“Yer so beautiful, all wet and flushed with the heat.”
Catrìona opened her eyes and sighed at the beautiful sight of her knight sitting on the edge of the tub. His long hair was falling down past his shoulders in a dark waterfall. His sensual mouth was pulled up into a small smile.
“I missed you last night.”
“I ken that, lass. But you needed your rest.”
“I needed you.”
He laughed a husky sound that licked along her nerve-endings.
“I love it when you laugh. It makes me smile.” Catrìona tried to sit up in the water, but lethargy weighed her limbs. “I want to feel your touch, taste your lips against mine.”
“Soon, mo chridh. I want all that and more. Seek your rest and tomorrow will bring you that which you desire the most.”
Catrìona came awake with a start, sending the now cool bathwater splashing over the sides of the tub. “Brilliant. Could you make a bigger mess?” she asked herself aloud as she stood and stepped out of the water.
What did this last dream mean? Soon. She hated the word. Never one to be patient, always choosing to run when she could walk, the fact she had to wait any longer than she already had chaffed at her sensibilities. Add to that, she wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. How maddening! She couldn’t force the time to pass any quicker than it already did. She dried off, brushed her teeth and donned her nightshirt. Sleep. What she needed was sleep.
* * *
Braden stared out at the beauty asleep on the bed. He was damn tired of having to return to his misty prison. The trip home was a torture. Traveling inside the same bag as her sexy panties had kept his cock rock hard and his teeth clenched. The sweet scent of his Catrìona tormented him in ways he’d never thought possible.
“So we’ve returned to our home! Ah, Braden, ‘tis glad I am to be back.” Alec clapped him on the shoulder. “Why aren’t you more excited about this?”
Braden pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over at his grinning friend. “You ken this is only the beginning? Things could go wrong.”
Alec waved his hand. “Psha.”
“Psha? Where did you pick up that word?”
“The other night when your lass was up late watching television. I must say I do like that invention. One hundred channels. I’ll be having one of those in my keep.”
“What do you want, Alec? I have much I must do this night.”
“I fail to see what you must do. She has the journal.”
“And a wee bit of its contents may come as a shock,” he grated out. “How do you think she’ll react when she reads the part where she is part of my past? A very important part of my past.”
Alec scratched his head. “I dinnae ken your problem. So she learns that you both loved once before. How can that be bad?”
Braden and Alec had been childhood friends and when Braden had become Laird of their clan, Alec had proudly taken his place beside him as first in command. Alec, better than anyone, knew how tormented Braden was by his love for Catrìona and how he would give anything to hold her again.
“I don’t know, Alec. How do you think she’ll feel to realize that I’m real, trapped in a painting by a curse and that at one time we both loved each other until my ambition killed her?”
“Your ambition didn’t kill her, man! The hated Comyn and Morgana saw to that.”
Braden gazed out through the mist and found his Catrìona curled on her side. The thought of her not being a part of his life tore at him. The hole in his heart was only partially filled. He would not be a whole man until their souls melded in a kiss no time or boundary could separate.
CHAPTER FIVE
Catrìona woke in the morning feeling strangely refreshed and with a sense of purpose. After she plumped up the pillows, she folded the sheet across her lap and reached over to pick up the journal she’d brought with her. The inside cover, stunningly, listed several names she recognized to be of her ancestors. With excitement coursing through her, she opened the book to the first page.
The first half of the book was written in some kind of old language which she couldn’t understand. She made a mental note to ask someone to help her with these pages, as she continued to look for a passage she could read. Paging carefully through the text, she found a portion of the book written in English, dated June 19, 1823.
My dreams are plagued by a man I cannot touch, but long to with all my being. He is all that my heart yearns for and yet, he keeps a distance. His rough voice arouses me in ways I never thought possible. There is a promise in his eyes that makes me want to experience the passion he holds back from me. Why does he come to me, appearing so real that no one else could ever measure up? Why are the women of our family so haunted? Papa has agreed to a match with the Earl of Stratford and I confess here, where my thoughts are private, there is no way I will be able to be happy with him compared to the man in my dreams. He’s stolen a piece of me, and I fear I will have to live a lie. How will I ever marry the Earl? How am I to live this lie?
Bethany
The hair on the back of Catrìona’s neck stood up, and her heart raced in her chest. It was as if she’d just raced the two hundred yard dash. She felt the same way about her Highlander. Was it possible? Were the women in her family haunted by the ghost of a warrior knight? Could that be the reason she was drawn to Tain?
She returned her attention to the journal and flipped back several pages.
March 2, 1785
His kiss is my inspiration. His voice my muse. I don’t know his name or whence he came, but it matters not at all to me. I will capture his likeness and hold it close when I need him most. The desire to see him in the sunlight and not in shadows drives me. Oh, my knight, how I wish you were real. Of flesh and bone. I know we could be so happy together. I am miserable here in England. I long for the sound of bagpipes in the air and the sweet scent of my bonny Highlands. My husband doesn’t understand my torment from being so far from home. My knight understands the pull the land and people have on me. Not for the first time do I wish that he was real and that my life was different.
