His Heart's Desire (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

The next day dawned cold and rainy. Catrìona peered out the mullion-paned window at the charming scene below. Her B&B was on the outskirts of Inverness and the little village was straight out of a painting. Thatched roof homes lined the curved street.

A quick glance at the clock showed the morning was slipping away, so she bathed then dressed in one of her warmer outfits. With quick actions, she rolled the canvas painting and placed it carefully in her battered Louis. She was not going to risk leaving it behind. It was Catrìona’s touchstone in this strange yet beautiful country.

She decided to forgo the breakfast that came with the room, opting instead to retrieve her rental and head on into the Highlands.

It didn’t take long to sign the rental agreement, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the wrong side of a standard VW Jetta with no clue as to how she was going to shift with her left hand. But, sitting there looking dumbfounded wasn’t going to get her on the road. She pushed in the clutch and turned the key in the ignition. The car started just like any other.

Carefully, Catrìona looked over her left shoulder before she pulled away from the curb and into the flow of traffic. Ten minutes, a lot of grinding of gears, and five curb checks later, she pulled up at the B&B to collect her suitcase. Blowing out a breath, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel and contemplated how much it would cost to have a personal driver.

The rain began to fall in sheets as she left Inverness, but once onto the open road, with no curbs to worry about, she relaxed—marginally anyhow. It was nerve-wracking to drive on the opposite side of the road, and as a
result she kept her speed low.

Three hours into her trip, she was just developing some confidence in her ability to stay on the road when she rounded a curve and had to slam on the brakes, thanks to the sheep milling about in the road. She looked both left and right in a futile attempt to locate the owners of the wooly beasts but to no avail. She sat on the horn, but they ignored her
as if she weren’t there at all.

The rain continued to fall, and the sheep continued to take their own sweet time crossing the road. The sky darkened and she was a good thirty miles from her destination. She really didn’t want to be caught in the dark on these unfamiliar roads.

Catrìona rested her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. There was no point in getting worked up over something she couldn’t change. Instead, she focused on what she had to do in the next couple of days.

She planned to learn all she could about her knight; his name, when he lived, and how he died. She hoped by giving him a past and personality, it would help to free her from the seductive hold he had on her senses. She was a rational human being and needed to work through her love for a man she’d only known in her creative dreams.

Eventually the sheep moved on, although the same could not be said for the storm. It raged around her with all the bluster a good thunderstorm could produce. Wind and rain pummeled the car, and lightning guided her way into the small village outside Tain. The coast was rugged and breathtaking, but all she really wanted at this point was to find her bed and collapse for several hours.

After she pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, she gathered her things, locked the door, and made a mad dash to the reception area. Thankfully she’d prepaid, so the registration and check-in was painless. With keycard in hand, she found her room, put her bags down, and fell onto the bed to relax. She was too tired to do much more. She listened to the rain fall from the eaves and the muffled sounds that came from the floor below. She’d made it. Finally, without even realizing how important it was to her soul, she was in Scotland. The bonny Highlands, no less.

She rolled off the mattress and padded to the bathroom. The inviting bathtub called to her, so she poured a nice warm bath and slipped into the silky depths, moaning as her sore, travel weary muscles rejoiced in the comfort offered by the water. She slipped into a half-dozing state.

“Yer so beautiful, all
wet and flushed with the heat.”

Catrìona opened her eyes and sighed at the beautiful sight of her knight sitting on the edge of the tub. His long hair was falling down past his shoulders in a dark waterfall. His sensual mouth wa
s pulled up into a small smile.

“I missed you last night.”

“I ken that, lass. But you needed your rest.”

“I needed you.”

He laughed a husky sound that licked along her nerve-endings.

“I love it when you laugh. It makes me smile.” Catrìona tried to sit up in the water, but lethargy weighed her limbs. “I want to feel your touch, taste your lips against mine.”

“Soon, mo chridh. I want all that and more. Seek your rest and tomorrow will bring you that which you desire the most.”

