The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,83
flight and disappeared inside the church. A moment later, it landed on the arch again, this time with something in its beak.
A scrap of fabric, she thought, though it was difficult to see.
The bird looked directly at Annie, and for a moment, she would have sworn its eyes were the same color as Fin’s. Then, it flew away.
But the scrap of fabric floated down, twirling and dancing on the newly vigorous wind. It landed in the center of the stones.
Blue and green tartan. The very same she’d used to make her Englishman’s kilt.
“Och, that clever bird must have snatched it from my pouch earlier when I was gatherin’ bog myrtle.” Mrs. MacBean bent down and retrieved the little scrap of wool. “I used this for yer marriage charm.”
Annie blinked at the old woman who always seemed so daft.
Mrs. MacBean smiled and tucked the scrap into the pouch she wore on her hip. “Seems I still have a bit of magic left in this auld blood, eh?”
“W-was the bird …” Annie pointed to the now-empty arch. “Was that—”
A pat of her hand. A tug toward the trail. “These are deep mysteries we seek to plumb, lass. Dark forces and hidden realms.”
“Aye. Ye’ve said that before. Why do I suspect ye ken a lot more than ye’re sayin’?”
Ignoring the question, the old woman bent to gather a handful of moss from a nearby rock and stuffed it into her pouch. “Do ye suppose Mr. Brodie’s uncle will attend yer weddin’, lass?” A daft sigh. “Ah, that would be a grand surprise. I havenae enjoyed a good caber toss in far too many years.”
Chapter Sixteen
TlU
Annie waited to change into her lilac gown until after Betty had gone home. She sat with Broderick until she felt him ease into sleep and waited until Angus’s door had closed to don her half-boots. She waited until the house was silent but for the night insects and owls outside.
Then, she made her move, slipping out the door into the bright, silvery night. Took the road north into Glendasheen, enjoying the crunch of gravel and the scent of green and the silken summer air on her skin. Soon, she was rounding the loch and approaching the castle.
Next, she was opening the door.
Near midnight, the castle stood quiet and dark. The MacDonnells had all gone home or gone to their beds. Now, standing in John Huxley’s entrance hall with moonlight pouring through his new windows, she wondered if she’d find him in his bedchamber or awake in his library or milling about his kitchen in search of food that Marjorie MacDonnell hadn’t ruined.
She wondered if she’d find him alone.
God, she hoped she found him alone.
Her body shook. Her hands sweated. Her throat was dry.
There was nothing for it now. She’d come here with an aim, and she meant to have it done. Slowly, she picked her way across the slate stones her English gentleman had laid with his own hands. She journeyed down the corridor to the stairs and felt her heart pounding thrice for every step she took.
She’d begin with his bedchamber, she decided. If he was there alone, she’d have her say, and that would be that. If he wasn’t alone … well, she didn’t know what she’d do. Probably something unladylike—insults about copulation with farm animals followed by sudden, vicious thrashing of tender body parts, perhaps. If he was elsewhere, she’d search until she found him, for she did not intend to leave here until her Englishman had been set straight. The pain in his eyes as he’d walked away haunted her.
She paused as she reached the upper floor. His door, made of planked oak that he’d repaired and refinished himself, was the last one on the left. Her heart squeezed. She took a breath. Found the handle. And went inside.
The room would be dark if not for moonlight beaming through three arched windows on the southern wall. The planks beneath her feet creaked a bit as she padded nearer the center, where she knew she’d find his bed—the green-draped bed she’d witnessed last year being hauled from his long cart, along with a massive carpet, several tables, and two tall leather chairs. Both chairs now sat facing the hearth on the east wall. It was summer, so no fire. No lantern. No light except the moon.