Down the Rabbit Hole

PROLOGUE

NEW YORK, 1990

“Highlands?” The four-year-old girl lifted wide, trusting eyes to her grandmother. “Why do they call it that, Gram?”

“It is high country, and very rugged. It’s where my ancestors in Scotland lived, my darling. It’s also wild and grand and beautiful.”

“I love your story about the Beast of the Highlands. Why was he called that?”

“A spell had been cast upon him. At the dawn of each new moon the man was turned into a huge, wild stag, with great, punishing antlers. No one ever saw the creature, though many claimed to have heard his dangerous hooves pounding the earth as he raced through their villages. Of course, it was all a myth.” The old woman smiled. “Now, to finish the story. Thanks to the wonder of magic, the beast was once more turned into a handsome man who embraced the lovely woman who saved him, and they lived happily ever after.” Evelyn Campbell’s voice lowered to a purr as she glanced down to see her little granddaughter’s eyes closing.

As she started to get up, little Beth’s hand shot out, stopping her. “More, Gram. Did the beast ever return?”

“No more tonight, my darling. It’s time for dreamland.”

“Do you think Mommy and Daddy are living happily ever after in heaven?”

The simple question had the old woman blinking back a rush of scalding tears. The loss of her son and his wife on the slick, curving highway in California was a hole in her heart that would never close. “I’m sure of it, love.”

“When I grow up I’m going to tame a beast who is really a handsome prince and we’ll live happily ever after like Mommy and Daddy.”

Evelyn bent over to kiss her granddaughter, looking like a tiny princess in the pretty canopied bed. “That is my hope for you, too. But remember, darling girl, that handsome isn’t what matters. He must have a good heart.”

“How will I know if his heart is good?”

“As we get to know people, they reveal their true selves. Our job is to listen and learn all we can, and then we must trust our own heart.”

“I will, Gram. I promise. ’Night.”

“Good night, my darling Beth.”

“I love the stories you make up, Gram.”

The old woman stood a moment beside the bed, watching as her granddaughter drifted into sleep.

If only she could do the same. But sleep, as well as peace of mind, had eluded her since the accident and the arrival of her precious grandchild.

To add to her pain, just today the doctor had confirmed the dreadful diagnosis, telling her she had little time left. And when she was gone, her son’s last wish would be denied.

He had left behind a letter, written shortly after the birth of his child, asking that his mother assume custody of Beth should anything happen to him and his wife. He had specifically requested that his daughter never fall into the hands of his sister, Darda, with whom he’d had an explosive relationship his entire life.

Richard had been a loyal, loving son. An athlete who also embraced academics. A lawyer who championed the down-and-out. His wife, Cybil, had supported his causes and had worked tirelessly alongside him in the law firm that carried their name.

Darda, on the other hand, was the pampered darling of her father and his first wife. From an early age she’d shown a tendency toward cruelty, and had learned how to wrap her weak father around her finger and obtain her every wish. And, oh, the exotic, outrageous, selfish things she’d wished for. Despite Evelyn’s repeated pleas to her husband to stop giving in to his daughter’s demands, he had adamantly refused. It had brought a painful end to their marriage, and Darda had grown up a spoiled, self-absorbed, bitter young woman.

Evelyn Campbell sighed as she walked from the room. When her illness became too advanced to care for little Beth, she feared what would happen to this sweet, innocent child, since there was no other family member to care for her. She couldn’t bring herself to consider offering her only grandchild up for adoption. There seemed to her only one road left open. As distant as they had become, Darda was all the family left to her.

Evelyn could only hope that the years had changed the spoiled, mean-spirited girl Darda had been into a more compassionate, caring woman who would see the goodness in this child. In the meantime, Evelyn vowed to spend whatever time she had left preparing Beth to resist the temptations of this sometimes selfish world to become a fine woman her parents would be proud of.

She fervently hoped the lessons of childhood would stay with the girl for a lifetime.

CHAPTER ONE

NEW YORK, PRESENT DAY

“Beth.” Darda Campbell ushered her niece into an exquisitely appointed office. “I’d like you to meet Alan Connifer.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “Of Connifer-Goldrich?”

“The same.” The handsome, prematurely gray-haired man offered a handshake before indicating a pair of chairs across from his desk.

Following her aunt’s lead, Beth sat.

She could feel the top executive studying her. “Darda and I have had several long, intense meetings, both here in New York and at my firm in London.”

Beth folded her hands primly in her lap. Since joining her aunt’s firm, she’d worked harder than any of her contemporaries, hoping to prove to Darda that she was worthy of the position. Darda had taken over her late brother’s small law firm and turned it into one of the most prestigious in the state. As president and sole owner of the Darda Campbell Agency, Darda had a reputation for being a tough, take-no-prisoners negotiator who showed not a drop of mercy. Now, with a contingent of top foreign firms paying court, rumors were rampant that they were about to be swallowed up by a giant conglomerate and half the firm would be sent packing. A second rumor speculated that they would all receive promotions and huge bonus checks to go along with the firm’s expansion.

Beth figured the truth lay somewhere in the middle.

Without preamble Alan announced, “The Darda Campbell Agency has accepted our offer to merge with Connifer-Goldrich.”

Beth blinked. So, it was true. Her father’s once-tiny firm would now be part of a multibillion-dollar international conglomerate that specialized in negotiating impossible deals for developers coveting exotic properties around the globe.

Alan fixed Beth with a look. “I’m sorry to say we’ll be cutting back on your department, since we already have enough in-house lawyers.”

Beth braced herself for the ax that was about to fall on her head.

Instead, Alan’s next words had her looking up in surprise.

“But, since you’re part of Darda’s family, we’d like to keep you on.”

He turned to Darda. “Why don’t you tell her the rest?”

Darda’s lips were carved into her famous ice-princess smile. A smile that never reached her eyes. “You’re being offered the deal of a lifetime. The firm is sending you to Scotland to meet with a . . . difficult client. He happens to own a huge tract of land that a client of Connifer-Goldrich wishes to develop. There are stepsiblings, I understand, who very much want to sell, as the will states that they will be given one-third of any profit from a sale. But the client has sole discretion on the entire estate, and right now he’s resistant to any sale. If you can get him to sign a contract, you’ll be given a title with our new firm and a very generous bonus.”

Beth didn’t bother to ask what would happen if her impossible mission failed. One fact had been drilled into her from the time she was a little girl: If she wished to please Darda Campbell, failure was not an option. “Do you have the particulars?”

Alan picked up a USB flash drive and passed it across the desk. “This is everything we have on Colin Gordon, whose nickname is the Beast of the Highlands. He’s called that because he’s known as an angry, no-nonsense loner who would rather hike the mountains or fish in an icy stream than sit by the fire in his grand lodge. We’ve tried in the past to entice him to sell, but he has no need of more money, and he’s impossible to deal with.”

“The stepsiblings?” Beth looked hopeful. “Can they be counted on to persuade him?”

Alan shrugged. “Let’s hope so. Though Colin Gordon calls his estate a humble hunting lodge, it’s actually a palatial estate set in the heart of the Highlands, where the people are often as fierce as the land and the weather.”

“Why would anyone want to plan a development in such a place?”

Alan looked over. “It’s a privately owned paradise for sportsmen. Lakes teeming with fish. A forest, closed to hunters for hundreds of years, that is home to many rare species, including red deer and even the occasional Scottish wildcat. Quaint villages nearby would be snapped up by upscale retailers, eager for a new venue.” He paused a moment before asking, “So? Think you’re the one who can make this happen?”

Beth felt the weight of the world descending upon her shoulders. This was a test. She would have the opportunity to prove that she could be as shrewd a businesswoman as Darda. Winning at any price was Rule One in Darda’s world.

She pasted on her best smile. “I’ve always wanted to visit the Highlands. My grandmother was born there. Besides, you had me at . . . title and bonus.”

Darda shot Alan a smug smile before turning to Beth to offer a handshake. There had been no hugs in her household. And here at work, she wouldn’t permit her niece to even hint at anything personal. Whether at home or at work, she was ma’am or Darda. Never Aunt Darda.

“The firm is counting on you, Beth. I’ve spent a lifetime playing hardball with the best of them. Now it’s your turn to show me that you can do whatever it takes to close this deal.”

“I won’t let you down.”

“Of course you won’t. Your place with the firm is depending on it.”

Darda turned to Alan. “If we’re finished here, I have some details to see to.”

Beth winced, certain that the “details” involved giving notice to dozens of young lawyers like herself that their jobs had just disappeared.

When they were alone, Alan sat back, looking relaxed and relieved to have finished with his business.

“I knew your father. He and I were in law school together.”

At that, Beth brightened considerably. “Oh, how grand. What was he like?”

She had no idea of the absolute hunger in her voice, in her eyes.

Alan gave her a gentle smile. “Darda told me about her brother’s accident. How old were you?”

“Four. I lived with my grandmother for almost two years before she passed away, and then I was taken to live with my au . . . with Darda.”

Hearing the slight hesitation, he nodded. “I’m sure you were too young to remember much about your father. He was positively brilliant. The rest of us had to work twice as hard just to keep up. But what struck me most was his compassion. I do believe Richard Campbell was the kindest man I’ve ever met. And your mother, Cybil, suited him perfectly. The two of them made the title ‘lawyer’ not only respected, but revered. They took on impossible cases, often pro bono, and won against all the big dogs. They were known as dragon-slayers.”

“I’d heard this firm was well-regarded in his day, even though it was quite small.” Beth was positively beaming. “I wish I could have been a part of it then.”

Alan looked away. “You have your aunt. And now you have the power of Connifer-Goldrich behind you.”

“Yes. Well . . .” Beth got to her feet, clutching the flash drive. “I’ll familiarize myself with the details of this client, and, as Darda promised, I’ll close the deal for you.”

As she turned away, Alan Connifer said, “Beth.”

“Yes?” She turned back.

He merely looked at her for long moments. Then, shrugging, he smiled. “You remind me of Richard.”

“Thank you. I can’t think of a finer compliment.” Beth floated away on a cloud. But minutes later she began to wonder if it had been meant as a compliment, or if Alan Connifer considered her to be, as Darda had often complained, too softhearted to fit into the corporate world.

She would show him. She would show all of them.

* * *

As soon as the plane from Laguardia to Edinburgh landed, Beth phoned Stag’s Head Lodge to report when she’d be arriving. She settled into the rental car and programmed the GPS, noting the estimated time before reaching her destination.

As she steered the car away from the town and toward the Highlands, she went over in her mind all the information she’d learned about her formidable opponent.

Colin Gordon had been educated like royalty. After attending boarding school at Eton, then moving on to Oxford and the University of Edinburgh, he’d returned to Stag’s Head Lodge, where his father had remarried after the death of Colin’s mother. Not long after, his father had died, followed shortly by his stepmother. As heir, Colin had taken the necessary steps to clean up an estate riddled with debt. It would seem his stern father had chosen to look the other way as his wife’s son and daughter by a previous marriage had partied like rock stars. Both were now married, but despite their established place in wealthy, titled society, rumors persisted that they were living beyond their means and were urging their stepbrother to sell Stag’s Head in order to erase their debt.

At Darda’s insistence, Beth had already notified all parties concerned of her pending arrival, in the hope that the stepsiblings could add a little weight to the deal.

Before leaving the country, Darda had given her niece her marching orders.

“Our firm has authorized you to offer one hundred million.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “So much?”

“Too much.” Darda’s tone hardened. “Start the offer at half. That way you have some bargaining room if he balks. For every million you shave off his price, the firm will add to your bonus.”

“Do you think that’s wise? What if he’s insulted by a lowball figure and flatly refuses to even deal with me?”

“That’s all part of the art of negotiating. You need to know just how far you can push the client before he loses interest.” Darda clapped a hand on her niece’s shoulder. “But I should add that I’ve found a lovely villa in the south of France that could be ours for just under five million.”

Ours. The very word registered as alien to Beth’s ears. Though Darda was responsible for raising her, she’d never felt any bond of kinship between them. In truth, Darda had always deliberately held Beth at arm’s length, sharing nothing but their name.

“Not bad for a few days of having to put up with a stuffy Highland lord. Did I mention that the firm arranged for you to stay on at Stag’s Head Lodge?”

“But why? If the negotiations should stall, don’t you think it would be a lot less awkward if I had a room in a nearby village?”

“Awkward for you or the client?” Darda’s eyes narrowed. “Your comfort isn’t important. You always want to remain close to the client. That way, whenever the opportunity presents itself, you’re there to press him.” Darda’s carefully cultured voice played through Beth’s mind. “Let me remind you. Not only is your job on the line here, but my reputation, as well. I expect you to do whatever it takes to land this deal. Do I make myself clear?”

Beth struggled to put aside any lingering guilt at the thought of separating a Highland lord from his ancestral estate. She knew she had to land this for the firm, no matter the cost to her conscience. After a lifetime of being told she was too tenderhearted, or, as Darda liked to say, too warm and fuzzy, to ever succeed in the hard-knock world of business and finance, she intended to finally win her aunt’s approval and guarantee a place with this new firm.

While she finalized her mental strategy for dealing with her hard-nosed client, she peered at the gunmetal gray clouds spitting rain over the gloomy countryside. In a strange way she welcomed the bleakness of the day. She needed no distractions as she went over in her mind the moves that Darda had so carefully planned and plotted.

As she drove through the village of Stag’s Head, she decided to make a stop, noting the clean streets, the smiling faces. It would be her last chance to be alone until the deal was finalized.

Though she hadn’t planned this, she found herself drawn to a little shop offering late-afternoon tea and scones.

The shopkeeper brought her order to a small round table for two and paused to pour tea.

After a few pointed questions about her reason for the visit to his town, he smiled, giving him the look of an ancient, gnarled cherub.

“Ye’ve business with the laird, have ye? A finer man ye’ll never meet. ’Tis thanks to him that I’m still in business. Most of the folks in town will tell ye the same. Unlike some who’ve inherited land and titles, our Laird Gordon truly cares about the lot of us. This town wouldn’t survive without the laird’s generosity.”

Beth considered his words as she enjoyed the scone, still warm from the oven, and strong, hot tea. Fortified for the rest of her journey, she walked to the doorway where the old shopkeeper stood.

“Thank you. I’m glad I made a stop here. The tea and scones were lovely. Now I’m off.”

“Aye. It’s just up the road a bit, lass. No more than a few kilometers and ye’re there. Take care, now. It isn’t safe to be out of doors after dark, or . . .”

A customer stepped between them, placing a hand on the old man’s arm and engaging him in small talk.

Beth glanced at the old man, who waved a hand before continuing his conversation with his customer.

Fortified by that brief respite, Beth settled into the rental car. She couldn’t wait for her first glimpse of Stag’s Head Lodge.

As the car followed the twists and turns of the narrow road, she could just make out the stark outline of a fortresslike castle up ahead before it was hidden from view by ominous clouds.

