Page 55 of The Highland Ghost’s Virgin

"Yer move."

"It's yer move. Has been for three minutes."

Alpin looked at the board. He was losing badly.

Niall looked at him over the board half smiling because he knew he was going to win this round.

Alpin made his move and lost his rook.

He took her to the shore that evening.

Not with any particular plan. He'd gone himself first, the way he always did when the castle felt too much like the inside of his own head, and she'd been on the steps when he came through the yard.

He'd said, "Come on, then," without stopping, and she'd fallen into step beside him without asking where.

The tide was out. The sand was hard and cold, and the sky had gone the deep ink blue of early autumn evenings, the first stars already through.

"This is where it happened," he said.

Grisselle didn't ask what. She waited.

"I was ten." He kept his eyes on the water. "Me grandfather and I, out past the point. A whale came up under the boat, nae rare, in these waters, but this one was wrong. Too big, too deliberate. It hit the hull twice." He paused. "The second time, we went in."

She was standing close enough that he could see her from the edge of his vision, her hair loose from its pins in the wind, her arms crossed against the cold.

"The water here in October," he said, "gives ye about ten minutes before yer body stops doing what ye tell it."

"How long were you in it?"

"Long enough." He bent down, picked up a stone, turned it in his hand. "Me grandfather got me to the surface. Got me to the rock at the point. Held me there." He set the stone down instead of throwing it. "He dinnae make it back."

The wind off the water was loud enough to cover whatever small sound she made.

"He was the best man I ever knew," Alpin said. "He used to tell stories, yer grandfather knew him, ye said. So ye already ken that part."

"I know the stories," Grisselle said. "I didn't know the rest."

He nodded once. He didn't tell her the rest. The part that sat in his chest like a stone of its own, heavier than the one he'd just set down.

He told her about the old man instead.

"He knew every seal on the south bank," Alpin said. "Had names for them. Three of them he had opinions about, said one was vindictive, one was lazy, and one was the smartest creature on the coastline, and he meant no offense to anyone present."

Grisselle's mouth curved. "Which one was vindictive?"

"The big bull on the eastern rock. He'd stolen a catch from me grandfather, twice in one week, and me grandfather said it wasnae theft, it was a grudge, and that he respected it."

She laughed, and he felt it against his shoulder.

"He carved them," Alpin said, his gaze fixed on the quiet shadows of the room. "Whale bone, mostly. Small figures—whales, sea-birds, and old crests from the lost ships. He'd sit in the study for hours with a small knife, just carving, and if ye asked what he was making he'd say he dinnae ken yet, that the bone knew and he was just listening." He paused. "I've never moved them. They're still on the top shelf."

"I've seen those carvings on the shelf," Grisselle said softly, the realization settling over her. "I didn't know what they were until now."

"Most people daenae." He turned the stone over in his hand. "He told stories. Ye'd sit down next to him meaning to ask about something practical, and an hour later ye'd look up and the light had changed and he'd never once answered yer question and ye dinnae mind at all." He set the stone down. "Yer grandfather was the same, I think. From what ye've said of him."

"He was." She looked at the water. "They'd have driven each other mad."

"Or never stopped talking."