Chapter 1
What is it about a man in a kilt that makes even the most reasonable, educated women act like silly schoolgirls?
I contemplate this as a bus full of the some of the sharpest, most well-educated women I know giggle and blush whenever Dougal or Seamus smiles at them. A few of the groom’s friends met us at the airport to escort us to the castle. The castle where in two days, one of my best friends will get married.
“Hey, Kate, do you think they are wearing anything under those kilts?” Ava peers over the rims of her tortoise-shell glasses and smiles as she waggles her perfect eyebrows.
“Shhhh, Ava! What if he hears you? This bus isn’t that big.” I admonish but I can’t help but smile. She hasn’t changed a bit.
I’ve known Ava since freshman year of high school when, on the very first day, she walked up to me and proclaimed us best friends. And so we’ve been best friends ever since.
“Kate, you will not be a fun sucker. You are going to find a man, enjoy yourself and go home with a good story or two. You will not visit any museums or historical sites, sweetie. No culture. Only hot men and even hotter sex. Have I made myself clear?”
I can only chuckle. She’s right. I can be too uptight sometimes. This is a good opportunity to let my hair down and party. Maddy, the final member of our trio, has wedding planners and a full staff at the castle to run the wedding so all I need to do is enjoy.
Madison is a force of nature. We met at the school bookstore, both of us buying our English lit books. Now, she’s a partner in her firm.
“Hot men and hot sex, yes, ma’am, but what’s wrong with adding a little culture to our great kilt adventure, hmm?” I ask.
“Only if you have hot sex on some historical monument are you allowed to do anything cultural.” Ava rolls her eyes and then goes back to smiling at Angus and his charming friends.
Ava said it loud enough to catch the attention of every male on the bus. If I’m being honest, men would probably hear a mouse whisper about sex.
“Och, lass, we’ll take good care of yer friend, ye ken be sure of that.” Colum smiles and winks at me as he answers Ava.
I swear, charm must be a prerequisite for being Scottish. Is there something in the water? Chuckling, I go back to my laptop as Ava eases into a conversation with the handsome Scot. I can’t hear what they’re saying but the soft cadence is a lovely backdrop to the grandeur of verdant hills, blue skies, and seemingly endless walls of stone. The purple patches of thistle cling to the hills like a blanket on a cool night and I feel at home.
An odd feeling considering I’ve never been to Scotland before.
My best friends have been my family for as long as I can remember. Ava and Madison are like the sisters I never had. I was raised by my grandmother since my parents died in a car accident when I was a toddler. Surrounded by books at a young age, the written word has always called to me.
I am an editor at a publishing house in New York. I love books. There’s nothing like a good story. I love the written word. I’m a city girl armed with my education and four-inch heels. I like men in suits, crisp and freshly pressed. Clean-shaven, witty, educated men who can discuss books and art. James Bond meets James Franco. Those are men that I can handle. In the city, surrounded by Starbucks and skyscrapers, I’m in my element.
Here, surrounded by big burly men in kilts, I find myself ill-equipped.
I’m sure I can get through one week in the Highlands among the verdant hills and stones standing sentinel over castles long since occupied. Ava and I are here to support Maddy. She’s marrying a Scot, and apparently, he has quite a bit of family still in the Highlands. She thought it would be romantic to have the ceremony in a castle. She and Ian, her fiancé, spared no expense.
A city girl at heart, even I can acknowledge the beauty of this land. The rolling hills, the standing stones, the lakes and the castles—it’s like a land lost in time. I feel like I’m walking through history.
I can practically hear the bagpipes trilling as we drive through the mountains to the castle. Every once in a while, when we have to stop to let sheep cross the road, Ava slides me a look. I know exactly what she’s thinking. Sheep. The only sheep I’ve ever seen were at a petting zoo. The driver of our bus regales us with lots of history as he effortlessly maneuvers the narrow streets. He’s a lovely older gentleman with ruddy cheeks, sparkling eyes, and bushy eyebrows. And, if I’m being honest, I can’t understand a word he’s said, but he’s sweet and has friendly eyes. His voice, though colored with a strong accent, is like an ancient song.
I lean my head back and listen to the laughter, the good-natured flirting and genuinely look forward to the festivities. Maddy has requested authentic Scottish fare. She even went to far as to hire storytellers and musicians. On our agenda, I note the horseback riding and even a whiskey tasting. She wants us to have the full Highland experience. And as Ava was quick to point out, the Highland experience involves getting close up and personal with some handsome Scots.
