashley laughed, amused. “Right?”

Logan, still standing, swayed slightly with the bus. “Now, off to your right, we have The Seedy Bar and Grill. To your left, The All Washed Up Laundromat. A word to the wise, they do add a wee too much starch to your clothing.”

He laughed. “Just kidding! This isn’t the tour. Maybe I’ll wait until we get out into the countryside to start the actual tour. In the meantime, enjoy the scenery, and we will be at Castle Blackness before ye know it. It’s haunted, to be sure, and the spectre is said to be a great annoyance to those who live in the area. So, prepare for the worst!”

Everyone was smiling when Logan sat down. Once in a while he would point out something of interest, and cameras would lift and dutifully take pictures of villages and far off castles they couldn’t see.

When the sun rose, he led the bus in another chorus of, “Yay’s!” and generally kept up enough banter to make sure everyone was thoroughly amused and having a good time.

Scotland was beautiful, filled with green grasses, bushes, rolling hills, and the leaves on the trees starting to turn red and gold against a backdrop of green Scot’s Pine.

About an hour later Logan stood. “We’re now passing through the village of Blackness, and the castle is coming up. We’ll gather on the lawn and I’ll tell ye of the ghostly happenings before setting you loose to explore.”

The bus came to a stop, and Logan led everyone off, single file.

Monica was the first of their trio, and when she stepped off the bus, she announced in a strangely excited voice, “Whew! Watch out for the eye candy!”

Garth was next, and he let out a grunt, and then Ashley stepped down and eagerly looked around.

Whoa! Monica wasn’t kidding. A man, with a capital M, stood off to one side, watching the crowd get off the bus, as the tourists watched him right back, snapping pictures of him before moving on when he scowled. “Wow!” Ashley said under her breath.

“If you like that sort of thing.” Garth said, annoyance coloring his tone.

And like, she did. Ashley had a hard time tearing her gaze from the large, kilted, tattooed man standing near the gated entrance to the castle ruins.

He certainly wasn’t traditionally handsome, but he was all the way masculine from the hard thrust of his jaw, the high cheekbones, the aggressive expression as he took in the crowd closing in on him.

His eyes were a vivid green against the thick, black braids hanging around his face. His hair brushed his shoulders and his nose looked like it had been broken. A razor thin scar slashed across one cheekbone, like a deliberate affectation, something to make him more attractive, more masculine.

And then there was the tattoo, thick and dark, it started at his cheek and continued down his neck. A wolf maybe? It was hard to say, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask. There were more celtic-looking tattoos on one arm.

He wore a soft brown and green kilt, a long-sleeved white shirt with a belted plaid, a sporran and boots. His clothes did nothing to hide the muscle packed on the man’s large frame.

He looked like a warrior of old. A ghost maybe?

She chuckled at the fantasy.

The first people in line skittered back a bit when they reached him along the trail, and hurried past, moving forward to flash their castle cards at the kid manning the gate further along.

Ashley should be embarrassed by the way she was staring, but everyone else was too, and he was staring right back.

She realized her heart was pounding in her chest as her gaze continued to dart away and then back to him again.

Had she ever had that reaction to a man in her life? No. And she saw men in costume all the time. Klingons had nothing on this guy.

She was so getting a picture with him. And maybe even a phone number if she was lucky.

Best. Tour. Ever!

* * *

Ronan could feel the wind ruffling his hair.

Breath filling his lungs.

His eyes watered at the brilliant color coming at him from all directions, the air moist from the river running by the castle.

Watchful, Ronan tried not to react to the temporary changes and though his heart pounded, he stood very still as a stream of people descended from yet another bus.

So far, so normal. Many a tour showed up at Culloden Moor with many people disembarking to walk upon the grass, take pictures of the markers, and ramble about the visitors center. They were always an annoyance.

He glanced around, unsure of his whereabouts. The castle was old, deserted, fit for naught but mice, or ghosties, and he did not recognize it.

