Her Scottish Keep (Dream Come True Sweet Romance Book 1)

by Darci Balogh

  The halls and walkways of the castle felt like miles and miles of space as she rushed through them, brushing by staff members and completely ignoring all of the architecture and decor that normally caught her attention. Finally she was at the door to Laird MacBrody's private chambers. The very same door she and Bridget had snuck into only last week. It all seemed like so long ago.

  So much had passed between her and Michael since the moment they had watched him dancing naked down the hallway to The Backstreet Boys. Though she'd seen all of his amazing body from their hiding place, she hadn't seen his face. The first time she did see him when he'd startled her and she tried to act like he didn't, she had been taken aback by his intensity. His sardonic sexiness.

  Admittedly he still had that edge. But since they'd formally met, danced together, escaped torrential rains together, warmed up by the fire and drank spiked tea together, she knew there was so much more of him to explore. So much more of him that she wanted to know. Because every bit of him that she knew so far she loved completely.

  Tawnyetta stood quite still at Michael's door. Her breath came shallow and fast. This was it. She was going to lay her heart on the line and tell the man she had fallen in love with that the feelings he'd declared for her were not a mistake. She felt them too.

  She lifted her hand to rap her knuckles on the heavy wooden door.

  "He's not there, Miss," a man's voice came from directly behind her making her jump and let out a small squeal of fright.

  Tawnyetta whirled around to find Stewart standing a few feet behind her. How long had he been there? How long had she been standing stock still staring at Michael's door? She didn't know the answer to either of those questions, so she tried to regain her composure.

  "Who's not here?" That was a silly question. Too late, it had been asked.

  Though Stewart's mouth remained in its constant state, which was not quite a frown but not quite a smile, the outside corners of his eyes twitched slightly and moved upward in amusement.

  "Laird MacBrody, Miss," he stated without any hint of merriment. His eyes, however, still deceived him.

  "And where is Laird MacBrody then?" She heard the slightest tinge of a Scottish accent near the end of her question and felt even sillier.

  Stewart gave her a slight bow. "Nobody is quite sure, Miss. He left early this morning and has not been seen since."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tawnyetta couldn't go back to her friends. She was too heated, too worried, too flustered. They would be full of questions to which she had no answer and she couldn't face them right now. She couldn't very well stand around Michael's front door waiting for him to return. So she went to the only place she could be by herself and think–the gardens.

  The sun had still not come out to burn off the mist or the chill in the air. Everything was damp and green. Leafy vines grew over archways creating the amazing living tunnel she so loved. Little white and purple flowers covered the ground and birds chirped now and then despite the gloomy weather.

  Pulling her black knobby sweater even tighter around her for warmth, Tawnyetta walked thoughtfully through the entire Secret Garden then into the woodlands. Nobody in the whole castle knew where Michael had gone to, and though they weren't necessarily worried she could tell there was a growing sense of concern the longer he was away.

  The concern was more acute for Tawnyetta. Sharp pricks of panic poked at her heart and stomach every time she let her mind wander to where Michael might be and what he might be doing. Would he stay away until she'd left to avoid any more contact? Was he the kind of man to fall into the arms of another woman for comfort? She didn't know. And there was nothing she could do to find out.

  She came to the edge of the woodlands where the path led up and into the hills. There was a cool breeze sweeping down from them. She took a slow, deep breath, remembering how the wildness of the hills had called to her that day. The way each step taking her up to the top had filled her with both a sense of freedom and belonging. As if she'd finally come home.

  Another thought struck her and made her stomach twist into a knot. Michael had been drinking last night. Heavily.

  He had been downcast and brooding. He hadn't joined in the normal group banter of the party atmosphere, but remained separate and aloof. His brother had died drinking and driving. What if Michael had taken things too far after last night? What if he had put himself in that kind of danger?

  "No," she said out loud. Though she was alone, it felt better to speak the word. It had more power that way. He wouldn't do something like that. His brother's death had been difficult for him and he had feelings of guilt, but that was normal. Her rejection wouldn't be enough to send him over the edge into self-destruction. Would it?

  A cold gust of air brushed across her face. The fresh smell of the wind, the damp earth below her feet, all of it reminded her of Michael. She closed her eyes and took in another deep breath, missing him, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms around her again.

  Suddenly, Tawnyetta knew where he was.

  Her eyes flew open. Another gust of wind carried down the steep, wild hills and enveloped her, called to her. As if Michael himself were calling her name.

  And just as if he had actually beckoned to her, Tawnyetta answered. "I'm coming."

  Without any further thought she took off up the path into the hills, into the deepening mist, as fast as her feet would carry her.

  Tawnyetta knew the way with no hesitation. It was as if the hills had imprinted on her mind. She found sure footing with each step. The grass and flowers joined with the rocks that jutted out of the ground and seemed to light her way. Her pace quickened, her heart raced with the exertion and with anticipation. Though the mist grew thicker every moment, she had no fear of what was to come. With everything in her heart and soul Tawnyetta believed Michael was nearby. And Michael would never let harm come to her. He would always save her. He had told her so.

