by Bess McBride
I hoped I was heading in the right direction. I did my best to follow the path, keeping the river to my left. The sun had disappeared, and it was now full-on dark. I slowed my steps, fearful now of losing my bearings and falling into the river.
I stopped, realizing that the sound of the piping had stopped. How long ago? My own labored breathing and the noise I made shuffling along the dirt path had masked the cessation of the music. I turned and rotated in the path, tilting my head in all directions. No music, nothing but the steady hum of the river.
I fought back a sob of frustration. I saw no lights in the distance. If there was a moon, it was hidden by clouds. I could see nothing. Where was I going?
I looked up toward the hillside on my right but saw no car lights, but that was no surprise. The ruts in the road had been deep, and I doubted cars traveled on it. In fact, the road looked like a trail for all-terrain vehicles or quads. I was no expert on those though. I only knew that my little sedan back home couldn’t have managed that road.
Discouraged, lost and cold, I moved away from the river and sank down onto the hillside. It made no sense to continue to trudge on into the darkness. I could have been burying myself deeper into the Highlands for all I knew. No brave Highlander was going to pop out of the darkness and rescue me. I would be lucky if a sheepherder found me in the morning.
I wrapped my arms around my chest and pulled my knees close. How on earth was I going to make it through the night? I had discovered over the past week that the Highlands were much colder at night in May than they were during daylight hours.
I buried my face in my lap and fought back tears of frustration. Where on earth was Julie? Where was I? Was this all just a dream?
A cold wetness brushed my right hand, and I shrieked. A dog barked beside me, and I jumped up but lost my balance and fell back against the hill. The dog barked again, and I heard a voice, a deep baritone.
“Robbie! What ails ye, lad?”
“Hello?” I called out. My voice came out in a sob. “Hello! Can you help me? I’m lost!”
The moon, free of the clouds, suddenly cast a light on my surroundings, and I saw the dog, a black-and-white sheepdog, which ran up to me and gave my hand another warm lick. With a shaky smile, I reached to pet his silky head.
A soft thudding sound caught my attention. Horse’s hooves?
“Who goes there?” the man called out. He appeared out of the darkness, astride a large horse and dressed like some Highlander warrior heading off to Culloden. He held a bagpipe under one arm as if he had been playing it. While riding his horse?
A kilt exposed his knees, but boots covered his lower legs. He wore a dark jacket over a light-colored shirt, and still more tartan draped over his coat. His hair, somewhat lighter than his jacket, hung loosely around his face and shoulders in a mass of curls, curls that most women with straight hair would have envied, women like me. If his appearance on the horse and his costume hadn’t been enough to capture my imagination, the bagpipe under his arm certainly did.
He slid down from the horse and dropped the reins carelessly as he approached me.
“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” I mumbled.
“I beg yer pardon,” the man said with a tilt of his head. “Did ye say ye were lost, lass? What are ye doing here at this time of night? Do ye come from the village?”
He stopped in front of me and reached out a hand to help me to my feet. Enamored as I was with his thick burr, I couldn’t think of any answers at the moment. Well over six feet, the stranger towered over my five-foot-two frame, much as the mountains had. The faint light cast by the moon disappeared momentarily, and I spoke into the darkness.
“Yes, I’m lost. Can you help me? Where am I?”
“Why, ye’re in Scotland, mistress. On Anderson land at the moment. Where is it ye think ye are?”
“Anderson land? Where is that? Is there a town or something nearby? Where did you come from?”
“South of Fort Williams and north of Glasgow. Aye, there is a small village a short distance from here. Do ye wish me to escort ye there? How came ye to be out here so late? And alone?”
I wasn’t sure I liked the way he said alone.
“I don’t know. I got lost...that’s all I know. My cousin Julie was waiting for me in our rental car in the pullout, and then she was just gone. Do you know which pullout I’m talking about? It’s somewhere along a river. I thought it was this river, but I don’t think it is. I’m not sure how I got over here, or where here is. Do you have a phone? Could I use it?”
