The Curse of Clan Ross Read Online Free Page B

the last half hour, Jilly was sure the patrons were trying to keep their spills and watermarks close to the inside of the bar where Jock could more easily reach them, proving once again Scotland was the quaintest place on earth.
    But quaint also meant small, and it was entirely possible that Jock was the only one in town who had not heard about Jilly’s failed attempt to end the Ross Curse.
    Jock’s fussing brought him back to her end of the counter, a beautiful length of thick wood damaged and re-polished so many times it looked more like a long dark river rock made smooth by water and time. He flung one end of his towel over his red-suspendered shoulder and left it there while he gathered up dirty glasses.
    “Bad day at the jewelry shop?” he asked with a wink.
    Of course it was also entirely possible that Jock had been the one to spread the word.
    Jilly hung her head. She’d been struggling to hold it up all afternoon, and music or no music, she just couldn’t do it anymore.
    “Aw, come now, lassie. Dinna fash. Think of it this way, if ye’d have succeeded somehow, it would have ruined the tourist trade, aye?  Turned our wee community into dust. A ghost shire with no ghosts.” He patted her hand with his large smooth one. “So we’re every one of us obliged.”
    Jillian raised her head and blew the man a kiss. He’d just moved to the top of her list of favorite Scots. But was he right?  Would ending The Curse mess with the people here?      
    A clang announced the opening of the pub’s wide door, and Jilly scooted closer to the shadows.
    She couldn’t help the clenching of her stomach when she imagined the old sisters hunting her down. If she were a clever girl she could think of a way to never have to face the pair again. She couldn’t blame the afternoon’s failure on Lorraine and Loretta, though. She’d latched on to the lure of Scotland like a hungry fish after a shiny bug. The Curse had merely given her an excuse.
    Ending the Curse may not be her destiny, but destiny was definitely calling her from the direction of the castle. She merely needed to break back into the castle and call it back. And she need not worry about conspiring Scots, since the place should be empty for the night.
    Jilly propped an elbow on the glossy counter, cradled her jaw in her hand, and sighed into her fluorescent drink. It was as sad as it was amusing, this temptation to pull aside the hair on her forehead and ask Jock if she might have a Harry Potter-esque scar on her brow that read “FOOL.”
    “Avoiding the Muir sisters, then?” Jock smiled at Jilly before turning to fill a pint for the newcomer.
    Jilly wasn’t surprised. Many of the local Scots had greeted the old gals by name when they’d arrived in East Burnshire.
    “They must have been here a few times.”
    “A few.” Jock laughed. “I’d say they’re here nearly twice as often as the others.”
    “Other what?”
    “Other ghost busters.” He frowned. “Did they no’ tell ye that’s what they be?”
    Jilly choked on her drink and wondered if tomorrow she’d be blowing fluorescent green crap out of her nose.
    “Oh, I knew they brought me here to listen to a ghost story, and to try on the necklace,” she confessed, “but the term ‘ghost busters’ makes it sound like they might have packed Haz-Mat suits in their luggage.”
    Josh laughed while he carried clinking glasses to the sink, but returned a bit more serious.
    “The ghost of Castle Ross is no joke to this town, mind ye. Nor to His Lairdship. Without the revenue from the telly folk, the castle would have fallen into American hands long ago.” He swallowed. “No offense, then.”
    Jilly waved away his concern. “Haunted Castles of Scotland, and all that?”
    “Aye.” Jock started polishing a glass that had yet to be washed, but before Jilly could point that out, he took the dirty thing to the sink and pulled out a clean towel. He came back to polish the portion of the bar he could