  Heart pounding and breathing fast she arrived at the bothy. Ancient and strong, if a little bent and broken in places, it was a beautiful sight. She was so happy to be back that she almost laughed out loud when it came into view. As she grew closer, however, her joy began to dissipate.

  There was no sign of Michael anywhere around. No smoke rose from the wood stovepipe. No sound of any living thing nearby. Could she have been so wrong? She had been certain he would be here, that he would have come here after she wounded him. To be alone. To remember her.

  She climbed onto the rickety porch and it squeaked. So much for surprising him. There was nothing to worry about, however, because when she opened the door she found only an empty room. Tawnyetta's heart grew heavy. She stepped inside, still not willing to believe that she had been so wrong, but not knowing what else to do or where else to go.

  "Michael?" His name came out of her mouth as a whispered question. A small part of her hoped he was sitting in a shadow or standing too far in a corner for her to see him. But there was nothing there. She was alone.

  Tawnyetta's shoulders fell and she dropped her face into her hands. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She did neither, just stood there wishing she'd done everything differently.

  And just when she thought it couldn't be worse, rain started pouring outside. Pounding on the roof of the bothy it mirrored the anguish in her heart. As the tears broke through and began to stream out of her eyes she thought it fitting that her attempt to find Michael and apologize would end like this. A painful reminder of when they'd fallen in love.

  She stayed there in the cool damp air, crying softly into her hands, as the rain filled her with sadness. She didn't know for how long, nor did she care. Everything she'd had at her fingertips washed away with every passing moment and she was at a loss as to what to do.

  "Tawnyetta?"

  For a split second she thought her ears were playing tricks on her, taking the noise of the rain on the roof and shaping it into what she wanted to hear. But, no. She could sense him in the room. It wa
sn't her imagination at all. Tawnyetta dropped her hands from her face and turned. And when she finally laid eyes on Michael MacBrody her heart leapt in her chest.

  He stood tall in the doorway, dripping wet from the storm, looking just like he did when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to safety so many long days ago. His dark hair was black with rain and disheveled. His beard was rough around the edges, like he hadn't taken the time to trim it this morning. In fact, he looked like he had been up all night, tension pulling at his rakishly handsome face. But those blue, blue eyes were still sharp and they pierced right through to her soul.

  "Michael," she said again, just louder than a whisper this time.

  He stepped into the shack and glanced around, returning his dark look back to her quickly. "What are you doing up here?"

  All she wanted to do was fall into his embrace, wrap her arms around his neck and feel his lips against hers. But he stayed apart from her and though there was longing in his eyes, there was also distance and pain. Every muscle in his body seemed taunt, as if he was ready to move lightning fast in one direction or another but had not yet decided which way.

  Tawnyetta hesitated. When dealing with an injured animal it was necessary to move slowly and not rush toward them before you knew if they were going to welcome your attention or lash out. And that's exactly how Michael appeared. Like a wounded lion or a wolf pacing back and forth in a cage.

  She cleared her throat. "I came to find you."

  His expression did not change. His gaze moved up and down her body as if assessing her for weapons. His eyes locked back onto hers, glittering with a challenge. He flicked his hands out at his sides in a mockery of a formal presentation. "Here I am."

  This was not going like she had hoped it would.

  Making a wide birth around her, Michael moved to the corner that held the secret hiding place. "Were you looking for a wee bit more to drink?" He motioned to the now empty hole in the wall. "I'm afraid you're in for a disappointment."

  Tawnyetta watched him as he moved, stung by his sarcastic tone. "No, I wasn't looking for a drink."

  "Ah, you had enough of that last night, then?"

  Again, sarcasm. She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He seemed in a mood to pick a fight and that's not why she had come.

  "What, then?" Michael looked around the humble room. Spying the cabinets he moved quickly to them and opened the crooked door with the tin inside. "Tea?" He yanked the tin out and held it up to her.

  She shook her head 'no' but couldn't answer because she was afraid her lower lip might tremble if she spoke.

  "Well, what is it, lass?" He dropped the tin down into the sink with a clatter. "Why would you climb all the way up the hill to this pile of ruins?" He threw his arm out toward the door of the bothy. "You have the run of Claymore Castle and servants at your beck and call, do you not?"

  He stopped talking abruptly, like he had choked on his own words. His breath was coming fast and hard as he glared at her, eyes flashing.

  Tawnyetta wasn't afraid of him. Quite the opposite. With every terse word and violent movement she felt the love she had for him grow. For it wasn't anger that she saw in his eyes, but hurt and fear. Fear of being alone, of loving her and losing her. He was afraid. So was she.

  She swallowed hard, trying to ebb the tears that wanted to come. When she spoke it was no longer in a whisper, though her voice quavered dangerously. "I came to find you."

  Michael didn't answer, but that didn't matter. She had come to tell him what she had to tell him and she didn't need him to talk her through it. This might be her last chance.

  Taking a step toward him she spoke, more firmly than before, "I came to see you."

  He flinched. A chink in his fierce armor.

  She took another step. He flicked his eyes to her feet then back up. The intensity of his look sent a shiver through her body.

