When she got no reply the second time she knocked, Katherine cast a questioning glance at the secretary. “Are you sure they are ready to see me?” “Go right on in, dear,” the secretary said, smiling. “Sometimes they get so engrossed in their discussions, I’d swear they’d na hear a bomb go off in the same room.” She moved to the door, opened it, and waved Katherine in.

“I told you, Duncan, the terms must be followed as stipulated.” The man she deduced by process-of-elimination was Malcolm MacBain said to his companion.

Katherine entered the office, then cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt, gentlemen, but the receptionist said you were ready to see me now. I’m Katherine MacDonald.”

“Aye. Come in, Miss MacDonald. We have been expecting you. I’m Malcolm MacBain. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched, then gestured with a quick flip of his hand at the man standing behind him. “This is my partner, Duncan Murray.”

“I’m glad we finally get to meet, Mr. MacBain.” She shook his hand. “I really appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.”

“You must be weary from your long journey.” Duncan Murray quickly shuffled to an overstuffed chair by the window and tugged it forward. “We’ll take care of the business of Agnes’s estate as quickly as possible and will soon have you on your way.”

“Thanks. The last couple of days have been exhausting, to say the least.” She wrapped her arms around her waist as memories of her fight with Ethan once again swamped her thoughts.

“Miss MacDonald?” MacBain touched her arm.

“Oh sorry.” She shrugged. “My thoughts wandered off for a moment. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Dinna fash. We understand what you must be going through.” Mr. Murray patted the back of the chair and flashed her a sly grin that caused the hair on Katherine’s arms to bristle. It was almost as if he could see right through her and knew exactly what she was thinking. But there was no way he could know about Ethan, she reassured herself.

“Aye, we understand completely,” MacBain parroted his partner and raised a brow. “Do have a seat, Miss MacDonald.”

What odd men, Kathrine thought as she approached the chair, then sat. “You have a lovely office,” she said for lack of something else to say and surveyed her surroundings.

Even though it was nearly the middle of June, a blazing fire crackled on the hearth of a large fieldstone fireplace. Her gaze shifted to an ornately-carved antique clock sitting by itself atop the mantle, then travelled to a dark wooden shelf that reached from floor to ceiling, housing hundreds of books. She loved to read and wished she had time to peruse the titles and see what wonderful first editions or old classics she might find amongst their treasures. Perhaps once she’d settled at Glen Heather, she’d ask if they might be willing to lend her some.

The walls of the room were painted a soft taupe to match the shades of brown, gold, and orange in the heavy draperies covering the windows, and a woven area rug of complimentary hues covered a section of the glistening oak plank floor. All-in-all it was an interesting room, an eclectic mix of old and newer furnishings and accoutrements.

Malcolm MacBain cleared his throat. “Please accept our apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“Aye. We got to you as quickly as we could, and you know what they say about good fortune coming to those who wait,” Duncan added.

Despite being frustrated by the delay and now their attempt to apologize, Katherine chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling. In her profession, she’d dealt with the legal teams for most of her clients. But, she had to admit the comical-looking duo were nothing she ever encountered.

Both balding with little tufts of grey hair sticking out of their scalps, each appeared to be in their late sixties or early seventies, maybe even older. Like a pair of bookends, they stood about five feet tall, in their matching navy flannel suits and starched white shirts, and were as round as they were high. When standing, she towered over them by at least six inches. The nursery rhyme about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb came to mind the moment she saw them, making it difficult to remain angry, let alone to maintain her composure.

“I’m glad you dinna leave,” Mr. Murray said in a thick Highland brogue. “The sooner we read your Aunt’s will, the sooner you’ll inherit the estate.” He circled a large mahogany desk, pulled out a chair, and sat.

Malcolm MacBain took a seat beside his associate. He opened a tattered brown leather briefcase, took out a stack of yellowing papers, and arranged them on the desk in front of him. After whispering something in Gaelic to his partner that was obviously not intended for her ears, he glanced up at Katherine. “Do you speak the ancient tongue of your ancestors, lass?”

“My grand taught me Gaelic when I was a child, but I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty. I’ve had no call to use it for some time.”

