Two months later, the ringing of her phone woke Ella from a heart pounding dream featuring the Highlander. Mumbling incoherently about his passionate demands and her possible need for therapy and medication she tried to ignore the phone. It rang again and she recognized her agent’s personal tone. Exhausted, sleep deprived, and disgruntled she answered it. “Someone better be dead, Marc. Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s the shit has hit the fan time,” he said, skipping a greeting, and rushing into speech, his voice excited. “The paparazzi just caught Brian and Millicent leaving a sleazy hotel. Their clothes were rumpled, and they were very happy and satisfied, if you know what I mean? Her husband has already found out. He’s out for blood, and on his way to your place. My phone is going crazy. The paparazzi is already gathering at your gate to catch his arrival.”
“Marc—”
“Surely he realizes if he knows what’s going on then you do too. Why he’d think you’d let her in after she banged your boyfr—”
Ella pushed herself up in the bed, turned on the lamp, and tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Slow down. I only caught about half of that. What about Brian? And, Millicent?”
He repeated it, and added, “Just lay low until I can figure out how to spin this. Actually, the timing couldn’t be better. The premier of “Enough” is in three weeks—betrayed woman pines for lost love then finds true love. It’s perfect.”
“Marc,” she shouted his name. “You’ve just told me that my boyfriend is cheating on me with my best friend. Where’s your sympathy?”
“Don’t be a drama queen, Ella. I told you he wasn’t the man for you, and everyone knows Millicent is a bitch.”
“That’s beside the point, and you’re not going to turn this into free publicity.”
“Sure I am.”
“I’m not going to talk to the repor—”
“Even better. We’ll tell them you’re so devastated by the betrayal that you can’t leave your home. Damn, I love it. I’ll call you,” he said and hung up.
Ella stared at the phone then jumped from the bed and hurried into the bathroom. Taking the quickest shower on record, she dried off, and rushed back into her room. Sitting at her vanity, she created the disguise she wore when traveling incognito under the persona of Ima Freely. Grinning at the name, and satisfied with the thick makeup, she tugged on a gray wig while wondering where she could go. An island villa? A cabin in the mountains? The moon?
None of those places would be safe. The paparazzi would hunt her down. Standing, she pulled on a pair of padded jeans, a bulky sweatshirt, and a pair of old tennis shoes. The site of the shoes reminded her of the shoes the Highlander had worn in the advertisement for the Loch Falls Cottage. Not even Marc would think to look for her in an isolated glen in the Highlands. Laughing, she calculated the time difference as she logged onto her laptop, found the number and called it. Crossing her fingers, she chanted to herself, “Please, be available.”
The phone rang twice before a woman answered. “Aileen, owner of the Misty Glen Travel Agency. If we can’t get ye there, ye canna go.”
Ella smiled, loving Aileen’s accent and the motto. “This is Ima Freely. I saw the Loch Falls Cottage on your website. Is it available?”
“Aye, Ms. Freely, it is available for lease. It comes stocked with everything you’ll need including food.”
“Wonderful, I’d like to lease it for at least two weeks, and I need an immediate departure. Can you make the arrangements for me?”
“Aye, if ye’ll give me your information and hold on for a few minutes I can make the arrangements now.”
Ella gave her the information she needed then put the phone on speaker and finished packing while she waited. Aileen came back on and gave her the travel schedule along with a promise to email a copy to her. Thanking her, Ella disconnected the call, grabbed her over-sized purse and packed suitcase and hurried to the garage where she kept an old, nondescript car. An hour later, she parked in long-term parking at the airport and caught her flight. Sixteen hours later she arrived in Inverness, Scotland where she caught a train, and then a bus. It dropped her off at a scenic overlook where two vehicles were parked.
A petite woman wrapped in a green cloak from head to foot climbed out of one of them and hurried toward her. “Hello, I’m Aileen. Are ye Ima Freely?”
