Had she made him up because she was lonely? That didn’t make sense, still…
With more time in the non-corporate world, would her life settle down, become normal?
She had to hope.
Morning sun burned through the mist. The emerging garden looked awesome. Maybe things had already begun to settle down and return to normal.
Lost in thought, a tinkling noise near the rear gate startled her. A familiar hint of an exotic fragrance played on the breeze. As if in a trance, she rose and walked to the open gate.
Her dream man stood on a grassy knoll at the edge of the woods.
Laurie’s pulse quickened and the muscles in her belly tightened as she tried to move toward him. Again, the invisible barrier at the gate held her back. Their gazes met. His deep blue eyes devoured her. The intensity sent a thrill through her system. He reached out his hand and time seemed to stand still. His eyes are so blue.
A bright white light arced between them, and he faded away.
She stared at the spot where he’d stood. When she turned around, she released a surprised scream.
“Sorry,” Caitrina said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Thought we might want to get an early start. Have breakfast in the village before visiting garden centers.”
“It’s okay, you startled me. Laurie pressed her palm against her chest in an attempt to still her racing heart. “I saw that man again.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what to think. Maybe I shouldn’t stay in Anderson Creek. Maybe moving here was a mistake. Maybe I should go to New York and find a good shrink.”
* * *
Patrick remained outside the walled garden, held in place by an unnatural force. The lass looked exquisite in the early morning light. Compelled to touch her, he reached for her, but a fierce jolt traveled up his arm and a bright light blinded him. Once his vision cleared, she was gone.
Strange. His visions of the lass only came to him in the Fir-wood, near the old hut and that cursed faerie knoll. And the woman, dressed in unusual garments, as if she were a lad. Odd, indeed. He was drawn to her. Not only was she beautiful, but he sensed a kinship between them. A longing to be loved.
Ach, he knew naught of the lass.
Patrick dropped his outstretched arm. What was he doing here, lurking, hoping to see her again? He should have given this place a wide berth instead of hanging about like a besotted fool. There were important activities requiring his attention—practicing sword skills, drilling his men, hunting.
The feud had been quiet of late, but that surely wouldn’t continue.
He didn’t have time to worry about the woman. Though Munn’s insistence that the fae were involved with the lass and perhaps his parent’s disappearance brought a disturbing thought. What had Patrick done to encourage their notice? Why would the fae become involved in his life?
Frustration plunged him into a dark mood.
He trudged toward the castle, but as he got closer, he lengthened his stride determined not to waste the rest of the day. Not to think about the lass who stirred his loins. When he arrived at the stables, he yelled for Stephen to join him. Patrick needed a distraction. A strenuous ride through the forest would serve him well. A hunt would clear his head.
And one never knew what one would find while hunting.
CHAPTER FOUR
Caitrina rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I ken what you need.”
“Really?” Laurie braved a smile for her friend.
“You’ll feel better after we go plant shopping.” Caitrina gently touched Laurie’s shoulder.
Laurie calmed, yet felt somewhat bewildered. It was as if the other woman’s touch held some magical calming power. Sometimes Caitrina had a strange way about her.
“Shall we go?” She tugged the brim of her hat over her eyes.
“But what about the man?”
“Dinnae think about it.”
Maybe Caitrina was right. Perhaps picking out plants for the garden would take her mind off what she thought she saw beyond the gate.
“All right. Let’s go.”
They drove into the nearby village of Anderson Creek, to the Le Petit Café and Bakery, entering to the tinkle of little silver bells hanging on the inside of the door.
“Hello.” Caitrina waved to the owner.
The French woman signaled from behind the counter for them to seat themselves. They selected a cozy booth with a view of the creek.
“Did Mairi tell you about the ceilidh at the inn this coming Saturday night?” Caitrina asked. “It’ll be a full moon, a wonderful reason to celebrate.”
“No, she didn’t. What is a ceilidh?”
“’Tis a wee house party with good food, storytelling, traditional music, dancing. Everyone dresses in Highland costume. You ken? Lots of tartan. ’Tis a grand time.”
