Kilts and Catnip

by Zoe Tasia

  Trying to rescue a kitten, I had bitten off more than I had bargained for...

  I sank beneath the gelid water’s surface, clipping my chin on a rock hard enough to bite my tongue. The tangy iron of my own blood filled my mouth. I flailed to the surface. Managing to take deep breaths, I swallowed back vomit. I held my breath before I went under once more. I tried to ignore the hard, rough rocks tearing and poking my clothes and body. I reached to free myself and felt long fingers, complete with sharp nails, curled around my ankles.

  Tugging at the hands, I struggled to open them. The fingers were so long that they overlapped the thumb by at least three inches. Panicked, I forgot to hold my breath and opened my mouth to scream. I bucked and flailed. The water was up to my waist when I briefly surfaced. I spit and gulped air before being sucked in deeper.

  I thrashed my legs and tore at the fingers binding me. A nail bent back and one hand released me. As the other clenched claw let go, I placed one foot precariously underneath me. A monstrous, bald head sprang from the water. It had three ridged, bumpy slits on the side of its neck like gills on a fish, but there, the resemblance ended. It was greenish blue in color and had black, pupil-less eyes. The thing gawked at me, revealing double rows of sharp teeth like a shark.

  Danger lurks in the forest.

  But Greg Gillie, a handsome Scot with a mysterious past, protects the Shrouded Isle and the lands beyond from the menacing fae.

  A woman’s arrival disturbs the Wee Folk.

  Becca Shaw, an American widow, takes a family vacation to the island. Each day she remains, Greg struggles as more and more fae steal away from the forest hill and threaten the people.

  Can the exodus be stopped?

  As the danger increases, Becca strives to repair her relationship with her still-grieving girls and befriend the suspicious villagers. Resisting their blossoming feelings for one another, Greg and Becca team up to find answers. Why are the fae escaping? How can Greg and Becca stop them?

  For their sake and the sake of the world, let’s hope they’re up to the task.

  Kilts and Catnip, the first book in a new fantasy series, is filled with sweet romance, delightful humor, and exciting adventure.

  Praise for Kilts and Catnip

  “THE SETTINGS ARE WELL-DRAWN, especially the author’s descriptions of the tree-lined streets (“Roses twined up trellises along the walls, splashing yellows, pinks, and reds. Sun shone down on the leaves of the honeysuckle-garlanded oaks dappling the bright sidewalks with shade”). This promising new fantasy series with strong characters should appeal to fans of Charlaine Harris.” Kirkus Review

  “BY BUILDING A POWERFUL atmosphere of family ties and then introducing a romantic and mysterious figure into the mix, Zoe Tasia has created an original, gripping story that draws readers in with not just evolving romance and fantasy, but strong interpersonal ties which lie at the heart of any truly compelling read. Kilts and Catnip is highly recommended for paranormal and romance audiences who want their writing vivid, personal, and as strong in psychological connections as it is in a sense of place and an atmosphere of danger; all set against a search for connections and home.” D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review.

  “MS. TASIA CREATES A wonderful world of fae, shape-shifters, goblins, and magic, effortlessly blending it with the story of a very modern family, dealing with the aftermath of loss. Becca and her two daughters are relatable and likeable and the vibrant world of Shrouded Isle may cause some readers to book flights to Scotland.” InD’tale Magazine

  “ZOE TASIA BRINGS MAGIC to a tale of romance, family, and heart.” Readers’ Favorite

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My deepest thanks to my wonderful family, for supporting my dreams; my dear friends, especially G. and L., for reading and editing my early drafts; and S.H., you’re like a sister to me and I can depend on you to always have my back.

  KILTS

  and

  CATNIP

  (THE SHROUDED ISLE BOOK 1)

  ZOE TASIA

  GENRE: FANTASY/PARANORMAL/SHIFTERS

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  KILTS AND CATNIP

  Copyright © 2018 by Zoe Tasia

  Cover Design by Hampton Lamoureux

  All cover art copyright © 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Zoe Tasia

  E-BOOK ISBN: 978-1-7350689-0-9

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission of the author.

