The reception is being held in one of the castle’s many massive halls. Built during the Scottish renaissance, the high, wood-paneled ceiling is painted with what appears to be flowers and fruit and much of the original furniture remains. Tall, narrow windows allow the light from the night sky to cast an ethereal glow. Women in black gowns and glossy red smiles bustle around the room laughing and socializing while waiters serve hors d’oeuvres. Flowers are everywhere. A profusion of pink peonies tumble from tall vases while white roses in silver Revere bowls grace each table.
It’s the perfect day to get married. Granted, it’s not my wedding. I’m not entirely sure that it will happen for me.
“There’s nothing like a guy in a tux,” Ava whispers as she grabs my hand.
“Amen to that, sistah. Amen to that,” I whole-heartedly agree.
“Do you have your wedding day planned out in your head, Ms. Kate?” Ava bumps my hip and smiles at me.
“Perhaps,” I hedge but Ava’s not buying it.
“Tell me.” She pouts at me. “Or are you going to live in your pretty apartment surrounded by books and cats?” Ava laughs at me.
“No cats. Lots of books, of course. I date. It’s not like I’m a recluse. I just happen to have high standards.” I reply a little too defensively even for my ears.
“You’re a snob but that’s okay. I am, too.”
Ava’s always been able to call me out and I can’t seem to fault her for her honesty.
“I know what I like, and I won’t settle.” I respond as I watch the stained-glass twinkle like jewels in the sun.
“You know me, Ava,” I say. “I like to try new foods and travel, but in all honestly, I could easily stay home and read. Though it’s part of my job, I genuinely enjoy it.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince, her or me. Ava feigns a yawn and pulls me toward the champagne.
“Listen, sweetie,” Ava says as she grabs two sparkling glasses from a silver tray, “you know I love you but you need to chill. Stop trying to plan and just go with it.”
“I promise I’ll try.” And I close my eyes and raise my arms to the sky, I can hear Ava giggling, “Universe, I vow to be open to new experiences so bring it on.” I open my eyes, down my champagne, and wink at my best friend.
“That’s the spirit, lass,” a deep baritone booms from behind me.
“Colum,” Ava practically purrs as she says his name.
“Ava.” His deep burr charges the air around us as he leans in to kiss her cheek. “Ye look lovely.”
“Katie, you look bonny as well,” and I can’t help but giggle as he leans down to kiss me on the forehead. They sure grow them big here. I’m about six feet tall with my heels on so feeling short next to a guy is uncharted territory for me. I inwardly cringe as Ivy League Kate smacks Dreamy Girly Kate in the head.
“The bride beckons.” Colum inclines his head toward the back of the hall where Maddy is waiting.
“Shit!” we exclaim and grab a few glasses of champagne each.
“We were supposed to bring some back for her but we got side-tracked,” Ava comments to our handsome escort.
“Aye, I ken.” He laughs, and I may have giggled again.
Get a grip, Kate!
“She sent me to gather ye from yer wandering. We’ll be starting soon.”
Ava, Colum, and I hurry to our bride.
As we open the door to the anteroom, Colum kisses Ava again, and I wonder if I’ll be attending another wedding in the Highlands in the near future.
I’m immersed in romance all day. My fingers drip with it. I live it. Breathe it. There should be sparkles and butterflies swirling around me as my heels click along Fifth Avenue.
This trip marks the beginning of Maddy’s life with Ian and the end of my relationship with Randall.
“There you are,” Maddy exclaims, “I’m parched.”
“Don’t ruin your lipstick, sweetie,” I say but she’s already finished one glass and eyeing the other in my hand.
“So, Ava, how’s Colum?” I tease but I know she loves it.
Ava blushes. “He’s delicious, isn’t he?”
“See, Katie, I bet you don’t even miss Rick.” Maddy laughs a little.
“Randall. His name is Randall,” I correct her as she and Ava roll their eyes and mouth his name. They never really liked him. They only went along with him for me.
He and I had dated for a year. Things were going along well. We had settled into a routine as most couples do until one day, over dinner, he suggested we move in together. I was apprehensive but I thought it was rather romantic of him to suggest until he further explained that it was quite practical to live together. We could consolidate our expenses. That was his pitch to me over sushi! Very romantic!
I deserve to be swept off my feet, to feel the magic. A declaration of love doesn’t involve credit scores or sharing data plans.
“Riiiight. Randall. I don’t miss that guy at all.” She and Maddy enjoy the laugh, and I can’t really disagree.
“Places, ladies.” The event coordinator ushers us into our places as the makeup artist walks down the line re-applying gloss and fixing our hair.
The atmosphere in the ballroom is the complete antithesis to that of the church. Where the church was serene and spiritual, the ballroom is loud and boisterous. As glasses are filled, laughter and conversation fill the air. The orchestra plays, and couples dance to Ella Fitzgerald and Harry Connick, Jr.
It’s perfect, and yet at that very moment, I can’t get enough air into my lungs. The room swims, and I carefully make my way through the crowd of partygoers onto the patio. I inhale the brisk night air and begin to relax a bit.
