His Heart's Desire (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

“Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it,” Catrìona mumbled to herself as she sat at the kitchen bar diligently working on a dress design that had been giving her problems from the start. Nothing seemed to be going right—from the material to the demands of the bride. In the last few months, she’d won the lottery as far as difficult brides went. And to think she’d fought tooth and nail to win this commission. As her irritation grew, the more sidetracked she became. She glanced at the glossy brochures and the old journal sitting on the countertop.

The diary had fallen out, as if from thin air, while she’d stood in her closet today. She’d opened the fragile journal and had seen an entry dated 1675. She’d not found time to read the tantalizing book yet, but had quickly thumbed through the delicate vellum pages. What she’d managed to glimpse had spurned her sudden and overwhelming need to visit Scotland. Throwing the sketchpad on the table, she pulled out the brochures she’d collected over the months. The more she thought about the random idea of flying to Scotland and searching out the truth of her Highlander, the less important the dress design became. At this rate, the damn dress would never be finished.

Catrìona was consumed with making a success of her business. Unfortunately, the Sheridan wedding was her ticket to that success. The Sheridans were part of the local aristocracy and the marriage of their spoiled daughter, Celeste, was to be the event of the season. Celeste had been nothing short of a terror to work with, and her mother no better. You would think they were royalty the way they carried on. Who cared that their family plantation outside New Orleans had been in their family for generations, or that Celeste had managed to land one of the most eligible bachelors the city had to offer? Bully for her. It didn’t give her leave to treat people badly.

With a heavy sigh, Catrìona forced herself to put the brochures down and frowned at the sketch. She was pondering the problem of how the material would drape for the train when her assistant and best friend, Summer,
let herself in the front door.

“Uh-oh,” Catrìona whispered.

To see Summer without her signature smile on her face meant bad news.

“Well, don’t just leave me hanging. How bad was it?”

Summer grimaced and walked across the country-styled kitchen to the refrigerator. As she reached for the sweet tea, she said, “Apparently Celeste and Harrison had a fight. Celeste consoled herself with chocolate. A lot of chocolate. Long story short, the dress doesn’t fit. It’s a little too small. Anyhow, it doesn’t really matter since she has cancelled the wedding.” She put her glass under the ice dispenser and let rip. The sound grated on Catrìona’s already frayed nerves.

“What? You’re telling me she cancelled the wedding because she had no self-control, overindulged in sweets, and doesn’t fit into her dress?” Catrìona was dumbfounded. Who did that? Cancelled a wedding for such a ridiculous reason? You cancelled if you found out the groom was a two-timing pig, or if Brad Pitt came to his senses and proposed marriage. You didn’t cancel a wedding because the dress didn’t fit.

“That’s correct.”

“Oh God, what am I going to do?” Catrìona started to pace. Celeste had insisted the dress be sewn to her exact measurements. She hadn’t wanted any extra material left for last minute fittings. The end result was a gorgeous gown made of Italian silk. There was beading on the bodice,
and the skirt was sewn by hand.

Italian silk was unforgiving, and the time it took to work with the touchy fabric was unbelievable. In the end, Catrìona had admitted this was her best work to date. The dress was simplistic in its lines and in its decoration, and now it would no longer fit the bride it had been sized for. A gremlin whispered in her ear, “
It would fit you, lass
.” The dress was one she’d dreamed of wearing to walk down the aisle to her Highlander.

She shook off that unsettling thought. “I just knew that something
like this was going to happen.”

Catrìona stopped in the middle of the kitchen, snapped her fingers and announced, “I know. We can tie her up into a corset. It could cut down on the little bit she needs to lose. Won’t it?” Waving her hand, as if to erase that thought, she added with mirth, “Besides, she said she wanted a Victorian look, so what’s
more Victorian than a corset?”

Summer shook her head. “Actually, I was thinking you finish the dress, deliver it, and accept payment. It’s not your fault the bride is a twit. Besides, she may not actually walk down the aisle.” Summer calmly took another sip of her iced tea. “Plus, it’s a karma thing. That was your wedding dress, and we both know it. Why you agreed to let the witch purc
hase the design, is beyond me.”

Catrìona turned to face her friend and smiled. “Yes, but my way was more dramatic. Just think, trussing her up like a Christmas goose would be fun.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “And that was not
my
dress. What do I need with a wedding dress, when I don’t even have a boyfriend?”

Summer put the tea down and smiled at Catrìona. “Do what you think is best.”

“You’re right. I’ll simply finish the dress and have you deliver it.”

“Coward,” Summer muttered.