  DEDICATION

  To Larry and Mary Lou,

  my beloved, extraordinary parents,

  You are missed.

  Chapter 1

  Shrouded Isle, Scotland

  “MOM, MOM, WAKE UP!”

  I lifted my head as my eldest’s finger jabbed me in the rib three times in rapid succession. Teen must maintain minimum touching to avoid icky mommy cooties, no doubt. Despite lack of sleep, my inner monologue continued to function well. The dim night-light from the hall glowed bright enough to reveal Jessie standing beside the bed.

  “What?” I rubbed my dry, gritty eyes and winced at the soreness. Late yesterday evening, we arrived at the summer cottage after a grueling drive and a vomit-inducing ferry trip. When the bags still weren’t unpacked by eleven, I opted to go to bed and deal with it tomorrow. Hello, tomorrow.

  “Tate’s gone.”

  As I swung my legs over to sit up, Jessie stepped back. Her gaze alternated between me and the bedroom the girls shared next to mine. Jessie hugged her chest and fidgeted in that gawky, yet attractive way only fifteen-year-old girls can.

  I shook my head. “What do you mean she’s gone?” I squinted at the clock, but I had neglected to reset it to the correct time. A glance out the window revealed the star-filled sky. “Jess! It’s the middle of the night! What the—” I said, barely checking myself before I blurted out a profanity. “Did you check the couch? She probably snuck out to read and fell asleep.” I glanced at my pillow with longing.

  Jessie’s nails bit into my forearm and drove the sleep from my mind. My cool, unconcerned teen looked panicked. “I saw a boy take Tate into the woods. We gotta go now or we’ll lose her!” she cried.

  Fear drew an icy finger down my spine. Jessie tugged at me. Her eyes opened wide, large, like an anime character’s.

  “Tate? Tate, honey, where are you?” I received no answer. I shoved my feet into wellies and threw on my green, corduroy jacket I’d left on a chair. Jessie dragged me toward the door, but suspicious, I pulled free. “What exactly did you see? And I swear, if this is some kind of prank, you and your sister cooked up—”

  “No prank.”

  “Then what?”

  Jessie ran to the living room. “Come on!”

  I followed, glanced at the girls’ empty beds in the next room as I passed, then turned up the gas lamp, and blinked owlishly.

  “I heard shuffling noises. I looked up and the window was open wide.”

  I drew close and squeezed her shoulder. “We left the window open, honey.”

  “Not wide open, Mom. We left it cracked this much.” She held up her hands, showing a four-inch gap between them. “I went to lower it and saw a little boy dragging Tate into the woods. Tate was moving slowly, like she was sleepwalking.”

  I opened the front door and switched on the porch light.
The girls’ room was on the right side of the small house. I rushed around the corner in time to see a bluish light illuminate two figures, one in a nightgown and the other so much into the shadows that I couldn’t make out any detail. They disappeared into the foliage. I knew the ruffled, pink pajamas. They were Tate’s favorite. What was she thinking? She’s old enough to know better than to wander off with a stranger.

  Despite wanting to rush after her, I paused. Bad idea to go into a forest, especially in the dark, Becca. I remembered seeing a large flashlight on top of the refrigerator. Ignoring my warning, I raced back into the kitchen and rose on tiptoe to reach the light, so I could follow.

  Jessie gripped my arm. “I’m coming too,” she pleaded.

  “Jess, if I hurry, I should be able to get her before I get completely turned around. I need you to stay here and call nine-nine-nine, in case I can’t find her.” Jessie opened her mouth ready to protest. Before she could speak, I added, “My cell is in my purse on the table.” Then I remembered the friendly local we’d met when we first arrived. “Better yet, call Mr. McNeil from the grocery. His number is in my contacts, and he’s sure to know who best to call.”

  Jessie rushed to the table for the phone.