I still can’t shake the feeling something is missing. Something more is out there for me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“You’re thinking awfully hard for such a lovely night,” a deep voice says from behind me.
I turn, startled from my melancholy, to face the handsome groomsman I met earlier in the day.
“Come dance with me.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond but takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. The gentle crooning of Nat King Cole whispers in the air as he masterfully maneuvers me around the patio.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”
“I hadn’t realized I looked so deep in thought. I suppose I should thank you for the diversion.”
He chuckles low and deep as he turns me about.
“A diversion? I’ve been called many things, I can assure you, but never a diversion. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take it as a compliment or else I shall be wounded. Men have such fragile egos, you know.”
I can’t help but smile at his honest charm. The fact that he’s tall and handsome and has a wonderful Scots accent has nothing to do with it, of course. We continue to dance in companionable silence and when the song ends, he kisses my cheek and hands me a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.
“Would you come back inside with me, or would you like to take a stroll in the garden?” He smiles, lighting up the patio with his crooked grin.
“I think I’ll stay out here and get some air,” I respond.
“Would ye like some company, or would ye like to be alone?” His eyes are warm as whiskey.
“I think I’ll just walk a while alone but I’ll be back inside shortly,” I say. “Thank you for the lovely dance.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says and kisses my hand before returning to the reception.
I should have gone back inside with him. I must be crazy! If Ava was here, she’d give me an earful.
Instead, champagne in hand, I turn toward the garden alight with lanterns, and carefully walk down the stone steps. Although the castle is in impeccable condition, four-inch heels are
not made for leisurely strolls.
The garden path is paved with gravel looking as old as the castle itself. I wonder about all who walked this path before me. Were they kings and queens? Lovers meeting under moonlight shielded from the world by high garden walls? Great knights fighting for fair maidens? I can’t help but wax poetic in a setting like this. As the gentle crooning of Michael Bublé recedes into the night, I make my way toward the gurgling and sputtering of a fountain.
The garden is like a living museum. There’s a stone angel in the center of the fountain with wings that span from above his shoulders down to his heels. With a face of a Canova, its feathers are so realistically carved that I reach out to touch them, only to pull back. They say the castle is built on ancient land harboring stone circles and an ancient lunar calendar. Certainly, if this isn’t a magical place, nowhere is. The sound of the bubbling water is like a lullaby. It’s so peaceful. I could sit here forever and stare at stars in the sky.
Gazing up at the sparkling sky, I can’t help but think about Randall. He would be totally out of place here. I appreciated his practical nature and no-nonsense style. The girls said he looked good in a suit but that’s where the compliments ended. I can’t blame Randall because we didn’t work out. It takes two and if I’m being honest, I don’t know that I ever really loved him. There was no spark. I’m sure he felt like something was missing too. He was just too much of a gentleman to say it. And I thought I was more practical than I really am. I thought I wanted a strait-laced guy, but apparently, deep down, I want adventure and romance and . . .
“. . . magic.” I hear myself say the word out loud.
Talking to a statue, Kate?
Closing my eyes, a tall Scottish warrior comes unbidden to my mind, and I realize I need to back off the Highland romance novels. I like to think of myself as a modern woman. I prefer to be independent. I date corporate men. I like a good suit. Time to put fanciful, Dreamy Kate aside and get back to reality.
I should really get back inside before they miss me.
Leaning down to pick up my shoes, I notice something sticking out of the gravel. It looks like a coin.
I’m going to need another manicure after this, I think, as I sift through the tiny stones. Finally getting it out, I can see it’s a coin, but it’s filthy. It’s been in the dirt for a while. Rubbing it between my fingers I can make out a picture but I can’t really see it well, so I swish it around in the fountain to clean it off. Holding it up to the lantern, I can see it has a crown on one side and what looks like a cross on the other.
I’ll have to Google it when I get back to my room. Google knows everything.
For now I sit back down, pull my hair out of the tight chignon and put the bobby pins into my clutch then place it on the bench next to me. I study the coin in my hand. Rubbing my thumb over the raised cross, I smile at the angel.
“I wish for a wild, unrelenting love. Do you hear me, angel?” I face the statue, waiting for an answer.
“Is that too much to ask?”
He doesn’t answer me. All I hear is my heart beating and the faint whisper of bagpipes.
So I close my eyes and inhale the crisp, clean night air. The face of a man with eyes the color of the night sky appears again. Smiling to myself, I wonder who he is.
His face is the last clear image I have.
Chapter 2
I wake not to the gentle sounds of crickets and babbling water but to the loud angry shouts of men and the rustling of leaves.
What the hell’s going on? Am I dreaming?
No, not a dream as my aching body can attest. Taking stock of my surroundings, I see that rowan and aspen trees encompass me. No longer is there a lovely garden and fountain, but tall trees as far as I could see. Oh my God, was I drunk? Had I wandered off and passed out? I didn’t think I drank that much. Was I drugged and hauled off into the woods?
I touch the earth as if to ground me. The dirt is cool against my skin. Pushing myself up, I brush myself off with a shaky hand.
