Dreams Of The Highlander

by Sarah Hoss

  After stopping at the Tourist Center, she secured a ride to Coig na Shee, a guesthouse with a four star recommendation. The scenery was unbelievable. Coig na Shee was located at the edge of town and sat in the Cairngorns National Park. The guesthouse was made of gray stone and perched on a small hill. The white front door, surrounded with colorful flowers, seemed so tiny compared to the rest of the house.

  She was greeted at the front desk by a pretty woman named Morag. A gasp slipped from her lips. An ornate fireplace and a staircase stood before her, all trimmed in a fine dark wood. A large chandelier hung in the center of the room, giving off enough light to make it comfortable, but not over-bearing. She swept her hand across the polished surface of an antique table as she walked to the front desk.

  Excitement bubbled within her. She wanted to get a good night sleep, then ...

  New adventures awaited her.

  She was back in Newtonmore early the next day, enjoying the sites. She immediately noticed the streets and many sidewalks were made of brick. She also observed that the people were overly friendly and it didn’t matter if she was in a store or on the street, people greeted her. She mused that there should be a sign as a person comes into town that says “The friendliest town of the Highlands.” It was nice to be greeted like that. She was alone here, but she didn’t feel that way.

  The first thing she wanted to see was the Clan Macpherson Museum. She loved to look at old artifacts; to hear about their stories. She found the museum at a junction in the road on the edge of town.

  She stepped inside the building, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.

  “Good morning to ye, dear,” the lady said as she closed a book and laid it on the counter. A smile curled her lips and wisdom shone in her eyes. Her nametag read “Catherine”.

  “Good morning to you, too.” She walked up to the counter.

  Still smiling, the woman took off her glasses. “Is there anything in particular ye are interested in? Our museum may be small, but we have much to see. Maybe ye would like a tour?”

  She nodded and Catherine took her by the elbow.

  Marlana marveled at the size of the claymore that was on display. It stood nearly as tall as she did. The Feadan Dubh, The Black Chanter, the museum’s most prized possession, was stunning. It looked like a recorder or a part of the bagpipes. A smile spread as she read a story telling how the Chanter fell from Heaven in the Clan Battle at the North Inch of Perth.

  A bit later, with the tour almost finished, they stopped in front of a book that held the family sects. While Catherine talked about the clan system, Marlana read through the names, her finger scrolling down the list. Her eyes jumped back to one in particular. A chill raised the fine hairs on her arms. A feeling of recognition startled her and she read the name again. Alexander Macpherson. How odd, for she had never heard that name before, but there was something about it that made her smile. She reached for her pendant. “Alexander Macpherson,” she whispered. Who are you and why do you feel so familiar?

  Marlana called out to Catherine. “What can you tell me about Alexander Macpherson?”

  Catherine stepped to the book and looked to where Marlana pointed. “Ah, yes. In 1706, Alexander and his brothers saved the Chief’s life.”

  The next morning, Marlana got an early start for her hike. She shivered in the chilly weather and pulled on the jacket, thankful she’d thought to bring it. The older gentleman from the Complete Mountain Experience Store was right. Walking is what you do in Indiana; hiking is what you do in Scotland.

  Hiking through the woodlands gave her a sense of renewal. A quick movement off to the left startled her for a moment. She put her hand to her chest and laughed out loud. “Good gracious.”

  She could see the white tail of a deer bounce through the tree line away from her. She looked around; paying close attention to her surroundings, so she wouldn’t end up lost. That would be her luck and she could see the headlines now. “American Tourist Lost In The Woods, News At Eleven.”

  A breeze swept through and brought with it scents of the outdoors. Yellow daffodils and bluebells dotted the landscape. She closed her eyes and listened. The quietness of the day drifted over her and she sighed. Turning her face up to the sun, to catch more of its warmth, she smiled. Peace spread over her, only to come back to reality when a fish splashed in the water nearby.

  Ben Nevis rose tall and regal off in the distance. Light of the sun shone on the tips of its peeks, making them look lighter than the darker base of the mountain. Snow circled the tops. The sun’s rays peeked through the clouds like shards of glass hitting the earth.

  Thistle, the country’s national flower, lay in clusters around the area. She stooped down to pick one and as she stood back up, she noticed a cottage nestled in the field. She pulled out her camera and took a photo. The cottage looked as if it had been pulled from a postcard and placed there.

  “How cute.”

  Breath-taking mountains rose up behind the cottage. As if drawn by an invisible tether, she started to walk toward it. It was about a football field’s length away from the stream, which made for a great location. The cottage itself was made of stones pieced together; almost white in color. The same stone made a fence wall off to the side—more like a large corral and she could easily imagine cows in there, grazing on the grass. The house had two chimneys, one on each side. There was a thatched roof built into a slope and the walls of the house stood about seven feet tall.

  She walked around to the front of the house to find a simple wooden door. There were only five windows total. Two were in the front and one on each of the other three sides of the house. A ‘For Sale’ sign sat in the yard.

