Highland Destiny (41 page)

"Father, I thought it wouldn't open til the beginning of the new year?"

"I discovered long ago that we can open it at will."

"Then why make the MacRae wait? It is obvious to any that he is in agony without the Stewart girl."

"He needed to know how much she meant to him, and the only way was for him to be without her until it became too much. His love is stronger now, and he will do what he can to keep her. He needed to see what he was losing." His shrewd eyes met his son's as he confessed, "'Tis why I sent him the dream."

"The dream?" Gregor answered vaguely. His father was really quite crafty, to orchestrate all of this.

"Aye, I sent the MacRae a dream tonight showing him exactly what he was missing in his life, and what his life would become. He would become nothing, ghosting through centuries until he found her, but by then it would be too late."

Gregor shook his head, but instead of interrogating his father further, he said, "You have planned this from the beginning, have you not?"

Morvern's dark eyes twinkled, "Aye, my son, and now we shall wait. Come morning all will be as it should."

Mackenzie woke up to the sound of pouring rain washing away yet another dream of him. Too bad it couldn't wash away the pain as well. Her time in Scotland was almost through. She and Jenna would leave the following afternoon, and probably never return. She was torn. Mackenzie desperately wanted to go home; to be among the familiar and comforting. But going back home meant leaving Connor. She didn't want to leave; she felt like the only connection she had to Connor was here, staying in his home. When she went home, to her life, it would make everything that she'd experienced that much more dreamlike, and that much less real. As it was, she already felt like the past month was nothing more than a product of her overactive imagination.

Especially since she'd returned to her own time at the exact moment she'd met Morvern and Gregor, the two men who had changed her life so drastically. Only this time, when she had wandered back to the Gallery, she had been alone.

Meeting up with Jenna and the rest of the tour group as they toured the castle had been unbearable. The pain she was suffering hadn't even been allowed a good cry in her room.

Jenna kept glancing at Mackenzie with a worried glint in her eyes, but Mackenzie just kept her head averted and pretended to look around, as if she had not lived in the castle for the past month.

Feigning excitement at every antique or painting was wearing her down. As the tour ended back in the lobby (to 410

"Kenzie, what's wrong? I've never seen you like this."

"It's nothing," she even dredged up a smile. "Really."

"You're a crappy liar, Kenzie. What is going on?" The knowing look of her best friend who was like a sister to her was too much. She couldn't stay here.

"Umm...I'm going to wander around a bit. You go have fun with those boys of yours." Her attempt at humor failed miserably.

Jenna narrowed her unusually shrewd eyes on Mackenzie and stared at her, lips pursed, for a long, uncomfortable moment.

"You're going to go ogle that painting again, aren't you?"

Mackenzie's eyes widened and she nearly flinched. "No, I'm not in the mood for any ogling."
Ever
.

"I'm surprised at you. There's always room for ogling."

"I think I'm just going to go for a walk." She had already started to walk away from her best friend, so Jenna couldn't try to stop her again. She wanted to be alone. Maybe she could rent a horse for the day and ride.

The idea of going for a ride was so appealing, that Mackenzie couldn't dislodge it from her brain. She ran to her room and changed into jeans and a button up shirt, throwing her jacket on as she hurried downstairs. Once at the concierge desk, she inquired about renting a horse and was 411

Mackenzie had been riding all day. She'd gotten to know Connor's lands pretty well during the past month, and even though so much of the surrounding lands had changed in the past 200 years, it was still achingly familiar.

She had ridden across the stone bridge to the town across the sea, and found several charming shops. One shop had a variety of local wares, one of which was a beautiful lavender wool shawl in the window. Mackenzie inquired about it, and once they settled on a reasonable price, she bought it. It reminded her of a gown she'd once worn. It ripped at her heart to think about it. Pushing the memory out of her head, she focused on paying for it and the loose weave poncho she picked out for Jenna.

On her way out of the shop, the display in an antique store caught her eye. There was a brooch and plaid wrapped around a mannequin in the same tartan as the MacRae clan.

It looked too new to have been Connor's, but she had to know.

But as she walked in, something was glinting gold in the back of the shop. She ignored the shopkeeper's greeting and kept walking until she saw it was a locket. Opening the locket, she gasped, and it slipped from her suddenly numb fingers.

"Is everything alright, dear?" The shopkeeper's gentle question jogged Mackenzie out of her stupor.

"Oh, yes, thank you." She felt the heat creeping up her face.

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"The what?"

"It is said that one of the lairds had that locket commissioned for his bride, but she went missing a few weeks after they were married. It was quite the scandal, for she was said to have helped to defeat his enemy before she disappeared. No one knows what happened to her, and the laird supposedly wasted away in despair, waiting for her to come back for him."

"What a sad story. If this is part of such a tragic tale, why is it here, and not on display in the castle?"

"Well, if you look inside, there is a photograph."

"Yes." Mackenzie could see that; it was her!

"Well, it can't be the laird's wife, because it would have been a miniature, rather than a modern photograph. So no one knows what to make of that, and the few times it has been sold, each patron has brought it back. They say it is cursed."

"I'll take it."

"I thought you might say that, dear. But don't you even want to know the price?"

"It doesn't matter. If you take plastic, I'll take the locket."

The shopkeeper smiled fondly and said, "I'm sorry my dear, but I don't accept credit cards."

Mackenzie could feel her face fall.