Duncan Murray stroked his chin and cocked his head. “Did your grandmam tell you why she wanted you to learn Gaelic?”

“Grand taught at a local college in the Language Arts Department for thirty years and believed everyone should speak several dialects. I also speak French, Spanish and a bit of German in a pinch,” she said. “But I was no more than three when I learned my first words in Gaelic. I picked it up quickly and she told me it was because the Highlands were the true heart and soul of who I was and where I’d come from.

“At five years old what Grand said didn’t make much sense to me. I was born in Boston and wasn’t even sure what the Highlands were.” She chuckled. “But I have to confess that as I got a bit older, it was fun to know and speak a language none of my friends could understand.” She smiled, recalling the many hours she’d spent with her grandmother, learning first to speak the language fluently, then later to read and write in Gaelic. Often the lessons took place when a pan of shortbread was baking in the oven, the entire kitchen infused with the heavenly scent.

“Aside from your Scottish roots, did she na give you any other reason?” Mr. Murray asked.

Katherine shrugged. They seemed to be fixating on her knowledge of Gaelic for some reason and she couldn’t help wondering if it had anything to do with the conversation she’s overheard before entering the office. She offered a hesitant reply. “Not that I recall. We actually never talked much about my Scottish ancestry. It’s not that I wasn’t curious or interested. It was actually the contrary the way everyone in my family skirted around the topic whenever I asked, only served to pique my interest. I often wondered if the past was shrouded by a deep dark secret, and my parents and grandmother believed that as long as I didn’t know what it entailed, I’d be protected. But Grand did have a flair for dramatics. One of the many things I loved about her.” She wiped a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

MacBain scratched his chin. “It appears you were very close to your grandmother, but I do find it odd she dinna want to speak of her days in the Highlands, yet insisted you learn the language?”

Katherine’s brow dipped. “I do recall one time when I asked her why she was so adamant about my learning Gaelic, but she really didn’t give me a straight answer. It was right after she’d received a letter from Aunt Agnes.” She tapped her finger against her brow as the memory of that day returned. “I believe I was nine or ten at the time and wanted to be outside playing with my friends, rather than sitting in her office studying. But she simply told me it was important that I learn to converse in the tongue of my ancestors because the time would come when I would be called to use it. And then as always, she changed the subject. I was just a kid and had been taught never to question my elders, so I never pushed the issue. I forgot about it until now.”

“Your grandmam was wise,” Duncan said.

“She was wonderful. But I’m not sure where this line of questioning is leading or what significance my knowing Gaelic has to do with my Aunt’s estate. And as I said, I haven’t used it in a while and need a refresher course.”

“The will was drafted in the ancient tongue, but to speed things up, I will translate as we go along,” MacBain said. “I’ve no doubt in time the language will come flooding back to you, but we want to be certain you understand the terms, now. We can also have a copy transcribed into English if you wish, but I have a feeling that willna be necessary.”

“Aye, you may be surprised at how quickly it comes back to you when you need it,” Mr. Murray added.

“Your Aunt Agnes was verra specific in the terms of her will.” MacBain adjusted his glasses and began to flip through the pages. “You were named the only heir, however there are a few stipulations you must follow if you wish to inherit the cottage and all that goes with it.

“What sort of stipulations?” she asked.

“I will explain them to you. But if na followed to the letter, all will be for naught,” MacBain said with a hint of foreboding in his tone.

Katherine wished the lawyer would get to the point and stop speaking in riddles. “I went over the financial statements you sent, along with pictures of my Aunt’s home. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but a few pounds and a rundown farm are not much to be excited about. I’m here out of respect for my aunt and to settle her affairs.”

“Och, you are mistaken, my dear,” Mr. Murray said. “Do as instructed and you stand to inherit a great deal.”

The more they explained about terms of her inheritance, the more tempted she was to get up and leave. But in all fairness to the solicitors, they were only doing their job, all be it in a very roundabout way. So Katherine decided to hear them out and listen to the rest of the will before making a decision. She needed a place to stay, a haven where Ethan wouldn’t find her. And perhaps even more important than her need for a hiding place, was a chance for her to get to know about her family history. Her parents were gone and so was her grandmother. Given what happened between her and Ethan, she was feeling very much alone. Somehow being here in Scotland gave her a sense of belonging. And while she couldn’t explain it, for the first time in many years she actually felt like she was home.