  Yelling Tate’s name, I ran into the night and dashed toward the forest, thanking God the boy hadn’t taken her to the ocean side of the cottage and carried my baby away in a boat. The forest felt too quiet as I dodged around an enormous oak. I ran until my boot heel caught on a root and made me stumble on the uneven ground. Frantic, I swung the light back and forth searching for my youngest. How could they have gotten so far ahead of me?

  “Tate!” I called.

  Scuffing my feet and tearing at bushes, I hoped to mark my path so we could find our way back or at least be found. The branch on a log snagged my clothes, and I fell to my knees.

  Come on, Becca. Stop panicking. I stood, flipping off the flashlight. After listening for a few seconds, I heard rustling ahead to the north. Once more, though much dimmer, the blue light flickered ahead. I was afraid to switch on my light because it dimmed the indistinct blue. The eerie glow grew fainter. I kept calling and blundered forward, crying out as the light vanished.

  “Tate!” I screamed, pausing to turn on the light. I spun, lighting up the dark earth around me. My baby’s gone. I realized my mistake after making one full circle. I’d forgotten which direction I was going and where I’d come from. My heart beat a tattoo on my ribs, and I fought the primal urge to run—to find her. Find her now! But ingrained knowledge stilled my feet. I had to stop. I’d only injure myself rushing around in the dark, and I couldn’t risk it. My girls needed me. Sinking to the ground, I rested my back against a tree. My breath came in gasps. I didn’t want to just sit here, but when lost in the woods, the best thing you could do was stay put—and I was very lost. I choked back a sob, hoping in the silence, I would hear them. No telling how long I would be stranded in the forest and, when the searchers arrived, they would call my name, so I turned off the flashlight, conserving the battery. My head spun and I took deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. I forced myself to close my eyes and stop searching the night for the bobbing blue light that had long since vanished.

  I didn’t know how much time passed when I heard a twig snap. If it was an animal, I doubted I was in any danger, but I turned on the light, all the same, blinking as my pupils adjusted. Could Tate have gotten away? Was she making her way back to me? I shined the light into the darkness toward the noise. A hand brushed aside a large tree limb, revealing a dark-haired man in a kilt holding my daughter. As he stepped forward, he released the limb and it sprang back into place and quivered.

  “Could you not shine that in my eyes?” he called out, squinting.

  I kept the torch on but pointed it toward the ground as I struggled to my feet.

  Glassy-eyed, Tate yawned. “Mama?”

  I held out my arms. “Sweetie.”

  One moment, the man stood yards away—the next, the stranger deposited my daughter into my embrace then retreated. I gasped, hugging her close. The flashlight bobbed as I juggled it and Tate. I focused the light ahead. Starlight gleamed off the shoulder-length, wavy, black hair of a man paused in motion. I panned the light down, revealing a broad back clad in a white tunic. The hem of a green and blue kilt swung against his legs. He glanced over his shoulder at me and squinted once more. A look of surprise crossed his face.

  As he stared, he turned and took a step closer. “It canna be,” he whispered, as his harsh, stern features softened in wonder. He regarded me for a moment then frowned and shook his head.

  “What were you doing with my daughter?” I demanded.

  His lip curled. “Saving her from a worse fate than having a neglectful mum.”

  “She was sleeping! Someone took her from her bedroom. Was it you?” I sputtered. Jessie said it was a little boy, but maybe she was mistaken.

  He ignored my question. “I would thank you kindly to leave my forest,” he said, his countenance stern and his green eyes narrowing. A thick lock of raven-colored hair hung down, almost covering his left eye. His expression warmed when he looked at Tate, but his voice remained gruff. Before he turned and disappeared, he added, “And dinna come back.”

  Tate mewled like a kitten, very unlike her usual bawl.

  “Hey, wait! Where are you going?” I yelled. I cast my light in his direction, but only saw him for a moment before the forest swallowed him. I couldn’t believe he’d left us alone. I patted Tate. “Someone will find us. Try not to worry.” She nuzzled my neck and sobbed. Ahead, an orange light flickered. “What in the world—”

  I recognized a blaze in the distance and used the flashlight to weave around trees and over bushes to the edge of the forest. When I stepped out, I heard a cry. Jessie ran to me, nearly bowling me over.