“Damn straight.”

“So, not to change the subject or anything, but what’s with the Scotland brochures?” Summer held one up as she scanned the others.

“I’m thinking of taking a trip and finding out what I can about my heritage.”

Summer faced her. “Really?”

Catrìona tried not to squirm. “Really.”

“Hmm.” Summer cocked her brow. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“What more is there? I’ve always wanted to see Scotland and . . . after this dress commission, I’m going to need a vacation.” She waited for her friend’s reply, but Summer was unusually quiet.

“What?” Catrìona asked, with a little more heat than the question really warranted.

“I spoke with Madame Lafarge, and she warned that one of my friends was about to embark on a life-altering journey. And who travels to Scotland in the fall? I understand the weather is not that friendly.”

“You know I have a healthy respect for Madame Lafarge and would never ignore her words of wisdom, but what has this got to do with me?” She walked to her fridge and pulled out a can of Cola. “And I like the rain; you know that.”

“You’re taking a trip, silly. You, who never goes anywhere, have decided to leave the country.” Summer sat down. “And it seems awfully sudden.”

“Sudden? Come on; you know I’ve wanted to do this for years, ever since grade school actually.”

“I know, but why now?”

What could she say that would not sound incredibly stupid? Very little. She surely wasn’t going to admit to her best friend that she thought she was being drawn to the Highlands by a painting. Shrugging her shoulders, she smiled. “Call it fate. I don’t know. I just feel compelled to do it now. It’s important and I can’t explain it. Please, just support me in this.”

“Of course. So, how long do we have to plan your trip?”

Catrìona had no idea what she was going to do or where to look for the answers she needed. All she knew was, the sooner she did this the better. “I’d like to be able to leave at the end of the month. That gives us about three weeks.”

“Do you already have your passport?” Summer asked.

“Actually, I do. I got it a year ago when I first contemplated taking the trip.”

Summer nodded her head. “How long are you going to be gone?”

Catrìona had no idea. “I think two weeks will be long enough.”

Summer rubbed her hands together. “Right, let’s get this dress done and to Celeste. Then we’ll begin planning your trip.”

Catrìona felt giddy excitement rush through her. Her life was finally going to get back on track, even if it broke her heart to do so.

*
* *

Braden watched from his prison as Catrìona packed for her trip. It had worked. She was really going to go home—his home. They would finally have the chance
he’d always dreamed of having.

“I’m going to take you with me,” Catrìona whispered to him, and his heart filled with love for her. “I can’t bear to leave you behind even for a moment.”

He felt the same way, which was why he never allowed himself to cross over to the other plane. It was why he had vowed revenge in the first place.

Soon. Soon he would be back in the Highlands, and there—with the help of the fey—his life would be restored to him, provided his Catrìona had the strength to believe what she was about to learn. She would need it for the battl
e that they were about to wage.

CHAPTER THREE

Catrìona chewed on her lower lip as she waited in the crowded Heathrow Airport arrivals area for her luggage. She glanced at her watch and noticed it was already ten in the morning local time, and she had a little over two hours to get to King’s Cross train station. From there, she’d catch the Flying Scotsman, which was the high-speed train that would take her to Inverness. In Scotland, she’d rent a car
and drive north to Ross Castle.

Most of the other passengers on the long flight from New Orleans to London were already on their way through Customs. A few lone bags continued to drop onto the carousel, but her battered L
ouis Vuitton was still missing.

This was bad. Very bad.

Her palms began to sweat as nothing further seemed to appear. Where was her suitcase? She gazed down at her backpack and carry-on, which contained sundry items including a toothbrush, hairbrush, change of panties, and her painting. The painting was the reason she was here in the United Kingdom. She hoped this trip would bring her the peace she longed for. She slid the backpack over her shoulders, picked up the large carry-on and made to move to the Lost and Found desk, when she finally saw her bag slide onto the moving carousel.

A good quarter of an hour had passed and she needed to get a move on if she was going to catch her train. She had no idea how long it would take for the tube to get her to the train station, and she wanted to grab a bite to eat. Now that she was on the ground, she was starving.

She managed to catch her train minutes before it departed the station. With an exhausted sigh, she found a seat beside a friendly-looking grandmother type and quickly stowed her two bags before getting comfortable. It would be several hours before they reached Inverness. In no time at all the combination of the gentle rocking of the train and jetlag lulled her into a deep sleep.

Warmth settled around her and Catrìona snuggled into the secure hold, knowing she would be warm and safe from all things. The arms holding her so close would banish the winter cold that permeated the train car.