“Shall I continue?” MacBain asked.

Katherine offered a hesitant nod. “Please, go on.”

After reading the first five pages of the will aloud — which to Katherine was a lot of legal jargon and nothing out of the ordinary — Malcolm MacBain paused again.

“Tell her.” Mr. Murray jabbed his partner in the side with his elbow.

MacBain bobbed his head in agreement with his partner. “In order to inherit, you must remain within the confines of the property known as Glen Heather for a sennight. After which time, you may take possession of Agnes’s home, the land, and all that goes with the estate. The terms of the will must also be kept confidential. Under no circumstances are to discuss them with anyone. Regardless of any reason.”

“That doesn’t sound so daunting,” Katherine said. It was only for a week and until she was confident Ethan had time to forget his vendetta against her and had moved on, she had no intention of returning to America. At this moment time was irrelevant.

“If you accept the terms you must be prepared to dree yer ain weird,” Duncan Murray said.

“I beg your pardon?” Katherine narrowed her gaze and scratched her head.

“It means to be prepared to face one’s own destiny, lass.” MacBain clarified.

“I caught most of what was said, and I understand the terms of the will.” Katherine replied. “But I’m not sure what any of this has to do with my so-called destiny. “What if I need supplies or just want to take a daytrip somewhere? I’ll go nuts staring at four stone walls.”

“Glen Heather is a lot larger than four walls. And is at least one thousand of what you Americans refer to as acres,” Duncan Murray said, his tone matter-of-fact. “You may venture outdoors, but you must remain on the estate for the determined amount of time, no matter what transpires.”

As the words left his lips a chill skittered down Katherine’s spine. Since she didn’t know anyone is Scotland, the stipulation that she not discuss the terms of the will didn’t concern her as much as the others. No matter what transpired was a very open-ended statement that could mean anything, giving her cause for concern. But did she really have any choice but to comply? She was alone in strange country, exhausted from her trip, and needed a place to stay before she collapsed, somewhere Ethan would hopefully never find her. And if she hoped to learn all she could about her Scottish roots, the cottage of her ancestors seemed like the best place to start.

“Do you accept the terms of your aunt’s will?” MacBain asked.

“Yes. I’ll do as requested.” She really had no choice and nowhere else to go.

Mr. Murray opened the desk drawer, took out a carved, wooden box, and handed it to Katherine, along with a brass skeleton key. “This must be taken to the croft and opened when the time is right, and na before.”

Katherine studied the two items. If she guessed correctly, the small chest looked to be quite old and if measured would be about twelve inches long and nine inches wide. “This key looks far too big for the tiny lock on the box. Are you sure it’s the right one?”

“That will unlock the door to the croft, my dear. As Duncan explained, you will find a way to open the box when the time is right, and na before,” MacBain repeated his colleague’s words verbatim.

“The airline lost my luggage.” She riffled through her carryon bag. “Aside from the clothes I’m wearing all I have is a toothbrush, deodorant, shampoo, Advil, some mints, and a couple of granola bars I stashed in here.” Katherine didn’t feel the need to mention the box of tampons. “I’ll have to go shopping for groceries and—”

“There are plenty of items of clothing you can wear at the croft. You’ll find what you’ll need in Agnes’s chamber.” Duncan Murray paused, and studied her from top to bottom before continuing. “You are about the same size as she was, so we’ve no doubt her clothes will fit. And we’ve also taken the liberty of seeing that your aunt’s home is well stocked with food, wine, and anything else you might need.” He glanced at his partner. “Is that na right, Malcolm?”

“Aye. However, the hour grows late and she must arrive at her destination before nightfall for the will to be valid.” MacBain stood and smoothed his hands down the front of his suit jacket, then looked at Katherine. “You mustna dally any longer. The road can be treacherous to navigate once it grows dark.”

“How am I supposed to get there?”