  “Mrs. Shaw? Are you and the wee one all right?” Mr. McNeil, the grocer, called from the fire pit.

  The man bore a striking resemblance to the ranger who traveled with a dwarf and an elf in that fantasy movie the girls loved. His tangled, dark hair fell an inch short of brushing his shoulders. I decided he must be one of those men who could grow a beard practically overnight because he looked as if a couple of days had passed without a razor touching his ruggedly handsome face. As he drew closer, I saw he wore unlaced hiking boots, creased jeans, and a white sleeveless undershirt which revealed tanned, toned arms.

  “We’re fine, Mr. McNeil. Thank you so much for coming.”

  Tate was getting heavy, so I put her down and led the two girls back to the house. Mr. McNeil followed us inside.

  Tate’s tears subsided, and she calmed enough to release my hand and sit on the couch.

  My eyes brimmed with grateful tears. “Lighting the fire was a brilliant idea.”

  “I canna take the credit for that. By the time I arrived, your oldest had all the lights on and the pit burning.”

  As I looked at Jessie, I started, newly aware that she was almost my height. She ducked her head. “I saw the marshmallows on the table and remembered. I thought it could guide you home. Mr. McNeil was taking so long. I know you don’t like me to light even a candle without supervision, but I had to do something.”

  Though she rolled her eyes at my protectiveness, I knew she wasn’t as sanguine as she wanted to appear.

  I tugged her close for a side hug. “It’s okay, honey. I forget how mature you are.”

  “How did you find Tate, Mom?”

  “I didn’t. A man found her—maybe one of our neighbors.” Though he was annoyingly abrupt, I didn’t really think the stranger took Tate. Why would he bring her back to me if he had?

  Jessie took Tate’s hand and whispered in her ear as she draped a quilt from the back of the sofa around her.

  Mr. McNeil touched my shoulder in concern. “You sure you’re okay, ma’am? Was a long time to be out in the woods.”

  As he followed me to the foyer, I assured him I was fine. “Do you have any idea who the stran
ger was?” I described the man in the kilt.

  “Aye. Best you avoid that one.”

  I asked why but he just shook his head.

  The door stuck a bit as I pulled it open. “Stay inside, girls. I’m just going to walk Mr. McNeil out,” I said, motioning for them to remain there.

  We stepped out onto the porch. Embarrassed and now feeling a bit like Chicken Little, I turned to him. “I’m not a survivalist, but I can manage being outdoors for twenty minutes,” I said then chuckled.

  Mr. McNeil ran a hand through his hair, tousling the locks, and tried to smother a yawn. I regretted inconveniencing him because, after all, we were strangers, and now I repaid his kindness by practically shoving him out the door. So relieved that Tate and I came back safe and sound, I’d had forgotten my manners. “Would you like to come back inside for a glass of water or a beer?”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. His eyes shone with something I might have identified as attraction, but I was too tired to be sure and was definitely not up to addressing it tonight if it was.

  Before he could respond, I said, “Then again, it looks like Jess woke you up—and I’m sure you must be missing your bed and needing to rise soon.”

  His grin grew broader and his eyes met mine then traveled southward.

  “To wake up early...to get the shop ready...” I fumbled for words, trying to balance my feelings of gratitude with this sudden unease I now felt.

  “A bit too early for alcohol, but maybe tea would be nice, non-caffeinated.”

  His gaze focused on my bare legs. Shocked silent by the obvious interest and maybe misunderstood invitation, I tugged at my jacket, wishing it was longer. At least it covered enough so that my threadbare nightie didn’t reveal what hadn’t been seen by any male since my husband’s death.

  The sky transformed from black to a dark, steel blue. Was I in the woods longer than I thought? “Wow—actually, maybe another time would be better,” I said, striving for graciousness. As I accompanied him to the path which led to town, I remembered what Jessie had told me about a little boy and the barely visible figure I saw. “We need to call the police. Jessie saw a little boy lead Tate into the forest.”