Though I have traveled quite a bit, Paris and Venice being two of my favorite places, I hadn’t expected to be so in awe of mountains and stone. But this place is a scene out of a fairy tale.
Magic and mountains and men. I can’t help but abandon my emails, lean my head back, and dream of tall Scots warriors and dark eyes full of lust.
“Wake up, princess.” Ava nudges my shoulder to rouse me.
Looking around, I see that we’ve arrived at our destination, Crathes Castle.
“What were you dreaming about, Kate?” Ava asks as I gather my things from the bus. “You were smiling in your sleep.”
Still drowsy I giggle. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Crathes Castle, nestled in the countryside of Aberdeen, is everything you’d imagine a Scottish castle to be. All at once it gives the impression of strength and culture. It’s imposing, yet welcoming; formidable, yet gentle. It’s as rugged and refined as the land itself.
There are stained-glass windows, fanciful gardens, and turrets. I’ve stepped back through time wearing Tory Burch boots and Chanel gloss. This is going to be a grand adventure. I can feel it.
It’s a soft breeze tickling my skin. As though I’m being reunited with a lover. It’s a strange anticipation. But how can I feel like I belong somewhere I’ve never been?
We’re shown to our rooms and given time to get settled. Though the itinerary is pretty packed, Maddy’s given us time prior to our welcome dinner tonight. I take the opportunity to unpack and shower.
Once I’ve had the chance to freshen up, I head downstairs to the main floor to join my friends. Dressed in an emerald-green strapless Dior, my hair in a low bun and four-inch Prada masterpieces. I feel like myself again.
“Kate!” Maddy hugs me and twirls me around.
“Maddy!” We’re both squealing and hugging like eight-year-olds. Of course, we’d be the only eight-year-olds in matching Prada. What can I say? We like nice shoes. Totally impractical on cobblestone but, hey, when in Rome . . .
“Come with me. Let’s get a bev, and I’ll show you around.” Maddy grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bar. Floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows sparkle like a symphony of color, and our heels are a clinking, clattering, chorus as our nude Prada’s flitter along the ancient cobblestone.
A handsome man with a silver platter stands before us as if summoned from the God of Champagne and hands us our drinks. Maddy is as bubbly as the champagne I’m holding.
“You look gorgeous, sweetie. How was your trip? Have you seen the groomsmen? How do you like your room?” Maddy fires off her questions barely able to contain herself. Her enthusiasm is contagious.
“You do, too! It was awesome. I’ve met a few on the bus. The room is perfect.” I answer all her questions in quick succession. I’m used to Maddy. She’s always a ball of energy but even more so in the midst of her wedding festivities.
“Hey sexy ladies!” Ava hugs us and we all embrace like long-lost sisters. It’s true that a day doesn’t go by that we don’t see each other or talk but we’re so excited for this wedding that we can’t help but rejoice in each other’s company.
“Did you see the tall dark-haired guy with the wearing the kilt?” Ava inclines her head toward a group of well-appointed groomsmen, and Maddy and I laugh.
“Ava, honey, you have to be more specific,” I say. “I think that describes half of this country,” I add as I scan the room. Tall, smiling men in kilts with hairy knees and broad shoulders fill the room and I think I may have to start looking at investing in property in this lovely country.
“I think I’m in love,” I say and two sets of eyes answer me.
“Me, too,” Ava replies, and Maddy laughs.
“Ladies, did I not tell you that Ian’s friends are hot?” Maddy whispers to us as we giggle.
There’s nothing like donning high heels and sipping champagne to wipe away the stress of everyday life.
“Yes. Yes, you may have mentioned that fact once or twice sweetie,” Ava replies.
We grab a seat at one of the tables and chat. Crystal vases full of wildflowers smile at us and I can’t help but smile back.
“It’s a good thing you’re alone, Kate. There are so many single guys here. You’re going to have a blast.” Only Maddy can make being alone at a wedding sound fun.
“So what’s next on the agenda Maddy?” I ask.
“Nice change of subject, Kate.” Ava laughs at me.
“Well, you know I like my freedom. There are still so many things on my list to do,” I reply. I’m usually so sure of enjoying my independence but somehow, surrounded by so much love and the joy of the wedding, I’m wondering what that day would be like for me.
“Yes, the list of things to accomplish is noble, hon, but who says you have to do those things alone? You can do them with a husband, ya know?” Maddy likes to remind me of this fact every time this subject comes up.