“Uh, yes,” Ella said, stumbling over the words, and realized she was tempted to tell Aileen her real identity. There was just something about the other woman. Her smile or the sparkle in her eyes. Wary, she kept her secret and held out her hand.
Smiling, Aileen grasped it and led her to the second vehicle, opened the door, and helped her into the seat. While chatting about the cottage and the glen she reached in and secured Ella’s seatbelt.
Ella felt the belt tighten over her lap at the same time she realized she was in the driver’s seat. “Wait, I can’t drive in Scotland.”
Aileen shoved a map into her hands. “Sure, you can, and don’t worry. There’s no traffic where you’re going. I’ve marked the route. Just follow it and you’ll arrive at your destination.”
Aileen hugged her and Ella felt something cold against her neck. Grabbing it she felt the smooth links of a thick chain. “What is this?”
Aileen closed the door and looked at her through the open window. “Its a good luck gift to welcome you to the Highlands.” Turning, she hurried away then turned back her cloak swirling around her. “Please tell the man in the glen that there’s gifts for him on the island in the loch. Don’t forget to tell him, Ella. He’s in desperate need.” With a little wave, she hurried to the car, got in and drove off.
“Wait, I can’t drive here,” she yelled and searched for the seatbelt release again as Aileen’s car disappeared over a small rise in the road.
Cussing, Ella drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, glared at the mountains looming around her, and thought about her journey and the fact that Aileen had used her real name. Damn it, she knew all along who I am. Wondering who else knew she checked her disguise in the rearview mirror. The makeup looked shiny but okay and the wig was still in place. Frowning, she caught a glimpse of the chain around her neck and the object dangling from it.
It was a man’s ring, and it was made of gold with a smooth thick band. The top was flat and circular but something had been etched into the surface. She angled it until it caught the fading light. It appeared to be an animal of some kind. Maybe a deer, she thought, and there were letters carved along one edge. Turning it, she tried to make them out but they were so worn and tiny it was impossible. Letting it go, she ran her fingers along the chain to her nape and found the closure. She fiddled with it until her arms ached but couldn’t find the release. She tried to pull it over her head but the chain wasn’t quite long enough. Exasperated, she stopped but decided she’d give Aileen a piece of her mind the next time she saw her. Resigned to driving herself, she studied the map, started the car, and pulled onto the road.
Two hours later, the car made another rattling sound, then shuddered and died. Ella guided it to the side of the road before she pressed on the brake and threw it into park.
What rotten luck. Gripping the steering wheel, she squeezed it until her knuckles turned white then rested her head on her hands. She’d been traveling for almost twenty-four hours, and the storm that had begun as she drove deeper into the Highlands wasn’t helping. Stressed, and feeling out of control, she took several deep breathes and decided she could feel sorry for herself or she could take action. Sitting up she took stock of the situation.
The sun had gone down and the temperature was dropping. The storm wasn’t letting up. In fact it was growing worse.
She plucked a tissue from the box in the cubby and dried the moisture from the inside of the driver’s window. Squinting through the rain streaming down the glass she couldn’t see a thing but she knew she should’ve arrived at her destination hours ago.
Deciding to check the map again, she fumbled for the
overhead light, found the button and pressed it. The light didn’t come on. She pressed it again and still nothing. Curious, she found the switch for the headlights, turned it off then back on. Nothing happened making her believe that the car’s electrical system had something to do with the break down.
Grabbing her tote, she dug around until she felt the rubber surface of the small flashlight she always carried, then turned it on and picked up the map. She’d followed the directions precisely which meant she had to be close to the cottage.
Muttering about hasty plans, and where they always got her, she tossed the map on the seat, found her phone and crossed her fingers. Please, please, please, just let one thing go right today, she thought, and pressed the button. The screen lit up but there no bars showed up in the top corner. Whispering a few curses, she tossed it on top of the map, and wondered how long it would be before someone came along, and if she could wait that long without freezing first.