She smiled. Only the very rich would consider calling a castle of that size a hunting lodge.

She was still smiling when, without warning, her car’s engine suddenly died.

Puzzled, Beth tried the ignition. Nothing happened. She sat for a moment before trying again.

The engine was completely dead.

Darda’s first rule popped into her head: Punctuality. In order to impress her clients, it was necessary that she reach her destination on time.

Annoyed, Beth slung her bag over her shoulder and dug into the backseat for her small overnight case. The rest of her luggage would have to remain with the car until she came back for it. Locking the doors, she started on foot, determined to walk the final mile. As she trudged, she questioned the wisdom of having worn such fashionable heels. She’d wanted to make a good first impression, but her choice had been frivolous. Still, her walking shoes were in her suitcase. There was no time to turn back to the car and rummage around for them.

She pushed aside her doubts. She’d walked much farther than this in the city. What woman hadn’t sacrificed comfort for style, especially when the stakes were so high?

Dusk was settling over the countryside, and she had begun to accelerate her pace when she suddenly stumbled. The weight of her overnight bag added to the momentum. With nothing to grab on to, she fell face forward. Instead of hitting the ground, she could feel herself continuing to fall down a long, dark tunnel.

As the darkness rushed by she let out a piercing scream before landing hard and hitting her head, causing a shower of stars to dance through her brain.

Such pretty, spinning stars, in bright neon colors.

It was her last thought before losing consciousness.

CHAPTER TWO

“Well now. What have we here?”

At the strange voice, Beth opened her eyes.

Standing over her was a plump little groundhog wearing a chef’s hat and a long white apron, and peering at her as though she had two heads. In the animal’s front paw was a giant wooden spoon that could have easily served as a paddle for a boat.

How was this possible? A talking groundhog? Dressed as a chef? The fall must have been much more serious than she’d thought. Her brain was muddled.

Still . . . she’d seen his face somewhere before, though she couldn’t recall where. “Who are . . . ?”

“I have baking to see to. Bones and phones to add to my scones.” He abruptly turned.

“Wait. Please don’t leave me.”

“I mustn’t be out at the start of a new moon or I might encounter . . .” He never even gave her a backward glance as he hobbled away.

She was left alone, with only silence.

Of course she was alone. She’d only dreamed her visitor.

She eased to a sitting position and felt her head swim. Touching a hand to the spot, she could feel the sticky warmth of blood.

Very slowly she picked up her purse and overnight bag before getting to her feet. She started walking in the direction the funny little groundhog had gone, though she had no idea where she was, or what might lie ahead. Dream or no dream, that creature was her only guide.

Why was the countryside so dark? Where were the street lights? Had the fall affected her vision? And where had she been headed? Oh yes. Stag’s Head Lodge. Thank heaven she had enough brainpower to remember that much.

As she came up over a rise she spotted a light up ahead. A light that seemed to be swaying, before abruptly moving away. Alarmed that she would be left behind in the dark, she started running and stumbling until she could make out the figure of a giant stag up ahead.

Hearing her footsteps, it turned, and twin beams of blazing red light were fixed on her with a look so fearsome, she covered her eyes and looked away.

When she looked up she realized her mistake. It wasn’t a stag, but a horseman holding a lantern as he headed away from her.

“Wait. Stop.” Dazed, confused, she began to run after him. “Can you help me? I seem to have lost my way.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” In the darkness, the heavily accented Scottish voice was low with anger.

“I’m expected at the lodge. I’m Beth Campbell from New York.”

“A Campbell? On Gordon land? How dare—”

“I phoned to say I was on my . . .”

Feeling herself fading, she began to sway as the sky above her slowly circled.

The man was out of the saddle and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. With little effort he swung her up into his arms and mounted his horse.

“Thank y—” Her throat was so dry, she couldn’t seem to make her mouth work.

His breath was hot against her cheek. “It’s not thanks I want. I’d much prefer to see the back of you as you take your leave of my land. But for now, I suppose, I have no choice but to take you with me.”

He flicked the reins, and the great black horse started toward a darkened fortress in the distance.

Beth found herself in a most awkward position, being held in the strongest arms she’d ever known, her face nearly buried in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. She breathed in the scent of forest and evergreen, making her think of a wild, dangerous, primitive creature. She felt small and insignificant in his arms.

A feeling of sheer terror rose up and had her by the throat, but she couldn’t make a sound.

He was dressed in a rough woolen cloak, with the hood lowered, allowing his shoulder-length hair to flow out behind him.

As the horse’s hooves ate up the distance, he spoke not a word, leaving Beth to hear nothing but the pounding of her own heartbeat mingling with his. A strong, steady drumbeat that had her own pulse speeding up.

At last they arrived in some sort of courtyard. A dozen hounds swarmed around the horse, setting up a chorus of baying until the man gave a single command. At once they dropped to their haunches and remained still as statues, tongues lolling. He dismounted, still holding Beth in his arms as easily as if she weighed no more than a feather.

In the blink of an eye the hounds disappeared, to be replaced by a cluster of men, all dressed in similar fashion to her rescuer, in rough woolen cloaks, hair and beards long and unkempt.

A stooped, furry groundhog, a twin of the one in the chef’s hat and apron, caught the reins and led the horse away. The men formed a circle around the man holding Beth.

“What have ye here?” one of them asked.

“A Campbell. She seems ill or wounded. Possibly demented, by the odd way she speaks. I’ll have Maura see to her.”

Her rescuer carried her through a doorway and into a cavernous room lit only by the roaring flames of an enormous stone fireplace. The log ablaze on the grate was as big as a tree trunk.

The man lowered her to a fur-covered chaise set in front of the fire.

A plump gray rabbit hurried toward them. “Ye’ve need of me, m’laird?”

“Aye. This female seems to be in distress. See if she is injured, and minister to her needs.”

“Aye, m’laird. Will ye have ale?”

“I will, Maura. It’s been a long journey.”

The rabbit hopped away.

Minutes later Beth felt a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. She opened her eyes to see an old woman kneeling beside her, holding a bowl of steaming broth and a goblet of something warm and red.

“Are ye strong enough to drink this, lass?”

“What is it?”

“A bit of broth and some mead, lass. They’ll ease yer pain and give ye strength.”

Beth managed to sit up, taking several sips of broth before tasting the sweet, pungent, fermented mead. She managed only a few swallows before setting it on a side table. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be all right. My car’s engine died, and I started walking when suddenly I tripped and fell down some kind of black hole.”

The woman was staring at her as though she’d just spoken gibberish.

“Could you contact someone at Stag’s Head Lodge and ask them to send a driver to fetch me?”

The woman began to press her backward against the chaise. “You lie down now, lass, and rest a bit until yer mind clears.”

“My mind is clear. My name is—”

The old woman gave a quick shake of her head. “The laird told us yer name. Ye’d be wise not to speak the name Campbell here at Stag’s Head Lodge.”

“This is Stag’s Head?” Beth was up and on her feet, visibly swaying. “Then they’re expecting me. I phoned and told them I was on my way.”

The old woman glanced across the room. “Ye can see she’s not herself yet, m’laird.”

Beth turned and saw the man who’d carried her standing in front of the massive fireplace, holding a tankard of ale.

The men standing in a cluster around him were talking in low tones until he waved a hand, dismissing them. They walked to the far end of the room, where they stood watching and listening.

The man had shed his cloak and now wore a length of plaid tossed over his shoulder in a rakish manner and tied around his waist like a kilt. On his feet were leather boots. Other than that, his legs and chest were naked.

On any other man this whole pose of an ancient warrior would look phony. Like some cover model or actor hoping for his fifteen seconds of fame. But there was something about this man. Something dark and rough and dangerous that had him looking like the real thing, and had Beth’s breath backing up in her throat.

He shot her an angry look. “Now you’ll tell me what a Campbell is doing on Gordon soil.”

“I have an appointment with Colin Gordon.”

He set down his tankard with enough temper to have the ale sloshing over the rim. “I am Laird Colin Gordon, woman. And I’ve never before met you.”

Beth swallowed and decided to try a reasonable approach. “I can see that I’ve crashed your masquerade party. I’m truly sorry. But my firm arranged this meeting, and nobody told me about the party.” She tried a tentative smile. “If you’d rather, we can certainly postpone our meeting until tomorrow, at your convenience.”

The man looked beyond her to the old woman. “It’s as I feared. Demented, she is. Take her above stairs and see that she’s made comfortable until I figure out what’s to be done with her.”

“Aye, m’laird.”

As the old woman began to lead Beth away, the man added, “And, Maura, see that she’s not left alone.”

“Aye. I’ll see to it, m’laird.”

Stung by his insults, it was on the tip of Beth’s tongue to protest, but she realized she didn’t have enough energy for even that small effort.

As she began to sway and drop to the floor, she was once again lifted in those strong arms. She heard the man’s muttered oath as she was carried up a rough, winding staircase and into a room with massive wooden beams overhead and a long balcony offering a view of a midnight sky sprinkled with millions of stars.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her voice sounded strange in her ears, like a child whispering down a long, hollow tube. “I’ve never fainted before.”

“’Tis the bump on her head, m’laird.”

“Let’s hope so. More likely, she’s escaped from some poor fool’s tower, where she’s been hidden away because of her affliction.”

“I’m not mad.” Beth wanted to stomp her foot, but being in the man’s arms, all she could do was thump her fist against his shoulder.

He looked down at her, and she could see a glint of humor in his eyes.

Was he laughing at her? That thought only added to her fury.

“Ah, Glenna.” The man spoke to an orange-and-white kitten who was busy setting a fire on the grate. “Fetch a nightdress for my . . . guest.”

“Aye, m’laird.” The kitten hurried away and a young, red-haired serving lass returned with a soft woolen gown with a high, prim neckline, long, tapered sleeves, and a skirt that fell to Beth’s toes.

The man stood facing the fire, allowing the lass and housekeeper to minister to Beth until she was settled into a soft pallet. Then he walked to her side.

His tone was gentler than before. As though he’d decided upon a temporary truce. “Sleep now. Tomorrow will be soon enough to explain your reason for being here.”

She could feel his eyes, dark and fierce, pinning her with that look that seemed to see clear through to her soul.

Her own eyes felt heavy. And though she had a hundred questions still unanswered, she was too weary to ask them. Where had she landed? What sort of place had rabbits and kittens that turned into human form? Why was everyone here treating her as the odd one, when it was clear that she was the only sane one among them? Or could it be that this castle was in some other dimension? An alternate universe? Could she be suffering some sort of mental breakdown?

Snug and warm, her head still pounding from the fall, she drifted into a restless, dream-filled sleep in which the apron-clad groundhog was offering her tea and scones and telling her to beware, and a plump gray rabbit was sponging the blood from her head and pouring it into a tankard for her to drink, insisting it was good for her.

The whole world had gone mad.

* * *

Beth lay perfectly still, listening to the sound that had wakened her. The whispering of the wind? Or voices? Voices, she decided. They sounded very near, but when she looked around, the room was in darkness except for the dim light from the hot coals on the grate.

“You promised to find someone to do the deed.” A woman’s whisper, low with anger, drifted on the breeze.

“I found a hunter.” The man’s tone was soft, placating. “I’ve secured a place for him here with the other guests. But I don’t trust him.”

“Why?”

“Now that he has seen the splendor of this place, he is demanding more gold than he’d first agreed upon. He threatens to reveal our secret unless we double our offer. I need to find another to do the deed.”

“Fool! There’s no time left. It must be done before we leave. If my debts are made public, my husband will refuse to pay. I fear he’ll leave me this time. I’ll be a pauper.”

“As will I, if I don’t soon make good on my promise to Judith’s father.”

“What foolish promises have you made now?”

“He learned that I’ve been neglecting her in favor of gambling and . . . other women. If he should tell her, and she leaves, all will be lost. I’ve given my word to give up my vices and become a dutiful husband.”

The woman’s voice lowered to a hiss. “Your hunter must finish this.”

“For double the price?”

“What do we care what price he demands?” There was a hint of smile in the woman’s words. “Once the deed is done, we’ll see that he takes his secret to his grave. That way, we get to keep it all. Ours, as well as what he demanded.”

There was a long stretch of silence before the man’s voice sounded hushed. “How clever of you. You’re right, of course. He leaves us no choice. If we’re ever to be free, we must rid ourselves of all obstacles.”

“There will be a new moon rising soon. Send your man to Stag’s Head Peak as soon as it appears in the sky.”

“’Twill serve the beast right. All his grand talk about honor. He values his family lands more than his family’s needs. I’d gladly trade both honor and land for the gold it will bring us.” The man’s voice was chilling. “Soon it will all be ours. And no one will be the wiser. Even while they mourn their loss, our clansmen will cheer the death of a beast that fills all their hearts with terror.”

“And all will hail the day that they were finally set free of the Beast of the Highlands.”

CHAPTER THREE

Beth jolted upright and felt a moment of panic at the shadows leaping and dancing across the walls of her room. When she realized they were caused by the flames on the grate, she let out a sigh of relief.

Had she really overheard a plot to kill Colin Gordon? Or had it all been a bad dream? After that fall, and the crazy night she’d put in, she couldn’t be certain of anything. She decided that, at least for now, she would store it away, along with all the other strange nightmares that had plagued her sleep. They’d been so disjointed, so terrifying, they couldn’t possibly be anything more than bits and pieces of nonsense. It had to be as Colin Gordon had told his housekeeper. The fall had affected her mind.

The dawn sky outside the balcony was awash with ribbons of pink and gold and mauve. If she moved quickly she might still be able to repair the damage she’d caused by her embarrassing introduction. That awkward fall on the way to the lodge had ruined any hope of making a grand entrance. On the contrary, she’d made a complete fool of herself the previous evening. She’d not only barged in on a party, but had angered her host.

At least he’d been gracious enough to permit her to stay the night. But he’d been angry enough to let her know he felt he had no choice. No matter what arrangements had been made by the firm, she feared she would not be welcome to remain another day. She needed to meet with him as soon as possible and present the firm’s offer, before she lost her best, her only, chance to make a deal.

She touched a hand to her head, where a dull ache was a reminder of just how hard she’d fallen.

She shoved aside the bed linens and got to her feet.

She could find no light switch. What in the world . . . ? Could Colin Gordon be so determined to honor his family’s history that he’d refused to switch his hunting lodge over to electricity?

And where were her clothes? Apparently the housekeeper had taken them away to be cleaned. In their place lay a very old-fashioned costume. Some sort of gown of unbleached ivory wool, along with a soft chemise and knee-length drawers that appeared to be hand-embroidered with delicate rosebuds.

Was this intentional? Was she being informed that the masquerade party would last the entire weekend?