I could barely see the man’s expression in the darkness, but I sensed he watched me with concern. Even to my ears, I sounded erratic, confused, baffled—which I was.
“Nay, madam. I dinna possess such a thing, nor do I ken what it is. I think it best I take ye to some shelter. My house is several hours away, or I could take ye to Gleannhaven Castle nowt but a short ride that way.” I thought he gestured to the right, the direction in which I had been heading. “Ye seem to speak the same language as Beth, the lady of the house. Perhaps it is best I take ye to Gleannhaven.”
“Gleannhaven Castle?” That sounded grand. I sighed with relief. I was sure they would have a phone, or at least a bed for the night. It was probably an old mansion now converted to a hotel. Or at least I hoped so. I wasn’t sure the man should be dropping me off at someone’s castle.
“Yes, that sounds great! Thank you so much!”
“Let me stow my pipes,” he said. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I heard some shuffling and a squeak of the bagpipe.
“Come then. I think I must take liberties with ye.”
Before I knew what was happening, I felt my waist enclosed by two large hands that lifted me off my feet and tossed me sideways onto a saddle. The horse snorted and shifted, and I braced myself against the horse’s neck for support.
“Are those breeches that ye’re wearing, madam?” he asked.
“What?” I said in a bemused voice.
“Trews. Breeches? I dinna ken what ye call them. Are ye wearing a lad’s clothing?”
He put a foot in one stirrup and hauled himself up behind me, enfolding me in his arms as he reached for the reins.
A lad’s clothing? The feel of his broad chest behind my back made my heart thud, and I smiled despite myself. A lad’s clothing. How delightfully old worldly. Everything was going to be all right. A Highlander had come out of the darkness to rescue me. Everything was possible in the Highlands.
“Yes, jeans,” I said.
“Come, Robbie!” the man called out as he urged the horse forward. The dog barked once and raced toward us.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is James Livingstone,” he said. “And ye are?”
“Margaret Scott,” I said. “Call me Maggie. I’m really so grateful to you for rescuing me.”
“It is my pleasure, madam. I ken there is more to yer tale of becoming lost, but ye shall tell me when ye wish.”
“I don’t think there’s anything else to tell. I climbed down from the pullout to stop by the river. I think I must have fainted. And then when I awakened, Julie was gone. Everyone was gone. And I couldn’t find the road.” I was afraid I sounded as helpless as I had felt.
“You said Beth speaks like I do?”
“Aye, Beth, Lady Anderson. Aye, she speaks English in the same way that ye do. She comes from the Colonies, and I am guessing that ye hail from the Colonies as well.”
“I do!” I said, almost chuckling at his use of the term “Colonies” and thrilled that he was taking me to an American. Not that the Scots weren’t great, but an American could understand what it felt like to be lost in a country that was not my own.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her. Did she marry a Scottish lord?”
“Aye, Laird Colin Anderson. They are great friends of mine. I was just this night at Gleannhaven for supper and music.”
“Was that you playing the bagpipe? I heard some music a short while ago.”
“I was just playing a few tunes to while away the time as I rode home,” he said with a warm laugh. “I meant to leave Gleannhaven earlier with good light, but the ale was flowing, and I overstayed. Black and Robbie ken the way home, and I have little to do but play the pipe while I ride.”
“You play wonderfully,” I said. “There was a bagpiper in the pullout, a middle-aged man, kind of thinning reddish-brown hair, a thick mustache, red kilt. Do you know him?”
“I dinna ken such a man as ye describe. I canna say that I ken what this ‘pullout’ is of which ye speak.”
“You know...on the road. A pullout? Like when cars pull over to see the mountains or the valley?”
“Nay, I dinna ken of such, but ye do remind me more of Beth with every word ye speak. She will ken such things.”
“Oh, good!” I said.
The horse, Black, did indeed seem to know his way in the dark, and the ride was smooth. Fortunately, this was not my first time on a horse, but it was my first time being held in the arms of a strange man.