“I can go on a hot air balloon ride over the plains of Africa and drive a convertible through Tuscany,” I answer, “but I want to know that I can do those things on my own.”
“Anyway,” I continue, “if I go with some guy, what am I going to do with the guy I meet along the way?” I laugh and wink at her.
“Oh, now, I like how you think, Kate! I’ll be your wingman.” Ava smiles and sips her champagne.
“What’s this? Are you ladies drinking bubbles?” Ian joins us with a bottle of whiskey in hand.
“When in Scotland, ye must try the whiskey.” He smiles as he pulls Maddy to him and kisses her like his life depends on it.
Now, I’m used to cosmopolitans and chardonnay. Whiskey is another experience entirely. It’s hearty, warm, like a meal in itself.
As I look around for a glass to pour the golden liquid into, I see Ava put the bottle to her lips and take a swig. Ms. Manhattan drinking from a bottle. Now I’ve seen it all.
“Here ya go, Katie! Sláinte!” I take a drink from the communal bottle.
Ian’s friends and family are lovely. His Uncle James must know every historical battle that’s occurred in the last two hundred years. His brogue is as thick as the stones of the castle walls. And the more whiskey we drink, the more I think I understand him. It’s fascinating, really. The battles for independence, for liberation, and for borders, so many stories. Then there are the tales of love. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.
As we sit around the massive stone fireplace, James tells us of the history of Crathes and of the lady who roams the halls and the grounds. My skin prickles as he describes the land upon which the castle is built and why this lady is still roaming. She’s looking for her love. Waiting. I feel an inexplicable kinship with this spirit. She’s unsettled, searching for something that’s missing. What am I missing? I’ve accomplished most of my short-term goals. Yet, I have a sense that I’m missing something.
My thoughts are pulled back to the story as I hear Ava’s good-natured laughter.
“Magic coins? C’mon, James. I was with you until you got to magic coins. Is that like magic beans?”
James explains that the coins in the garden fountain are magic. If you make a wish from your heart, that wish will come true.
“Ach, lass, do you not believe in magic?” James asks with a twinkle in his eye.
“Like Santa and the Tooth Fairy? No. If I can see it and touch it, then it’s real,” Ava replies.
Smiling to myself as the blazing fire warms my skin, I wonder about the lady waiting for her love.
“And you, Kate, you surely ken it to be true?” James pulls me back from my musings.
“What’s that? Do I believe in magic?” I ask, and he nods with a smile. And before I can answer, drums beat, calling the castle to its dance. Everyone jumps to their feet and rushes to the grand ballroom.
“Come now, lass.” James offers his hand but I can’t seem to move from my spot.
“I think I’ll rest here a moment, thank you.” I grin.
“Nonsense.” He laughs and pulls me from the floor like a little girl.
As he twirls me around, I wonder if the bagpipes beckon the spirits to this place. Do the ancients long for warmth on a cool night?
My heartbeat has synchronized with the drums and fiddles, and I don’t know where the music begins and my body ends. This has to be what magic feels like.
Before I close my eyes that night, I wonder if my destiny is somehow connected with this place. The drums are still beating in the quiet. The stones of the castle walls whisper softly of ancient stories.
I love a good love story. It’s what I like to read and why I’m an editor. To believe in love, one must believe in magic. Perhaps I’ve lost a little of that wonder and magic in the day-to-day grind of city life. Perhaps the story resonates because that’s what I’m missing. Magic.
As the night winds down and my warm cheek presses against the cold pillow, the last thought I have is of a sparkling coin and a song on the breeze. A song only I can hear.
~ ~ ~
The next morning is Maddy’s wedding day, the day she’s been planning for a year. The frenetic energy is palpable. When we were first asked to be in her wedding, we thought we would end up wearing tartan and corsets. Thank goodness our girl didn’t go for the full Highland experience. Instead, she opted for black silk sheath dresses and Manolos. I spent the year growing out my bob haircut so I could wear it in a chignon like Ava.
The reception is being held in one of the castle’s many massive halls. Built during the Scottish renaissance, the high, wood-paneled ceiling is painted with what appears to be flowers and fruit and much of the original furniture remains. Tall, narrow windows allow the light from the night sky to cast an ethereal glow. Women in black gowns and glossy red smiles bustle around the room laughing and socializing while waiters serve hors d’oeuvres. Flowers are everywhere. A profusion of pink peonies tumble from tall vases while white roses in silver Revere bowls grace each table.
It’s the perfect day to get married. Granted, it’s not my wedding. I’m not entirely sure that it will happen for me.