Feeling foolish, Beth washed herself in a basin of rose water she found on a nightstand and dressed in the costume the old woman had provided, then pulled on a pair of soft kid boots. She crossed to a mirror and couldn’t help laughing at the sight that greeted her. She looked like one of those characters in the fairy tales her grandmother had enjoyed reading to her. It was a far cry from the chic image she’d learned to project at work.

Without hairspray and pins, she wasn’t able to fasten her hair in its usual no-nonsense knot at the back of her head. Instead she was forced to run her fingers through it and let it fall long and loose to spill past her shoulders.

“All right, all you lords and ladies,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “Two can play this game.”

She stepped out of her room.

A youth was lounging against the wall. At the sound of her door opening he straightened, while his hand went to the sword at his waist.

Beth tried to cover her surprise. “Good morning. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone up at this hour. And in full costume, too.”

The boy looked around rather wide-eyed before saying, “The laird’s belowstairs. He said I was to report to him as soon as ye showed yerself.”

“Fine. I’ll let you lead the way.”

Instead of walking in front of her, he waited until she reached the staircase before falling into step beside her, darting quick glances as they walked.

“And just where is the . . . laird?”

“In the library, m’lady.” As they reached the lower level he indicated a hallway, and Beth moved along at his side until they came to huge, intricately carved double doors.

The lad knocked and the voice from within called, “Come.”

“The lady is here, m’laird.” The youth stood aside, allowing Beth to precede him.

“Thank you, Jamie.” Colin Gordon appeared distracted, staring out a window and frowning.

In the dancing light from the fire on the hearth he was even more darkly handsome than he’d seemed the previous night. He wore the same length of plaid over some sort of full-sleeved, saffron shirt. His long hair was tied back with a narrow strip of hide.

His eyes reflected the firelight, gleaming like a cat’s as he turned to study Beth. He looked, she thought, exactly like a Highland warrior about to do battle. He was perfectly suited to play the role of lord of the manor.

“Shall I wait, m’laird?” Jamie stood just inside the door, his hand at his sword, shooting nervous glances at the young woman beside him.

“Nay. I’ll summon you when we’ve finished.”

When the door closed behind the lad, Colin Gordon watched in silence as Beth crossed the room to stand in front of him.

He was wearing the same frown he’d worn last night every time he looked at her. Still, with so many guests here, this may be the only time she would have his undivided attention. She seized the opportunity.

“Thank you for the clothes.”

“You may thank old Maura.”

“I will, when I see her. I’m sorry for that awkward scene last night.” She managed a smile, though her heart was racing. “I fell and hit my head on my way here, and I’m afraid it left me a bit muddled. But now, after a good night’s sleep, I’m feeling much better. I’d like to fill you in on the offer my firm is prepared to make.”

“Offer? Firm? I know not these words.”

Oh, the man was good. His face had gone deliberately blank, as though he hadn’t a care in the world about the offer. Or maybe millions of dollars didn’t matter to an already wealthy man. Still, since he’d been alerted to her arrival, and the reason for her visit, he had to be aware of what her firm was planning.

Beth realized that Colin Gordon wasn’t going to make this easy for her. If she wanted to seal this deal, she would have to be every bit as cagey as he.

She pasted on her best professional smile and held out the packet of documents she’d prepared before leaving New York. “Maybe we could sit and go over these point by point.”

He led the way to a massive hand-carved desk.

Before either of them could take a seat, the door was opened and a pack of hounds burst into the room, barking, howling, and slathering as they formed a circle around their host and his guest.

Beth let out a cry of terror and cowered against the desk.

Colin gave a quiet command, and the hounds turned into a cluster of men, laughing, talking among themselves.

Beth clutched her arms to her chest, on the verge of tears. It was clear to her that the bump to her head had been much more serious than she’d first thought. She was still seeing impossible visions. And though the vision had cleared, revealing humans, she found herself questioning her sanity.

One of the men slapped a second man on the back. “Hamish here wants to bet me a hundred gold pieces that he’ll be the last man standing if ye’ll agree to a contest.”

Their host’s head came up sharply. “What sort of contest, Ian?”

Ian’s ruddy young companion was grinning from ear to ear. A toothy smile so wide, it seemed to stretch his face to the limit.

“I know ye’re planning a hunt. Hamish can best any man here.”

“Except you, m’laird,” the grinning young man added with a slight bow.

“So I’ve heard, Hamish. I am told you are the master with both dirk and longbow.”

Hamish’s smile stretched even wider. “With enough ale in me, I might even beat ye, m’laird. And I’d dearly love to double my money with Ian here.”

“What you two choose to wager is your own business.” Colin shot a knowing look at the one called Ian. “But I’ve already warned you that I’ll not pay your debts, brother.”

At his use of that term, Beth shot him a look of surprise, before reality dawned. Ian would be Colin’s stepbrother.

Colin set aside the documents Beth had given him and walked around the desk. “Since you’re dressed and eager for the day, I suggest we go to the refectory and see what Mistress MacKay has prepared.”

Beth’s heart sank. Her one moment was gone, and with it, perhaps her only chance to speak privately with Colin Gordon.

Her host turned to her. “You’re welcome to join us as we break our fast, though I assure you the other ladies are still abovestairs, as is their custom.”

Perhaps food would restore a clear mind. “Thank you. I’ll join you.”

The noisy revelers led the way from the room, and her host approached and offered his arm, indicating that he would escort her. Tentatively Beth placed a hand on his sleeve.

The heat that danced along her flesh had her looking up at him. He looked down at her in the same instant, and the feeling intensified. As if little fires were being set up and down her spine.

She saw the flash of something dark and dangerous in his eyes, and her throat went suddenly dry.

“Will you honor me by joining us in the hunt, my lady?”

There was no way she could graciously refuse her host’s offer. “I would be delighted.”

He closed a hand over hers. “I am honored.”

Walking ahead, Hamish said something before punching Ian in the arm.

Colin’s stepbrother swore good-naturedly before returning the blow to his friend’s shoulder, sending the taller man bumping against the wall.

Hamish was still rubbing a hand over the tender spot as they entered a room lined with rough wooden tables and benches. Several young women were dashing about, setting out platters piled high with slices of meat and joints of fowl. In the middle of the room stood old Maura, calling out orders and chastising any server who happened to move too slowly.

When the group of men entered, Maura called out a greeting before disappearing. Minutes later she appeared alongside a tall blue crane, its beady eyes unblinking, its head making jerking movements as it walked stiff-legged toward their host.

Beth blinked and the tall bird turned into a stick-thin woman in a long white apron, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun at the back of her head.

“Ah, Mistress MacKay.” Colin stopped, and his entire company paused at either side of a long table. “What have you prepared for my guests this morrow?”

“Fowl, m’laird. And yer favorite, warm bread puddin’.”

Beth watched as Colin’s face creased into a smile, which completely transformed him from stern warrior to dangerously handsome rogue. She couldn’t decide which one intrigued her more. She was prepared to stand toe-to-toe with the warrior. The rogue, on the other hand, presented a much greater problem. She couldn’t imagine any weapon she could use against that heart-melting smile.

“You do know how to please me, Mistress MacKay.”

“And have, since ye were a wee bairn, m’laird.”

Laughing, Colin walked to the head of the table and indicated a wooden bench to his right. He remained standing until Beth and his guests were seated.

Old Maura hurried over to ask, “Will ye have ale or mead, m’lady?”

Recalling her dream, Beth quickly discarded the idea of blood-red mead. “Ale, I believe, Maura.” She noted with a sense of unease that her host had been right when he’d warned her that she would be the only female in the room, except for those who were serving the men. “Why are the other women not here, Maura?”

The old woman whispered, “’Tis too early for highborn ladies. They prefer to break their fast in their rooms, and then allow servants to help them prepare for the day.”

“I see.” Beth glanced around. “Will they mind that I’ve joined their men?”

The old woman gave a mirthless laugh. “They’ll not give you a thought, m’lady.”

The men seated around the table were too eager making plans for the test of skills to even acknowledge the presence of a lone woman in their midst. She could have been invisible for all the interest they paid her.

“Where will we hold the contest, Ian?” one of them asked.

Colin’s stepbrother was quick to respond. “In the high meadow.”

“So far? Just below Stag’s Head Peak?” Hamish raised a brow. “We dare not tarry up there, or we could encounter the Beast.”

Ian sent him a chilling look, and in that moment he became a sly, cunning fox, his eyes alight with sudden knowledge. “The forests around the high meadow are lush with game this time of year. ’Twill be an easy matter for the lads to scare up enough quail and pheasants to make the contest interesting.”

Another man spoke up. “If the lads are busy shaking the bushes for game, we’ll be scattered in every direction. Who’s to fetch our game as we take it down?”

The fox merely smiled, as though anticipating the argument. “We’re all honorable men. We need no judge riding alongside us to keep a tally of the kill.” He turned to his brother. “Unless you’ve a better idea?”

Colin shrugged. “Murdoch has a right to question. We’ll send as many lads as we can spare to retrieve the dead game when the contest is over. Since every man here has his own distinct feathers affixed to his arrows, it will be an easy matter to see who brought down the most.”

The fox’s eyes glittered. “There. The laird has spoken. Eat up, lads. Then we will make haste to the high meadow.”

“And if we’re delayed until darkness?” Hamish persisted.

The fox shot a meaningful glance at the others. “I’ll send some lasses from the village to hold yer hand and help ye forget yer fear, coward.”

The others around the table burst into gales of teasing laughter, and Hamish ducked his head, while the fox transformed from animal to human.

Beth had watched and listened in silence, too stunned by the quick transformation of Ian into both fox and man to pay close attention to his words. Either she was completely losing her mind, or she’d landed in a place that was both magical and dangerous. And for now, she would cling to the hope that, though she felt completely lucid, something otherworldly had taken over her life. Though a contest between warriors interested her not in the least, she felt a tingle at the base of her skull. She tried to recall the words from that frightening dream. Hadn’t they mentioned Stag’s Head Peak? Or was she merely inviting drama that didn’t exist?

While the others enjoyed their fine meal, Beth vowed to herself to pay close attention, for there was evil in this place. And magic. Or else, she was going completely mad.

* * *

Beth stood on the balcony of her room and watched Colin Gordon walking the garden path below. Since he was alone, it seemed the perfect opportunity to try her luck with him yet again.

Snatching up the hem of her skirt, she hurried across the room and down the stairs.

Once outside, she paused a moment to catch her breath before walking quickly toward the figure moving along the pathway.

“Would you mind some company?”

At her words, the figure paused before turning. His head was bent, his hands behind his back. A man, it seemed, with much on his mind. But once he spotted her, he forced a smile to his lips.

“My lady Campbell. I’d be pleased for your company.”

She flushed at his courtliness. “I know I’m intruding on your privacy, but I’d like to discuss the terms of the sale, if you’re willing to listen.”

Distracted, he merely nodded before starting along the stone pathway, with Beth doing her best to keep up.

“Connifer-Goldrich would like to offer you . . .”

He paused, placing a hand on her arm to halt her words. “I know not this name.”

For the space of a heartbeat, she couldn’t find her voice. Her entire being was concentrated on the flood of heat radiating from his touch to every part of her body.

She stepped back, away from the heat, and waited for her heart to settle.

“I work for them. I’m here to present their offer for”—she swept a hand to indicate the lovely view before them—“all of this.”

“They desire my gardens?”

She smiled. “And all that goes along with them. Your lodge. Your land. These glorious hills. The lake.”

“Aye. The land. The hills. The loch.” His smile was gone. “The Campbells have always wanted what is mine. ’Tis not for sale, at any price.”

“But . . .”

He was already several steps ahead of her. She moved quickly to match his pace.

He never once stopped to admire the lovely roses in full bloom or the birds fluttering their wings around the sculpture of a goddess in the center of a fountain. He strode straight and sure on the stone pathways between the hedgerows.

But as she struggled to keep up, Beth found herself enchanted by the view. The fragrance of roses hung heavy in the air. The sound of water flowing from the sculptured fountain was a balm to her troubled soul.

“I can understand why you would be loath to consider selling all this. Now that I’m here, I think it may be the loveliest place on earth.”

He stopped then, and though his frown remained, he allowed himself to look around, as though seeing it through her eyes.

His own eyes softened. “Aye. ’Tis a bonny place. We stand on hallowed ground.” He pointed to a small chapel across the garden and started toward it, with Beth trailing behind.

When they came to a fenced area, dotted with stone markers and sculpted angels, he paused. “My ancestors lie here. Those who died in battle, and those who mourned them. One day I’ll join them as well. Until then, I see it as my duty to nurture the land and the life they left in my care.”

Without thinking, Beth touched a hand to his. “I can’t think of a more peaceful place to spend eternity.”

He glanced at her small hand, and then up into her eyes with a fierce look that had her heart racing.

Before she could pull away, he closed both hands over hers. “Are you telling me a Campbell can understand what this place means to me?”

She swallowed. “Please don’t judge me by my name.”

“How else am I to judge you?”

“Judge me by my character. By my behavior. By the choices I make.” She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “I’m more than a name.”

“As am I.”

She nodded and managed a small smile. “Maybe . . .” She sighed. “Maybe we could start over. I know I made a bad impression when I . . .”

He touched a finger to her mouth to stop her. Just the merest touch, but she felt the fire all the way to her toes.

“My lady Campbell . . .”

“Beth,” she corrected.

“Beth is not a name. I shall call you by your full name. Bethany.”

She was caught by surprise. “How did you guess? Most people think it’s Elizabeth.”

“Nay. It could only be Bethany.” He spoke the word in a harsh whisper. “For ’tis truly a bonny name.”

And then there were no words as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her full on the mouth.

An earthquake would have been less devastating than the kiss, which seemed to spin on and on, catching them both by complete surprise.

His arms came around her, drawing her against him, while his warm, firm lips moved over hers with a thoroughness that had her trembling.

She was so caught up in the moment, she found her arms around his neck, though she didn’t recall how they got there. And when his hair brushed the backs of her fingers, she absorbed a tingling sensation that raced through her veins.

When at last he lifted his head, he stared down into her eyes with a look that was devouring her. “Are you a witch then, Bethany Campbell? For I know of no other reason I should behave so boldly with a woman I’ve only just met.”

Though she knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide with surprise, she couldn’t look away. “I’m no witch, my lord.”

He reached out a big, rough palm to cup her cheek. His voice was husky with emotion. “Perhaps not, but I’m bewitched all the same.”

“I’m the one bewitched.” Her tone was low. Breathless. Troubled. “Ever since arriving here my world has turned upside down. Nothing is as it should be.”

“’Tis true for me, as well. You’ve brought a candle to my darkness.” He bent to brush a soft, butterfly kiss over her lips. “Now, my sweet, fair Bethany, you must leave me. This very moment. Before I do something that would shame us both.”

She stared mutely as the meaning of his harshly whispered words sank in. She caught up the hem of her gown and turned away.

She knew she was taking the coward’s way when she ran as fast as she could from the garden.