Catrìona came awake with a start, sending the now cool bathwater splashing over the sides of the tub. “Brilliant. Could you make a bigger mess?” she asked herself aloud as she stood and stepped out of the water.

What did this last dream mean?
Soon
. She hated the word. Never one to be patient, always choosing to run when she could walk, the fact she had to wait any longer than she already had chaffed at her sensibilities. Add to that, she wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. How maddening! She couldn’t force the time to pass any quicker than it already did. She dried off, brushed her teeth and donned her nightshirt. Sleep. What she needed was sleep.

*
* *

Braden stared out at the beauty asleep on the bed. He was damn tired of having to return to his misty prison. The trip home was a torture. Traveling inside the same bag as her sexy panties had kept his cock rock hard and his teeth clenched. The sweet scent of his Catrìona tormented him in ways he
’d never thought possible.

“So we’ve returned to our home! Ah, Braden, ‘tis glad I am to be back.” Alec clapped him on the shoulder. “Why aren’t you more excited about this?”

Braden pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over at his grinning friend. “You ken this is only the beginning? Things could go wrong.”

Alec waved his hand. “Psha.”

“Psha? Where did you pick up that word?”

“The other night when your lass was up late watching television. I must say I do like that invention. One hundred channels. I’ll be having one of those in my keep.”

“What do you want, Alec? I have much I must do this night.”

“I fail to see what you must do. She has the journal.”

“And a wee bit of its contents may come as a shock,” he grated out. “How do you think she’ll react when she reads the part where she is part of my past? A very important part of my past.”

Alec scratched his head. “I dinnae ken your problem. So she learns that you both loved once before. How can that be bad?”

Braden and Alec had been childhood friends and when Braden had become Laird of their clan, Alec had proudly taken his place beside him as first in command. Alec, better than anyone, knew how tormented Braden was by his love for Catrìona and how he would give anything to hold her again.

“I don’t know, Alec. How do you think she’ll feel to realize that I’m real, trapped in a painting by a curse and that at one time we both loved each other until my ambition killed her?”

“Your ambition didn’t kill her, man! The hated Comyn and Morgana saw to that.”

Braden gazed out through the mist and found his Catrìona curled on her side. The thought of her not being a part of his life tore at him. The hole in his heart was only partially filled. He would not be a whole man until their souls melded in a kiss no ti
me or boundary could separate.

CHAPTER FIVE

Catrìona woke in the morning feeling strangely refreshed and with a sense of purpose. After she plumped up the pillows, she folded the sheet across her lap and reached over to pick up the journal she’d brought with her. The inside cover, stunningly, listed several names she recognized to be of her ancestors. With excitement coursing through her, she opened the book to the first page.

The first half of the book was written in some kind of old language which she couldn’t understand. She made a mental note to ask someone to help her with these pages, as she continued to look for a passage she could read. Paging carefully through the text, she found a portion of the book written in English, dated June 19, 1823.

My dreams are plagued by a man I cannot touch, but long to with all my being. He is all that my heart yearns for and yet, he keeps a distance. His rough voice arouses me in ways I never thought possible. There is a promise in his eyes that makes me want to experience the passion he holds back from me. Why does he come to me, appearing so real that no one else could ever measure up? Why are the women of our family so haunted? Papa has agreed to a match with the Earl of Stratford and I confess here, where my thoughts are private, there is no way I will be able to be happy with him compared to the man in my dreams. He’s stolen a piece of me, and I fear I will have to live a lie. How will I ever marry the Earl? How am I to live this lie?

Bethany

The hair on the back of Catrìona’s neck stood up, and her heart raced in her chest. It was as if she’d just raced the two hundred yard dash. She felt the same way about her Highlander. Was it possible? Were the women in her family haunted by the ghost of a warrior knight? Could that be the reason she was drawn to Tain?

She returned her attention to the journal and flipped back several pages.