MacBain stepped forward. “Mrs. Brown will give you the keys to Agnes’s late model Ford. You’ll find it waiting for you at the curb in front of the building. It isna fancy, but will get you there.” He cupped her elbow and tugged her to her feet. “You have dallied here long enough. You must be on your way before it is too late.”

Geeze, what’s with the sudden here is your hat, what’s your hurry attitude all of a sudden? First they keep me waiting and now they are all but shoving me out the door.

She was tempted to share her thoughts, but detected the urgency in their voices. And while they continued talking in riddles, Katherine was too tired to listen to any more. She dropped the key into her purse and tucked the box under her arm, assuming she’d find out soon enough what it contained. But right now, she just wanted to find the croft and get a good night’s sleep.

“Thank you, gentlemen. This has been … interesting. Shall I return in a week to finalize the will?” Katherine offered her hand to Duncan Murray.

Instead, Duncan grasped her wrist and gave it a shake. “That willna be necessary. If you stay on the property the required time, all will be clear to you and things will be as they were intended.”

“Great. More riddles.” Katherine headed for the door, then halted and spun around. “You didn’t give me—” She was about to ask for directions to the croft, but both men were gone.

 Katherine blinked several times in disbelief. Men don’t just disappear into thin air. She scratched her head and scanned the office.

“Ouch!”

She’d pinched her forearm to make sure she was awake. If not for the wooden box tucked under her arm, she’d swear the entire thing had been a dream. There didn’t appear to be another exit other than the doorway in which she stood, so they must have left the office, without her seeing them pass. Katherine had no doubt she was suffering from jetlag and was very close to falling asleep on her feet, so it didn’t surprise her that her mind was playing tricks on her. Katherine gave her head a rough shake. Between the violent blowup she’d had with Ethan, the flight from Hell, this rendezvous with peculiar little men who spoke in riddles and then vanished without a trace, she’d had enough drama, mystery, and excitement to last her a lifetime.

From the moment they met, she’d sensed something odd about MacBain and Murray. However, she wasn’t about to hang around and find out what it was. She’d accomplished what she’d come for. The reading of her aunt’s will completed, she knew what she had to do to inherit. She had the keys to the cottage, providing her with a safe place to hide from Ethan — and she was now in possession of a mystery box she hoped contained information about her family’s past. Instead of looking for rational answers to a myriad of questions flooding her mind, she’d get the car keys from the secretary and be on her way.

Upon entering the reception area, Katherine was greeted by yet another surprise. Mrs. Brown had also left the office. “Now what do I do?” she asked aloud as she approached the desk. Relieved when she spotted a set of car keys, she picked them up and was about to leave, but hesitated when she noticed a rose-colored envelope with her name on it. The letter looked exactly like the one Mrs. Brown had placed in the pile of outgoing mail — which coincidently was also gone. If the secretary went to the post office, it would explain her absence. But it didn’t explain some of the other odd things she’d experienced. Since the letter was obviously intended for her, she broke the seal on the envelope, and withdrew a piece of parchment.

“Dear Miss MacDonald,” she began to read aloud. “Enclosed you will find directions to the ancestral home of your great-aunt, Agnes Catriona Grant. You must arrive before sundown on the day you receive these instructions, and remain there for a sennight as outlined in the will. Open the box when the time is right and all will be revealed to you. Good luck and Godspeed.”

She started down at the note, stunned, to learn Agnes’s middle name was Catriona, the Gaelic form of Katherine. No one had ever mentioned it before. Not even her grandmother saw fit to let her in on that bit of information. And for the life her she couldn’t understand the need for keeping something as simple as a name secret. Yet any time she asked Grand about her childhood in Scotland, her sister, or the Grant family history, she changed the subject. Being denied the information and kept in the dark when she was a child didn’t bother her, however it bothered her now. She couldn’t help wondering what else she didn’t know.

When Katherine turned sixteen, her Aunt Agnes sent her a birthday card, along with an invitation to come to Glen Heather for a visit. Excited about the prospect of a vacation in Scotland, she showed the note to her grandmother. Margaret’s face blanched white as she snatched the card and forbade Katherine to speak of it again. Upon questioning her mother, she got a similar response. She’d always assumed it was because Agnes was an eccentric old spinster with peculiar ways, so she never really gave it much thought — until now.