Had so much changed over the years?

The new line of people came his way, a few attempted to talk to him, some took his picture, but he ignored them all and they slowly wandered off, whispering, throwing him glowing looks of approval, or of embarrassment.

Frustration started to mount as he looked about for the task he was to accomplish. All seemed peaceful, but of course, he didn’t trust it. He never did.

The witch had given him a dagger, and with his arms crossed, he held the hilt in his hand, hidden within his shirt.

He searched for danger, for a villain to defeat, or anything that would indicate the direction he was to take, a task he was to perform.

There was naught to be found.

There was a slight chill to the morning air, and most of the leaves had turned on the nearby trees. The mountains in the distance indicated he was somewhere near Edinburgh. And he glanced back at the castle ruins behind him once more. Surely, that couldn’t be Blackness Castle?

Surely, he’d not been gone that long?

The crowd slowly wandered down the path, following the guide who blathered on about ghosties and such.

Ronan snorted. He did not see any ghosts about, and if the people here were looking for such, they were fools.

Another tour bus pulled up, making it a total of three, and as the passengers disembarked, he had to endure yet more comments, picture taking, and ogling.

If the witch had not set him here, he would leave and bedamned to the lot of them.

A long while later, the bus drivers had gathered about to chat and smoke and, as Ronan watched, a man, acting in a suspicious manner, sneaked onto the tall, black bus.

Ronan's interest spiked. A thief?

He’d sooner have an assassin, but beggars could not be choosers.

He noted the drivers, completely unaware; simpletons, incapable of doing their jobs.

Ronan grimaced. He oughtn’t to point fingers as he’d not done his job at Culloden. If he had, the lot of them might not have been trapped upon the moor for centuries.

He continued to watch the man search through the possessions left upon the bus, seat by seat.

With a sigh, Ronan set off to follow the thief, though this was, indeed, a waste of his talents, and practically an insult.

Surely the witch wouldn’t make his task so easy?

Did he really care about the possessions of the annoying tourists, anyway?

Nae, he did not.

Perhaps this was not even his task?

One more glance around assured him the group was up the trail and unaware, their backs turned, snatches of their leader’s conversation drifting back to him. There was no other task to perform.

Decision made, Ronan drew his dagger and rushed up the stairs a war cry bellowing from him. It felt good, like he was himself again.

The man, twisting at the sound, moaned, seeming horror -struck.

Ronan roared at him once more and started down the aisle.

The bus driver scrambled onto the bus behind him.

He needn’t bother at this last stage.

Ronan moved slowly, knowing he would not kill the man, his bloodlust not even rising to the fore.

The thief stumbled, dropped all of the possessions he’d taken, and continued to move toward the back of the bus, falling to his knees and crawling for a few feet before hauling himself up and hurrying to the rear.

The man managed to get the back door open and fall out.

“Hey! What is going on here?”

Ronan ignored the tiny man behind him, and jumped out after the thief, now stumbling across the grass to get away.

Ronan jumped down to follow.

“Wait! What are you stealing?”

Outrage stopped Ronan in his tracks. He turned and roared at the man, “How dare ye? I saved the possessions of those on yer bus while ye were not paying a whit of attention! And now you dare accuse me? Perhaps ye’re the villain I was sent here to slay! I’ll have yer head for such insolence!”

One last glance at the thief running in the distance, and Ronan strode toward the entrance to the bus.

The man slammed the door shut, and locked it.

“Ye will beg for death when I’ve finished with ye, ye black-hearted scoundrel!”

Ronan bashed at the door for a moment, but when it didn’t open, turned to go in the back way, only to be faced with some of the returning crowd.

The looks on their faces gave him pause. Horror, curiosity, surprise, the lot of them were stunned into silence.

Ignoring them, Ronan strode to the back, only to have the door slammed shut before he could reach it.

He roared his outrage.