March 2, 1785

His kiss is my inspiration. His voice my muse. I don’t know his name or whence he came, but it matters not at all to me. I will capture his likeness and hold it close when I need him most. The desire to see him in the sunlight and not in shadows drives me. Oh, my knight, how I wish you were real. Of flesh and bone. I know we could be so happy together. I am miserable here in England. I long for the sound of bagpipes in the air and the sweet scent of my bonny Highlands. My husband doesn’t understand my torment from being so far from home. My knight understands the pull the land and people have on me. Not for the first time do I wish that he was real and that my life was different.

Rebecca, Lady Wright

Catrìona’s gaze drifted to the portrait. Rebecca had done a wonderful job of bringing to life the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t begin to understand how it would feel to be married to someone when your heart wants another. Catrìona’s heart ached for the two women she was so distantly related to. In many ways they all had something in common. It would have been wonderful to be able to speak with them, to share her heartache at not being able to touch her dream man. The two entries she had managed to read conveyed the passion and attraction both authors felt for their knight. Catrìona worried she’d never find love because of her hang-up with
him
. She didn’t even know what to call him. What was his name? She had little doubt it would be a strong and masculine name.

To see women who had come before her expressing such private words and thoughts—words and thoughts that she herself felt for this man—gave her a strange sort
of comfort. She wasn’t insane.

Frustrated with the situation, she pushed the sheets back and strode to her suitcase with a sense of purpose. Since the weather looked promising, she wanted to do a little sightseeing before seeking out th
e shop Natalia had recommended.

After a quick shower, she dressed, grabbed her backpack and keys. Before she left the hotel, she inquired about the local attractions. She wasn’t sure why she needed to be here in Tain, but had a feeling that this was where she’d get the peace and answers she sought.

The sky was a beautiful shade of blue and the air was crisp and sweet. Sounds of the sea drifted on the air, and she resisted the urge to drive to the coast. Instead she headed north toward the nearby Castle Ross. She’d been informed by the front desk clerk that it was a must-see.

As she carefully drove up the winding pass to the castle, Catrìona tried to take in the breathtaking scenery of rolling fields flowing to craggy cliffs overlooking the sea, but the road was a nightmare. She had to pay more attention to the bumpy road than the thatched roof cottages that peppered the fields.

Catrìona breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the car park and killed the ignition. Although her drive had been free from encounters with roaming sheep, the sharp drop-offs and switchback curves had added more than enough adventure for the play-it-safe gal.

The stone edifice in front of her left her breathless. She’d never seen the likes of the castle before. The crenulated walls reached high into the sky; majestic round towers added a sense of whimsy to what would otherwise be considered a forbidding building.

The stone walls were imposing, and her eyes were continually drawn to the tower on the south-facing side of the compound. She wondered what the tower had been used for.

Walking along the gravel path, she neared the ticket booth. Several people stood in line ahead of her, and she looked past the group to the castle. Her heart was at peace here on the cliffside; as if she’d finally come home. Catrìona paid her admission and walked through the castle gate. The yard itself was manicured to within an inch of perfection. The grass was strangely emerald green despite the fact it was now fall. Heather bloomed along the curtain wall, scenting
the air with its spicy perfume.

Mesmerized, she reached out and touched the sun-warmed stone. The surface was rough under her fingertips, weathered by centuries of storms and conflicts. It amazed her to think this wall had been standing for centuries. And yet she felt deep in her heart that there had been changes. In her mind’s eye she pictured the wall a little thicker, but she didn’t know where that memory came from. It was a mystery.

Catrìona joined the flow of people making their way to the castle steps. A tour guide, dressed in a plaid made up of bright red, blue and green, stood at the top. She was a spry little old lady, and there was a twinkle in her eye as she began her lecture.

They entered the castle proper and stepped into a grand hall. The Ross coat of arms hung proudly over both large fireplaces at either end of the large room. Tapestries and weapons shared space on the golden stone walls. It was a breathtaking sight. Banners in dark crimson and gold, as well as dark green and blue, hung from the high vaulted ceilings, along with striking chandeliers that cast their light into the dark corners of the massive room. The tour made its way through the great hall and into a rather impressive picture gallery.