She loved and respected her parents and grandmother, so was sure they felt they had good reason for keeping things from her when she was a child, believing it was for her own good. But when she was old enough to understand, they should have said something. Especially if what they withheld could have a direct influence on her life now. Unfortunately it was too late to make amends. They were gone and she’d never be able to ask them why. This box and the cottage of her ancestors were the last ties she had to her family roots. If she ever hoped to learn about the Grant Clan’s past, she’d have to find out for herself.

After reading the directions to the croft in silence, Katherine folded the letter, and tucked it into her purse. Since she had never been here before, the names of streets meant nothing, but she was sure she’d figure out the way to go. If not, she’d stop and ask directions. She scooped up the car keys and dropped them into her jacket pocket, then trotted down the stairs.

Stepping onto the side walk, Katherine stared skyward, shocked to find a light snow gently falling and collecting on her lashes. Awfully late in the season for snow, she thought. It was June and had been sunny and mild when she entered the office building. But she’d always heard the weather in Scotland was unpredictable. As Grand used to say, “If you wait five minutes, the weather will change and not always in a way you’d expect.” But snow was certainly a surprise she never anticipated.

A sudden rush of brisk air prompted Katherine to huddle beneath her light cotton jacket. She raised her collar and blew on her hands for warmth, wishing she had a pair of gloves. But she’d never expected to need winter clothing at this time of year. Still trying to make some sense of what had transpired over the last few days, she gave the law office another quick glance, before heading for the car parked at the curb. When MacBain mentioned a late model Ford would be waiting for her, he wasn’t kidding. But she didn’t expect a throwback to the late 1970s and couldn’t help wondering if the thing still ran. After fishing the keys from her pocket, she climbed inside, relieved when the car started on the first try.

Uncertain which way to go, Katherine plucked the directions from her purse, then compared them to a map she found on the passenger seat. “If I follow Carney Street to the end and make a left onto Dunheed, I should hit a dirt road that will take me to the estate,” she said aloud, then returned the note to her bag. She rubbed her eyes with her fist and sighed. Starving and starting to feel lightheaded, she was fading fast, so she retrieved a granola bar from her carry-on and a tin of Root Beer she’d purchased up at the airport. A massive sugar fix was just what she needed if she hoped to stay awake and keep the car on the road. After devouring the granola treat and taking a few swigs of the soda, she was ready to finish the last leg of her trip. The sun was setting fast and she knew she needed to hurry, so she cranked up the tunes on the radio, eased away from the curb, and stepped on the gas.

Driving on the opposite side of the road proved to be yet another hair-raising experience Katherine wasn’t quite prepared to tackle. Fortunately, the office building was located on the outskirts of town and traffic was light. After riding the curb for about four or five blocks, almost sideswiping a delivery van, a near miss with a cab, and a man on a bicycle, she began to feel the tension lifting. The dirt and gravel road to her Aunt’s cottage was right where anticipated, but the dark, tree-lined lane looked far from inviting. To add to her stress, snow had started to fall again, making the road slick and reducing her visibility. As she made the turn, Katherine prayed there wasn’t much farther to go.

Twenty-five minutes on the pothole infested road and Katherine wondered if she’d missed the turn off. Or perhaps the lawyers had supplied her bogus directions. Given the way her day had gone so far, she wouldn’t be surprised.

While she was never known to be a quitter, after almost nodding off twice, Katherine pulled over to the shoulder of the road and rested her head on her hands. There was no way she could continue and any hope of finding the croft in time was fading fast. Turning around and heading back to town seemed like her only option. The sun was about to set, and according to the will, if she arrived after sundown, she’d have to forfeit the property anyway. There was no doubt in her mind that Ethan would be looking for her no matter where in the world she fled. But facing that worry would have to wait until the morning. For now, she’d find a comfy hotel and put up for the night.

As Katherine raised her head and prepared to go back, an old sign caught her eye. The wood was rotting, the paint chipped, and the lettering was so faint, she could hardly make it out. But if she wasn’t mistaken it said Glen Heather. She was almost there and would never have seen the sign had she not stopped to rest. Blurry-eyed from exhaustion and anxious to arrive at her destination, she threw the gearshift into drive and pulled onto the road. If she quickened her pace, there was still a chance of getting to the croft before the sun set.

