With a heavy sigh, Catrìona forced herself to put the brochures down and frowned at the sketch. She was pondering the problem of how the material would drape for the train when her assistant and best friend, Summer, let herself in the front door.
“Uh-oh,” Catrìona whispered.
To see Summer without her signature smile on her face meant bad news.
“Well, don’t just leave me hanging. How bad was it?”
Summer grimaced and walked across the country-styled kitchen to the refrigerator. As she reached for the sweet tea, she said, “Apparently Celeste and Harrison had a fight. Celeste consoled herself with chocolate. A lot of chocolate. Long story short, the dress doesn’t fit. It’s a little too small. Anyhow, it doesn’t really matter since she has cancelled the wedding.” She put her glass under the ice dispenser and let rip. The sound grated on Catrìona’s already frayed nerves.
“What? You’re telling me she cancelled the wedding because she had no self-control, overindulged in sweets, and doesn’t fit into her dress?” Catrìona was dumbfounded. Who did that? Cancelled a wedding for such a ridiculous reason? You cancelled if you found out the groom was a two-timing pig, or if Brad Pitt came to his senses and proposed marriage. You didn’t cancel a wedding because the dress didn’t fit.
“That’s correct.”
“Oh God, what am I going to do?” Catrìona started to pace. Celeste had insisted the dress be sewn to her exact measurements. She hadn’t wanted any extra material left for last minute fittings. The end result was a gorgeous gown made of Italian silk. There was beading on the bodice, and the skirt was sewn by hand.
Italian silk was unforgiving, and the time it took to work with the touchy fabric was unbelievable. In the end, Catrìona had admitted this was her best work to date. The dress was simplistic in its lines and in its decoration, and now it would no longer fit the bride it had been sized for. A gremlin whispered in her ear, “It would fit you, lass.” The dress was one she’d dreamed of wearing to walk down the aisle to her Highlander.
She shook off that unsettling thought. “I just knew that something like this was going to happen.”
Catrìona stopped in the middle of the kitchen, snapped her fingers and announced, “I know. We can tie her up into a corset. It could cut down on the little bit she needs to lose. Won’t it?” Waving her hand, as if to erase that thought, she added with mirth, “Besides, she said she wanted a Victorian look, so what’s more Victorian than a corset?”
Summer shook her head. “Actually, I was thinking you finish the dress, deliver it, and accept payment. It’s not your fault the bride is a twit. Besides, she may not actually walk down the aisle.” Summer calmly took another sip of her iced tea. “Plus, it’s a karma thing. That was your wedding dress, and we both know it. Why you agreed to let the witch purchase the design, is beyond me.”
Catrìona turned to face her friend and smiled. “Yes, but my way was more dramatic. Just think, trussing her up like a Christmas goose would be fun.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “And that was not my dress. What do I need with a wedding dress, when I don’t even have a boyfriend?”
Summer put the tea down and smiled at Catrìona. “Do what you think is best.”
“You’re right. I’ll simply finish the dress and have you deliver it.”
“Coward,” Summer muttered.
“Damn straight.”
“So, not to change the subject or anything, but what’s with the Scotland brochures?” Summer held one up as she scanned the others.
“I’m thinking of taking a trip and finding out what I can about my heritage.”
Summer faced her. “Really?”
Catrìona tried not to squirm. “Really.”
“Hmm.” Summer cocked her brow. “Are you sure that’s all?”
“What more is there? I’ve always wanted to see Scotland and . . . after this dress commission, I’m going to need a vacation.” She waited for her friend’s reply, but Summer was unusually quiet.
“What?” Catrìona asked, with a little more heat than the question really warranted.
“I spoke with Madame Lafarge, and she warned that one of my friends was about to embark on a life-altering journey. And who travels to Scotland in the fall? I understand the weather is not that friendly.”
“You know I have a healthy respect for Madame Lafarge and would never ignore her words of wisdom, but what has this got to do with me?” She walked to her fridge and pulled out a can of Cola. “And I like the rain; you know that.”
“You’re taking a trip, silly. You, who never goes anywhere, have decided to leave the country.” Summer sat down. “And it seems awfully sudden.”
“Sudden? Come on; you know I’ve wanted to do this for years, ever since grade school actually.”
“I know, but why now?”
What could she say that would not sound incredibly stupid? Very little. She surely wasn’t going to admit to her best friend that she thought she was being drawn to the Highlands by a painting. Shrugging her shoulders, she smiled. “Call it fate. I don’t know. I just feel compelled to do it now. It’s important and I can’t explain it. Please, just support me in this.”
“Of course. So, how long do we have to plan your trip?”
Catrìona had no idea what she was going to do or where to look for the answers she needed. All she knew was, the sooner she did this the better. “I’d like to be able to leave at the end of the month. That gives us about three weeks.”
“Do you already have your passport?” Summer asked.
“Actually, I do. I got it a year ago when I first contemplated taking the trip.”
Summer nodded her head. “How long are you going to be gone?”
Catrìona had no idea. “I think two weeks will be long enough.”
Summer rubbed her hands together. “Right, let’s get this dress done and to Celeste. Then we’ll begin planning your trip.”