* * *

Ashley was glad when everyone flinched, so it wasn’t just her.

Logan moved to the front of the group, his arms spread protectively. He seemed like such a party boy, but he obviously had plenty of Scottish gumption in him! “Will someone tell me what’s happening?”

Earlier she’d thought the Highlander attractive, but now, breathing hard, a dagger clutched in one hand and glaring murder in the direction of the bus driver, she had to rethink.

He was scary.

The driver lowered a window, his young face appearing scared. “I didn’t mean it, sir. I swear, I didn’t.” Fear laced the man’s voice.

The Highlander was trying to find a way onto the bus. He ran his hands over the seamless door, tried digging his knife in it, and studied the man in the window as if determining if he could get at him from that direction.

Logan looked around in confusion. “Mean what?”

The bus driver, Lewis — she finally remembered his name — was breathing hard. “I accused him of … well, never mind. I didn’t mean a word of it, and I do apologize most sincerely.”

All eyes turned back to the Highlander. The man was obviously considering whether to accept, or continue to attack the bus door and force his way inside.

Finally, he lowered his dagger, tucked it in his kilt, and gave a short nod.

Ashley must not have been the only one holding her breath, because several in the crowd sighed as the tension dispersed.

The Highlander faced them, and all Ashley could think was, wow! The man really was blindingly attractive, especially now that he had some emotion in his face, his eyes alive and fierce.

“Lewis!” Logan snapped. “I’m going to need a little more detail.”

Again, Lewis gulped audibly as he looked down at the man below him. “I was just having a smoke.” His eyes darted.

Behind them, whispering started up, and Ashley started to feel sorry for the guy.

“There were two blokes on the bus. What was I to think? My first thought was they were both robbing the bus. But from this man’s reaction I think maybe he was chasing the thief off.”

Logan started talking to the Highlander in a lowered tone.

Ashley gripped the edges of her backpack, suddenly very aware of her laptop on her back. She walked a few steps toward the bus, tilting her head back to ask, “Are tourist buses targeted often?”

The man shook his head. “It’s been known to happen, I suppose, but it’s certainly not the norm. I hope this doesn’t mean things are going in that direction.”

Ashley nodded and shot a worried look at her friends. Paranoia was the reason she hadn’t left her backpack on the bus as so many others had, and she was grateful for the inclination.

Logan called up to Lewis. “All right, then, open the door, it’s all been sorted.”

One look at Lewis’s face said he didn’t agree.

Impulsively, Ashley took a few steps forward and joined the Highlander. “Hi, I’m Ashley Martinez. By any chance are you looking for a job?”

“What are you doing?” Garth hissed behind her.

Good question. She half-turned to respond. “I’m sure we’ll have more fun on this vacation if we feel safe and protected.” She turned to look at the crowd behind her. “Won’t we?”

Dubious gazes met hers. As well they might. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, exactly, just that she’d felt an instant connection to the man and had no desire to drive away and leave him behind.

Logan crossed his arms. “That would be nice and all, but it will be an added payment for someone new to join in.”

Ashley nodded. “Of course. I’ll be glad to pay the fee.”

“All right, just so we understand each other.”

The wild man studied her, taking her measure. “Did the witch send me to ye?”

“Witch?” The word caught her for a moment, and then she smiled. “Oh, are you actually part of the paranormal tour?”

He stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to decipher her words. “Aye, lass, I’m with ye, for now then, and I’ll guard ye. But if something more important comes along, I’ll leave.” His chin jutted stubbornly. “Do we have an agreement?”

Ashley grimaced at the more important comment — way to make a girl feel special — but the man didn’t look like one who would be kind with his words, so she shrugged it off.

She wanted a guard, and he’d agreed to come. Who was she to quibble? She stuck out her hand. “Agreed.”

After a slight hesitation, he clasped her hand in his much bigger, much warmer one, and shook it once. “Aye, we have an agreement.”