“There’s nothing like a guy in a tux,” Ava whispers as she grabs my hand.
“Amen to that, sistah. Amen to that,” I whole-heartedly agree.
“Do you have your wedding day planned out in your head, Ms. Kate?” Ava bumps my hip and smiles at me.
“Perhaps,” I hedge but Ava’s not buying it.
“Tell me.” She pouts at me. “Or are you going to live in your pretty apartment surrounded by books and cats?” Ava laughs at me.
“No cats. Lots of books, of course. I date. It’s not like I’m a recluse. I just happen to have high standards.” I reply a little too defensively even for my ears.
“You’re a snob but that’s okay. I am, too.”
Ava’s always been able to call me out and I can’t seem to fault her for her honesty.
“I know what I like, and I won’t settle.” I respond as I watch the stained-glass twinkle like jewels in the sun.
“You know me, Ava,” I say. “I like to try new foods and travel, but in all honestly, I could easily stay home and read. Though it’s part of my job, I genuinely enjoy it.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince, her or me. Ava feigns a yawn and pulls me toward the champagne.
“Listen, sweetie,” Ava says as she grabs two sparkling glasses from a silver tray, “you know I love you but you need to chill. Stop trying to plan and just go with it.”
“I promise I’ll try.” And I close my eyes and raise my arms to the sky, I can hear Ava giggling, “Universe, I vow to be open to new experiences so bring it on.” I open my eyes, down my champagne, and wink at my best friend.
“That’s the spirit, lass,” a deep baritone booms from behind me.
“Colum,” Ava practically purrs as she says his name.
“Ava.” His deep burr charges the air around us as he leans in to kiss her cheek. “Ye look lovely.”
“Katie, you look bonny as well,” and I can’t help but giggle as he leans down to kiss me on the forehead. They sure grow them big here. I’m about six feet tall with my heels on so feeling short next to a guy is uncharted territory for me. I inwardly cringe as Ivy League Kate smacks Dreamy Girly Kate in the head.
“The bride beckons.” Colum inclines his head toward the back of the hall where Maddy is waiting.
“Shit!” we exclaim and grab a few glasses of champagne each.
“We were supposed to bring some back for her but we got side-tracked,” Ava comments to our handsome escort.
“Aye, I ken.” He laughs, and I may have giggled again.
Get a grip, Kate!
“She sent me to gather ye from yer wandering. We’ll be starting soon.”
Ava, Colum, and I hurry to our bride.
As we open the door to the anteroom, Colum kisses Ava again, and I wonder if I’ll be attending another wedding in the Highlands in the near future.
I’m immersed in romance all day. My fingers drip with it. I live it. Breathe it. There should be sparkles and butterflies swirling around me as my heels click along Fifth Avenue.
This trip marks the beginning of Maddy’s life with Ian and the end of my relationship with Randall.
“There you are,” Maddy exclaims, “I’m parched.”
“Don’t ruin your lipstick, sweetie,” I say but she’s already finished one glass and eyeing the other in my hand.
“So, Ava, how’s Colum?” I tease but I know she loves it.
Ava blushes. “He’s delicious, isn’t he?”
“See, Katie, I bet you don’t even miss Rick.” Maddy laughs a little.
“Randall. His name is Randall,” I correct her as she and Ava roll their eyes and mouth his name. They never really liked him. They only went along with him for me.
He and I had dated for a year. Things were going along well. We had settled into a routine as most couples do until one day, over dinner, he suggested we move in together. I was apprehensive but I thought it was rather romantic of him to suggest until he further explained that it was quite practical to live together. We could consolidate our expenses. That was his pitch to me over sushi! Very romantic!
I deserve to be swept off my feet, to feel the magic. A declaration of love doesn’t involve credit scores or sharing data plans.
“Riiiight. Randall. I don’t miss that guy at all.” She and Maddy enjoy the laugh, and I can’t really disagree.
“Places, ladies.” The event coordinator ushers us into our places as the makeup artist walks down the line re-applying gloss and fixing our hair.
The atmosphere in the ballroom is the complete antithesis to that of the church. Where the church was serene and spiritual, the ballroom is loud and boisterous. As glasses are filled, laughter and conversation fill the air. The orchestra plays, and couples dance to Ella Fitzgerald and Harry Connick, Jr.
It’s perfect, and yet at that very moment, I can’t get enough air into my lungs. The room swims, and I carefully make my way through the crowd of partygoers onto the patio. I inhale the brisk night air and begin to relax a bit.