  “Here you stand all alone.” She cautiously walked to the door and tried it. Surprised to hear it un-latch, she pushed it open, and stepped inside. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust. With so few windows, the room was naturally dark. Remembering she had a flashlight in her backpack, she reached for it, flicked it on, and looked around the room. She stood in a living room/kitchen area; amazed at the size of it. The only other room was the bedroom off to her left. The kitchen had been modernized, to a degree. The kitchen cabinets were white with brown trim. The counter was also brown with white cabinets. That gave the kitchen six cabinets total. She found a small, two-burner stove and a fridge, about the size you would find in a dorm room, sitting on the opposite side, under the counter. There was a sink, but the person living here would have to go to the well to get water.

  The air felt cool with a musty smell. She wondered at how long it had sat empty. Sun streaked through the window and dust danced in its light. “I could live here.”

  She wondered if she should leave, but an overwhelming sense of recognition came over her and she couldn’t help but stay; like her feet had grown roots and she was planted to the spot on the floor. What was it about this cottage that made her feel as if she had just come home? It didn’t make any sense because she had never been to Scotland before, but she had this undeniable feeling that she had been in this house and she felt more relaxed, more drawn to it, the longer she stayed.

  She turned and went outside to the ‘For Sale’ sign and wrote the name and number of the contact person on a piece of paper. She would try to rent it out for the rest of her stay. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t any furniture; she needed to be here, to figure out the question of familiarity. Maybe the answer to her dreams lay hidden in this cottage.

  CHAPTER 5

  June 23rd, Mid Summer’s Eve

  Marlana had been in the cottage for three days. She’d expected the Realtor to laugh at her for wanting to rent the old place, but the woman was very pleased. She’d even thrown in some odd bits of furniture she had in storage.

  Sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reflecting, she tapped her nails. She could feel a charge in the air. Not easily descr
ibable, but she could feel it, like static. A notion occurred to her that she should stay, right where she was, and see what happened next. Looking out the window, she noticed the trees dancing as the rain came down. Goose bumps dotted her arms.

  At suppertime, she stood at the kitchen sink. She had a feeling as if someone stood right next to her. Shying to the left, she rubbed the back of her neck where her hair stood on end. Was it the mystique of the Highlands? Were there ghosts under foot, or was it her over-active imagination?

  The day had been spent writing letters, cleaning house, and being lazy. The cottage wasn’t very big and her furniture consisted of a kitchen table and two chairs, an old baker’s pie cabinet, to use as a pantry, a bed, and dresser. It was all so simple, yet perfect.

  Sitting in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee in her hands, she laid her head on the doorframe of the cottage, breathing deeply. A gentle breeze drifted about, lightly lifting her hair from her face, like the gentle touch of a lover. She turned and peered up at the sky and stared in wonder. It looked so enormous and was dotted with nothing but brilliance. Stars twinkled everywhere. Indianapolis is a great place to live, but in the big city she never saw stars like this.

  She twirled the pearl pendant that hung around her neck. Off to the left, a shooting star passed overhead. She closed her eyes and made a wish. “Please let me find peace within myself. Let true love be waiting for me.” She smiled, feeling like a little girl again. Having felt very much like a sad adult, this new emotion seemed foreign. Taking a sip of her coffee, she realized it had grown cold. Standing and stretching, she locked the door, and put the cup in the sink.

  Once in bed, she closed her eyes and sighed. She admitted that her friends were right and coming here had been a good decision. Fluffing the pillow a couple of times, she nestled in and let the sounds of night carry her off to sleep, to wishes dancing in her dreams.

  “Tell me what ye’re thinking about, Alexander.”

  Alexander blinked himself back to reality. How long had he been lost in thought? He turned to see Hamish toss hay to the horses. Alexander knew that his brother was aware of the demons that warred within him. His brother was a good man. He hated to worry him, and he knew he did, for every once in a while, Hamish let it show; quickly schooling his features before he thought anyone saw.

  “What?”

  Laughing, Hamish walked over and slapped him on the shoulder, then repeated his question. “Ye look as if ye’re doing a great battle in that head of yours.” He knocked on Alexander’s forehead. “There isn’t much up there, so the battle won’t last long.”

  Alexander grunted.

  “What is it?” he asked again.

  Alexander started to toss hay also. “There’s nothing wrong that I know of, it’s only, I’ve had this odd feeling all day. It’s verra strong.” He shrugged his shoulders, not able to make sense of it.

  “Are ye thinking it may have something to do with the Comyn’s? Some of them have been up to no good lately.”

  Hamish took a drink from his cup and peered out over the field. “I’ve heard talk that Colyn Comyn still holds ill will toward ye.”

  Alexander dismissed the comment as nothing important. “Ye wouldna think that he still could. It has been three years since I married Mairi and almost one year since she passed.” He shook his head at the thought and glanced over at his brother. “He’s never married and I’ve often wondered why. Did he really love her and is angry that she chose me, or is he mad because he lost. He’s one to always get what he wants.”

  “He’s as mean as a snake’s bite and I doona think any girl in her right mind would want him. But that’s my opinion. I doubt we’ll ever know.” Hamish pointed his finger in Alexander’s chest. “But I would always be watching my back, little brother, whenever he is around.” The seriousness of Hamish’s comment lingered in the air between them.

