“Would you like a cup of tea while you’re waiting, dear?” The office receptionist — a slender, silver-haired woman in her mid-to-late fifties — peered over the rims of her bifocals.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Katherine MacDonald lied. She was exhausted and trying her utmost to stay awake. She hadn’t slept in over thirty-eight hours and if she didn’t find a place to rest soon, she’d collapse from pure exhaustion. She brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a yawn and shifted her position on the uncomfortable, straight-backed wooden chair.

Katherine looked at her watch, then scanned the empty waiting room. In the three hours she’d been sitting there, she hadn’t seen a single person enter or leave the office. “I know I didn’t have an appointment, and am sure the solicitors are busy men, but do you think it will be much longer?”

“Nay, dear. But I’m afraid Mr. MacBain and Mr. Murray seldom adhere to a strict schedule. No matter how much I badger them.” The woman chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at the closed door, then returned her attention to Katherine. “Are you sure you wouldna like some tea? It’s a fine Scottish blend.”

“Positive.” Katherine smiled. “But I’d kill for a hot bath and a soft bed.”

The secretary laughed. “I’m afraid tea is the best I can do, dear. But I can imagine you must be exhausted after your long trip. Hopefully it willna be much longer.”

After waiting at JFK International on standby for nearly fourteen hours, hoping for a cancelation, she got lucky. Or so she thought. Forced to endure a cramped, five hour, red-eye flight in economy class, next to a large man who snored and repeatedly passed flatulence, was bad enough, but when Katherine arrived in Scotland, she learned the airline had lost her luggage. She wished she could have skipped this meeting and checked into a hotel. But that would make it too easy for Ethan Cochran to make good on his threat to track her down and come after her. He had connections, so borders, or even oceans wouldn’t hinder his search.

Instead, Katherine found herself waiting in the office of MacBain and Murray. Her recently deceased great-aunt Agnes retained the Scottish legal firm to act as the executors of her will, in which Katherine was named the lone beneficiary. She was fortunate they had an opening when she called and agreed to see her on such short notice.

Upon Agnes’s death, the solicitors sent Katherine a financial statement, showing a bank balance of forty-two pounds, along with pictures of a large, ramshackle, stone cottage in desperate need of repairs, and the several acres of unkempt land on which it sat. Since the estate of her spinster aunt didn’t amount to much, she hadn’t pursued the issue when first contacted and had never bothered mentioning the meager windfall to Ethan. Something she was thankful for now.

She dragged her hand across her brow, pondering her current situation. Was she insane for putting her life on hold and flying half way across the world? No. She was crazy for getting romantically involved with her boss in the first place. She knew better than to mix business with her personal life, and learned her lesson the hard way.

Just thinking about the man caused her skin to crawl and a knot of trepidation to twist her belly. It was hard to believe she’d ever thought they had a future together. A womanizing rogue by reputation, Ethan swore that was all in the past, and she was the only woman he wanted in his life. But they didn’t call the world renowned advertising executive The Chameleon of Madison Avenue for nothing. And while he presented a suave, debonair, carefree demeanor to everyone he met, including Katherine, behind closed doors, he’d turned out to be the master of deception. Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was more in keeping with his personality. A serious drug and alcohol problem, a violent temper, and a jealous, possessive streak a mile long were among his best kept secrets.

In need of a stretch, Katherine rose and wandered to the window. Upon catching her reflection in the polished pane of glass, she touched her bruised cheek, a stark reminder of her last encounter with Ethan. The vow she’d live to regret it if she ever tried to leave, echoed in her head.

Given the severity of the altercation, it was a wonder a bruised face was all she had to show for it. That she walked away was a miracle in itself. She’d never seen a man so irate and out of control. And all because she danced with his partner at the company party.

It was George’s birthday and they’d done nothing wrong. For Ethan to fly off the handle and accuse them of having an affair in front of everyone, including his partner’s pregnant wife, was totally uncalled for, not to mention false.