And all the while she could feel the heat of his gaze fixed on her as she made her escape.

CHAPTER FOUR

Beth paced the length of her room and back before pausing at the balcony to see Colin pacing the garden like a caged animal. Even from so great a distance it was clear that he was as tormented as she.

What in the world had she been thinking? How could she expect to conduct business, for heaven’s sake, to negotiate terms of a sale with a man after allowing him to kiss her like that?

Allow? That was too mild a word. She’d been a full participant in that kiss. And it shamed her to realize that if he hadn’t been the one to call a halt to it, she would still be in his arms, taking pleasure in the amazing feelings his touch aroused in her.

Though it was completely out of character for her, she’d welcomed the unexpected rush of passion. Had embraced it. And even now, just thinking about his kiss had her trembling like one of the silly, lovesick heroines in the novels she’d kept hidden from her aunt in her teens.

She turned away from the balcony when the door to her room was opened and old Maura stepped in, her arms filled with fresh clothing.

“If yer to ride to the hunt, m’lady, ye’ll need proper clothes.” She set her burden down in the middle of the bed and began to sort through them. “We keep a store of the lady Catherine’s clothes.”

“Lady Catherine?”

“The laird’s mother. Though she’s been gone these many years, the old Laird Collier kept her gowns in a small room abovestairs. Since she was near your size, I thought they would do, though I’m sure Edwina will sulk.”

“How kind of you, Maura. Who is Edwina?”

“Why, the laird’s stepsister. She and Ian are the product of the old laird’s second wife and her first husband. Laird Collier Gordon wed her after Lady Catherine died.” Under her breath she muttered, “May God rest her dear soul.”

“You cared for her.”

“The lady Catherine? Aye. She was loved by all who knew her, my lady.”

“And Laird Collier and his second wife?”

“Both gone to the grave now. Our affection for the old laird never wavered, though we all questioned his wisdom. He lies buried beside the chapel, next to Lady Catherine.” Her smile turned to a frown. Her voice lowered with a trace of scorn. “His second wife was taken by her children to be laid to rest with those of her clan.”

“Do Ian and Edwina live here?”

The old woman shook her head. “They live among their mother’s people. She first wed a wealthy laird from the clan Campbell . . .” She stopped, her eyes wide as she realized what she’d revealed. “Begging your pardon, my lady. Ye probably know of yer kinswoman? The lady Darda Campbell.”

“Darda . . . ?” Beth turned away to hide her shock. Her aunt’s name was uncommon enough that she’d never before heard it. And now, to hear it in this place seemed unimaginable.

“Was she as beloved as the Lady Catherine?”

The old woman’s voice was icy. “She was undeserving. All she loved, all she coveted, was the old laird’s gold and lands. There now, my lady. I’ve spoken ill of your kinswoman, and may my Maker smote me for it.”

Beth managed a smile. “You’re free to say whatever you wish. My clan is far from here, Maura. In a land across the sea.”

“Across the sea? ’Tis more than the mind can imagine.” The old woman shivered at the thought of it and shook her head in amazement before holding up a gorgeous long skirt and fitted jacket in lush green velvet. “This will keep ye warm as ye join the hunt.” She began helping Beth out of her wool gown and into the riding clothes.

When Beth was dressed, Maura held up a jaunty green hat adorned with a veil and a jewel-toned peacock feather. Placing it just so on Beth’s head, the old woman stood back to admire her handiwork. “There now, m’lady. Take these.” She offered a pair of softest kid gloves. “The laird instructed me to tell ye yer groom will be waiting at the stables with your mount. Mistress MacKay is preparing a picnic luncheon to be served in the meadow.”

“Will the other women be joining the hunt?”

Maura shook her head. “They care not for it. But they’ll attend the meal in the meadow.”

When Beth stepped from her room, Jamie stood waiting, and walked beside her down the stairs and across a sloping lawn to the stables.

It was clear to Beth that, even though she was being treated as a guest, she was not to be trusted. Colin Gordon wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. Which was no doubt the reason he’d invited her to join the hunt. And when he wasn’t around, that duty would fall to this lad.

Colin was astride a spirited black stallion. He wore a woolen cape tossed rakishly over one shoulder. When he saw Beth striding toward him, his gaze fixed on her with such intensity, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

She paused beside a stable lad holding the reins of a horse and looked up at Colin. “I hope you don’t mind that Maura offered me the use of your mother’s things?”

“Not at all.” He was out of the saddle and striding toward her. “I’d instructed her to use whatever suited you.”

“Thank you. That was very generous.”

“It was necessary. You could hardly sit a horse in a day gown.”

While the groom held her mount, Colin assisted Beth up a carpeted set of steps that made it possible for her to slide easily into the ornate sidesaddle.

When she was offered the reins, she felt a moment of panic. But the docile mare stood perfectly still, allowing Beth to relax.

Colin returned to his horse, mounted, and led the way from the stable area.

The horsemen fanned out in a wide circle, except for their host, who reined in his stallion so that he could easily ride alongside Beth.

Why had she worked herself up over this? What could she possibly have to fear on this lovely, sunny day?

At the end of the day, when the contest had been decided and the men were celebrating, she would find time to talk privately with her host and present the firm’s offer once again.

She would close the deal, ride off into the sunset, and return to her firm to enjoy the spoils of victory.

And she would remember for a lifetime that memorable kiss from a Scottish nobleman.

Lulled by that thought, Beth let go of the last of her tension. She’d never seen a lovelier place. With the sun high above, and a field of heather all around, she decided to take the time to savor the view and simply enjoy the day.

* * *

“So.” Colin’s voice was low, so as not to be overheard by his guests. “You seem clearer of head with each passing hour. Have you put aside whatever was troubling you last night, my lady?”

“I have, thank you. I know I caused quite a fuss when I crashed your party last night. Blame it on the fall.” Beth touched a hand to her head. “I’ve got a nasty bump. But other than that, I’m fine.”

“Fine indeed.” He was studying her far too closely. “And fair of face.”

At his words, his gaze moved over her with a thoroughness that had the heat rushing to her cheeks. Almost as if, she thought, he was replaying their kiss in his mind.

He cleared his throat. “You remind me not of any Campbell. Neither in looks nor demeanor.”

“I’m told I take after my father, though I don’t remember him. He died when I was very young. And I’ve seen pictures of my mother. I have her eyes. She was a Douglas. Cybil Douglas Campbell.”

His eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re a long way from either clan.”

“Actually, I wasn’t born in Scotland.”

“England, then?”

She shook her head. “I’m from New York.”

At his puzzled frown she added, “America.”

“I know of it. I’ve heard it described as a primitive place.” He glanced skyward, to watch the path of an eagle soaring toward a distant ridge of trees.

Beth felt a quick rush of alarm. Was he teasing her? Or could it be as she’d feared? Could that fall have pushed her into another dimension? Some strange, mythical world? In truth, hadn’t she felt as though she’d traveled back in time to some long-ago place of her imagination, where animals walked upright and some even turned into noble heroes?

She arched a brow. “Tell me something. Do you invite your friends here often?”

“This is a rare respite. As you well know, the times are troubling. Our beloved Highlands are divided. Some of the clans have grown rich accepting favors from the English. They would swear fealty to the English queen, subjugate the surrounding clans and strip us of our ancient lands and titles unless we do the same. But we will stand by our beloved Mary. With our Highland warriors at her side, she will prevail, and all disputes will be settled.”

Stunned, Beth thought about the Scottish history that she’d so loved in her college years. If what this man said was actually true, she’d somehow been thrust back to the sixteenth century, when Mary returned from France after the death of her young husband, Francis, and assumed the throne of Scotland, paving the way for a deadly duel with Elizabeth I of England.

A perilous time in history, with two powerful nations hovering on the brink of war.

Beth chose her words carefully. “And you don’t doubt your loyalty, my lord?”

“Regardless of the outcome, I am loyal to our Mary Stuart, who deserves to sit upon the throne.”

He saw the way her brow furrowed. “’Twould seem you disapprove.”

“No. It’s just that I know what will happen . . .”

At a shout, he looked up, before turning to her. “I must leave you.” He turned back to Jamie, who rode a short distance behind them. “You’ll stay with the lady while I see what Ian has found.”

Beth watched in alarm as he nudged his horse into a run.

She remembered a great deal more about the history of this country than mere names and dates. She knew the outcome of this rebellion. And it spelled disaster for all who defied England. Many would lose their ancestral lands. Some would die in an English prison, or be hanged as traitors.

Sweet heaven. Now she was certain that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a head injury. Somehow that fall had transported her back to Scotland’s dark and dangerous past, where Highlanders were divided, and many would pay with their lives. As long as she was here, she had no way of escaping the fate of Colin Gordon and his clan.

These were very troubling times. And she was trapped, with no way out.

* * *

Colin watched as his guests cheered the sight of hundreds of quail and pheasants lifting into the air as young lads from the village raced through the brush, brandishing tree branches to frighten the birds into flight.

He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Let the contest begin.”

At once Ian and the others notched their arrows to their bows and took aim.

Each Highlander used the feathers of a different bird to balance his arrows. Thus it was an easy task to determine by the arrow embedded in the dead bird just which hunter had made the kill.

Ian turned to their host. “You’re not joining us?”

“Aye. In time. I prefer to give my guests the honor of first kill.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You think yourself so much better than the rest of us that you would hold back?”

Colin merely smiled. “I consider it my duty to be a good host first, and to partake of the games only when my guests are enjoying themselves.”

As Ian wheeled his mount and began riding after the others, Colin reined in his horse and watched with a thoughtful frown.

His thoughts weren’t on the hunt, but rather on the female. On that kiss in the garden, which had inflamed him as none ever had.

Who was she, and why had she chosen this time to come into their midst? Was she, as he feared, a spy, sent by the Campbell clan to report on his intentions regarding Queen Mary? After his stepmother’s heavy-handed rule over his father and his clan, he trusted no Campbell. Especially one so young and fair.

Still, she seemed truly confused by her fall. Or addle-brained.

Colin considered himself a good judge of character. And though he intended to keep a watchful eye, he found himself beginning to believe that she was as she appeared. Not so much addled as injured. There seemed to be a goodness in her heart, a sweetness in her soul that called to him. A dangerous thing, he knew. Many a laird had failed to understand that a fair face could hide an evil heart. Had not his own father made such an error in judgment? The price paid for his father’s folly was still being exacted today. Darda was not a woman to be trifled with. As she had so ably proven.

The stranger could be here to relieve him of the last of the Gordon legacy. Hadn’t many a devious woman mastered the art of seducing a laird before betraying him?

Seeing the female and Jamie approaching, he put aside his troubling thoughts and forced himself to smile.

“Now that you’re here, we’ll observe the others.”

Jamie looked surprised. “Yer not joining in the hunt, m’laird?”

“There’s plenty of time, lad.” Motioning for Jamie to give them some room, Colin guided his mount to fall into step alongside Beth’s horse and found himself enjoying the way the sunlight turned her hair to spun gold.

“This place you spoke of. This New York. Do they all speak as you do?”

Beth nodded. “They do.”

“And that strange manner of dress when you first arrived, baring your legs as a Highland warrior, but wearing on your feet small bits of calfskin with daggers at the heels? This is also something your kinsmen wear in your country?”

Beth found herself laughing. “The heels aren’t really meant to be daggers, though I suppose they appear that way to someone who’s never seen them before. They’re considered fashionable in New York.”

“Fashion?” Colin frowned. “I’ve heard the women in the English court are consumed by it. Here in the Highlands we’re more concerned with surviving the cold and feeding our young. We are constantly at war, if not with neighboring clans, then with the English, who will never cease until we wear the yoke of oppression. We’ve no time for frivolous pursuits.”

Beth instantly sobered. “I’m truly sorry for your hardship. I hope it will give you some comfort to know that life will be easier for your heirs in generations to come.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Are you one of those who can see the future?”

“I . . .” Unsure how to answer, she merely nodded before looking away.

“Ah.” He drew the word out as he pondered this bit of wondrous news. “And do all your people in New York have this power?”

She swiveled her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“So you are one of the few.” He leaned close to place a hand on hers, lowering his voice so that Jamie wouldn’t overhear. “Have you come here to warn me, or to use your power against me?”

Again she felt the most amazing rush of heat, which sparked up her arm and sizzled along her spine, and wondered if this man had some sort of strange power as well.

“I would never . . .” Her voice caught in her throat, and she struggled to remember why she had come to Stag’s Head. To urge this man to sell that which was most revered by him. To persuade him to offer up his ancestral land for a modern development that would turn this idyllic paradise into a playground for the rich and famous. Her tone lowered. “No matter why I was sent, now that I’m here, my only wish is to help you in any way I can.”

“I wonder . . .” He kept his hand on hers for long moments while he stared into her eyes.

At last, satisfied with what he saw, he straightened and looked across at Jamie. “My guests have had enough time to thin the flock.” He removed his bow and reached into his quiver for an arrow, bearing the distinct eagle feathers adopted by his father and grandfather before him.

He watched the path of a bevy of quail and took aim. Once released, the arrow flew straight and true, and the bird fell to the earth, followed by another, and yet another.

Jamie was out of the saddle to fetch the game, which he tossed into a leather pouch before pulling himself back into the saddle, declaring, “A clean kill every time, m’laird.”

“You’ll see that all the game brought down this day is given to the villagers, Jamie. Enough to satisfy the hunger of every family.”

“Aye, m’laird.”

Colin gave a nod of his head before urging his mount forward, toward the cluster of men in the distance.

While Beth and Jamie watched from a nearby hillside, the hunters scattered across the verdant meadow, calling encouragement to one another and shouting triumphantly with each kill.

Though Beth abhorred the killing, she felt consoled by the fact that this contest would feed the poor villagers.

It was, she realized, another reason to admire Colin Gordon. He gave his guests a fair advantage, and he used the fruits of this contest to see to the needs of his people, who trusted him to look out for them.

CHAPTER FIVE

By the time the sun was high overhead, a line of horse carts had filed across the meadow, where, under the care of Mistress MacKay, a tent was erected, and tables groaned beneath the platters of fresh salmon and mutton, and even a whole roasted piglet. There were baskets of bread and sweetmeats, and flagons of ale and mead.

The women, who had remained at the lodge to be pampered and bathed, arrived in a wagon, their gowns fluttering in the breeze like pretty wildflowers.

Once there, old Maura took charge of their comfort, offering them cushioned chairs beneath the cover of a tent.

A tall, regal woman in a gown of rich, royal purple separated herself from the others. From a distance, she was every inch a queen. Even her hair, in a coronet of braids, was topped by a circle of diamonds and precious stones that caught and reflected the sunlight.

As she drew near, Beth could see her face. Though her skin was unlined and her features perfect, instead of beautiful, she was frightening to behold. Her eyes were without light. Dead eyes, Beth realized. When she opened her mouth, her teeth resembled fangs.