But fate had other plans. As she rounded a curve, she slammed on the brakes.

“Lunatic!”

Blocking her path was a man on horseback. The fool had stopped in the middle of the road. Katherine squinted to get a better look and would wager he wore garments from medieval times and wielded a claymore above his head. What’s more, she’d swear she knew him.

She hit the horn, but the man didn’t budge, and the car continued toward him. “Oh shit!” Clutching the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip, Katherine pumped the brakes, willing the vehicle to stop. Instead, the tires hit a slick patch of road, and the car skidded sideways. Hanging on for dear life, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Thankfully, the Lord was listening and the vehicle came to a halt only inches away from a huge oak tree.

Katherine pried her fingers from the wheel, did a quick body check for injuries, then released the seatbelt and climbed out of the car. She slammed the door, intent on giving the man a piece of her mind.

“What on earth were you thinking? You could have been killed. We both could have been killed,” she chided as she rounded the vehicle. But when she reached the gravel, she froze in her tracks.

“M’lady,” he said and dipped his head.

Dumbfounded, she stared back at him in silence. By far the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on, Katherine fought to keep her mouth from gaping open in awe. If a man could be beautiful, he truly was. Unbound, raven hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. Piercing blue eyes looked right through her as if he knew her innermost thoughts and desires. High cheekbones, a perfectly sculpted nose, and a strong jaw covered with a day’s worth of dark stubble completed his dashing features. With his broad chest, narrow waist and muscular thighs, he reminded her of a Greek god. When he smiled, her breath caught and her stomach did a quick flip. He reminded her the man in her dreams.

Katherine dragged her fingers though her hair. This was insane. He couldn’t be real. And if he wasn’t a figment of her imagination, there had to be a medieval reenactment going on in the area, she rationalized. Regardless, she had no idea who he was or why he was in the middle of the road on horseback. Common sense told her to get back in the car and leave. Yet she was drawn to him by an undeniable force she couldn’t explain. Instead of fleeing, she moved in his direction. But as she did, his horse reared up on its hind legs and a bright halo of light surrounded the pair before they faded and vanished.

Stunned by what she’d just witnesses, Katherine scrubbed her fist across her eyes, then cautiously inched forward and examined the road ahead of her. The thin layer of fresh snow was unmarred. Not a mark to be seen beyond her car, let alone any hoof prints.

Had she imagined this? If so, she really needed to get a grip on reality. She was under a lot of pressure. Enough to make a sane woman’s mind run amok. Perhaps she fell asleep at the wheel and lapsed into her fantasy about her knight-in-shining-armor come to sweep her off her feet and carry her away. Perhaps he was here to rescue her again. She gave her head a shake. “Like that’s going to happen. Where was he the night Ethan tried to kill me?” She huffed and brushed the snow from her shoulders, then plucked a cell phone from her pocket and held it in the air. “Damn. The battery is fully charged, but there is no signal.” Useless in this particular crisis, she dropped the phone into her purse, assuming she’d have no reception at the croft either. But she’d deal with that once she got herself out of her current mess.

Frigid wind mixed with ice pellets whipped around her. The snow had turned to sleet. Katherine shivered, briskly rubbed her bare hands together before tucking them under her armpits. Regardless if the event was real or imaginary, she couldn’t stay here. The sun had almost set, and unless she wanted to give up her inheritance and die of hypothermia, she had to finish her journey.

Determined to forget about the vision she’d seen, Katherine got back behind the wheel and turned the key. Greeted by a mournful, whining sound and a loud thump on her first attempt to start the engine, she tried several times, but to no avail. The dinosaur her aunt called transportation had obviously breathed its last.

She slammed a balled fist on the dashboard. “Now what do I do?” Frustrated, she realized her only option was to walk. If she didn’t arrive in time to claim the croft as her own, at least she’d have a dry place to spend the night.

The sign denoting the edge of the property was about a half a mile back. Perhaps it was only a bit farther. Before climbing out of the car, she retrieved her purse, the wooden box, and her carryon bag. Hoping she was right and the croft was near, she trudged off on foot, praying there’d be no more surprises waiting for her when she arrived.