Katherine balled her fists at her side. There were two things she couldn’t abide, a lying cheater or an abusive partner. Being hit once was enough and she swore it was the first and last time he’d ever lay hand to her. But she should have waited for him to calm down before announcing she was breaking their engagement.

“Did you know your aunt well?” the receptionist asked.

Katherine jumped. Startled back to the present, she faced the woman. “I beg your pardon?

“Were you close to your aunt?” The receptionist smiled. “While a recluse, I’m told she was quite a colorful character. It’s a shame she never married or had any children.”

“No. I didn’t know her well.” Katherine sucked in a cleansing breath to settle her nerves before continuing. “When I was seven-years-old, Aunt Agnes paid a visit to my family’s New England home. Unfortunately, it was the only time we met. But my maternal grandmother, Margaret, who was my aunt’s only sister, often said I was the spitting-image of Agnes when she was a child. Even though I inherited my father’s dark hair.”

“You must have been a very comely bairn. I’m told your aunt was quite breathtaking.”

The heat of embarrassment rose in Katherine’s cheeks. She wasn’t fishing for compliments. “Aunt Agnes was much lovelier than I could ever hope to be.” She closed her eyes, picturing her great-aunt’s Titian hair piled high on her head, her wide green eyes, and sweet, yet mischievous smile. To say they looked alike was an exaggeration as far as Katherine was concerned.

She’d never considered herself to be a beautiful woman by most modern standards. While Katherine prided herself in being physically fit, her slender — almost boyish figure — lack of buxom feminine curves, her aversion for too much makeup, passable facial features, and the dusting of freckles across her nose was far from model material. She saw herself as average looking, more like the girl-next-door than a raving beauty. A woman most men smiled at, asked out for a drink, but never longed to possess. Eye-candy she wasn’t.

She’d often wondered why Ethan asked her to marry him. Especially when he could have any beautiful Manhattan debutant of his choosing. Was it her intelligence, ingenuity, and keen knack for business that intrigued him? Or was it her reluctance to fall for his charm when they first met? He often fixated on things that were out of his reach. And with her guarded attitude toward relationships, she did present a challenge.

Her relationship history was far from impressive. True, she had her share of dates while in University, but none of them amounted to much more than a movie or two, a dinner out or a coffee at the University commissary. It wasn’t because the potential for something more was lacking, but finishing her education and the drive to succeed in her chosen profession overshadowed her desire for fun and frivolity — the very things on which many young women her age thrived. Structure, hard work, and responsibility were traits her father instilled in her from the time she was very young. But there were times when Katherine secretly wished she had just a touch of adventure in her life. Wondered what it would be like to throw caution to the wind, to act upon a whim, and not analyze everything to death. To be less like her parents and more like Aunt Agnes was reputed to be — a free spirit, who took life by the horns, didn’t care what people thought about her, and lived her life the way she wanted.

She smiled, remembering the wonderful tales Agnes told about the faeries, kelpies, selkies, and other fae creatures who occupied the Highland forests and waterways when she came to visit. But they were just that, stories meant to entertain children and those foolish enough to believe in superstition, romance, and happily-ever-after endings. Oh how she wanted to believe, but there were no guarantees in life, you had to work for what you wanted, and happiness could be snuffed out in a heartbeat. This she knew first hand.

“So your mam was a Grant, I take it?” The receptionist licked the seal of a rose-colored envelope and pressed it closed before adding it to a pile of outgoing mail in front of her.

Her question interrupted Katherine’s musing. She had never been one for small talk with strangers, but she decided it was better than sitting there in silence or thinking about Ethan. “My maternal grandmother was Agnes’s younger sister. She was a Grant until she moved to the United States and married my grandfather, Harold Lindsay. They had one daughter, Moira, and she was my mother.”

“I see,” the receptionist stroked her chin. “And your da? Is he an American?”