“So, this is our unwelcome guest.” Her voice was the hiss of a snake. “You are the talk of the household. ’Tis said you are either mad or dangerous, and that you insinuated yourself into the laird’s fortress by feigning illness.”

Despite the woman’s obvious attempt to be insulting, Beth decided to deflect her temper with a smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Beth Campbell.”

The woman arched a brow. “So I have heard. A lie, of course. I am a Campbell, and I am familiar with every member of our clan.”

“Not all your clan, or you would know me. You must be Edwina, the laird’s stepsister.”

“I know who I am.” Edwina fixed her with a dark stare. “But I also know this. You are no Campbell.”

Beth saw the women’s heads turning as they easily overheard all that was being said. While she watched in amazement, before her very eyes the women turned into a flock of geese, their wings flapping, their beaks moving as though trying to speak, though no words came out.

By now she was accustomed to seeing these changes in the people here. But she couldn’t help wondering if she was imagining these dreadful changes, or if it was something about this place. Was it magical, mystical, or purely evil?

Beth was grateful when Colin’s horse stopped beside them and the laird slid from the saddle. Did he see geese as well? she wondered. Or was she the only one who saw these people as birds and other animals?

While Jamie took the reins, Colin smiled at Edwina, apparently unaware, or uncaring, of the transformation of the women. “I see you’ve met my guest.”

“Guest? And wearing the precious clothes old Maura hoards as though they are rare treasures? I’ve never known the old crone to let anyone even touch the lady Catherine’s gowns, let alone wear them.”

“And that troubles you, Edwina?”

At Colin’s question, her dead eyes narrowed. “Though this woman claims to be of our clan, I know her not. You’d be wise to send out riders to see who she really is, brother. Perhaps one of the neighboring crofters has misplaced an addled wife.”

“I thank you for your concern for my guest.” Colin made a slight bow before offering his arm to Beth. “Let us enjoy the food Mistress MacKay has prepared. The hunt always sharpens my appetite.”

As they turned away, Beth caught sight of the anger flaring in Edwina’s eyes as the silly geese surrounded her, heads bobbing, tails wriggling nervously, beaks flapping.

Beth was reminded again of her dream. There had been no geese. Only a man and a woman. The voices had been mere whispers. It wasn’t possible to recognize them among these guests. And yet the obvious fury in Edwina’s eyes could not be masked, making her suspect.

Beth pondered her problem. If she were to tell Colin about the words she’d overheard, would he be grateful for the warning? Or would it be one more reason for him to believe she was truly addled?

Could there possibly be others among this company who wanted Lord Colin Gordon dead? Was there an insidious plot to have him killed? Or had her fall, and her subsequent failure to represent her firm, made her want to believe in silly fairy tales, rather than concentrate on the true purpose of her visit? There was no denying that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Colin’s face when that happened.

While she sorted out fact from fiction, she decided that for now she would watch and listen—and try not to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

* * *

Colin glanced around the cluster of guests. “What is your tally so far, Ian?”

“Ten and two quail. A score of pheasants. But I intend to double that before the day ends.” Colin’s stepbrother tossed back a tankard before holding it out for a refill.

A serving wench was quick to attend to his need.

The men stood in a circle, drinking ale and paying little attention to the women seated beneath the tent.

Perhaps, Beth thought, it was because their women, despite the fashionable gowns, still had webbed feet and feathered wings. But the men fared little better. As she watched, Ian once again became a sly fox, while Hamish seemed to hunch into himself, growing shorter and shorter until he more resembled a mouse than a man.

Beth blinked, hoping to dispel the image, but now she realized the other men had also changed back from human to animal form. Though most were hounds, one was a hawk, with sharp, knowing eyes, watching the others.

She turned to where Colin stood a little apart, talking quietly to Jamie. The lad was now a wolf pup, eyes bright, tail wagging in a sign of friendship, while Colin had been transformed into a sleek, proud stag, with powerful antlers that could take down an opponent with one deadly swipe.

While she watched, the animal fixed her with a look so fierce, she felt a prickling sensation along her back and arms. He’d looked the same after her fall, when he’d greeted her with such disdain.

Despite her fear, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

The beautiful animal pranced toward her, keeping her in its line of vision, and though she wanted to run in fear, she was rooted to the spot.

“You should eat something.” Before her eyes the animal disappeared. In its place was her handsome host. “Mistress MacKay will take offense if you refuse to sample her cooking.” He studied her pale face with a look of concern. “Are you feeling ill?”

She shook her head, desperately trying to keep up with the troubling transformations that had her believing she must surely be going mad. “I’m fine. And you’re right. We mustn’t offend the cook.”

He smiled. “I’ve often referred to her as a better fisherman than any here. She always manages to catch the finest salmon, the largest trout in our Highland streams.”

Beth looked over and saw the cook, transformed into a crane, standing as still as a statue, watching live fish swimming in a bucket of water. With split-second timing she dipped her head and caught several in her mouth before depositing them over hot coals.

Beth glanced around. Had no one else seen it?

Colin held Beth’s chair, and she was grateful to let her weak legs fold under as she took a seat with the geese.

Colin sat beside her, and the hunters followed his lead, joining their women as the meal was served.

In the blink of an eye Beth watched all the guests return to their human forms. She took a calming drink of ale and gripped the edge of the table for support.

Edwina shot a quick look at her brother. “Who is winning the wager so far?”

Ian shrugged. “Hamish and I are even. But I’ve decided on yet another wager. A hundred gold coins to the first one to bring down a stag.”

Colin’s head came up sharply. “We are hunting pheasants and quail. You’re not to disturb the deer in the forest.”

“Why such concern, brother?”

“’Tis mating season. I’ll not have the herds thinned for the sake of a handful of gold.”

“We’ll take care not to harm the females or their young.” Ian eyed his stepbrother. “Surely the loss of one stag shouldn’t matter to you.” He looked around with a knowing smile. “As we all know, it takes but one rutting male to populate an entire forest of willing females.”

Around the table the men nodded and joined in the laughter. Even the women covered their mouths to hide their smiles.

Seeing Colin’s frown, Ian arched a brow before glancing at the others. “Or are you more concerned with one particular stag?”

Hamish shot him a puzzled look. “Are you suggesting the laird would protect the Beast?”

“Perhaps.” Ian looked directly at Colin. “Or perhaps you merely wish to save that trophy for yourself?”

Hamish looked astonished. “Have you ever actually dared to hunt the Beast, m’laird?”

“I have not.” Colin drained his tankard. “And I would ask that none of my guests dare to attempt such a dangerous thing.”

“Because you fear for our lives?” Ian persisted. “Or is it the Beast you worry after?”

Colin’s tone was brisk. “I have graciously provided you with enough fowl to satisfy your appetite for the hunt. I now command that you refrain from hunting the four-legged animals during this mating season, so that the forest will continue to feed our people for generations to come.”

“Ye’ve heard it. The laird . . . commands.” Ian’s tone was sharp with sarcasm. “And we all know the laird’s command must be obeyed without question. Without regard to the fact that this command will cost me one hundred gold coins.”

Hamish flushed, as did several others, who were aware of the sting of anger in the young man’s words, directed at their host.

“I’ll choose to overlook that for now, brother.” Colin pushed away from the table. “Let the hunt continue.”

As the men mounted their eager steeds, the women treated themselves to slices of rich brandied cake, dotted with currants and drizzled with honey, before facing their return by wagon to the lodge.

Colin turned to Beth. “If you are weary of the hunt, you may remain here with the ladies. They will soon be back in the comforting care of my servants.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’d prefer to ride with you.”

He seemed pleased with her choice. “Very well.” He offered his arm and she placed a hand on his. “Jamie, lad, fetch the lady’s mount.”

“Aye, m’laird.” The boy raced off to separate Beth’s horse from the others tethered nearby.

When they were away from the others, Colin leaned close to whisper, “Perhaps, once the hunt is underway, you would permit me to taste your lips again, my lady.”

Caught by surprise, Beth knew he could see the heat that rushed to her cheeks. She tried to cover it by saying, “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Perhaps not wise.” As Jamie drew near, leading her mount, Colin leaned closer, the warmth of his breath feathering the hair at her temple. “But speaking for myself, ’twould surely bring me a great deal of pleasure, my sweet Bethany. And I would do my best to pleasure you, as well.”

He lifted her to the sidesaddle, allowing his hands to linger at her waist before pulling himself onto the back of his stallion and leading the way toward the forest, with Beth and Jamie following behind.

And all the while, Beth’s poor heart kept up a steady rhythm that matched the pounding hoofbeats of the hunters’ horses as they raced into the thickets.

The mere touch of this man did the strangest things to her. She couldn’t recall another man who had ever had this effect on her body, her heart, her very soul.

She wanted, more than anything, to taste his kiss again. Wanted, in fact, a whole lot more than a chaste kiss. But what she wanted would have to be sacrificed for what she needed to do here.

She would have to guard her heart carefully. Once their business was concluded, she had no doubt that Colin Gordon’s feelings for her would equal his feelings for the woman he held most in contempt—Darda Campbell. Surely her reason for coming here was every bit as selfish as Darda’s motive for marrying the old laird. They both wanted the same thing. Ancestral lands that were, to the men who cherished them, more precious than gold.

The thought of seeing the light go out of Colin’s eyes when he realized what had brought her here sent a shaft of pain through Beth’s poor heart.

CHAPTER SIX

For the next hours, as the sun slowly made its arc across the sky, the forest was filled with the voices of the hunters, directing the lads to their kill, or shouting in triumph as they boasted to their friends of their prowess.

Their host joined in, bringing down a bevy of quail and pheasants before setting aside his bow. With a smile he urged his horse across a meadow to the place where Beth and Jamie sat watching the hunt.

As he approached, he couldn’t hide the smile of appreciation as he took in the sight of Beth, sitting in a patch of heather, her skin kissed by the sun, her hair dancing about her shoulders on the gentle breeze.

He dropped down beside her. “You look like a beautiful butterfly, my lady.”

“And you look very much like the lord of the manor.”

“I care not for the title. But I do care very much for my clansmen, who trust me to look out for their well-being.”

“So I’m told.” She glanced at Jamie, who had pulled himself into the saddle and, at a word from Colin, started off in search of the laird’s fallen game. “Jamie has only praise for his laird. He told me how you see that all in the village are fed and clothed and protected from harm. He said when their herds don’t reproduce, or their crops fail, it is you who sees to all their needs. And when invaders came, you herded every villager inside the protection of your lodge, until the enemy was driven off. And those who, like Jamie, or the little serving girl, Glenna, lost families in the battle were taken in by you and given a home and a future.”

“It is what a good laird does for his people.” Colin studied her. “Would you not do the same?”

“I’d like to think so. But I’ve never been tested.”

He smiled then. “All of life is a test. I feel fortunate that my father was a harsh taskmaster. Long before I faced difficult decisions, I was trained to be ready.”

“What about Ian and Edwina?”

His smile faltered. “My stepbrother and his sister were not so fortunate. Their mother spoiled and pampered them, and when my father tried to intervene, she took them back to her clan. But that is no excuse for the choices they make now. As children, we can lay the blame at the feet of those who were our elders. But there comes a time when we must step out of their shadow and cast our own.”

Beth thought about her beloved Gram, and the feeling of love and peace she’d felt in that dear woman’s arms. And then about the years since, under the tutelage of Darda, where both love and peace were absent. All that mattered, all that had been drilled into her young mind, was winning at any price. And that lesson continued to this very day. Because Darda demanded it, Beth was willing to do all in her power to oblige her. Perhaps it was time to think about what truly mattered in her life.

There was no time to ponder such things now, when Colin took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. “I have always enjoyed a good hunt. But today I found myself distracted by a certain fair lady. Did you miss me at least a little while I rode with the others?”

At the wolfish look in his eyes, she swallowed before nodding. “I did.” Her smile was quick and bright. “But only a little.”

“I think you tease me, my lady. But even so, I must do my best to change your heart.” He leaned close and brushed her mouth with his.

It was the merest touch of his lips, but she was forced to absorb a shocking jolt to her system.

“We shouldn’t . . .” She reached out a hand to the front of his shirt, thinking to push him a little away.

“Ah, but we should, Bethany.”

At his gentle, mocking laugh, feelings pulsed through her and, despite her intention to hold him at arm’s length, her hand fisted in his shirt.

“Forgive me, my sweet Bethany, but I can wait no longer.” His arms came around her and he dragged her close, while his mouth covered hers in a kiss so hot, so hungry, she could feel it vibrating through her entire body, all the way to her toes.

When at last they moved apart, his eyes narrowed on her with fierce concentration. “Tell me true, my lady. Are you using your special powers over me?”

“I have no powers.”

His smile came then, and he gathered her close. Against her temple he whispered, “If you believe that, you are lying to yourself. There is something magical about what is happening between us.”

He lifted his hands to frame her face. “All my life I have known that there would be one special woman who was meant to be mine alone. I knew that when I met her, I would know her. And now, though I know nothing at all about you, and though I fear that you have come here to betray me, I cannot deny what I know to be true. Even if I leave myself open to pain and betrayal, I must have you, Bethany Campbell. We are meant to be together.”

“Colin . . .”

The protest died in her throat when he laid her down in the heather and drew her into the circle of his arms, kissing her with a thoroughness that had them both sighing.

His hands moved over her, lighting fires wherever they touched. Their kisses grew more heated, their breathing labored, their lungs straining. They were practically crawling into each other’s skin, and still it wasn’t enough. Nothing could satisfy the need that was building, heating their blood, threatening to consume them.

As he reached for the buttons of her riding jacket, a great shout went up from the hunters.

Colin and Beth sat up, looking around in surprise.

A line of village lads stepped out of the forest, staggering under the weight of a stag. It had been skinned and gutted, and now its legs were secured to several saplings resting on the shoulders of the lads who had been ordered to transport it back to the lodge.

Colin stood and offered his hand to Beth, who got to her feet beside him.

His face was as dark as a thundercloud as he watched the procession of villagers, followed by the mounted hunters. In their midst rode Ian, laughing and slapping the others on their arms as he boasted of his trophy.

Without a word Colin helped Beth into the saddle and then mounted his own stallion, just as Jamie rode up with his leather pouch filled to overflowing with game.

Seeing the dark look on the laird’s face, the lad drew back his mount, allowing Colin and Beth to lead the way.

In silence they rode side by side to the lodge, with the lad trailing behind.

When they arrived, the women spilled out of the hunting lodge and hurried down the lane toward the stables.

The mounted hunters drew near, and Ian came thundering up to the head of the procession, wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as he dismounted.

When Colin drew near, Ian held out the sack of coins to his stepbrother, calling in a loud voice, “I know I gave my word, but you must admit your command was unjust, since it would have cost me a fortune I could ill afford to lose. I was not about to let such a bounty pass me by.”