Catrìona felt giddy excitement rush through her. Her life was finally going to get back on track, even if it broke her heart to do so.
* * *
Braden watched from his prison as Catrìona packed for her trip. It had worked. She was really going to go home—his home. They would finally have the chance he’d always dreamed of having.
“I’m going to take you with me,” Catrìona whispered to him, and his heart filled with love for her. “I can’t bear to leave you behind even for a moment.”
He felt the same way, which was why he never allowed himself to cross over to the other plane. It was why he had vowed revenge in the first place.
Soon. Soon he would be back in the Highlands, and there—with the help of the fey—his life would be restored to him, provided his Catrìona had the strength to believe what she was about to learn. She would need it for the battle that they were about to wage.
CHAPTER THREE
Catrìona chewed on her lower lip as she waited in the crowded Heathrow Airport arrivals area for her luggage. She glanced at her watch and noticed it was already ten in the morning local time, and she had a little over two hours to get to King’s Cross train station. From there, she’d catch the Flying Scotsman, which was the high-speed train that would take her to Inverness. In Scotland, she’d rent a car and drive north to Ross Castle.
Most of the other passengers on the long flight from New Orleans to London were already on their way through Customs. A few lone bags continued to drop onto the carousel, but her battered Louis Vuitton was still missing.
This was bad. Very bad.
Her palms began to sweat as nothing further seemed to appear. Where was her suitcase? She gazed down at her backpack and carry-on, which contained sundry items including a toothbrush, hairbrush, change of panties, and her painting. The painting was the reason she was here in the United Kingdom. She hoped this trip would bring her the peace she longed for. She slid the backpack over her shoulders, picked up the large carry-on and made to move to the Lost and Found desk, when she finally saw her bag slide onto the m
oving carousel.
A good quarter of an hour had passed and she needed to get a move on if she was going to catch her train. She had no idea how long it would take for the tube to get her to the train station, and she wanted to grab a bite to eat. Now that she was on the ground, she was starving.
She managed to catch her train minutes before it departed the station. With an exhausted sigh, she found a seat beside a friendly-looking grandmother type and quickly stowed her two bags before getting comfortable. It would be several hours before they reached Inverness. In no time at all the combination of the gentle rocking of the train and jetlag lulled her into a deep sleep.
Warmth settled around her and Catrìona snuggled into the secure hold, knowing she would be warm and safe from all things. The arms holding her so close would banish the winter cold that permeated the train car.
“I’m so proud of you for making this trip. Our future is dependent on you opening your mind and heart to what you will learn.”
Catrìona tipped her head back and met the beautiful brown gaze of her Highlander. “What do you mean?” His words left her with a strange sort of excitement, but her ‘play it safe’ approach to life tempered her enthusiasm for what she was doing. “I’m afraid.”
“Never be afraid to face new things, my Catrìona. By doing so, you risk the chance of experiencing something wonderful—grand, even.”
Catrìona managed to cuddle into the warmth at her back and allowed the deep voice to lull her into a state of contentment.
“You smell so wonderful. How I wish we were more private, so I could kiss you all over.”
“Kiss me anyhow, please.” She didn’t recognize her voice or the slight accent that laced her words. That had never happened before, but she didn’t give it much thought. This was her dream, and in her dreams anything seemed possible.
“Ah, lass, you tempt a man beyond all reason.” His mouth settled against hers with gentle intent.
Catrìona parted her lips to his questing tongue, relishing the velvet rub of his tongue against hers. Nothing made her feel more complete than being held against him.
She moaned as her body responded to his kiss; a slow, deep, searching kiss that consumed as much as it gave. Catrìona cupped his face as the embrace deepened. She could kiss this man for an eternity and never tire of the experience.
* * *
Something jolted Catrìona, and she came awake with a start. The woman seated beside her gave her a strange look. “I say, dear, are you feeling out of sorts? You were moaning as if in pain.”
Embarrassment burned Catrìona’s cheeks, and she rested her head against the cool glass of the train window. Her body was sensitized to the point of pain. Her nipples were pebble hard and the lace of her bra abraded the tips, making her aware of the other sensitive areas of her body. This had to end. There would be no more public displays of wanton behavior with non-existent men. “Ah, no. I’m fine, just a little stiff from the long hours of sitting. I just arrived in England. It was a long flight.”
The blue-haired, little old lady raised her eyebrows and the look on her face could only be called disbelieving, but thankfully she refrained from commenting further.
Scenery passed by at an amazing clip, and Catrìona stared out vacantly at the rain-swept landscape. Small stone walls separated emerald green fields dotted with black-faced sheep. Time passed swiftly and eventually the train pulled into Inverness Station.
The weather was cold and, before she stepped out to hail a cab, she pulled out her fleece. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the painting; a strong reminder of why she stood in Scotland, tired, cold, and out of sorts.
The brisk air did a lot towards clearing the travel cobwebs from her mind. A cab took her to the B&B where she would stay for the night. In the morning she would collect her rental car and begin the second leg of her journey.