“Along this wall you will see the pictures of the Lairds of Clan Ross. These handsome men were both warriors and lovers. They were fierce in their time. It is said that when these men found their soul mates, nothing would stand in their way of claiming the lasses who’d stolen their hearts.”

Catrìona gazed at the impressive paintings of the various Lairds of Clan Ross. For the most part, they were all very formidable and very male in appearance. Yet none of them really spoke to her until she came to the end of the gallery. Her breath caught in her throat, and she braced her hand against the stone wall. It was him!

“Ah, I see you’re captivated by the handsome Braden Ross.”

The voice came from her left shoulder, and Catrìona spun around to face the speaker. “Who is he?”

Their tour guide took a step back, narrowed her gaze and then smiled. “‘Tis you, my lady.” The words were spoken with awe.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve returned, just as the legend said you would.” She reached out and fingered Catrìona’s dark hair. “‘Tis beautiful; it is.”

Catrìona stepped away from the woman and looked frantically about, but realized the tour had moved on without her. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”

The tour guide smiled again. “No, Catrìona, I make no mistake.”

“How do you know my name?” Panic began to
sink its talons into her belly.

“Come, follow me.” The woman turned and walked out of the gallery and down a shadowed
hall.

With great reluctance, Catrìona found herself following without question, calling herself an idiot with each step she took. She knew the worst thing a woman could do was to allow herself to be singled away from a group, yet here she was in a foreign country following a sweet little old lady, who knew her name, into a part of the castle that was not part of the tour. The No Admittance sign on the large oak door didn’t make her feel any better, and she began to turn around. “You know, I think I’ll just go and join the rest of the tour.”

“No, dear.” The lady grabbed her wrist. “You must face the truth or this nightmare will never end.”

Nightmare? What nightmare? She wasn’t having a nightmare. “Listen, I really think you have the wrong person.”

The lady stopped and smiled. “Nae, lass. My name is Elspeth Ross, and you are Catrìona MacDougall. You’ve finally come home.”

Sweat broke out on Catrìona’s forehead and a strange buzzing started in her ears. She was seriously beginning to wonder about the lady’s sanity.

“There is no need to be frightened, lass. I have the answers to the questions your heart has been asking for years.”

Well, that was too much. How did this strange person know what her heart wanted or needed? Shoot, she didn’t even know what it wanted. “I appreciate your
. . .” She didn’t even know what to call the strange behavior. “ . . .fervor in helping me, but truly, I think you have me confused with someone else.”

She tried to go back the way she’d come, but the manacle of an old hand stopped her before she
could make good her escape.

“If you will listen to what I have to say, everything will make sense.” She pushed open a large door at the end of the hall and all but dragged Catrìona into the interior.

Catrìona stood speechless as she took in her surroundings. The low beamed ceiling ran the length of the small building. Dried flowers and herbs hung from the beams and perfumed the air with their unique fragrance. A hearth took up one side of the wall and a little floral sofa, table and chairs made up the furniture in the small space. The furniture was different, but once again she was assailed by the fact she’d been here before. But how was that possible? She’d never been to Scotland. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. She was losing her ever-loving mind.

“No, lass. You’re not crazy. ‘Tis time you returned to us.”

“This is crazy. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I’m not home.”

“Yes, you are. I dare you to tell me that you haven’t felt a connection to the bonny land since you were a wee lass.”

“I’ve also longed to go to Paris, and I’m not French. I fail to see why my wanting to visit Scotland has you so excited.”

“Have a seat, Catrìona; I will explain all.”

With a great deal of reluctance, Catrìona sat down while she judged the distance to the door. She smoothed her hands down her jean-clad thighs and waited.

Elspeth began
with a smile. “Once upon a time . . .”