Hamish, who rode up behind Ian, looked sheepish.

Colin’s voice held a note of cold fury. “You gave your word, knowing you would not keep it? So now your word will mean nothing to all who know you. You prove to one and all that you revere gold more than our father’s good name.”

“He was not my father. And his precious name will not pay my debts, nor put food on my table.”

“When the laird wed your mother, he offered her children his name. Yet you refused, and claimed that of your mother’s clan instead.”

Still hot with anger, Ian’s voice rose. “I bear my mother’s name proudly. And though she accepted your father’s gold, she accepted neither his name nor his clan as her own.”

Their guests wore looks that ranged from shock to horror.

“You think to dishonor me, Ian. But in truth, you dishonor yourself, along with the woman who bore you and the clan that sheltered you.”

Edwina rushed to Ian’s side and locked her hands on his arm, physically restraining him from reaching for the dirk at his waist. “You are distraught, brother. Go now and return your horse to the stable.”

He looked at her as though she were mad.

Her voice rose. “And then you will ask forgiveness of our laird.”

“He is not my—”

She silenced him with a hand on his mouth before leaning close enough to whisper in his ear.

He shot her a triumphant look before turning away.

She smiled up at Colin. “My brother’s blood runs hot with the hunt. But when he has had time to cool his temper, he will realize how deeply he has hurt his brother-laird.”

She turned to the lads, who continued to hold the bloody carcass of the stag, and dared to give orders like a queen. “Do with this as the laird instructs you.”

She lifted her skirts and turned away, with the other women gathering around her and chattering like geese as they made their way to the lodge.

And all the while, Colin sat stone-faced on his horse, watching as Ian disappeared inside the stable.

When they were alone, Beth reached over to touch a hand to Colin’s arm. “I fear for your safety. There is something I need to tell you. Something I overheard that troubles me . . .”

He seemed unaware of her words as he turned in the saddle to Jamie. “You will tally the kill, so that we may reward our hunters at the banquet this night.”

Beth looked stunned. “After that scene with Ian, you would hold a banquet?”

“It is customary for the laird to offer his guests a feast and to reward those who deserve it.”

“But . . .”

He silenced her with a wave of his hand before slipping from the saddle to take her reins. “Forgive me, my lady. I know you are troubled, as am I.” He helped her dismount and closed a hand over hers, squeezing it gently as though to reassure her.

He leaned close to press a kiss to her cheek. “Go inside now and allow Maura and the servants to help you bathe and dress for tonight’s banquet.”

“And you?” She looked up into his eyes and saw something dark and dangerous before he managed to blink it away.

“I, also, must prepare.”

He turned away.

While Jamie began leading the horses toward the stable, Colin turned toward the gardens, his head bowed, his manner thoughtful.

Though Beth yearned to go after him, she knew she had to respect his need for privacy.

As she entered the lodge and climbed the stairs to her room, her thoughts were in turmoil. She fully intended to warn Colin about the threat she’d overheard. If he chose to scoff at it, she would do whatever it took to convince him to take it seriously. She was more convinced than ever that his life was truly in danger.

Ian’s hatred was now so out of control, he’d revealed it to the entire company. Only a man bent on violence would show such utter disrespect to a much-loved Highland laird.

The look in Ian’s eyes in that moment before Edwina intervened spoke volumes about what was truly in his heart.

There was darkness in that young man’s soul. He’d seemed, in that moment, the personification of evil.

Beth’s hands were cold as she stepped into her room. She nearly groaned aloud at the number of people milling about. Old Maura was giving orders to the serving girls as they filled a round tub with steaming water and set folded linens to one side. The bed was piled high with brightly colored gowns and shawls and delicate underpinnings. Another servant stood beside a dressing table, where she would prepare the lady’s hair for the evening’s festivities.

As Beth allowed them to attend to her needs, she forced herself to smile and nod and pretend that all was fine. But her heart was heavy with the thought that at this very moment Colin could be facing great peril.

She was desperate to finish this charade and go to him. She needed to get him alone, so that she could share with him all the terrible secrets that were whirling around her mind, giving her such distress.

All she could see was the evil in Ian’s eyes.

All she could hear were his hateful words, hurled like arrows straight to the laird’s heart.

* * *

Colin paced the garden path like a caged beast.

Though he’d seen evidence of Darda Campbell’s evil magic before, this was the first time he’d witnessed just how deeply, how completely, she’d managed to control her children. Even in death, she continued to wield power over their minds and wills.

It was clear now that Ian had turned his back on all that was good and decent, and had somehow descended into a hell of hatred. And the choices he made going forward would affect not only him but everyone around him.

It pained Colin to acknowledge his father’s folly. How easily the old laird had been manipulated by a woman’s youth and beauty. When Darda was thwarted in her effort to control her new husband’s estate, she had put a curse on him and on his only son.

At the time, Colin had scoffed at her attempt to manipulate him. And yet, the first half of the curse had already come to fruition, and it appeared that the rest of Darda Campbell’s curse would prevail.

That knowledge made this night all the more important. Though he could not remove the curse, he could leave behind a legacy of his own heart. He would reward the friendship of his guests. And if the Fates were willing, he would taste the wine of true love before going into his final battle.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Old Maura stood back, admiring the work of the village lasses who’d been pressed into service.

“Ye look lovely, my lady. I’ve no doubt Lady Catherine would approve the use of her gown.”

Beth ran a hand down the jewel-encrusted bodice. “I’ve never worn anything this fine, Maura. I feel like a princess in a fairy tale.”

“I know not this tale of which ye speak, my lady. But ye surely look as fine as any lady who has ever graced Stag’s Head Lodge.”

“And all thanks to you and your helpers.”

The old woman blushed while the serving girls smiled their appreciation at her words. It was apparent that none of them were accustomed to being thanked for the work they did for their visitors.

They all looked up at the knock on the door. Maura hurried over to admit the laird.

Colin paused in the open doorway. And though the room was filled with servants milling about, he had eyes only for the lovely young woman standing in front of the fireplace.

“You are a vision, my lady.”

Beth smiled. “None of this could happen without Maura and these amazing women.” She touched a hand to the jeweled gown. “I’m told this was your dear mother’s. And look what they’ve done with my hair. It was all wind-tossed until they managed to tame it.”

His eyes twinkled with laughter. “And will you give them credit for that lithe young body and beautiful face, as well?”

That had all of them laughing.

Maura cleared her throat and motioned for the women to leave. When the last one was gone, she paused, seeing the way the young woman and the laird were staring at each other with naked hunger.

The old woman was smiling as she silently closed the door and made her way along the hall.

* * *

Colin reached a hand from behind his back and handed Beth a nosegay of flowers. At her look of surprise, he touched a finger to her cheek. “I saw these in the garden and had to pick them. They reminded me of you, so sweet and so perfect.”

She buried her face in the nosegay and fought a sudden rush of tears. “Thank you, my lord.” She looked up. “Before we go to the banquet, there are things I must tell you. Important things that could—”

He gently shook his head and offered his arm. “There will be time later to talk. Now we must go belowstairs.”

Seeing the set of his jaw, she took a deep breath and placed her hand on his sleeve. And as she moved along by his side, she prayed that she could remain strong and vigilant. For there was evil here. She could sense it. Could almost feel it vibrating in the very air.

* * *

The great room was filled with voices and laughter as the men strutted about, boasting of their hunting prowess, while their ladies made a great show of displaying their finest gowns.

Giant logs blazed on the hearth, warming the room and perfuming it with the scent of evergreen. The tables were groaning under the many dishes prepared by Mistress MacKay and her serving wenches.

When Colin and Beth entered, there was a sudden silence as the men and women looked over at the handsome couple.

Edwina’s eyes narrowed. “Another of the Lady Catherine’s gowns? Have you nothing of your own?”

Beth gave a slight shake of her head. “I arrived at Stag’s Head with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

“Which, as I recall, were strange garments reminiscent of someone quite demented.” Edwina shot a quick glance at her friends, who looked embarrassed before laughing behind their hands.

A handsome young man stepped up beside Edwina. “Mind your manners, wife. I’ve only just arrived and already you’ve had your fill of ale.”

“Oh, I’ve had not nearly enough. But I’ve had my fill of you, Muldore.” At that, Edwina flounced away, leaving him staring after her.

Beth’s brow shot up as she turned to Colin. “That is Edwina’s husband?”

“Aye. Muldore Campbell. Poor fool. She cared not about his heart, but only for his gold. And he never looked beyond the pretty face to see into the soul of Edwina, so now he pays the price.”

He led Beth toward the head table. As soon as they were seated, the guests followed suit.

In no time, as servants scurried about filling platters and goblets, the noise level rose to a fever pitch.

More than a few of the hunters were staggering about, the result of too much ale. Their drunken laughter rang through the room.

As if to further taunt her husband, Edwina openly flirted with the men who returned her attention until they would happen to take note of Muldore Campbell seated to one side, glaring, his hand on the dagger at his waist. Then they would step back, leaving Edwina to seek out another conquest for her dangerous game.

Beth caught a glimpse of Ian pulling one of the serving girls close to whisper in her ear. Whatever he said had the lass blushing before she hurried away. With a laugh he turned to another, younger lass, and boldly ran his hand down the front of her gown, causing Colin to give a hiss of anger.

Beth turned to him. “Ian’s wife is not here with him?”

Colin’s voice was low. “She could not make the journey, since she is soon to deliver their first child.”

“Poor thing.”

“Aye. She had little to say about the matter of marriage. It was decided between her father and Ian, and I’m told he promised the old man a great deal of gold in exchange for his daughter’s hand.”

“I hope her father thinks it was worth making a bargain with the devil.”

At her words, Colin turned to her. “I see you are not deceived by Ian’s handsome features.”

“A very wise woman once told me that looks aren’t enough. What matters most is a good heart.”

“A wise woman, indeed.” Colin got to his feet and held aloft a cup of ale.

Around the room voices were stilled as the laird began to speak.

“My friends, I am in your debt. Even now, as we feast, the villagers are also celebrating with a feast of their own. Because of your skill with bow and arrow, no man, woman, or child, even the oldest among them, will go hungry this night. For that, I thank you, my friends.”

Hamish stood and lifted his own tankard. “It is we who salute you, my laird. These days spent in your company have been a special treat to all.”

Colin smiled at the young man. “It is time to announce the winners of today’s hunt.”

At a signal, Jamie stepped up beside his laird and handed him a bundle of arrows, sorted by feathers.

Colin glanced around the hall until he spotted the red-bearded son of an old friend. “Adair, you brought down the most pheasants. Come forward and accept your reward.”

As the young man paused before him, Colin clapped a hand on his shoulder before handing him a small sack of gold.

After accepting his prize, the young man knelt and declared loudly, “I thank you, my laird. And I declare my fealty to you forever.”

Touched, Colin nodded. “Your laird thanks you, Adair.”

He reached for the second set of arrows and called, “Bancroft. You brought down the greatest number of quail. Come forward and accept your reward.”

Like Adair, the young hunter with pale blond hair stepped forward and was handed a small sack of gold. And, like Adair, he knelt and loudly declared his fealty to his laird, to much shouting and pounding of goblets on the wooden tables.

“Hamish.” Colin picked up the largest bundle of arrows, bearing the soft, plumed feathers of an egret. “Yours was no idle boast. You have, indeed, proven yourself to be a most gifted bowman. When we combine the number of pheasants and quail brought down by your arrows, I declare you the winner of the entire hunt. In all, you provided my villagers with three score and five birds for a glorious feast.”

To much shouting and pounding, the young man stepped forward to claim a much larger sack of gold.

Clearly humbled by the honor, he knelt before his laird and declared in a loud voice, “Though I was born to the Campbell clan, and have declared allegiance to my clansmen, I do declare my fealty to you, as well. If ever you need my strong arm, it is yours.”

“I thank you, Hamish. You may walk freely among my clansmen, knowing they will never harm you.”

Ian walked up to the head of the table, stepping in front of his friend Hamish and swaying slightly.

His words were slurred. “What of my reward?” He looked around at the others. “Since I was the only hunter to bring down a stag, I have earned the right to be declared winner of the hunt.”

“I have not forgotten.” Colin’s expression never changed.

He nodded toward Jamie, who handed him a goblet of blood-red wine.

Colin held it out to his stepbrother. “Drink, Ian.”

Incredulous, the young man stared at the cup, then up at Colin. “What of the gold you gave the others?”

“Gold is their reward. But this is made from our own vines, grown in our own hallowed soil. It is the drink of life that binds us one to the other.”

With a look of absolute fury, Ian tossed the goblet against the stone fireplace, where it spattered and ran in rivers of red.

“You will pay dearly for this, brother.” Without another word, Ian turned and stormed out of the great hall, his booted feet beating an ominous tattoo on the scarred wooden floor.

In the silence that followed, Edwina hurried forward. “My brother is drunk and knows not what he is doing. On the morrow, he will apologize to you, brother-laird.”

In a low voice, for her alone, Colin muttered, “No more lies, sister. We both know the morrow will not come. And we know why.”

For a moment she was so startled, she could find no words. Then, with a last glance at the others, she turned and lifted her skirts before racing after Ian.

With the joy of the evening now gone, the guests made ready to return to their chambers for the night.

A murmur ran through the room, and Beth caught snatches of the conversation as the men and their ladies hurried away. It was something she’d heard before, though she couldn’t seem to recall where.

Remember, with a new moon, it isn’t safe to be out after dark.

Before she could ask Colin about the meaning of their words, he had his arm around her waist as he escorted her up the stairs to her chambers.

Her body felt practically scorched from his touch.

At the door, he turned to Jamie, who had trailed them. “You’ll not be needed this night, lad. You may go to your chambers.”

“Aye, m’laird.” The lad bowed to Beth. “Good even’, m’lady.”

“Good night, Jamie.”

As Colin opened the door she stepped into her room and turned to him. “Before you leave, I want to tell you something very important.”

“I have much to tell you, also, my lady.” He stepped inside her room and closed the door before leaning against it.

On his face was a look that had Beth’s heart racing.

“You’re in danger.” She spoke the words quickly, since she’d been holding them back for so long.

He gave her a wolfish smile as he lifted a hand to her cheek. “Aye. Grave danger indeed, my sweet Bethany. For the greatest risk of all is giving one’s heart. But that is what has happened to me. I’ve already lost my heart to you. And now, before you say another word, I must taste your lips.”

He drew her into his arms and kissed her with a thoroughness that had all her breath backing up in her lungs. A kiss that had her blood running hot through her veins. So hot, she could barely breathe.

His mouth moved over hers until she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his waist and hold on as he took her on a dizzying ride that had her mind spinning, her heart soaring.

And then, as his lips continued to weave their magic, she was lost. Whatever she’d been about to say was forgotten as she gave herself up completely to all that he was offering.