"However, I think that this locket belongs to you." She tapped the picture inside the delicate gold oval. "She has the look of you." As Mackenzie's shocked gaze met hers, she 413

"What are you saying?" she gasped.

"That when you meet that laird of yours, you promise me that you'll hold on tight and never let him go. D'ye ken? You love him well, and he'll love you in return. And
that
shall be a true happily ever after."

Mackenzie could do nothing but stutter and gape like a fish. She pulled herself together enough to thank the kind woman, and when she left, she could have sworn she felt as if she were being watched.

Arriving back at the castle well after dark, Mackenzie turned in her rented horse, and had to force herself not to run to her room. Once safely in her room, she finally dared to open the locket again. There it was! It was a picture of her.

One that had been in her wallet as of yesterday. It had been a picture of her and Jenna from a trip to Cancun they once took. She'd folded it in half so it would fit in her small wallet.

Mackenzie grabbed her purse and rifled through her wallet.

It was nowhere to be found. The only logical explanation was that Connor had snagged it when she wasn't looking, and had kept it. But why? And when? Was this before or after he'd suspected her of betraying his clan? And what did this mean?

How much truth was in the story about a laird pining away while waiting for the woman he loved to return to him? Her mind was all over the place, trying to make sense of this new discovery. She thought Jenna had mentioned that the castle was haunted by a man who'd died waiting for his lady love...that couldn't have been Connor? Right?

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Mackenzie fell asleep at her computer, but her dreams were not pleasant. They were visions of Connor drinking himself into a stupor, and ignoring everything around him. In one dream, he'd held the locket and stared at it silently for what felt like eons. When Mackenzie woke up, she felt hot.

Really hot. She ran a hand over her face, feeling the imprint of her keyboard on her cheeks, and looked blearily around.

Something was standing in the corner, no, not something, someone! Connor!

But as she turned, there was nothing. God, this place was messing with her mind. Of course she hadn't seen Connor. He was long dead. What did she think, that his ghost would come and haunt her? Her heart tightened because she
had
hoped that. On some level, she had wanted that.

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Her dreams only served to frustrate her more; dreams of Connor, of course. In all of them, he was an angry embittered shell of the wonderful man she had known. And however briefly she had known him, she felt as if she'd known him forever.

The next week was hard, but she didn't know which was more difficult to get through; her days without Connor, or her nights, reliving her heartbreak through her all-too vivid dreams.

Jenna had had little patience for Mackenzie's mood swings, and Mackenzie still hadn't been able to bring herself to tell Jenna what had happened. So Jenna spent a lot of time with her new Italian friends.

Initially, Mackenzie had tried to pass her time in the Gallery, staring at the life-sized portrait of Connor. But after only a few minutes, the tears would start up, and she would rush out of the room as if the devil himself were chasing her.

Once she had thought she'd seen Connor standing across the room, but when she looked fully at where she'd thought he'd been, there was nothing. Of course. Maybe the locket
was
haunted. But for her it was haunted with nothing but memories. After the first two tries, she gave up. She couldn't bear to look at the oil painting of Connor; it hurt too much.

So she avoided the Gallery like the plague.

However, on her last night, Mackenzie forced herself to stand in the Gallery that she'd so avidly avoided, and stared at the canvas. She had to say goodbye. That was something 416

She'd taken so many pictures that first day, that she didn't feel the need to photograph it anymore. Today she sat with her pad and charcoal pencils to sketch. She let the tears fall onto the paper, and idly watched the smudges they made.

And then Mackenzie could feel the heat coming from him. Her eyes flew to the painting. Was she going insane? It actually felt like Connor was in the room with her! Ignoring the tingling sensation that said she was being watched, she purposefully dropped her eyes to her drawing, and focused.

This wasn't the first time she'd thought Connor was in the room with her. Again, though, Mackenzie felt heat. This had been a bad idea. She had to get out of here. She stood quickly, trying not to trip in her heels, and gathered her pencils and pad, stuffing it all in her bag. With one last look at the painting, she prepared herself mentally to leave him.

"I've never liked that painting." The deep baritone had a hint of amusement in it.

Mackenzie froze.

"Are you real?" she whispered to the empty room.

"Aye, lass, flesh and blood." His voice was rougher now.

She stared at the canvas, not knowing what to expect, but his voice had come from
behind
her. Not from the painting.

Mackenzie turned toward her hallucination slowly, not sure 417

But when she turned and saw him, she gasped and took a step back. He looked so real. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. This couldn't be real. Her fingers timidly reached out to his cheek, but she didn't even make it halfway before she snatched her hand back. She took a deep breath and reached out to him again. His cheek was solid and so warm.

Mackenzie desperately wanted to believe he was real, but how could she? He had died 200 years ago! She knew—-she'd searched him on the internet.

Yet, here he was, standing in front of her as if the past week had never happened. It made no sense; but then again, none of it ever had. None of it was logical. The hell with logic!

Mackenzie threw herself at him and tightened her arms around his neck.

"I take it you're happy to see me?" She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh! Connor! You're here! You're really here!" Mackenzie buried her face in his neck and breathed in his scent, the scent of heather, and horse, and man. "But how?" was all she could manage; her thoughts were slightly incoherent.

"After you left, I tried to stop you. I raced back as fast as I could, but I was too late. The wizards found me...."

She cut him off, "They sent you through? Oh no...how long do we have"

"Until sunrise tomorrow."

"It's not enough time. Why are we always fighting against time?" Mackenzie was quickly becoming hysterical.

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