Rebecca, Lady Wright
Catrìona’s gaze drifted to the portrait. Rebecca had done a wonderful job of bringing to life the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t begin to understand how it would feel to be married to someone when your heart wants another. Catrìona’s heart ached for the two women she was so distantly related to. In many ways they all had something in common. It would have been wonderful to be able to speak with them, to share her heartache at not being able to touch her dream man. The two entries she had managed to read conveyed the passion and attraction both authors felt for their knight. Catrìona worried she’d never find love because of her hang-up with him. She didn’t even know what to call him. What was his name? She had little doubt it would be a strong and masculine name.
To see women who had come before her expressing such private words and thoughts—words and thoughts that she herself felt for this man—gave her a strange sort of comfort. She wasn’t insane.
Frustrated with the situation, she pushed the sheets back and strode to her suitcase with a sense of purpose. Since the weather looked promising, she wanted to do a little sightseeing before seeking out the shop Natalia had recommended.
After a quick shower, she dressed, grabbed her backpack and keys. Before she left the hotel, she inquired about the local attractions. She wasn’t sure why she needed to be here in Tain, but had a feeling that this was where she’d get the peace and answers she sought.
The sky was a beautiful shade of blue and the air was crisp and sweet. Sounds of the sea drifted on the air, and she resisted the urge to drive to the coast. Instead she headed north toward the nearby Castle Ross. She’d been informed by the front desk clerk that it was a must-see.
As she carefully drove up the winding pass to the castle, Catrìona tried to take in the breathtaking scenery of rolling fields flowing to craggy cliffs overlooking the sea, but the road was a nightmare. She had to pay mo
re attention to the bumpy road than the thatched roof cottages that peppered the fields.
Catrìona breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the car park and killed the ignition. Although her drive had been free from encounters with roaming sheep, the sharp drop-offs and switchback curves had added more than enough adventure for the play-it-safe gal.
The stone edifice in front of her left her breathless. She’d never seen the likes of the castle before. The crenulated walls reached high into the sky; majestic round towers added a sense of whimsy to what would otherwise be considered a forbidding building.
The stone walls were imposing, and her eyes were continually drawn to the tower on the south-facing side of the compound. She wondered what the tower had been used for.
Walking along the gravel path, she neared the ticket booth. Several people stood in line ahead of her, and she looked past the group to the castle. Her heart was at peace here on the cliffside; as if she’d finally come home. Catrìona paid her admission and walked through the castle gate. The yard itself was manicured to within an inch of perfection. The grass was strangely emerald green despite the fact it was now fall. Heather bloomed along the curtain wall, scenting the air with its spicy perfume.
Mesmerized, she reached out and touched the sun-warmed stone. The surface was rough under her fingertips, weathered by centuries of storms and conflicts. It amazed her to think this wall had been standing for centuries. And yet she felt deep in her heart that there had been changes. In her mind’s eye she pictured the wall a little thicker, but she didn’t know where that memory came from. It was a mystery.
Catrìona joined the flow of people making their way to the castle steps. A tour guide, dressed in a plaid made up of bright red, blue and green, stood at the top. She was a spry little old lady, and there was a twinkle in her eye as she began her lecture.
They entered the castle proper and stepped into a grand hall. The Ross coat of arms hung proudly over both large fireplaces at either end of the large room. Tapestries and weapons shared space on the golden stone walls. It was a breathtaking sight. Banners in dark crimson and gold, as well as dark green and blue, hung from the high vaulted ceilings, along with striking chandeliers that cast their light into the dark corners of the massive room. The tour made its way through the great hall and into a rather impressive picture gallery.
“Along this wall you will see the pictures of the Lairds of Clan Ross. These handsome men were both warriors and lovers. They were fierce in their time. It is said that when these men found their soul mates, nothing would stand in their way of claiming the lasses who’d stolen their hearts.”
Catrìona gazed at the impressive paintings of the various Lairds of Clan Ross. For the most part, they were all very formidable and very male in appearance. Yet none of them really spoke to her until she came to the end of the gallery. Her breath caught in her throat, and she braced her hand against the stone wall. It was him!
“Ah, I see you’re captivated by the handsome Braden Ross.”
The voice came from her left shoulder, and Catrìona spun around to face the speaker. “Who is he?”
Their tour guide took a step back, narrowed her gaze and then smiled. “‘Tis you, my lady.” The words were spoken with awe.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve returned, just as the legend said you would.” She reached out and fingered Catrìona’s dark hair. “‘Tis beautiful; it is.”
Catrìona stepped away from the woman and looked frantically about, but realized the tour had moved on without her. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”
The tour guide smiled again. “No, Catrìona, I make no mistake.”
“How do you know my name?” Panic began to sink its talons into her belly.
“Come, follow me.” The woman turned and walked out of the gallery and down a shadowed hall.