It wasn’t as if she was really lost. After all there were satellites in orbit, and GPS tracking. Not to mention rescue squads filled with hot men waiting to be called to rescue someone like her.
Tall, dark, handsome rescuers like the Highlander that haunted her dreams ever since she’d seen the ad for the cottage. Not that she knew for a fact that he was handsome as she’d never seen his face. Not in the ad or in her dreams. Sexy dreams though. Dreams that made her yearn for him, and woke her during some of the best orgasms she’d ever experienced.
Ella, you’ve been summoned. She tried to dismiss the idea but it stayed at the edge of her consciousness. She didn’t believe in magic or things that went bump in the night. She was a little superstitious, but wasn’t everyone? People crossed their fingers, or tossed salt over their shoulder, or knocked on wood every now and then. Didn’t they?
A deep rumble of thunder shook the ground and the rain increased. Using the side of her hand, she wiped the moisture from the window, looked out and caught a glimmer of light in the distance but it looked close enough to reach on foot.
With the flashlight in one hand she opened the door a couple inches. A gust of wind jerked it away and blew cold, nearly freezing rain in her face. Gasping, she squealed, hooked the strap of the tote over her shoulder and slid out of the car. The beam of the flashlight only reached a couple feet ahead of her so she tipped her head down to keep the rain out of her eyes and walked away from the car. Reaching a steep slope, she stumbled and half slid down it. At the bottom she located the light again and walked toward it.
About every five steps something snagged her foot and she tripped. Didn’t they call this a meadow and weren’t meadows nice, mowed pastures where fluffy white sheep frolicked? Surely, they weren’t these soaking wet, freezing nightmares full of clumps of rough plants that tore at her jeans. Padded jeans that soaked up the rain and grew heavier with each step.
Wishing she’d never opened the email from Aileen and had chosen to go to a nice, warm beach instead, she stumbled her way across the glen. After what felt like hours, she stopped and looked up. The light was still there but it didn’t appear to be any closer. Turning, she looked for the car, but it was lost somewhere behind her. Discouraged, she moved on.
Thirty minutes later with her legs on fire from navigating the uneven ground, and a couple of shallow scrapes on her palms stinging, she caught the toe of her shoe on a rock and fell. The flashlight flew into the air and hit the ground, hard. The lens shattered, leaving her in the dark.
Great. Just great. Rolling onto her side, she curled up and licked the rain from her lips. Her belly growled again. She might starve, freeze, or drown, but she wouldn’t die of dehydration.
The tips of her fingers tingled from the cold. She slid her hands beneath her shirt, and her fingers brushed the ring. Grasping it, the warmth of the gold and the smooth, worn surface of the band comforted her. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and promised herself she’d just rest for a few minutes.
Chapter Two
Torkel dozed by his fireplace. Overhead, thunder rumbled, shaking his cottage as another storm pounded the ground. Outside the temperature dropped and he knew from experience that it wasn’t too late for snow this high in the mountains.
Happy, warm and dry at home, he sighed with satisfaction, stretched his long legs toward the fire, and crossed his ankles. His big toe popped through a hole in his sock. He frowned at it, then ignored it. Life was still good, holes and all—if he didn’t count being cursed, made immortal, and banished to this glen for all time.
All that for something he didn’t do.
Long ago he’d run into Aileen on the island in the loch. Surprised to see a woman in the glen his first thoughts had not been honorable, but she’d laughed and shaken a finger at him. That finger had held a lot of power!
Aileen had apologized for cursing him and his men when she’d meant to curse Quinlan and his men. She’d explained the curse to him and that she couldn’t undo it but that she could find and send each man’s one true love to the glen. Winning her love would be up to each man, and if the love was pure the woman could choose to remain in the glen forever. He’d rather have had the curse removed but he’d decided he’s settle for a chance at happiness someday. The news of his brother, Quinlan, had been unwelcome but gratifying in a way. He would have to earn not only Aileen’s forgiveness but the forgiveness of him and his men. Possible, but improbable given all they’d suffered.