I had at first tried a rigid pose, keeping my back from melding into his warm chest, but I soon gave that up as both painful and impractical. Now, I rested against him and felt the steady thudding of his heart against my back. The occasional tingle ran up and down my spine.
“So, you live nearby as well?” I tried to focus on anything but the sensation of being in his arms.
“I do,” James said. “At Castle Lochloon. It was my grandfather’s place. I grew up in the north, but upon my grandfather’s death, I inherited the castle. My mother wished to return to her ancestral home when my father died, and she lived there for some years before she passed. I live there now.”
“Are you married? Do you have family?”
“Nay, I havena yet had the pleasure.”
I chuckled then, the sound loud in the darkness.
“What makes ye laugh?” His baritone purred against my ear.
“Oh, not everyone would see marriage as a pleasure, that’s all.”
“I would,” he said, his voice quiet and sincere.
The tingle ran up and down my spine again, and I changed the subject.
“What do you do for a living, James?
“For a living?” he repeated. “I manage my estate.”
“Oh!” Well, clearly he was rich. He lived in a castle, didn’t he? And he must have had enough land to keep him busy. So why was he riding a horse home? Didn’t he have a car? Or was riding horses between neighboring estates just the norm here in the Highlands?
“Do you have a car?” I asked.
“A car?” he repeated, almost as if he’d never heard the word. “I canna say that I have such. Is that something particular to yer country?”
I laughed. He was eccentric, if nothing else.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll leave that alone. How much farther is it to the castle?”
“We have a bit yet to travel. I imagine ye would appreciate a horse wagon just now, but I wasna expecting company.”
“No, I’m thankful you came along, on horseback or otherwise.” I tried hard to avoid thinking about the feel of his arms around me. Sam wouldn’t have appreciated my thoughts.
“Did ye say ye were traveling with yer cousin? Julie, I thought ye said. She must be fair worried about ye by now.”
“Yes, I think she must be. I don’t know if she’s still waiting by the road or whether she headed on to our hotel in Glasgow. Somehow, I think she’s probably either still waiting or she called the police.”
“The police? It is several days to Glasgow, even by horse. She canna have reached Glasgow yet if ye just misplaced her.”
“What? Sure, she can...in the car. We had a rental car. I mentioned that, right? We weren’t hiking across Scotland.”
“Nay, I dinna think ye were. That would be a long hike for two ladies.”
I looked up at James, wishing I could see his expression. I suspected he was laughing at me the entire time, playing the Highlander as he was, but I couldn’t tell in the darkness. I didn’t mind. He was helping me, and if he wanted to have a little joke at my expense, that was fine.
At some point, we turned left and crossed over a small bridge. The hum of the river faded, and I knew we headed away from it, probably toward the mountains. Though I was still tucked safely in James’ arms, I shivered with both a chill and fear of the unknown.
“Are ye cold, lass?” James asked me. He wrapped a length of cloth around me, the material still warm from his body.
“Is that better? I should have realized ye were cold, and shared my plaid with ye at the outset.”
I realized then that he had wrapped part of his kilt around me, the same kilt that appeared to still be attached to him.
“Yes, thank you,” I said. The horse ambled on, and the physical intimacy between us seemed magnified by our shared covering. I felt cocooned in his embrace, certain that this was going to be one of the most remarkable nights of my life.
Chapter Three
“We are almost there,” James said out of the darkness. I startled at the deep timbre in his voice. For the past fifteen or so minutes, I’d been reclining against him in the darkness, lulled into a dreamy state by the warmth of his body.
“Oh, really?” I heard the disappointment in my voice, and I gave myself a quick shake and straightened. What on earth was I thinking? Of course I wanted to be somewhere—to find shelter, warmth, a telephone, Julie!
“Are ye still chilled?” James asked, apparently responding to my shake.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m toasty warm.”
I heard him chuckle, a pleasant sound that I knew I wanted to hear again.
“Is it late?” I asked. I had no idea what time it was.
“A bit,” he said. “But they willna hold that against us.” He tightened his embrace around me, and I pressed against him instinctively.