“I’m so proud of you for making this trip. Our future is dependent on you opening your mind and heart to what you will learn.”

Catrìona tipped her head back and met the beautiful brown gaze of her Highlander. “What do you mean?” His words left her with a strange sort of excitement, but her ‘play it safe’ approach to life tempered her enthusiasm for what she was doing. “I’m afraid.”

“Never be afraid to face new things, my Catrìona. By doing so, you risk the chance of experiencing something wonderful—grand, even.”

Catrìona managed to cuddle into the warmth at her back and allowed the deep voice to lull h
er into a state of contentment.

“You smell so wonderful. How I wish we were more private,
so I could kiss you all over.”

“Kiss me anyhow, please.” She didn’t recognize her voice or the slight accent that laced her words. That had never happened before, but she didn’t give it much thought. This was her dream, and in her dreams anything seemed possible.

“Ah, lass, you tempt a man beyond all reason.” His mouth settled against hers with gentle intent.

Catrìona parted her lips to his questing tongue, relishing the velvet rub of his tongue against hers. Nothing made her feel more comple
te than being held against him.

She moaned as her body responded to his kiss; a slow, deep, searching kiss that consumed as much as it gave. Catrìona cupped his face as the embrace deepened. She could kiss this man for an eternity an
d never tire of the experience.

*
* *

Something jolted Catrìona, and she came awake with a start. The woman seated beside her gave her a strange look. “I say, dear, are you feeling out of sorts? You were moaning as if in pain.”

Embarrassment burned Catrìona’s cheeks, and she rested her head against the cool glass of the train window. Her body was sensitized to the point of pain. Her nipples were pebble hard and the lace of her bra abraded the tips, making her aware of the other sensitive areas of her body. This had to end. There would be no more public displays of wanton behavior with non-existent men. “Ah, no. I’m fine, just a little stiff from the long hours of sitting. I just arrived in England. It was a long flight.”

The blue-haired, little old lady raised her eyebrows and the look on her face could only be called disbelieving, but thankfully she refrained from commenting further.

Scenery passed by at an amazing clip, and Catrìona stared out vacantly at the rain-swept landscape. Small stone walls separated emerald green fields dotted with black-faced sheep. Time passed swiftly and eventually the train pulled into Inverness Station.

The weather was cold and, before she stepped out to hail a cab, she pulled out her fleece. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the painting; a strong reminder of why she stood in Scotland, tired, cold, and out of sorts.

The brisk air did a lot towards clearing the travel cobwebs from her mind. A cab took her to the B&B where she would stay for the night. In the morning she would collect her rental car and begin the second leg of her journey.

Bags scattered around her on the floor, Catrìona flopped back on the antique bed in her B&B room and stared up at the ceiling. In two days’ time, it would be Samhain, the night the veil between worlds was the thinnest. Magic
was said to be potent that eve.

Before her trip, Catrìona had visited the voodoo shop owned by Summer’s sister, Natalia. She liked the shop name—Mystic. It seemed appropriate that she’d find answers there. After making sure Natalia wouldn’t say anything to Summer, Catrìona had explained her problem. She didn’t want to have to run the gauntlet of potential males Summer thought were
perfect
for her, if she found out Catrìona was thinking of dating again. Natalia thought it was possible Catrìona may be a haunted person and that could be the reason why she was so overcome with emotions for dabs of oil and color that made up her Highlander.

Their discussion had evolved into what Catrìona had to do in order to fix things, and Natalia had given her a contact name in Tain where she could get the help and supplies needed to release the love of her life into the next realm. Of course, he had to be real and trapped in a painting. Hopefully, when all was said and done, she could get on with life and be able to find a relations
hip with a flesh and blood man.

Sitting up, Catrìona pulled the portrait out of her bag and propped it up on the desk before changing into her nightclothes. As she listened to the unfamiliar sounds and adjusted to the strange bed, she took solace in her touchstone—the portrait. Her Highlander.

Natalia had given her hope that there may just be a way to release her obsession. Catrìona longed to have a normal relationship with a man, to fall in love and create a family. But as long as she was haunted by a certain man, she doubted that would ever happen. Every man she’d met up to this point in her life seemed to pale in comparison. Her deepest fear was that even if she were able to free herself from dreams of him, she would still be infatuated and miss him greatly. Catrìona hoped she’d not traveled all this way in vain.

“Oh, how I wish you were real.” She blew a kiss in his direction. But instead of drifting off to sleep as she’d planned, she bolted upright. Did that portrait just wink at her?