Once I steady myself, I take a deep breath and look around for my shoes.
Out of nowhere, someone runs into me.
“Please don’t let them take me. We must hide quickly before they find us.” A wild-eyed little boy with black curls grabs my hand, rather forcefully I might add, and pulls me deeper into the thicket. We crouch down low into the bushes.
“What’s going on?” I ask but he claps a cold, shaking hand over my mouth. With his eyes, he urges me to be quiet.
“I ken you’re there, ye little bastard. Come then, and let’s be off or else yer father willna see ye again. Is that what ye want?”
The little boy silently pleads with me to save him. I wonder who’s going to save me?
But I don’t have the luxury of acting upon my fear with this frightened child in my arms. I wrap my arms around him, more to comfort myself, if I’m being honest.
The angry shouts get closer and closer as we hold each other. Should I stay in the bush, or make a run for it? Where would we run? The rustling gets closer, and now I can hear the man’s labored breathing.
“MacGregor, ye little whelp, come along before I skin ye alive!”
The angry man is standing right over us. I hear him laugh as he reaches into the bush and pulls me out.
“What have we here?” The massive, bearded man holds me by my shoulders in a steel grip.
“Get your hands off me!” I scream more in anger than fear.
His eyes appraise me openly. Since I’m wearing only a silk Dior slip dress in the middle of the woods, I can imagine what he thinks of me. Without warning, his mouth crushes mine, as he unceremoniously shoves his tongue into my mouth. I kick him, but since I have no shoes on and he’s wearing boots to his knees, it hurt me more than him. Having never taken a self-defense class, I use the only other move that comes to mind, and I knee him between his legs. It may be crude but it’s effective.
He grunts and slaps me across the face. I end up on the ground in a heap. Stunned, I taste salty blood on my tongue. Now I’m truly scared and glad he didn’t find the little boy still hiding in the bush. Tears sting my eyes. I grab a branch on the ground next to me then stand. Armed with my flimsy weapon, I face my attacker.
“Stay back, or I’ll scream.” As soon as I’ve spoken, I realize my actions have had the opposite effect on him.
“Ah, she’s feisty,” he says, and the sound of metal scraping against leather drowns out even the sound of my heartbeat. I watch as he draws a long sword from his belt.
An honest to goodness sword.
“Holy shit,” I say aloud, and he cocks his head at my words.
As he takes a step toward me, I see his gaze dart over my shoulder, and he scowls.
“You’ve taken to fighting women now, Murray?”
I hear a chorus of laughter behind me.
“Och, Angus. Get your own whore. This one’s mine,” my attacker says as he raises his sword to battle.
I’m pushed out of the way by whomever is behind me and I end up in the leaves again. From my crouching position on the ground, all I can see are swords and men. Face still throbbing, I crawl over to the bush where the little boy is hiding.
As I reach the safety of the bush, someone grabs my ankle and pulls me back along the forest floor, and before I know it, I’m on my back under a sweaty, hairy soldier. I use my forearms to push him off me but he’s too big.
“Come and give me a kiss, sweetling.” He grinds his filthy mouth against mine.
I kick and push as much as I can, all to no avail.
Suddenly, the brute is yanked from my body, and I stare in horror at the sword sticking out of his chest. This is no reenactment or bad dream. I’m not drunk or drugged.
This is real.
How did this happen?
My poor Dior slip dress is now up to my thighs and filthy. I scramble to my feet and pick up my stick again, prepared to defend myself from the next attacker. I know it’s no match against a sword, but I need something. My short nails dig into my palm as I clutch my weapon. I hear movement behind me. Taking a deep breath, I turn and swing as hard as I can.
“Christ, woman. Yield!”
Two hands wrap around my wrists and pull me flush against a hard chest. I look up into the face of my captor. An angry pair of dark eyes stare down at me.
“Duncan, come out now,” my captor calls as he glares down at me, still holding my wrists.
My little friend crawls out of the bush.
“Angus!” he yells with an expression of unmitigated relief.
As if all of our problems are solved with this declaration. If this little boy thinks Angus is a friend, then I can go along with that. I should breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, my whole body shivers. I want him to kiss me, right now, in the middle of this madness.
You’ve officially lost it, Kate.
The angry Highlander looks from me to the branch I’m still clutching in my hand. Slowly he takes the branch out of my hand and tosses it on the ground. I can taste the salt on my lips before I realize I’m crying.
Releasing me, he looks at me like I’m an alien. I suppose I do look like one. Standing in the woods with branches in my hair and only wearing a slip dress, I must look like a raving lunatic. A well-dressed lunatic, but still . . .
I wrap my arms around myself to stop the shivering and because I feel quite underdressed with him staring at me like that. Returning his stare, I can’t help but notice that this man is at least a foot taller than I am and twice as wide in the shoulders. He’s got the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. It’s so unfair. Women would kill for those lashes. I know I’m staring, but he’s gorgeous. I’ve clearly lost my mind.
Still looking at me, he calls over his shoulder, “Here,” and more men arrive quickly with swords.
Highland Wish Page 2