“He was born in Hartford, Connecticut, but he had Scottish roots too. His name was Hunter MacDonald. He was an architect in Boston, and—” Katherine bowed her head.

“Was, dear?” the receptionist asked.

“My parents both died in an automobile accident when I was sixteen. They were hit by a drunk driver. After that, I went to live with my grandmother, but she has also passed on.” Katherine wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, then coughed. Talking about her family always caused her throat to thicken with emotion.

The receptionist rose, rounded her desk, and handed Katherine a tissue. “I’m sorry for your loss. According to Ms. Grant’s file, you were listed as the only beneficiary of her will. I’m assuming from what you’ve said, you were also an only bairn, and there are no other living relatives on your mother’s side of the family.”

Katherine almost choked on the words. “That’s correct. I had no brothers or sisters.” Something else she’d missed out of and wished had been different.

“Are you married, lass?”

Katherine balled the tissue in her fist, her gaze fixed on the floor. She swallowed hard. “And there is no one of significance in my life.”

“I’m surprised a lovely lass like you hasna married,” the receptionist said.

When her parents died, followed by her grandmother two years later, Katherine was left alone. They’d been her whole life and she missed them terribly, the deep ache of loss devouring her heart and leaving her chest an empty void.

Determined to guard herself from further pain, she concentrated on her studies, vowing never to fall in love. She had plenty of friends and acquaintances, but being alone came with its own set of drawbacks. And while there was something to be said about solitude, privacy, and independence, those things came with a price. Tired of feeling isolated and lonely, she realized it wasn’t enough. She wanted more and was willing to drop her shields and take a chance on love. Unfortunately, the one time she broke her hard and fast rule of never getting into a relationship proved to be a disaster.

“Is this your first trip to Scotland?” the receptionist asked.

Her train of thought broken by the question, Katherine smiled. “Yes. I always planned to visit, but never got the chance.” And, she wouldn’t be here now if she wasn’t trying to escape from her abusive fiancé.

After graduating from university with honors and a Master’s Degree in business administration and marketing, Katherine was thrilled to snag a job with the prestigious Cochran Advertising Agency — leaving her little time for a social life and even less time to think about the fact that she was very much alone. But meeting Ethan changed all that.

Refusing to dwell on her past mistakes or to wallow in self-pity, Katherine rose to her feet and approached the receptionist. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful after Mr. MacBain and Mr. Murray agreed to see me on such short notice, but I was wondering if maybe another time would be more convenient.” She pulled a notebook from her purse and picked a pen from atop the desk and jotted down her cell number. “If they would like to reschedule, they can reach me at this number.”

The phone rang and the receptionist answered it. “Aye Mr. Murray.” She replaced the receiver on the cradle and smiled at Katherine. “If you can abide a wee longer, they’ll be ready for you soon.”

“Wonderful.” Katherine returned to her chair and sat. But unfortunately a few minutes to MacBain and Murray seemed like yet another lifetime. Her eyelids growing heavy, she rested her forehead upon her hand. “Maybe if I shut my eyes for just a minute, I’ll feel better,” she mumbled.

~ * ~

A warm breeze caressed her cheek and Katherine tipped her face toward the sun, hoping to catch the warmth of its rays. Lifting the hem of her ivory-colored gown she dipped her bare toes into the loch, then withdrew them quickly, the water still chilly from winter’s grip.

With arms outstretched, she spun full circle, taking in the panoramic beauty of the burn, the glen, and mountains around her. Fragrant heather dotted the brae and meadow, along with bluebells and other assorted wildflowers. Highland cows and sheep grazed on sweet tender shoots of grass and a pair of hawks circled in unison overhead, in what she guessed was a mating ritual as old as time.

Spring had always been Katherine’s favorite time of year, a time for fresh starts and new beginnings. And this one hadn’t disappointed, proving to be more glorious than others she recalled.