  Alexander shook his head in agreement. “If ye hear of any trouble, ye will tell me?”

  “Aye, ye know I will. Now,” Hamish said with a twinkle in his eye, “let’s go get ready for tonight.”

  The celebration of Mid Summer’s Eve continued well into the night and would last until morning. The night was crisp, but clear stars shone to perfection, twinkling in the sky. The fire was large, and as it popped and crackled, embers floated up to dance with the stars. Hamish and Alexander held the animals and walked them in a wide circle around the bonfire in a sun-wise direction; a tradition to bless the animals.

  Static prickled in the air and Alexander felt drunk at times with the feel of it. Something was going to happen, he knew it with every fiber of his being. But what, he wondered? As Alexander stared into the flames of the large bonfire, losing himself in the glow, he thought for a moment he heard a woman’s voice, whispering to him, “Will you let her in?” He scanned the area, turning in a circle to try and find who had spoken.

  Let who in? He ran his hand over his face in frustration.

  He’d celebrated the festivals for many years; it was a way of life in Scotland. What was so different about this one? Why did he feel like this now? Confusion and anticipation coursed through his veins.

  He and Hamish took turns staying up with the fire. When morning came, they put it out, fed the animals, and went inside to break their fast.

  Alexander waved to his brother as he left. His muscles ached and his eyes burned; tired from staying up all night and the call of his bed was loud.

  Alexander stopped and stared at his door. At some point in the day, his sister Margaret had come over and hung birch limbs above his door for good luck. His heart lightened at the gesture. Dare he hope for a future brighter that what he had now? He shook his head and entered the house, then strode across the wooden floor to stand at the window. The strange feelings from the night before teased his thoughts.

  “What happens now?”

  CHAPTER 6

  The Scotsman stood alone on the grassy hill. After staring at her for a moment, he turned and walked away. She climbed up the jagged rocks and stood in his spot, alone on the rocky outcrop, high above a glen. The wind toyed with her hair, whipping tendrils around her face in icy gusts, and rippling over the loch below. The smell of heather filled her senses, mingled with the scent of dirt, moss, grass, and a hint of wood smoke. Then she heard it. A whisper. It brushed past her ear, like a stranger in a crowd.

  “How far would you go for love?”

  She turned suddenly and was hit by a blast of wind, rocking her back on her heels. She hugged her body tight as the cold soaked deep into her bones, goose bumps decorating her flesh.

  She saw a bird fly so close to her head that she could almost hear the wind in its wings. The whisper came again. “How far would you go for love?”

  Her eyes shot open.

  Rolling onto her side, she looked around the bedroom, letting her eyes adjust. Morning peeked in through the window and shone on the floor. Dust particles danced in the beam of light. She laid there a moment, thinking on the newest part of her dream. Why, after a year of dreaming of only her Highlander, would the dream change?

  Hating to get out of bed, she reluctantly swung her legs over the edge and sat up. There was a light chill in the air and she decided to go to the kitchen and make coffee. While it brewed, she would get dressed and make her plans for the day. Promise hung in the air, thick like fog. She slipped on her favorite silk robe that matched the rose-colored pajamas she wore and went into the kitchen.

  As soon as she stepped into the room, she sensed something was wrong. The hairs rose on her arms as she scanned the room. Seeing him, she screamed. He was large. The man jumped and swung around, drawing his dagger. Seeing the knife, she screamed again.

  She ran back into the bedroom and slammed the door, leaning against it. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. How had he broken in without her hearing him? How long
had he been in the house? What did he want?

  He was powerful looking and wore a kilt, reminding her of a Rob Roy movie. Black hair hung to his shoulders. Muscles bulged. Menacing was the only word to describe him.

  She paced back and forth, stuck in the bedroom. The only other door was off the living area. What was she going to do now? Stopping, she took a couple of deep breaths, trying to settle her racing heart.

  “My cell phone,” she whispered and edged over to the bed. Kneeling down, she pulled her backpack out. She’d had trouble getting service out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “Please, God, please.” She pulled the cell phone out of the bag and turned it on. She waited anxiously. Seeing the little symbol appear, telling her there was no service, made her heart drop. She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus. She needed a weapon to defend herself.

  Putting the phone back in her bag, she hid it under the bed again. Standing, she looked around, then darted over to the little wooden table in the corner of the room. Taking the candlestick holder firmly in her hand, she went back to the door. And paused. Looking down at her hand, she glanced back to the table. She didn’t remember a candlestick holder ever being there before.

  Putting her ear to the door, she tried to listen to what was happening. Maybe if he was going to rob her, he might get it done and go.

  Idiot. Why on earth would he walk away now? She’d seen him.

  The image of him holding a knife came back to her and she bit her lip. She let out a deep breath and refused to cower in the bedroom—that would be pure torture. Her only choice was to go back to the living room and defend herself or try to talk him into leaving. If she was going to die in this house, it wouldn’t be because she stood by and let it happen. Quickly, she reflected back on the self-defense classes she had taken with Lilly and Victoria. Opening the door, candlestick gripped firmly in her hand, she peeked out.