“I fear I’ve lost my heart, too, Colin. Completely.”

“Oh, my sweet, beautiful Bethany.”

And then there were no words as he lifted her in his arms while his mouth, that wonderful, clever mouth, continued weaving its magic, clouding her mind, heating her blood until all she could taste was Colin. And as he carried her across the room, all she could feel was this incredible hard, driving need to show him, in every way possible, all the things that were in her heart.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“My bonny, bonny Bethany.”

In front of the fireplace, Colin set her on her feet and continued kissing her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses with a hunger she’d never known. This was more than hunger. It was a desperate, driving need that clouded her mind and stole her will. A need that only this man could fill.

How had this happened? When had this Highland laird become so important to her?

There was no time to consider as his mouth pressed kisses to her ear while he murmured endearments, and his hands, those clever warrior’s hands, moved over her at will, driving her closer and closer to the edge of insanity.

With a sudden sigh of frustration, he grasped the top of her gown and tore it from her, sending silken threads and sparkling jewels dropping to the floor at their feet like pebbles.

She let out a cry of consternation. “Your mother’s beautiful gown . . .”

“It is mere cloth, and can be replaced. But I’m desperate to see you, Bethany. Now. All of you . . .”

His words died in his throat at the sight of her. “You are so lovely, my lady. Please don’t torture me. I must lie with you, Bethany, now, or die from this wanting.”

In answer, she framed his face with her hands and lifted herself on tiptoe to press a kiss to his mouth.

It was all the response he needed.

He groaned and gathered her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and carrying her the last few steps to her pallet.

There he laid her down as gently as though she were made of spun glass. And then, tossing aside his plaid, he joined her on the pallet and began raining kisses across her face, down her throat, and then lower, to her breasts.

Her breathing quickened, and her heart was racing as though she’d been running for miles.

“Colin. Wait. I need a moment.”

He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. “A moment feels like eternity when the very sight of you has me on fire.”

“I just need to catch my breath.”

“You may have mine, my lady, for I have no need of anything, even my very breath, without you.” He brushed her lips with his, and she breathed him in, loving the familiar scent of Highland forest that clung to him.

And then, with teeth and tongue, with lips and fingertips, he began leading her higher and higher, until her entire world narrowed to this man, his kiss, his touch, and the paradise he promised.

Outside her balcony the wind sighed, matching her sighs. A night bird cried, and its mate answered. A dove cooed to its young in a nest. None of it mattered to the man and woman locked in a loving embrace.

As needs rose in her, Beth clutched at Colin, and the feel of his flesh had her palms tingling, her nerves quivering. Then, aware that she was free to touch him as he was touching her, she allowed her hands to move over him, tracing the solid ridge of muscled torso, the flat planes of his stomach.

He was so beautiful. A sculpted Highland warrior, a laird who wielded great power over his people, and yet he treated her with such care. As though afraid she would break if he but held her too tightly.

The thought emboldened her as she gave herself up completely to his loving ministrations.

“There is magic between us, Bethany.” He whispered the words against her mouth, and then inside her mouth, as he kissed her long and slow and deep.

She absorbed the deep timbre of his voice inside her. She could do nothing more than cling to him, and sigh from the pure pleasure he offered.

“My sweet, bonny Bethany.” He framed her face with his big hands and stared down into her eyes with a look so hot, so hungry, it had her shivering with anticipation. “I am completely captivated, my lady.” He pressed moist kisses over her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

Was the room moving? Spinning? She could feel it dip and sway with each touch, each kiss, until she was forced to close her eyes and hold on to him for fear of falling.

He lowered his head, and his lips closed around one erect nipple.

A shaft of heat pierced her heart, and she gasped and clung to him as he took her on a wild, dizzying ride, taking her higher, then higher still. A fire of such desperate need began building inside her, she feared she would surely burn to ash.

“Colin, please . . .”

“Say the words, Bethany. I’ve longed to hear you speak of your heart’s desire.”

“I . . .” Her need was so great, the words lodged in her throat like a boulder.

“Then I’ll say them for both of us. I love you, my beautiful, sweet Bethany.”

He took her then, with a fierceness that staggered them both.

As he entered her, he paused, and pressed his lips to her ear. “I am yours, my lady. Forever.”

Her body arched, her hands fisted in the bed linens. She stared blindly, a mist of passion clouding her vision. Her body was slick with the sheen that rose up between them. She could feel him struggling to be gentle, but the overwhelming need swamped him, making tenderness impossible.

It wasn’t tenderness she craved now. It was a release from the fierce passion that was building, fighting to be free.

Lungs straining, hearts thundering, they began to move, to climb. Pleasure, bordering on pain, began to build, until at last, locked in a fierce embrace, they soared to the very center of a star-filled universe. For the space of a heartbeat they paused, then stepped into the unknown. And soared.

* * *

For the longest time they lay, still joined, unable to move as they waited for their world to settle.

Against her throat he muttered thickly, “Forgive me, sweet Bethany. I was rough.”

“You weren’t.” She touched a finger to his lips to still his apology. “You were . . . amazing.”

He managed to rouse himself enough to lift his head. When he did, he caught the glint of moisture on her lashes. “Tears, my lady? I hurt you . . .”

She pressed a kiss to his lips to silence him. “These are tears of joy. I’ve never known anything like this before.”

“Nor I.” He gave a long, deep sigh of relief. “What we have found is something rare and special.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Isn’t that what men always say to women after lovemaking?”

“Is it?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Are you telling me that you’ve never said such a thing before?”

“Never, my lady. You are my one. My only.”

He rolled to one side and drew her into the circle of his arms.

As she snuggled against his chest, she found herself believing him. Colin Gordon was unlike any man she’d ever met. A truly honorable man. Of that she had no doubt.

She ran a fingertip up his arm, lingering over the ridge of muscle that was oddly comforting. This man was a warrior. He would know how to defend himself against whatever evil scheme was brewing.

Though she hated to shatter this tender mood that held them in its grip, the time had come to warn him about what she’d overheard.

She touched a hand to his face, as though to soften the blow of her words.

“I’ve tried so many times to warn you about the danger that threatens. Now, Colin, you must listen.”

He went very still. “Say what you must, my lady.”

As quickly as possible she told him about the voices she’d overheard outside her balcony.

“They were little more than whispers, and I can’t identify the voices, but I’m convinced that they were plotting to kill you. And now that I’ve seen Ian’s anger, and his sister’s attempt to cover it up, I believe both Ian and Edwina want you dead.” She paused, wondering just how much to reveal. But after what they’d just shared, there was no reason to hold anything back, no matter how difficult it would be to explain.

“There’s more, Colin. I know it will sound crazy, but I need to be completely honest with you, no matter what you may think of me when you hear it.”

He ran a hand gently down her arm. “You can tell me anything, love.”

Love. It was the sweetest word she had ever heard.

She took in a deep breath. “Ever since coming here I’ve seen odd things. Things I have never seen in my world.” She paused for only a moment before saying, “Several times the women here turned into geese.” She looked up at him, then away, before going on quickly, so she wouldn’t lose her nerve, “I know it’s crazy. But it truly happened. And the men turned into animals. I’m not saying they merely reminded me of birds and animals. They actually turned into them.”

She waited for him to laugh, or to insist that she’d been dreaming. Instead she felt him draw slightly away before he asked solemnly, “What animal did I become?”

“A deer. A very large deer, with huge antlers.”

He gave her a sad smile before nodding. “Aye. A stag.”

Her brows shot up. “You’re not surprised by what I’ve told you? You know?”

“You weren’t imagining such things. They are very real.” It was Colin’s turn to take in a deep breath before explaining. “My father was an old man who still mourned the loss of my mother, his soul mate, when he met Darda Campbell and was so dazzled by her youth and beauty, he married her within days of their meeting.”

“Were you offended?”

He shook his head. “Though I cared not for her, I wanted only my father’s happiness. When it became obvious that he was not happy, I took myself off to battle, in order to give them time alone. But when I returned, and Darda learned that her new husband had named me his only heir, she came to me with a proposition. Renounce my claim to my father’s estate, and she would do all in her power to make his last years happy and peaceful. Refuse her offer, and she would place a curse on both of us.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I could not, in good conscience, accept her terms, since I believed that she did not have the well-being of my clan in mind. As for her curse, I scoffed at her attempt to frighten me.” His hand tightened on hers as his voice lowered to a whisper. “If only I had listened to her.”

“Are you saying you believe in magic? You actually believe in Darda’s curse?”

“How else to explain? Immediately after my refusal, my beloved father was dead.”

“Could Darda have killed him, just to make you believe her?”

He nodded. “It is quite possible. But soon after, Darda died by her own hand. She left a note to me, sealed in wax and stained by her own blood, saying she was taking her life so that she could never be tortured into rescinding the second half of the curse, which she’d called down upon all within the confines of this castle, and upon me.”

“Your people turn into birds or animals?”

He nodded.

“And they know it is happening?”

“They know. But they cannot change it.”

Beth could barely breathe. Even as she asked the question, she feared she already knew the answer. “What is the curse on you?”

“You have heard of the Beast of the Highlands?”

She swallowed before nodding.

“On the first night of every new moon, I must leave this body and enter the body of a great stag. I am compelled to climb to the highest reaches of Stag’s Head Peak until dawn. If I survive a hunter’s arrow, I will live for another month. But with each new moon, the curse begins anew, until a shrewd hunter’s arrow shall find me, and death shall surely claim me.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “That’s why I was being warned to be indoors before dark. We are drawing near to the new moon.”

“It is, in fact, upon us. Through the years many have spotted the great stag, known as the Beast of the Highlands. Many more have heard the fearsome sound of hooves racing through their villages. All who live here avoid going out after dark, especially on the night of a new moon. And each time, I am prepared to die. But this time, more than ever, I am convinced of it.”

“There must be something we can do.” She pushed away from him and began to pace. “What if I were to tie you up? Or lock you in the stables?”

He reached out a hand to stop her pacing and drew her back down into his arms. “Do you not think I have tried such things? But I am helpless to evade this curse. I am compelled to kick and bite and free myself, even though I know I should not. I am helpless to stop the curse. And tonight, at midnight, as the new moon rises, I believe I will face my final hunter. My executioner.”

“Darda’s son, Ian.”

He nodded. “Or one of his accomplices.”

Beth wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her. Against his temple she whispered, “This can’t be. None of this makes any sense. There has to be a way to stop this madness.”

“There is none. But until midnight, there is a way to distract ourselves from the horror that is to come.” He laid her down and kissed her with a tenderness that said, more than any words, just what he was feeling.

And then, with a desperation born of the knowledge that this could be their last time together, they took each other beyond the fears and doubts and pain to a place of peace and tenderness.

A place where only lovers can go.

CHAPTER NINE

Beth lay in the darkness, feeling Colin’s arms around her, his heartbeat as erratic as her own. During their time together they’d pushed away the fear in the only way they could. Now there was nothing left to do but face the fate decreed by Darda’s curse.

Beth had shared with him every scheme she could imagine to evade this cruel outcome, but he’d assured her that he had already attempted everything imaginable through the years. Darda’s curse was unbreakable.

As the new moon began to rise over their balcony, he brushed a soft kiss on her lips and slid from the pallet.

“Wait. You mustn’t go. I can’t let you.” She caught his hand and clung fiercely.

His voice was an urgent whisper. “Understand, love, the call is so fierce, I would crush you beneath my hooves in my haste to get to Stag’s Head Peak. Now that the time is upon me, nothing can stop this overwhelming need.”

Tossing a cloak over his plaid, he strode from the room without a pause.

As the door closed, lightning streaked across the sky, followed moments later by a crash of thunder so close, it shook the rafters.

Chilled, Beth pulled on the woolen nightgown that had been left on the chaise. Turning to the fireplace, she stirred the ashes and added a log, but even the sudden blaze of flames couldn’t warm her. The thought of what was about to happen to Colin left her chilled to the bone.

Shivering, she ran to the balcony, hoping for one last glimpse of his beloved face.

Lightning streaked, illuminating a great stag, its antlers as wide as a longbow as it raced across the courtyard and fled into the countryside beyond. Lightning flashed across Stag’s Head Peak in the distance.

After a day watching the hunt, Beth knew that the landscape was every bit as wild and rugged as the tales her Gram had told. Looking out over the bleak countryside, she chewed her lower lip, considering her options.

Colin was convinced that nothing could change his fate. But she refused to stand idly by while he went to certain death. There had to be a way to intervene in Darda’s hateful curse.

A search of the room found little to help. Beth’s gaze was arrested by the ancient sword and knife hanging above the mantel. Standing on a settee, she was able to reach the sword, but when she tried to remove it, she realized that it probably weighed more than she. That left her no choice but to help herself to the knife, which she tucked into the pocket of her nightdress.

She had no plan in mind, except to find Colin. With that thought playing through her head, she snatched up a coarse woolen cloak and opened the door to her chambers before racing headlong down the stairs.

Once outside, she pulled the cloak over her and hiked the skirts of the ridiculous nightdress as she started walking, keeping the high peak in the distance clearly in her line of vision.

Maybe she really was crazy, she thought. What other explanation could there possibly be that would have her sneaking away in the middle of the night, crossing the wild, dangerous Highlands barefoot, and hoping to stop a dangerous hunter from killing the fictional Beast of the Highlands?

As if the wind blowing across the countryside wasn’t enough, Beth’s bare feet kept sliding over damp moss and slippery rocks, making her feel as unbalanced as many at Stag’s Head Lodge believed her to be.

The climb to the peak seemed an impossible task. The howling wind was threatening to blow her away. Each lightning bolt, each boom of thunder, had her questioning her sanity. Still, she refused to turn back.

She scrambled from rock to rock, low branch to low branch, and found herself struggling for every breath. She’d never dreamed the climb to the top of these Highland peaks would be so daunting.

At the keening of the wind, the sky turned so dark, she looked up and saw the moon covered by a wall of thick, dark clouds. Perhaps she should be grateful for the wind and the clouds. Without them, she would have been as visible as if she were carrying a lantern.

As she came up over a rise, a sudden flash of lightning gave her a clear view of the scene before her.

A great stag stood on a shelf of rock, head high, standing as still as a statue.

Seeing a slight movement to one side, Beth caught sight of a man wearing a hooded cloak. In the blink of an eye he lifted his hands. Another flash of lightning showed an archer’s bow in one hand, an arrow in the other.

As he took aim, she shouted, “Behind you!”

The night went dark, and she feared her words had been snatched away by the wicked wind. Straining, she thought she heard the flight of the arrow as it sang through the air. In the same instant the stag leapt down from the rock.

Instead of hitting the stag’s throat, as intended, the arrow landed in the moving animal’s side.

With a cry the great beast staggered and fought, rearing up on its hind legs before dropping to the ground, writhing in pain.