“Sounds like fun. Not sure what I’d wear though. I don’t have anything tartan.”
“We’ll find something, even if we have to go to the Celtic Image shop.”
As they finished their omelets, the bells on the door jingled again. A dapper older man sauntered in wearing dress slacks, a tweed jacket and cap, a walking cane at his side. His alert gaze spied Caitrina. Stepping up to their table, he removed his cap and bowed.
“Good day to you. ’Tis a pleasure to see such bonnie lasses.” He grasped Caitrina’s hand and brushed a kiss across the top of her knuckles. With a wink, he said, “Introduce me to your friend, lass.”
“Hello to you, Mr. MacNaughton.” Caitrina smiled playfully at him. “This is the lass living in the old cottage at the inn. Her name is Laurie Bernard.”
“Hello, sir.” Laurie produced a friendly smile for the handsome, elder gentleman.
His keen eyes measured her.
“Pleased to meet you, lass.” He inclined his head. “Enchanting old place, the cottage. I hope you decide to remain among us.”
“Thank you.” Laurie squirmed in her seat, awkward, but needed to ask, “Do you know of anyone who might…hike the woods near my cottage?”
Caitrina stared out the window. Laurie frowned, wondering why she looked away.
“Why do you ask?” Mr. MacNaughton narrowed his eyes.
“I saw a man this morning outside my garden gate,” Laurie said.
“Probably a guest from the inn out for a morning constitutional.”
I doubt that. “You’re likely right.”
The stranger didn’t dress like anyone she’d seen at the inn. The Scottish men at the inn wore modern kilts, not a blanket wrapped around pure muscle. Maybe she had imagined him.
“I see friends yonder, I must be off.” Mr MacNaughton ambled over to the counter to chat with the women seated there.
“He’s a terrible flirt,” Caitrina whispered from behind her hand.
They paid the bill and left the café. They drove for a few miles until they glimpsed the sign for May’s Flowers, apparently one of Caitrina’s favorite garden centers.
After parking, they strolled among rows of plants and flowers, stopping often to discuss the merits of one plant or another. Halting at one of the display tables, Caitrina picked up a nursery pot with light green foliage.
“Foxgloves will be perfect in the semi-shade near the rear gate.”
“I’ve seen them in catalogs. Digitalis purpurea. Am I correct?”
“Aye. They’re biennial, and they’ll self-sow each year.” Caitrina tilted her head to the side. “Some say they attract faeries.”
“Faeries, huh?” Laurie touched a soft green leaf and smiled over the fanciful idea. “What color will they bloom?”
“This variety is a mix. The flowers come in white and shades of pink or purple.”
“Which color attracts faeries?” Laurie kept her grin to herself.
“All of them,” Caitrina said with a straight face. “Especially the pink.”
“Then I hope these plants produce pink flowers.” Laurie selected several pots and placed them in t
heir cart.
Before leaving May’s, they crammed the small car with as many perennials and annuals as would fit, and made arrangements for the delivery of more plants the next day.
After visiting two more garden centers, Laurie slid behind the wheel and sighed. The morning had been long and judging by the height of the sun, the afternoon was slipping by. She glanced sideways at Caitrina. “You are tireless, but I’m hungry. Could we stop for a bite to eat?”
“We probably should return to the cottage. We don’t want the plants to dry out in the car. We can stop at the vegetarian restaurant in the village for a sandwich and soup to go. Teddy makes fabulous tomato, roasted-garlic soup.”
Laurie’s stomach growled. “You’re making my mouth water. Let’s hurry.”
The Baked Potato was a storefront vegetarian café located next door to the Celtic Image shop on the main drag of Anderson Creek. Tantalizing aromas greeted them when they stepped into the crowded restaurant. Several customers waited in line at the counter in front of them.
One stood out among the others, not only due to his substantial height, but also for his mode of dress. His handsome six-foot-seven body was clothed in a cream fisherman’s sweater, a red plaid kilt, and around his waist hung a fur sporran with a badger head.