  Tawnyetta reached out her hand toward him and was surprised at how steady it was. "I came to touch you..." The words caught in her throat, stuck somewhere between her pounding heart and a torrent of tears wanting release. She took another step so they were only a few feet away from one another. "I came to tell you that I was wrong."

  He searched her eyes for meaning, not trusting the words or gesture just yet. "Wrong?"

  Tawnyetta nodded. She gathered all of her courage, took a deep breath and said, "You were right. It is possible for people to fall in love in a few weeks." She held his gaze and watched as the fear in his eyes turned to confusion then to the tiniest glimmer of hope. "I know you were right, because it has been less than two weeks since we met...yet I am, in fact, madly in love with you."

  For one moment in time Tawnyetta was not sure what would happen next. She stood on the precipice of this unknown, in love with an unpredictable and powerful man, offering him her heart. As terrifying as this moment was, it also held a priceless treasure. For as she waited for Michael's response, she watched the expression in his eyes and face, his whole demeanor, change before her eyes.

  The muscles in his body shifted. They yielded from seeming ready to pounce into a state of relief. The tense lines in his face smoothed. The glimmer of hope in his eyes shone brighter, turning into a look of passion and love that she would remember for the rest of her life.

  Suddenly he held her hand in his. Bringing it up to his mouth, he pressed his lips to her fingers, warm and firm. All the while his eyes danced. She smiled and laughed and cried all at once, but only for a moment. For within seconds Michael pulled her to him. His hand on her cheek, his arm around her waist holding her close to him, she fell into the pleasure of his body next to hers with abandon.

  "You're certain?" he asked, though she knew he could see the truth of her love in her eyes, feel it in her touch. She nodded. He traced one finger along her temple, across her cheek and to her lips, tickling her and sending shivers through her body once again. "Because, once I start kissing you again, Tawnyetta Campbell, I'll not be wanting to stop."

  She threw her head back and laughed. Then she looked at him and reached both arms around his neck pulling him closer. "Is that a promise?"

  "It's a guarantee." He smiled. Then he kissed her. A now and forever kiss that washed away all of her fears and lifted her off the floor until she felt like she was floating.

  And he was true to his word. Laird Michael MacBrody didn't let another day go by without whisking her up in his arms for a kiss. And every one of his kisses were filled with so much passion that Tawnyetta never doubted their love, nor her decision to make loving him the greatest adventure of her life.

  Epilogue

  They were married in the hills.

  Michael told everyone that it was because the width and breadth of their love could not be contained in any walls. Not even the walls of a castle. And Tawnyetta was inclined to agree.

  This was all much to Bridget's chagrin. As the maid of honor and self-appointed wedding planner, as well as being a lifelong dreamer of becoming a princess, Bridget had hoped Tawnyetta and Michael would have an ultra-grand royal type wedding inside of the castle. This was not to be. So she had to settle for throwing an ultra-grand royal type reception in the castle ballroom instead.

  On the day of their wedding the sun shone on the Highlands, as Michael had promised Tawnyetta it would.

  "Though I would marry you in the middle of a snow storm, lass, if that's what needed to be," he had declared many times during their engagement.

  "No need for that, love," Tawnyetta responded each and every time. Adding, "We'll make sure to have enough umbrellas for us and all of the guests...just in case."

  All of the guests included, of course, Sofia, Angie and Luna who had been part of their love story, as well as their families. Even the Prescotts were invited since they were there from the beginning. Bridget stood up with Tawnyetta as her maid of honor and, because they had grown to be great friends over the course of Michael and Tawnyetta's romance, Michael asked Thomas to be his best man.

/>   Michael invited all of the staff and every citizen of Eldin to the wedding as well, making it a true community event. This created a shortage of help for the wedding and the reception, but Bridget faced that problem head on using her event planning wizardry. With Tawnyetta's blessing she hired people out of Edinburgh to help set up the outdoor wedding and a special event company direct from London to handle the reception.

  Tawnyetta's parents, brothers, and their families were there. Dougie and Gavina sat in the place of honor where Michael's parents would have sat if they had been alive. Dougie was so overcome with pride over this gesture that he teared up during the ceremony. As did Michael. The sight of his bride walking to him through the green hills painted lavender with heather filled him to bursting.

  Tawnyetta's dress consisted of a tight, off the shoulder bodice with long bell sleeves that started halfway down her upper arm and dropped until they skimmed the floor. Her skirt flowed smoothly, and every inch of cloth was covered in handmade Scottish lace that Sadie and Isla at Sadie Sews had been saving for just such a magnificent occasion. Tawnyetta's hair was swept up and she wore the Peridot and diamond tiara that had belonged to Michael's mother, Lady Margaret MacBrody. The golden amber of Tawnyetta's eyes glowed with love and contentment.

  Michael wore his formal kilt, of course. Standing proud under an archway woven with white ribbon and the grey and black of his tartan, the bagpipes played, and Michael was every bit the Laird of Claymore Castle. He was also the man that she loved. He waited for her impatiently, her handsome groom. And as Tawnyetta walked toward him she felt like her soul was blooming. The love in her heart could not be contained, it poured out of her to Michael, to all of her friends and family, and to everyone in her presence. And this overflowing love made her, in Michael's words, the most bonnie bride in the history of Scotland.