With a muttered oath at his bad timing, the man stepped out of his place of concealment. Following behind him was a woman dressed in an elegant fur-lined cloak.

The two headed toward the animal, prepared to finish the deed. In the man’s hand was a sword. In the woman’s hand, the razor-sharp blade of a knife glinted in the moonlight.

“No!” With a look of absolute horror, Beth raced across the distance that separated them and knelt beside the wounded creature.

With a look of surprise, the man halted for a moment.

Edwina took the lead and started forward. “Move away, woman, before you join the beast in death.”

“You think to kill us both so no one will know the evil thing you did here?” Beth got to her feet and faced the man and woman.

“No, you fool,” Ian shouted. “The Beast will take care of that for us. Before he dies, his antlers will rip you to shreds. If that isn’t enough, those great hooves will crush you.”

“Then you’ll have your wish, won’t you? The only witness to your cruel deed will be eliminated.” Beth fixed them both with a look of fury. “What happened to the hunter you paid to do this evil thing?”

Ian looked stunned. “How did you know?”

“I overheard your evil scheme.”

“Why, you . . .” As Ian rushed toward her, Beth pulled the knife from her waistband.

“Come any closer, Ian, and you’ll be the one to suffer.”

When he hesitated, Edwina tossed back the hood of her cloak and advanced. “Do you think you can kill both of us?”

“I’ll die trying.”

Hearing the sound of pain and fury emanating from the stag’s throat, and seeing the feral gleam of its eyes, Edwina turned away with a sly smile. “This woman is a bigger fool than your friend Hamish.” She shot a glance at Beth. “You asked about him. He refused to carry out the deed, saying the laird didn’t deserve such a fate. Even now he lies in a pool of his own blood.”

Beth looked in horror at Ian. “And you called him a friend?”

Edwina answered for her brother. “What we do is necessary to carry out the will of our mother. As for you, fool woman, you shall suffer an even harsher death, as you’ll certainly be crushed beneath the hooves of the beast as he fights to the death. You both deserve what you will get.”

As thunder crashed across the heavens, Edwina turned away. Her boot caught the edge of a rock and she lost her balance, falling into the rushing waters of a swollen Highland stream.

With a cry, Ian dropped his weapon and made a desperate attempt to save her, until he, too, was swept away.

Their cries filled the air.

Within minutes their voices were stilled.

Shuddering, Beth turned her attention to the great stag. But as she reached for the arrow protruding from its side, powerful hooves flailed at her hand, barely missing her flesh.

She watched as the animal’s breath came in short bursts, indicating the amount of pain even that effort cost.

“You have to let me remove that arrow, or you’ll surely bleed to death.”

The stag turned to her with a look of terror.

“I know you mistrust humans. Especially now that one has caused you such pain. But you have to trust me. I’m here to help you.”

While she kept her voice soft, she ran a hand along the creature’s sleek hide and felt a quiver, and another low rumble deep in its throat. A warning to retreat? Or an admission of its fear?

“In order to help you, I’ll be forced to inflict a little more pain as I withdraw the arrow. But then, if you’ll let me, I’ll bind your wounds and stay with you until you’re able to find your way home.” She touched a hand to the animal’s head and stared into the pain-filled eyes. “Please let me help.”

As she spoke she took hold of the shaft of the arrow and pulled it free in one quick motion.

The stag gave a howl of pain that could be heard echoing and re-echoing across the Highlands, sending chills along the spine of every man, woman, and child who heard it in the villages below.

“I’m sorry, my love. I can’t bear the thought of causing you any more pain than you’ve already experienced.”

Beth tore the hem of her gown into strips, which she wrapped tightly around the animal’s hide until they were drenched with blood. When she was finished, her hands, her body, even the ends of her hair were soaked with the creature’s blood.

“If I could, I’d take away your pain. But all I can do now is hope that you’re strong enough to recover from this horrible wound.” Beth wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck and pressed her mouth to its ear. “Try to sleep, love. To heal. And we’ll hope that in the morning, you’re strong enough to find your way home.”

There was another growl, softer now, as the big stag trembled.

Exhausted from the climb and the emotional toll of her efforts, Beth huddled against the great beast, tucking the edges of her cloak around him, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

The storm had blown over, leaving a fine mist falling from a sky tinged with dawn light. Beth awoke with a start. Instead of the great stag she’d been holding when she fell asleep, she looked down into the face of her beloved Colin.

“You’re alive.”

He made a slight movement, struggling to grasp her hand. “Nay, love. I am dying.”

“But you’ve broken the curse. You’ve survived the night. You can’t die, Colin. Please stay with me.” His hands, she realized, were as cold as ice. His flesh was as pale as the snowcaps that dotted the peaks of the Highlands. “I can’t bear to live without you. There has to be something I can do.”

“It is too late to stop the curse. In order to fulfill Darda’s promise, I must die. But there is a way to thwart her.”

“How? Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

His gaze was fixed on her. “You have already done it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Love, Bethany. Love is stronger than hate. A pure heart is stronger than any curse. If you love me, truly love me, you must know that I’ll never leave you.”

“But you said you’re dying.”

“I am. I must. But that does not mean I’ll ever leave you, love.”

“You’re not making any sense. You’re dying, and you say you’ll never leave me?”

“I give you my word, my beloved Bethany. I will always be with you. And one day, I promise you, your grief will turn to joy.”

She watched the uneven rise and fall of his chest, and knew that he was struggling to remain with her. But his life was slowly fading.

Though it pained her, she knew she needed to be completely truthful with him before death claimed him. “I need to tell you something. I hope you won’t hate me when you hear this. I came here to persuade you, by any means I could, to sell your ancestral lands. I was told to do whatever necessary, to beg, buy, or steal. I even planned on enlisting the help of Ian and Edwina in order to trick you into selling.”

“Is that why you made love with me?”

She felt the quick rush of tears and wiped furiously at them. “Of course not. What we shared was honest. And beautiful. And now that I understand what all this means to you, the price you paid to keep it, I would never make such an offer. I know now that this is, as you said, hallowed ground, and must remain in your possession for generations to come.”

“Then love has truly transformed us both.” A sad, haunted smile touched the corner of his mouth and, though it cost him, he drew her close and brushed a kiss to her lips. “You never said the words. Do you truly love me?”

“With all my heart.” A sob caught in her throat. “I wish I had told you sooner. But please know how much I love you, Colin.”

“I can die in peace now, my love.”

“No! Oh, Colin, no.”

“Though the curse must be fulfilled, I will never leave you. Believe that.”

She felt him take a small breath. His hand went slack. His handsome face looked deceptively peaceful, as though he were merely at rest.

She couldn’t contain her overwhelming grief. Great, wrenching sobs were torn from her throat. And as she gathered him into her arms, she wept until there were no tears left.

CHAPTER TEN

Beside the little chapel in the garden, Beth stood to one side as the villagers paused at the fresh mound of earth to whisper a prayer or drop a rose petal onto the moist soil.

The chapel had been abuzz with the murder of young Hamish Campbell, and the rumor that Ian and Edwina, running from the scene, had been caught up in the churning, swollen waters of a stream and had both perished. As yet, their bodies had not been recovered.

It mattered not to Beth. Colin was dead, and whatever the fate of his stepsiblings, it wouldn’t bring him back to her.

When all the villagers had left, it was time for the staff of Stag’s Head Lodge to pay their final respects. Old Maura leaned heavily on the arm of the young serving lass, Glenna, tears streaming down both their faces. Mistress MacKay knelt to place a bowl of the laird’s favorite bread pudding on the grave. Poor Jamie could hardly contain the grief that had him rubbing at his eyes and turning away.

And then, finally, as the sun began to set and dusk settled over the land, Beth was alone. She dropped to her knees and allowed the tears to flow. Great choking sobs were torn from her throat as she knelt beside the grave, wishing with all her heart that she could join her love.

“How cruel of the Fates to give me a taste of true love, and then demand that I go on living alone,” she whispered.

She was so caught up in grief, she could barely recall the events of the day. It had been Jamie who had found her, lying beside the laird on Stag’s Head Peak, her arms locked around his still body, her face buried in his neck. The lad had to pry her arms free. Wrapping her in a dry woolen cloak, he’d helped her up to the saddle of his mount before draping the laird’s body across the back of his favorite stallion.

Taking up the reins of the laird’s horse, the lad pulled himself up behind Beth and was forced to hold tightly to her or she would have surely fallen, she was so limp and weakened by her grief and pain.

As they’d made their way back to the lodge, people in the village came out of their houses and stood in silence, watching the sad procession. All had known about the curse, and all had kept the laird’s secret, out of love and devotion to him.

When they’d reached the courtyard of the lodge, every member of the laird’s staff stood in a straight column, heads bowed, faces somber.

An old man hobbled forward and helped Jamie remove the laird’s body from the horse. At once old Maura appeared with a length of ivory linen in which to wrap the body.

When that was done, Jamie indicated Beth. “The lady needs tending.”

“No.” She slid from the saddle and knelt on the stone paving to place a hand on the linen shroud. “My needs are not important now. First we must see to the laird, and give him a proper burial.”

“Aye.” Maura, grateful for the chance to do something, took charge. “We’ll summon the old friar and send word to the village that the laird’s funeral will be before dusk.”

And so it had been done. Right now the villagers and the members of the laird’s household retreated to the great hall, eating a meal in Colin’s honor, and talking quietly among themselves about the good man they had lost, and what would happen to Stag’s Head Lodge going forward. There was word that the old laird’s brother had a son, a cousin near the age of Colin, whose quiet dignity and calm demeanor would continue the course set by his predecessors.

And now, Beth thought, her own future stretched out before her, empty and meaningless. She had found the great love of her life. And, just as quickly, had lost him.

Was it possible for her, after all this, to return to the life she’d known before Colin?

The thought of returning to the city, of struggling daily to please her stern, demanding aunt, of pretending that the work she did, the business she conducted, meant anything at all to her, was unimaginable.

How could she possibly go on?

Even though I must die, I will never leave you.

“But you have, Colin. Why did you make that impossible promise?” Her whispered words caused a fresh round of tears. “You’ve left me, and nothing will ever be the same.”

She wished with all her heart that the world would just go away and leave her to this all-encompassing grief.

Drained beyond belief, she closed her eyes.

* * *

“Here, now. What’s this? What’s happened?”

When Beth heard that much-loved voice, her eyes opened and she found herself staring into the familiar eyes of her beloved.

“Colin?”

“Aye. I’m Colin Gordon. And you’d be . . . ?”

“Beth. Beth Campbell.” She struggled to sit up. “But you’re . . .”

She blinked, and realized that this man, with Colin’s face, was wearing corduroy slacks and a fisherman’s knit sweater with patches at the elbows. His hair, though dark as midnight, was cut short. His voice was cultured, with the merest hint of a Scottish burr to it.

And then she realized that she was wearing her charcoal silk business suit and designer shoes, and lying along the side of the road.

“I was . . .” She swallowed. What was going on here? Had she actually lived in that other time and place? Or had she been having a hallucination, brought about by the bump to her head?

“I was on my way to Stag’s Head Lodge when my car stalled, and when I started walking I fell and hit my head . . .”

“Indeed you did. And I can see why, wearing shoes with those stiletto heels.” He put up his hands. “Wait. You musn’t try to stand. Let me carry you.”

He lifted her easily in his arms and started toward a waiting Rolls-Royce, where a handsome youth was seated behind the wheel. Beside him, setting up a chorus of barking, were several beautifully-groomed hounds.

“Hush now.” At that single command, the dogs sat back, tongues lolling, as he settled her in the backseat before sitting beside her.

“Let’s get our guest to the lodge, Jamie.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

As the car began rolling toward the lodge, Beth’s host took her hand in his, sending the most delicious curls of heat along her spine. “I hope you don’t mind that, after receiving your letter, I took the liberty of asking my stepsiblings to stay home this weekend.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “I don’t want any distractions while I show you around. There’s so much to see. The lovely loch, where I’ve been fishing since I was a lad. All the quaint shops in the village.”

“I stopped in Stag’s Head Village on my way, and it was lovely. The old gentleman in the bake shop couldn’t say enough good things about you.”

“That would be Hanley. A sweet friend and a fine tenant.” He smiled, and Beth felt her heart doing a strange dance in her chest.

“Not to mention an outstanding baker. I thoroughly enjoyed his scones.”

“Wait until you taste Mrs. MacKay’s bread pudding. There’s no one around here who can match it.”

Beth sighed. “I can’t wait.”

He continued holding her hand. “I hope this doesn’t sound too presumptuous of me, but if I were to ask you to stay on for an extended visit, would you think me too bold?” Before she could respond, he added, “Though I suppose, if you did stay on, you would probably miss New York too much.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “At the moment, New York seems so very far away. I doubt I’ll miss it at all. In fact, I don’t know how anyone could ever bear to leave all this beauty to live in the city.”

“Do you know how much it pleases me to hear you say that?” He lowered his voice. “I know you’ve come to negotiate the sale of my ancestral estate, but I should warn you that no amount of money will tempt me. It isn’t for sale at any price.”

“Then why did you agree to see me?”

“Why indeed? I think you know, sweet Bethany. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time. It feels like hundreds of years, in fact.”

She felt a quick hitch around her heart. “It’s true, then? I didn’t dream it?”

He squeezed her hand and stared at their joined hands before looking up into her eyes. “I hope you’re prepared for a very long stay.”

“How long?”

He caught a stray strand of her hair and watched as it sifted through his fingers. “I think you know.”

As they pulled into a paved courtyard, she heard the pealing of bells, and caught a glimpse of a small chapel to one side of a lovely rose garden.

“Tomorrow I’ll show you where my ancestors are buried.”

“I’d like that very much. And I want you to know that I understand why you will never part with this estate. This is hallowed ground.”

“Exactly. Our hearts and minds are in sync, Bethany. Come.”

She accepted his hand and slid from the car to see a plump, gray-haired woman standing in the doorway, smiling in welcome.

Instead of merely leading the way, he dropped an arm around her shoulders, and she felt the warmth of his touch all the way to her toes. “It’s time you say hello to old Maura. She’s been on pins and needles ever since she learned you were on your way.”

She paused to look up into his eyes. “Tell me the truth. Is this really happening? Or is it more magic?”

His smile was quick and easy. “Who can say what is real and what is magic? Instant attraction? Love at first sight? How to explain them? Many have tried. But only those who’ve experienced it can know for certain.” He paused before adding, “This much I know, Bethany. You and I are real. And I do believe we’re both ready to accept whatever . . . magic the Fates decree.”

Beth looked around at the ancient castle, the beautifully tended gardens, the little chapel, with its cherubs and stone markers standing guard over the graves of Colin’s ancestors.

Though this was her first trip to Scotland, she knew this place intimately. And whether she had lived here in ancient times, or it had all been a strange dream brought on by a fall, she knew, without a doubt, that her lonely heart had, at long last, found its home.