He strode to them and gave Caitrina a cursory glance before smiling at Laurie. “Hello. You must be our new resident. Iain says nice things about you.”
Laurie expected Caitrina to introduce them. When she glanced at her friend, she found her glaring at the guy.
“Douglas MacKinnon,” Caitrina snapped. “Rude as usual.”
His eyes turned cold. “Love, where were you last night? You were supposed to meet me.”
“You assume much. I never agreed to meet you.” Caitrina grabbed Laurie by the arm and pulled her past Douglas to the counter. He chuckled from behind her as she ordered sandwiches and soup from Teddy.
Douglas leaned close to Caitrina, and she stiffened.
“Ach, lass. Why do you fight it? You know we are meant to be together.” Although he whispered the words near Caitrina’s ear, Laurie overheard.
He stepped back and raised his chin. “Talk about rude, Caitrina. Wouldn’t it be polite for you to introduce me to your friend?”
Visibly bristling, she turned to Laurie. “This horny toad owns the Celtic shop next door. Douglas, meet Laurie.”
“Nice to meet you.” Laurie shook his hand.
“My pleasure. As I said before this minx interrupted, Iain speaks highly of you.”
Laurie couldn’t help but notice the yearning in his tawny eyes when he gazed at Caitrina and felt a twinge of longing. Would be nice to have someone look at her that way.
The image of the man in the woods popped into her mind for the umpteenth time. What would it be like to have him desire her the way Douglas obviously wanted Caitrina?
“Come on.” Caitrina took the bag of food from Teddy and again grabbed Laurie by the arm, dragging her out the door. Laurie glanced over her shoulder at Douglas and gave him a finger wave. His hearty laughter boomed as the door shut behind her.
When they returned to the cottage, she walked into the living room, and Caitrina followed with the bag of food.
“My new dining set hasn’t arrived yet from the manufacturer. I hope you don’t mind eating at the coffee table.”
Putting the bag down, Caitrina sat cross-legged on the floor. “This is fine. Do you have any whisky? I could use a stiff drink.”
Laurie chuckled. “I have wine. Would you care for a glass of pinot noir?”
“Most definitely.”
After fetching glasses, the wine and a corkscrew from the kitchen, Laurie opened the bottle. She poured them both a glass and handed one to Caitrina.
“Douglas MacKinnon is attractive, don’t you think?”
Caitrina accepted the wine and held it up in toast. “Let’s drink to brawny men. May they be there when you want them, and disappear when you dinnae.”
Laurie cringed. The toast made her think of the mysterious man. She chuckled at the idiocy and clicked her glass against Caitrina’s.
They ate the tasty lunch, chatted and drank wine, more wine, and still more wine.
“I’ll pick out something for you to wear to the ceilidh,” Caitrina said.
Laurie followed her into the bedroom and into the walk-in closet. Caitrina selected a dark green skirt with a drawstring waist, adding a soft, cream-colored linen peasant blouse that tied at the neck.
She held up the blouse. “This will work with the skirt. It’ll be comfortable, no zippers or buttons, only ties. You can go to the Celtic shop for a tartan shawl to wrap around your shoulders. If you pick a plaid that matches the skirt, you’ll look perfect.”
Laurie tried to remember having seen the clothes before. She couldn’t. She tended to be impulsive when shopping. She’d probably purchased the items and never worn them.
Returning to the living room, she poured them both more wine while Caitrina pulled out the folder with the garden plan and made a note on the sketch.
Laurie set the wine glasses on the coffee table. “I was thinking there might be enough room at the south side for a greenhouse. I’m considering asking Iain if I can buy the cottage and some of the land around it.”
“Really?” Caitrina’s eyes took on a speculative tilt.
“Yeah. I think I’d like to live here permanently.”
“Well, then, a greenhouse might fit.”
“I wondered. Actually, I thought this might be a good setting for a garden center.”