I caught sight of a glow in the near distance, partially obscured by the branches of some tall trees.
“That is Gleannhaven Castle,” James said.
We continued toward the light, and the trees fell away to reveal what appeared to be a large building, rectangular and multistoried—if the flickering lights reflected in the windows were anything to judge by. Turrets flanked each side of the castle.
James drew the horse up and pulled his plaid from my shoulder before dismounting. He lowered me from the horse, and I slipped into his arms. I drew in a sharp breath as I looked up at him.
“I dinna ken what Colin and Beth will say to yer trews, so I will just wrap ye in my plaid again. It willna cover all of ye, but it will have to do.”
He grinned and slipped both his arm and the thick material around my shoulders. Unsure of what to make about his concern regarding my jeans, I turned to look at the castle. I balked as James attempted to guide me forward.
“Come, lass. There is naethin to fear.”
“Oh, I’m not really afraid. Just in awe! Look at the size of this place. Now I see why they call it a castle.”
James chuckled again. “Aye! Colin’s grandfather built it to protect his family and lands from some greedy clans.”
I looked up at him, the golden lights of the house enabling me to see his face more clearly. He gazed at me with a wide even-toothed grin. Still having fun, I guessed. I smiled back.
His face was more angular than I had first suspected, with a firm chin. Deep dimples creased his clean-shaven cheeks. His eyes, probably blue, regarded me with laughter.
He pulled me toward the entrance, a set of stone steps fronting a large wooden door, and he banged on the door with the side of his fist.
A dog barked somewhere, and Robbie responded in kind.
The front door flew open, and another man in a kilt, as tall and handsome as James, but with dark-black hair and slate-blue eyes, blinked at the sight of us. I could have sworn he ran a curious gaze down my legs, but thought I must have imagined it. The candle in his hand gave him a gothic appearance.
He gave his head a shake and smiled. A sheepdog almost identical to Robbie greeted James’ dog with a sniff and a bark.
“Did ye lose yer way, James?” the dark-haired man asked. “Come in. Come in!” He pulled the door wide and beckoned us inside a large foyer flanked by two wooden staircases leading to the upper floors. Shining oak floors reflected the light of his candle. A silver-haired man, also carrying a candle, trotted toward us from the interior of the house. Unlike the kilted man, he wore charcoal-gray slacks.
“Yer lairdship,” the elderly man said with a quick bow as he caught the door. “Ye’re back!” He caught sight of me under James’ plaid and seemed to do a double take, as had the kilted man.
“Aye,” James said, dropping his plaid from my shoulders. I wanted to cling to his side, but instead straightened my shoulders and eyed the two men facing us.
“And whom do ye have here?” the kilted man asked. Again, I thought I caught his eyes on my legs, and I wondered why. I glanced down at my jeans, but they were zipped up. Nothing to worry about there!
“May I present Mistress Margaret Scott?” James said with a surprisingly courtly bow. “Mistress Scott, this is Colin Anderson, Earl of Halkhead.”
Tempted as I was to respond with a curtsey—which I’d never done in my life—I resisted, and instead stuck out my hand.
Laird Anderson, his brows drawn together, took my hand in his. His expression didn’t suggest that I was unwelcome so much as a surprise.
“My pleasure, madam,” he said. He turned to the older man.
“George, please ask her ladyship to hasten back to the drawing room. She will want to meet Mistress Scott as soon as possible. And ask Mrs. Agnew to have tea sent to us.”
“Verra good, yer lairdship.” George hurried up one of the staircases and disappeared from sight.
Laird Anderson set my hand lightly upon his arm and led us down a hallway and into a room that most certainly looked like what I thought a “drawing room” in a castle should. Lit only by candles in wall sconces, I noted that the room was softly decorated in tones of rose and green. The silk, velvet and brocade furnishings were a stark contrast to the harshness of the gray stone walls. Carpets covered much of the wooden flooring. The dogs, apparently allowed the run of the house, bounded in behind us and dispersed to take up positions near the legs of their respective owners.