Chilled to the bone, her feet and hands numb from the cold, Katherine needed to keep moving. She huddled beneath her jacket, following the roadway for what seemed like at least another half a mile. About to give up hope, she halted when a plume of smoke billowing above the trees caught her attention. While logic told her the fire didn’t likely come from Glen Heather, she prayed whoever it belonged to could offer some assistance.

Straying from the laneway and entering the forest proved to be a huge mistake. Not only did she lose sight of the smoke, but hundreds — perhaps thousands — of trees surrounded her in a shroud of foliage and darkness. What had she been thinking? She mumbled a curse. Making foolish choices was starting to become a bad habit. One that needed to be nixed in a hurry.

The idea of returning to the car crossed Katherine’s mind, but her sense of direction had never been good, and the likelihood of finding the heap was slim-to-none. Lost in the forest and caught unprepared in the middle of a fluke snow storm, she dropped to her knees, folded her hands, and glanced skyward. “Lord, if you can hear me, I could sure use your help.”

As a child, she’d been raised Anglican and never missed a Sunday service. However, after the untimely deaths of her parents and grandmother, she’d put her beliefs aside. Desperate for guidance, she regretted the decision to shun her faith, and hoped God was listening now.

Her benediction completed, Katherine opened her eyes and let out a whoop of joy. Certain her prayers had been answered she narrowed her gaze, peering through a small opening in the trees at what looked like a building. “Thank you,” she muttered, quickly gathered her belongings, and scrambled to her feet. Not bothering to brush the snow and leaves from her slacks, she darted for the cottage, collapsing when she reached the door, just as the sun slipped below the horizon.

Winded, Katherine sucked in a large gulp of air, followed by another short sharp gasp. Tears of emotion dampened her cheeks and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. She’d made it to her destination and with no time to spare. She was finally home, a safe haven where Ethan would never find her.

However, the more Katherine studied the structure, the less convinced she became it was Glen Heather. In the photos of her aunt’s abode, the larger-than-average cottage was nowhere near in this good of shape. Her ancestral home was in serious need of repairs. The place she’d landed was likely belonged to someone else, perhaps even someone who’d not welcomed being disturbed by a stranger. But she couldn’t sit here speculating. There was only one way to find out.

Calling on the last of her strength, she climbed to her feet, and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she balled her fist and pounded harder. “Is anyone home? Please, my car skidded off the road and I need to use your phone.” She wrapped her arms around her body and danced from one foot to the other in an attempt to generate some heat. After waiting a few more minutes, she reached for the latch — shocked when the door opened without the need of a key.

Katherine warily entered, swamped by a sudden feeling of déjà vu the moment she crossed the threshold and entered what appeared to be a kitchen. There was something strangely familiar about the place. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d been here before. But that would be impossible. The solicitors didn’t include any pictures of the interior, and this was her first trip to Scotland.

Pleasantly surprised to find a fire burning on the hearth, Katherine shoved the idea she was trespassing to the back of her mind and moved closer. Warmth enveloped her and the inviting scent of peat and wood smoke filled her lungs. She warmed her hands over the flames and moaned aloud. It felt so good.

After a quick glance around the kitchen, Katherine called out, “Hello, is anyone home?” She spoke quietly at first, then raised the volume of her voice when no one replied. “Hello?”

Judging by the fieldstone construction of the abode and thatched roof, the primitive furnishing, and the lack of modern appliances or conveniences, the place could have been built as early as the thirteenth century. The kitchen appeared to be one of several rooms. If everything she’d read about Scottish history was true, this was certainly not the typical one-room home of a Highland crofter. Obviously the original owner was a man of high standing in the community. Perhaps he was a wealthy farmer, a clan elder, or even held a title.

Regardless of who the first lodgers were, Katherine was exhausted, cold, and hungry. Surely the current resident would understand her plight, take pity, and grant her sanctuary for the night. Or so she hoped as she left the kitchen and entered what looked very much like a parlor. Again, not something she’d expect to find in a home this old.

“Is anyone here?”