That brought him back to the problem with his men. They were bored and always up to something except work. He wasn’t looking forward to another summer of hunting them down and forcing them to accomplish the tasks that needed to be done. Last summer, after much harassing and threatening on his part, they’d finally finished the necessary repairs on the cottages, cut and stacked the peat, and harvested the crops. They’d even managed to put up enough feed for the livestock. None in the glen had gone hungry or cold through the winter. But Spring wasn’t here yet, and they were almost out of food, and living on eggs and shriveled vegetables and fruits.
And ale, he thought, thanks to Old Angus who had declared his heather ale ready for consumption earlier that day. His men had gathered at the tavern in the village eager to taste it but he’d declined the invitation. Instead, he’d accepted a small keg from Old Angus, and returned to the peace and quiet of his home along with his greyhounds, Bennie and Maggie. The two loyal hounds slept at his feet, Bennie snoring while Maggie rested her head on her paws and watched the flames. They were good hunters and good company. Too bad neither of them had taken to the hours he’d spent trying to teach them to fetch a briquette of peat and drop it on the fire.
Sighing, he rested his chin on his fist, and Maggie looked up as if she knew what he was thinking. Yawning, she showed her teeth and lowered her head to her paws again. Bennie as usual didn’t stir.
“Aye, you’re a lazy pair that’s for sure. I don’t know why I put up with you.” Reaching down, he gave them each a pat before he pushed himself to his feet, picked up a clump of peat, and placed it on the flames. Moving to the window he looked out. The wind gusted, and a fine mist of rain blew through the gap between the frames and wet his shirt.
Cursing, he rubbed the drops away, settled back into his chair, and rested his feet on the small footstool. It was a filthy night. Not fit for man nor beast, he thought and lifted his tankard to his mouth.
Maggie jumped to her feet, her body stiff and her ears alert. A second later, Bennie’s ears went up, and he stood beside her.
Watching them, Torkel felt their excitement. “What is it? What do you hear?”
Maggie glanced at him, then both dogs ran to the door.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to go out there. You hate the rain.”
Bennie pawed the door. Maggie wasn’t as patient. She returned to him, gripped the sleeve of his shirt with her teeth, and tugged. Her dark brown eyes stared into his eyes with what appeared to him to be an urgent plea. She whimpered and tugged on him again, then released him and ran b
ack to the door where she woofed, a sound she rarely made unless she had prey trapped. Bennie continued scratching at the door.
Catching their urgency, he pulled on his shoes, grabbed the wool blanket from the back of his chair, and threw it around his shoulders. “If Caderyn is in his cups and running around the glen in the storm, I’ll give him a black eye for sure,” he told his furry companions and opened the door. They shot through it and disappeared into the rain. He ran after them, leaving the door open behind him.
He ran as fast as he could. If he lost them, he’d only find them again when they cornered their prey and barked to let him know they’d caught it. The rain never let up, making it hard to see them as they tore through the glen, jumped the rain swollen stream, and ran up the steep bank. Wishing he had their agility, he splashed through the water, and scrambled up the slope on the other side.
Searching for them, he spotted them standing over something on the ground. Moving closer, he expected to find Caderyn’s big, hairy body lying on the ground.
He found a wee lass instead.
Dropping to his knees, he reached for her then pulled his hands back. Was she real? If he touched her would she disappear? Hesitating, he finally touched her shoulder. She felt solid enough but soaking wet although it was hard to tell as he was just as wet. He shook her shoulder hoping she’d wake. She didn’t stir. Finally, he laid his head against her breast and listened for a heartbeat. Rain ran into his ear, and he covered it before listening again and hearing a faint heartbeat. Sitting up, he examined her clothes. They did nothing to protect her from the elements.
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