My Laird's Love (My Laird's Castle Book 2) (2 page)

My lips parted in a grin at my hokey words as I reached the bottom of the hill. I looked over my shoulder to see our rental sedan with Julie in the driver’s seat. As I suspected, she was eating. I waved at her, and she smiled and waved back. Most of the cars had left the parking lot, and I knew Julie was right. We had to get going if we were going to beat the darkness. I knew Julie didn’t want to drive on the left-hand side in the dark.

I turned to admire the mountains on the other side of the stream. They hadn’t appeared quite as lofty when I’d first seen them, but they now towered above the river and me. How that little bit of water could have carved such a large opening through the mountains was beyond me, but it seemed quite likely that it had done so, albeit millions of years earlier.

I knelt down on the edge of the bank to catch some water in my hands. Frigid and brisk, I assumed this was still some runoff from winter snows, given that the month was May. I had seen a few patches of white crowning some of the mountains.
 

I let the water slip through my fingers, surprised at the tingling sensation in them. I hadn’t thought the water particularly glacial, but tingle it did.
 

I was tempted to bring some water to my lips, but hesitated. How could such chilly water harbor bacteria? Still, I knew it wasn’t wise, and I resisted, satisfying myself with a splash of water across my forehead and cheeks—just to say that I had.

The coldness hit my face with a sensation of pins and needles, and I reared back, falling sideways onto my backside. I blinked and turned to look up toward our rental car, but saw nothing through a black swirling mist. I felt myself slumping even closer to the ground.
 

Chapter Two

A chill breeze blew over my cheeks, awakening me, forcing my eyes open. The sky, no longer the blue gray of late afternoon, showed streaks of purple and black, as if twilight had descended.

“Julie!” With a gasp, I pushed myself upright and pivoted on my hips to scan the road above but saw no signs of our rental car. I scrambled to my feet, wobbling as I tried to straighten, my head woozy.

Had I fainted? Why hadn’t Julie come to get me?

I hurried toward the trail leading up the hill, but in the failing light, I couldn’t find it. I ran back and forth along the base of the hill but spotted nothing that looked like a trail.

My heart pounded as I stared at the hill. No matter! I would scramble up the hillside without the aid of a trail. Where on earth was Julie? Had something happened to her? Had someone come along and carjacked her? Kidnapped her?

I began my ascent, clutching at tufts of heather and other shrubs as I climbed, all the while trying to calm myself. No, Julie was just fine. She had probably just moved the car, for some reason. No one was going to abduct her in the Highlands of Scotland.

But my self-talk failed to stop the fear that exacerbated the thudding in my chest as I scrambled up the hill on my hands and knees. I reached the crest of the hill but saw no rock wall. Where was I?
 

Still clinging to the side of the hill, I shifted my body and turned to survey the valley. Everything looked the same, albeit darker than it had been only a short while ago. The river flowed below, and I was directly above where the trail should have been. Where was the rock wall that guarded the pullout where we had parked?

I pulled myself over the edge and straightened to look around. Where, for that matter, was the pullout? The only thing I could see was a rutted path where the wide two-lane highway should have been.
 

I shook my head and turned toward the mountains. Was I lost? Had I wandered off and ended up in another valley?
 

The mountains looked the same insofar as I could remember. I hadn’t exactly memorized their shapes, but remembered only that they had been majestic.

I willed a car to come by, to pick me up and give me a lift to Glasgow. I had no idea where I was, no idea even what time it was, but I knew Julie would be worried, and I hated to do that to her.
 

It seemed likely that I hadn’t fainted but had probably gone into some kind of fugue state and wandered away from the pullout. For all I knew, I could be on the other side of the mountains, far from the highway. I shoved my hands in my pockets, searching for my phone, but realized with frustration that I had left it in my purse in the car.
 

The faint wailing of a bagpipe caught my ears, and I spun around, looking for the source. The melancholic sound brought me back to a sense of reality. The bagpiper! The middle-aged man who had played for the tourists. Did he live nearby? Was he playing somewhere?
 

I turned back toward the mountains, toward the valley. The sound came from that direction. I couldn’t see the piper, but he was down there somewhere. Maybe there was a town, or a house, or a pub or something where a piper might play.
 

I worked my way back down the hill, often having to drop to my backside in the waning light, grateful that I’d worn my sturdy blue jeans instead of some light-colored cotton slacks. I had thought I’d be sitting in the car most of the day, not climbing around the Highlands of Scotland.

I reached the bottom of the hill. I remembered that the hiking trail along the river did indeed exist. I turned my head to the right and then the left, trying to decipher the direction of the piping. I decided on the right and struck out in that direction, hurrying, sometimes stumbling in the growing darkness. The temperature had dropped, and I grew cold. I wore only a blue cotton blouse, my jeans and my athletic shoes, having left my jacket in the car, given the pleasant late-spring day.

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.”