I still can’t shake the feeling something is missing. Something more is out there for me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“You’re thinking awfully hard for such a lovely night,” a deep voice says from behind me.
I turn, startled from my melancholy, to face the handsome groomsman I met earlier in the day.
“Come dance with me.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond but takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. The gentle crooning of Nat King Cole whispers in the air as he masterfully maneuvers me around the patio.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”
“I hadn’t realized I looked so deep in thought. I suppose I should thank you for the diversion.”
He chuckles low and deep as he turns me about.
“A diversion? I’ve been called many things, I can assure you, but never a diversion. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take it as a compliment or else I shall be wounded. Men have such fragile egos, you know.”
I can’t help but smile at his honest charm. The fact that he’s tall and handsome and has a wonderful Scots accent has nothing to do with it, of course. We continue to dance in companionable silence and when the song ends, he kisses my cheek and hands me a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.
“Would you come back inside with me, or would you like to take a stroll in the garden?” He smiles, lighting up the patio with his crooked grin.
“I think I’ll stay out here and get some air,” I respond.
“Would ye like some company, or would ye like to be alone?” His eyes are warm as whiskey.
“I think I’ll just walk a while alone but I’ll be back inside shortly,” I say. “Thank you for the lovely dance.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says and kisses my hand before returning to the reception.
I should have gone back inside with him. I must be crazy! If Ava was here, she’d give me an earful.
Instead, champagne in hand, I turn toward the garden alight with lanterns, and carefully walk down the stone steps. Although the castle is in impeccable condition, four-inch heels are not made for leisurely strolls.
The garden path is paved with gravel looking as old as the castle itself. I wonder about all who walked this path before me. Were they kings and queens? Lovers meeting under moonlight shielded from the world by high garden walls? Great knights fighting for fair maidens? I can’t help but wax poetic in a setting like this. As the gentle crooning of Michael Bublé recedes into the night, I make my way toward the gurgling and sputtering of a fountain.
The garden is like a living museum. There’s a stone angel in the center of the fountain with wings that span from above his shoulders down to his heels. With a face of a Canova, its feathers are so realistically carved that I reach out to touch them, only to pull back. They say the castle is built on ancient land harboring stone circles and an ancient lunar calendar. Certainly, if this isn’t a magical place, nowhere is. The sound of the bubbling water is like a lullaby. It’s so peaceful. I could sit here forever and stare at stars in the sky.
Gazing up at the sparkling sky, I can’t help but think about Randall. He would be totally out of place here. I appreciated his practical nature and no-nonsense style. The girls said he looked good in a suit but that’s where the compliments ended. I can’t blame Randall because we didn’t work out. It takes two and if I’m being honest, I don’t know that I ever really loved him. There was no spark. I’m sure he felt like something was missing too. He was just too much of a gentleman to say it. And I thought I was more practical than I really am. I thought I wanted a strait-laced guy, but apparently, deep down, I want adventure and romance and . . .
“. . . magic.” I hear myself say the word out loud.
Talking to a statue, Kate?
Closing my eyes, a tall Scottish warrior comes unbidden to my mind, and I realize I need to back off the Highland romance novels. I like to think of myself as a modern woman. I prefer to be independent. I date corporate men. I like a good suit. Time to put fanciful, Dreamy Kate aside and get back to reality.
I should really get back inside before they miss me.
Leaning down to pick up my shoes, I notice something sticking out of the gravel. It looks like a coin.
I’m going to need another manicure after this, I think, as I sift through the tiny stones. Finally getting it out, I can see it’s a coin, but it’s filthy. It’s been in the dirt for a while. Rubbing it between my fingers I can make out a picture but I can’t really see it well, so I swish it around in the fountain to clean it off. Holding it up to the lantern, I can see it has a crown on one side and what looks like a cross on the other.
I’ll have to Google it when I get back to my room. Google knows everything.
For now I sit back down, pull my hair out of the tight chignon and put the bobby pins into my clutch then place it on the bench next to me. I study the coin in my hand. Rubbing my thumb over the raised cross, I smile at the angel.
“I wish for a wild, unrelenting love. Do you hear me, angel?” I face the statue, waiting for an answer.
“Is that too much to ask?”
He doesn’t answer me. All I hear is my heart beating and the faint whisper of bagpipes.
So I close my eyes and inhale the crisp, clean night air. The face of a man with eyes the color of the night sky appears again. Smiling to myself, I wonder who he is.
His face is the last clear image I have.