“I nary tire of looking at you, lass. You always manage to take my breath away.” A warrior wearing a chainmail tunic, padded gambeson, trews, and leather gauntlets rode into the clearing on a black destrier. He quickly dismounted and strode toward her with purpose. “Have you been here long, ma gaol?”

Katherine smiled up at him. “Long enough,” she answered playfully. “I am na a lass who likes to be kept waiting. You’re lucky I dinna leave before you arrived.” Not that she ever would. If truth be known, she’d wait an eternity if need be to see his face, to feel his arms around her, to be possessed by him, body and soul.

She’d admired him and adored him for as long as she could remember. From the time she was a wee lass of no more than seven or eight summers, she’d trailed behind him and her older brother Warren as if she were their shadows, hoping to be noticed, praying that someday, when she was old enough, he’d fall in love with her. But she was a bairn, a freckle-faced twig of a lass doing her utmost to impress a young man who was eight years her senior. But he never shunned her and treated her with kindness. He encouraged her to learn things usually reserved for lads and praised her accomplishment, and, while she was sure he considered her a nuisance and wished Warren would leave her at home, he never once complained. It was like she had another brother, but deep down she wanted more.

It all but broke her heart when he was sent away at age sixteen to foster with another clan on the northern shore of Scotland for the next five summers — a common practice for the son of a laird. But when he returned, things between them changed and so had she. At fifteen, she’d blossomed into a woman and had grown a woman’s heart. They’d shared their first kiss in this very meadow. And their relationship flourished from there.

She knew her brother would approve of a union between her and his best friend and it meant the world to her — even if her father had other plans. After her mother died in childbirth, leaving her father an angry, bitter man, her brother became her world. She idolized him. When things seemed bleak, Warren was like her north star on a stormy night, her hope for a future, and one person she could rely on to have her back, no matter what she did wrong. He often served as a much-needed buffer between her and her father, and for that she was grateful.

“If you’d left, you’d have missed out on this.” Her knight slid his arm around her waist, drew her against his chest, and nipped at her lower lip. “And this.” He buried his head in the curve of her neck, suckled lightly, then feathered kisses upward until he reached her mouth.

Enveloped in warmth and bombarded by desire that ravaged her body like a wildfire out of control, she leaned into his embrace, her stomach doing a quick flip and moist heat pooling between her thighs. Her knees suddenly weak, she fisted his tunic for support. “You know it is na easy to get away from home and na have my da or my brother follow me,” she mumbled against his lips, then kissed his cheek. “I’m a woman grown, but Warren still treats me like I’m a bairn in need of his protection and advice.”

“Warren cares about you. But I dinna think you need to fash about his disapproval. Your brother and I have been friends since we were bairns, and he has told me many time that he is in favor of our relationship,” he replied. “But it matters na. When we’re married, you’ll only answer to one man.” He lowered his head and nibbled at her bottom lip again. “Me.” A possessive growl rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold and kissed her soundly. He slid the tip of his tongue across her mouth, willing her to open to his sweet invasion. When she gasped with pleasure, he deepened the kiss, plundering without mercy.

Breathless, she planted her hands on his chest and shoved until their kiss was broken. “If we marry.” She lifted her gaze until it met with his, then slowly took in the contours of his finely chiseled features. He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen and what he could do to her insides with just his presence had to be a sin. But he was not her father’s choice for a husband.

His brows dipped. “Dinna toy with me, lass. You know we’re meant to be together and it’s only a matter of time afore we wed,” he replied. “In fact, I plan to speak with your da this evening at the feast. I’m going to ask for your hand and his permission to marry you before the garrison heads out to challenge the English bastards who threaten to take Stirling Castle.”

“When do you leave?” She clung to his shirt.

“Two days hence.”

She clutched a hand to a knot of emotion choking her throat. “Why, even if my father did agree to our union, there isna enough time to have the banns read.”

“We can dispense with the reading if the priest so chooses. And if I have my way, by this time on the morrow, we’ll be husband and wife.” His brows shot up and a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “And after a night of wedded bliss, you’ll be glad to see me go, thankful for the rest.”