With great reluctance, Catrìona found herself following without question, calling herself an idiot with each step she took. She knew the worst thing a woman could do was to allow herself to be singled away from a group, yet here she was in a foreign country following a sweet little old lady, who knew her name, into a part of the castle that was not part of the tour. The No Admittance sign on the large oak door didn’t make her feel any better, and she began to turn around. “You know, I think I’ll just go and join the rest of the tour.”
“No, dear.” The lady grabbed her wrist. “You must face the truth or this nightmare will never end.”
Nightmare? What nightmare? She wasn’t having a nightmare. “Listen, I really think you have the wrong person.”
The lady stopped and smiled. “Nae, lass. My name is Elspeth Ross, and you are Catrìona MacDougall. You’ve finally come home.”
Sweat broke out on Catrìona’s forehead and a strange buzzing started in her ears. She was seriously beginning to wonder about the lady’s sanity.
“There is no need to be frightened, lass. I have the answers to the questions your heart has been asking for years.”
Well, that was too much. How did this strange person know what her heart wanted or needed? Shoot, she didn’t even know what it wanted. “I appreciate your . . .” She didn’t even know what to call the strange behavior. “ . . .fervor in helping me, but truly, I think you have me confused with someone else.”
She tried to go back the way she’d come, but the manacle of an old hand stopped her before she could make good her escape.
“If you will listen to what I have to say, everything will make sense.” She pushed open a large door at the end of the hall and all but dragged Catrìona into the interior.
Catrìona stood speechless as she took in her surroundings. The low beamed ceiling ran the length of the small building. Dried flowers and herbs hung from the beams and perfumed the air with their unique fragrance. A hearth took up one side of the wall and a little floral sofa, table and chairs made up the furniture in the small space. The furniture was different, but once again she was assailed by the fact she’d been here before. But how was that possible? She’d never been to Scotland. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. She was losing her ever-loving mind.
“No, lass. You’re not crazy. ‘Tis time you returned to us.”
“This is crazy. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I’m not home.”
“Yes, you are. I dare you to tell me that you haven’t felt a connection to the bonny land since you were a wee lass.”
“I’ve also longed to go to Paris, and I’m not French. I fail to see why my wanting to visit Scotland has you so excited.”
“Have a seat, Catrìona; I will explain all.”
With a great deal of reluctance, Catrìona sat down while she judged the distance to the door. She smoothed her hands down her jean-clad thighs and waited.
Elspeth began with a smile. “Once upon a time . . .”
CHAPTER SIX
In the dimly-lit cottage, Cat sat across from her strange little hostess and listened to the story she was weaving.
“There was a brawny lad who would grow to be a fierce Highland Laird. He was proud, with a strong sense of right from wrong. His name was Braden Ross.” Elspeth’s voice drifted into an almost sing-song cadence, drawing Catrìona effortlessly into her story.
“One day Braden left as an emissary, taking a group of warriors to the MacDougall clan’s stronghold in order to work an alliance between the clans, which would include his betrothal to the MacDougalls’ daughter. While he was there, he met wee Catrìona. His bride-to-be.”
Catrìona stared in stunned silence. She’d had this dream when she was little. Instantly her mind wandered back to the long forgotten dream.
Catrìona watched as the men greeted each other and, after ordering that ale be brought to the table, Elspeth—Catrìona at her side—joined the group currently discussing the political climate.
“Ah, so this is the little bride. Verra nice. Braden, lad, come over here and meet your future wife,” the Ross said, causing Catrìona to jump.
>
She gazed at the boy approaching them. Catrìona liked his smile. When he reached them, he bent down, so he would be at her eye level. Once he was close enough for her to see, she noticed he looked like the knight in one of the faery tales her mama used to read to her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, lass.”
Catrìona bobbed a curtsy for lack of anything else to do. “It is nice to meet you . . .”
“Braden, my name is Braden, and you dinnae need to curtsy to me, lass. We tend to be a wee bit more informal here in the Highlands.”
She liked the dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he flashed her his smile, and she liked how the smile reached his eyes. The only person who smiled at her now was her aunt.
“Why dinnae you take the wee lass out for a stroll, Braden? Now would be a good time to get to know yer bride,” the MacDougall suggested. “We will finalize the agreement later.”
Braden stood and held out his hand to the little girl. “Come, let’s take a walk.”
Catrìona looked to her aunt. She didn’t like being around people she didn’t know. After seeing her aunt discreetly nod her head, she turned and took Braden’s hand.
They were almost out of the castle when her cousin Kate spied them. She was five and ten, and never had anything nice to say to Catrìona. But Braden was the same age, she knew, and he was nice to her.
Instantly, Catrìona’s tummy started to hurt and she gripped Braden’s hand tighter. Kate liked to poke fun at the fact Catrìona was not a full-blooded Scot. Being so young, she did not understand why this was an issue.
“Well, well, well. If it isna wee Catrìona. How are you, Braden?” Kate asked as she eyed Braden up and down.
“I’m verra well, but you will have to excuse us. Catrìona and I are going for a walk.”
Catrìona felt a warmth near her heart when she realized she had a champion in the boy beside her. She followed him into the formal garden, where they both took a seat under one of the large trees.
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