Bags scattered around her on the floor, Catrìona flopped back on the antique bed in her B&B room and stared up at the ceiling. In two days’ time, it would be Samhain, the night the veil between worlds was the thinnest. Magic was said to be potent that eve.
Before her trip, Catrìona had visited the voodoo shop owned by Summer’s sister, Natalia. She liked the shop name—Mystic. It seemed appropriate that she’d find answers there. After making sure Natalia wouldn’t say anything to Summer, Catrìona had explained her problem. She didn’t want to have to run the gauntlet of potential males Summer thought were perfect for her, if she found out Catrìona was thinking of dating again. Natalia thought it was possible Catrìona may be a haunted person and that could be the reason why she was so overcome with emotions for dabs of oil and color that made up her Highlander.
Their discussion had evolved into what Catrìona had to do in order to fix things, and Natalia had given her a contact name in Tain where she could get the help and supplies needed to release the love of her life into the next realm. Of course, he had to be real and trapped in a painting. Hopefully, when all was said and done, she could get on with life and be able to find a relationship with a flesh and blood man.
Sitting up, Catrìona pulled the portrait out of her bag and propped it up on the desk before changing into her nightclothes. As she listened to the unfamiliar sounds and adjusted to the strange bed, she took solace in her touchstone—the portrait. Her Highlander.
Natalia had given her hope that there may just be a way to release her obsession. Catrìona longed to have a normal relationship with a man, to fall in love and create a family. But as long as she was haunted by a certain man, she doubted that would ever happen. Every man she’d met up to this point in her life seemed to pale in comparison. Her deepest fear was that even if she were able to free herself from dreams of him, she would still be infatuated and miss him greatly. Catrìona hoped she’d not traveled all this way in vain.
“Oh, how I wish you were real.” She blew a kiss in his direction. But instead of drifting off to sleep as she’d planned, she bolted upright. Did that portrait just wink at her?
CHAPTER FOUR
The next day dawned cold and rainy. Catrìona peered out the mullion-paned window at the charming scene below. Her B&B was on the outskirts of Inverness and the little village was straight out of a painting. Thatched roof homes lined the curved street.
A quick glance at the clock showed the morning was slipping away, so she bathed then dressed in one of her warmer outfits. With quick actions, she rolled the canvas painting and placed it carefully in her battered Louis. She was not going to risk leaving it behind. It was Catrìona’s touchstone in this strange yet beautiful country.
She decided to forgo the breakfast that came with the room, opting instead to retrieve her rental and head on into the Highlands.
It didn’t take long to sign the rental agreement, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the wrong side of a standard VW Jetta with no clue as to how she was going to shift with her left hand. But, sitting there looking dumbfounded wasn’t going to get her on the road. She pushed in the clutch and turned the key in the ignition. The car started just like any other.
Carefully, Catrìona looked over her left shoulder before she pulled away from the curb and into the flow of traffic. Ten minutes, a lot of grinding of gears, and five curb checks later, she pulled up at the B&B to collect her suitcase. Blowing out a breath, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel and contemplated how much it would cost to have a personal driver.
The rain began to fall in sheets as she left Inverness, but once onto the open road, with no curbs to worry about, she relaxed—marginally anyhow. It was nerve-wracking to drive on the opposite side of the road, and as a result she kept her speed low.
Three hours into her trip, she was just developing some confidence in her ability to stay on the road when she rounded a curve and had to slam on the brakes, thanks to the sheep milling about in the road. She looked both left and right in a futile attempt to locate the owners of the wooly beasts but to no avail. She sat on the horn, but they ignored her as if s
he weren’t there at all.
The rain continued to fall, and the sheep continued to take their own sweet time crossing the road. The sky darkened and she was a good thirty miles from her destination. She really didn’t want to be caught in the dark on these unfamiliar roads.
Catrìona rested her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. There was no point in getting worked up over something she couldn’t change. Instead, she focused on what she had to do in the next couple of days.
She planned to learn all she could about her knight; his name, when he lived, and how he died. She hoped by giving him a past and personality, it would help to free her from the seductive hold he had on her senses. She was a rational human being and needed to work through her love for a man she’d only known in her creative dreams.
Eventually the sheep moved on, although the same could not be said for the storm. It raged around her with all the bluster a good thunderstorm could produce. Wind and rain pummeled the car, and lightning guided her way into the small village outside Tain. The coast was rugged and breathtaking, but all she really wanted at this point was to find her bed and collapse for several hours.
After she pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, she gathered her things, locked the door, and made a mad dash to the reception area. Thankfully she’d prepaid, so the registration and check-in was painless. With keycard in hand, she found her room, put her bags down, and fell onto the bed to relax. She was too tired to do much more. She listened to the rain fall from the eaves and the muffled sounds that came from the floor below. She’d made it. Finally, without even realizing how important it was to her soul, she was in Scotland. The bonny Highlands, no less.
She rolled off the mattress and padded to the bathroom. The inviting bathtub called to her, so she poured a nice warm bath and slipped into the silky depths, moaning as her sore, travel weary muscles rejoiced in the comfort offered by the water. She slipped into a half-dozing state.
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