“It sounds wonderful. But what if the priest refuses or my da says nay?”

A stern expression darkened his features, his gaze intense. “Leave your da to me. I’ll have no talk about what if. Na when we have this time alone together now,” he said, his voice hard edged. Wasting no time, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to a patch of soft grass beneath an old oak tree and gently lay her upon it. “You’re mine, and let no man say otherwise.”

When he sprawled out beside her and pulled her into his embrace, Katherine offered no resistance. Instead, she lightly traced his lips with her fingertips and sighed. “I want to marry you more than my next breath, and will do whatever it takes for us to be together.”

And why wouldn’t she welcome their union? He was the oldest son of a laird and stood to be a chieftain someday. Not that she cared about title or wealth. It was the man inside that she adored, not what he had to offer in the way of land or riches. But he was fine to look at. He was tall, well-muscled, brave, and honorable, yet treated her with the utmost gentleness and reverence. He looked upon her as his equal, not his property — rare for a man in his day. The fact he was a braw feast for her eyes to behold and could turn her inside out with merely a glance, didn’t hurt either. Theirs was a marriage made in heaven and something told her she could trust him implicitly, perhaps even more than she could her brother, and that alone spoke volumes.

But instead of being thrilled about the prospects of soon becoming his wife, she frowned, a feeling of dread twisting her gut. A niggling from deep in the recesses of her soul told her their marriage would never take place, not without much hardship and heartache.

He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “What troubles you, sweeting?”

Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away. “I dinna wish for you to go with the warriors to Stirling. I fear something terrible will befall you there, and we might na see each other again.”

“What would you have me do? I’m a son of Scotland. It’s my duty to defend her soil. I promise to return to you.” He rolled her beneath him, lowered his head, and captured her lips.

~ * ~

“Mr. MacBain and Mr. Murray are ready to see you now?” The secretary touched her shoulder. “It appears you nodded off.”

Katherine yawned and stretched. She hated to wake up, part of her wanting to sleep forever. This wasn’t the first time she’d had this dream. She’d relived the same scenario almost every night since she was thirteen. And it always ended at the same place. She never knew how the story played out, or if they had found happiness in each other’s arms. But she did know that when she awakened, every nerve in her body was alive and tingling with warm sensations, heated blood coursing through her veins. And what’s more, she always felt contented, loved, and safe.

She belonged with her dashing knight, in another place and time. In her opinion, the vastness of her emotions and the adoration she felt for this figment of her imagination was how a relationship between a man and woman should be. Even if he was from the fourteenth century and she was from the twenty-first. Foolish as it may sound, she suddenly realized, he was the man by which she judged all others. He’d set the standard so high, any man but him would be hard-pressed to beat it. Ironically, if she ran into him on the street, she wasn’t sure she’d recognize him outside her dream. Hell, she didn’t even know his name.

The secretary pointed to the door. “They’re waiting for you, my dear.”

“Now they’re in a hurry,” Katherine mumbled and stood. But as she approached the door, she heard the raised voices of the two men. They appeared to be engaged in a heated argument.

“Nay, Duncan, the requirements are verra clear. For the lass to inherit the estate, she must comply with the terms outlined in her aunt’s will,” one man said.

“I’m aware of what the document dictates, Malcolm. However, Katherine MacDonald isna from Scotland and might na be willing to abide by her aunt’s requests. In which case, all will be lost,” the other man countered.

“Aye, what you’re saying is true, Duncan, but we are bound by the terms stipulated and the lass must prove herself worthy. If she refused, we canna—”

Katherine hesitated outside the door. The argument she’d overheard clearly involved her and she couldn’t help wondering what she was about to get herself into. It was not too late to turn around and leave. But she’d come to this office for a reason, and the sooner she announced her presence, the sooner she could settle her aunt’s affairs and be on her way. She squared her shoulders, sucked in a deep breath, then raised a clenched fist and knocked.