With the tip of a finger, Caitrina scratched her chin, studying Laurie. “It would.”
Laurie cleared her throat. “I know there are already a few garden centers in the area, but none with special services like workshops or design clinics.”
“Interesting concepts.”
“Yeah, I thought so. I’d like to open a garden center here. That is, if I can work out a deal with Iain and Mairi.”
Caitrina’s expression remained noncommittal. Maybe it was too much to hope that she might want to join Laurie in a new business. She would wait until her plans were more firm before asking Caitrina to be her partner.
“I don’t mean to open a garden center right away.” Laurie bit her bottom lip. “After I learn more about garden culture. I already have a lot of business experience.” She picked up her glass and sipped the wine.
“In time, with my help, you might learn enough.” Caitrina, too, took a sip of wine.
They talked about the garden, browsed flower catalogs, discussed Laurie’s plans. They gossiped about who would attend the ceilidh. Time slid by. Day turned into night. A couple of empty bottles had rolled under the coffee table, and she opened another.
Her head pounded when she woke in the morning. Laurie lay on the bed, fully dressed, unable to recall how she’d gotten there. Oh, yeah, the wine.
God. What was she thinking?
While she’d slept, she had a bizarre dream. Now, when she tried to think about it, she couldn’t remember anything. How weird was that? Oh, well. Not important.
She dragged dead weight to the shower and leaned against the tile wall under a spray of cool water. More awake, she dressed, made coffee and drank a mug full. After forcing down toast, the woozy sensation faded. With a second mug of java in hand, Laurie walked outside.
The late morning sky threatened rain. She found Caitrina working in the garden. “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
Caitrina stopped and looked up. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a Mack truck ran over me and thousands of foot soldiers marched through my mouth. Other than that, fine. How about you?”
“Alcohol has no effect on me.”
“Why not?”
Caitrina lowered her head and placed a root ball into a small hole. “It just doesn’t.”
That’s odd. They’d both drank a lot of wine. Laurie shrugged. “Aren’t you fortunate.”
“Here. Start planting these as I’ve laid them out.” Caitrina handed her a trowel and pointed to the trays of seedlings sitting on the freshly turned soil. “We’re in luck. Drizzly weather is a good time for planting.”
Laurie reached for one of the small fiber pots. A creepy sensation on her arm made her shudder and toss the plant aside with a curt scream. She brushed off a nasty-looking spider. “I hate the damn things.” Caitrina laughed, and Laurie chuckled. “Foolish, I know.”
They worked together until the middle of the afternoon. Laurie kept glancing toward the back gate. Would her dream man show up again? When—if—he came, did she want to see him? Her nipples hardened in answer, and she blew a stray hair out of her face. She needed to stop thinking about the stranger.
After Caitrina left, Laurie ate a sandwich, showered and dressed in clean clothes. Then she drove to the village. She passed the historic stone church and parked in front of the Celtic Image shop.
Inside, she scanned the merchandise. Racks of wool clothing—mostly tartan—lined the far wall. Other shelving contained linens and china and knick-knacks. Several glass-topped cases displayed jewelry and other novelties. Douglas MacKinnon stood at the front of the shop, behind a glass display counter full of knives, waiting on an older woman. He glanced up and waved.
Laurie strolled through the aisles, perusing the large selection of Scottish and Irish items. Welsh things also occupied the space. She stopped at one case to glance through CDs before moving on to a case filled with intricately crafted Celtic jewelry. Along with the modern, she found wonderful antique pieces. Her hands itched to touch the fine work.
“Hello.” Douglas approached her. “How do you like my store?”
“Nice. This jewelry is precious.”
“Aye, ’tis exquisite. I often get pieces from estate sales, pieces brought with emigrants when they came to America and passed down through the generations. The descendents don’t always feel as strongly about tradition as their forefathers. Some prefer to sell their heritage, rather than hold on to it. ’Tis really a shame. Such pieces should stay within a clan.” Douglas sighed. “Oh, well, my gain. Can I show you anything?”
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 82