Except for the crackling of wood burning on yet another hearth, she was greeted by silence. Her gaze traveled to a wall on which hung an assortment of colorful tapestries, swords, shields, and other medieval weaponry. Large overstuffed chairs and ornately carved tables completed the furnishings. And what appeared to be valuable vases and statues from the Orient adorned the mantle. In addition she saw a clock and moved toward it. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was same one she’d seen in the lawyer’s office, or one exactly like it.

Her thoughts quickly returned to where she was and who might live here. The knight on horseback immediately came to mind. If this was his home, it would certainly explain why he was in the area. Given the way he was dressed, the weapons on the wall, and ancient furnishings, she was all but certain she’d stumbled into his idea of a medieval paradise.

However, if this was Glen Heather, these items could have belonged to her aunt. Perhaps she traveled to exotic places and had a fondness for antiques. And while the home was supposed to be unoccupied, the solicitors could have lit the fires and candles when they dropped off her supplies. They did say there was a lot more to the estate than she thought and they’d seen it well stocked with things she’d need.

From the parlor, she ventured into the hallway, stunned to find four more doors. For a country cottage, the place was huge. Finding herself drawn to a room at the end of the passage, she wondered if perhaps the inhabitants were asleep and hadn’t heard her when she called out earlier.

Heart hammering, Katherine rapped on the door. “Excuse me. Is anyone in there?” She waited with baited breath. There was no telling what the occupants might think or do once they discovered her presence.

“Please, I need to use a phone.” Silence being her only reply, Katherine reached for the latch.

On the opposite side of the door was a bedchamber. A large, wooden, four-post bed, with a thick mattress covered with pelts and blankets was the focal point of the room. A fire burned low on an iron brassier in the corner. She’d seen one of the ancient heating devices when visiting a museum in New York City. Beside the bed stood a small table on which sat a lit candle, a clay jug, and a pewter goblet.

Katherine eyed the decanter. Thirstier than she could ever remember, she’d give anything for a drink about now. Curious if the jug was full or empty, she licked her parched lips and approached the bed slowly, her legs so heavy that each step was harder to take than the last. If she didn’t find a place to rest soon, she’d collapse from exhaustion.

It was rude to help herself, but Katherine had already broken every rule of etiquette she could think of, so one more wouldn’t make a difference. She lifted the jug, removed the cork, and sniffed the content. The heavenly aroma of spices taunted her nostrils, and she immediately recognize the scent of mulled wine. Her parents served it every year at Christmas, though she’d been too young to sample any.

She wasn’t much for spirits, but right now anything would suffice. It might even help to warm her up. After sitting on the edge of the bed, she filled the cup and raised it to her lips. The flavor of fermented fruit and cloves splashed across her tongue and heated her belly. She’d never tasted anything so good, nor had she been more grateful.

“Catriona,” a man shouted.

Startled, her breath caught and she dropped the cup. Someone was coming, and oddly enough, he knew her name, or at least the Gaelic form of it.

“Saint’s teeth, lass, where in damnation are you hiding? When I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you’d heeded my summons.”

Gripped by an unsavory mix of fear and panic, Katherine clutched a hand to her throat and prayed it wasn’t Ethan. It didn’t sound like him, but he could have hired someone to track her down. He had business connections all over the world, so it wouldn’t be unusual for him to have discovered her whereabouts so quickly. When he set his mind to something, he was like a pitbull with a bone. He didn’t know what it meant to give up.

Whoever it was, he was getting closer and he did not sound happy. She had to think fast, and waiting around for him to find her was not an option. Katherine rose to a wobbly stance, grabbing the bedpost for support when the room began to tilt.

“Catriona!”

Desperate to escape, she tried to take a step, but her legs suddenly refused to cooperate. Upon her second attempt, her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor with a thud. She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, wishing things would stop spinning. Nausea rocked her belly and her head throbbed, her mind clouded by an insidious fog that was rapidly destroying her ability to think clearly. “What … what’s happening to me?” she croaked.

The door to the bedroom slammed against the wall. “There you be,” the man growled.

“Lord help me,” she mumbled. The face of a man she didn’t know swam in front of her eyes, before everything faded to black.