Highlander's Magical Love: A Cree & Dawn Novella Page 2

  “You can make anything look sexy,” Lila said, rolling her eyes.

  “I can’t help it if I’m beautiful and have a great body. Who knows? The future Earl of Carrick may take one look at me and fall madly in love.”

  “That only happens in romance novels,” Flanna said.

  “Flanna!”

  Cringes and shaking heads circled the dining room upon hearing Colum’s stinging tone.

  “Hurry and go fetch tea and biscuits for the fortune-teller who will be entertaining guests tonight. She’s in the small parlor, down the hallway before the gallery, and be careful. Keep your distance from Colum,” Flanna ordered Dawn.

  Dawn raised a fist along with another smile.

  “I know you’ve learned to defend yourself, but Colum’s a devious one and he has strength to him. Now go.” Flanna shooed her away.

  Dawn hurried off while fastening the half paper doily to the front of her hair bun, after slipping on the bib apron, her smile fading.

  Her disability—no voice—had proved a difficult one. She could not make a sound. Not a peep. Not a grunt or a groan. Nothing. She had been born without a voice and with no rational explanation as to why and no way to correct it. Her unwed mum hadn’t wanted her and had given her up for adoption. It had been the best thing she could have ever done since the couple who adopted her, Lizbeth and Ned Holbech, were the best parents in the world.

  Still, though, it was a difficult disability to deal with. Most people thought her mute when they discovered that she couldn’t speak, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing, and she was a whiz at sign language. If only everyone knew sign language.

  She also communicated through her art. She loved drawing, painting, designing anything through art. To her, art was a language all its own and it gave her a voice.

  Dawn hurried to do as Flanna had ordered, taking the tray the long way around from the kitchen so as to avoid Colum. She entered the foyer, larger than the small flat she rented over Wise Reads Bookshop and where she worked in the nearby Village of Dowell and smiled, the decorations stunning the eyes.

  Intricately carved pumpkins and basic carved turnips—a nod to early Scottish tradition— candles flickering in each, filled every corner and nook and sat in the far corner of every step going up the oak staircase and polished balustrade that disappeared to the second floor. Orange and black candles sat tall and stately in silver candelabras—lace spider webs, with tiny rubber spiders attached, dripping from them—on side boards filled with crystal bowls of an assortment of Scottish and American candies. Tiny sparkling orange lights wound around towering trees that appeared to be growing out of the floor but were attached to the curved wood banister, the branches bursting with colorful autumn leaves, while fake, black crows perched among them. However, it was the large, black cauldron, mist flowing out of it and the sound of a bubbling brew coming from it, on the center foyer table with a glittering orange cloth beneath that fell to the floor in a puddle of cascading shimmer that screamed the ultimate Halloween greeting.

  Dawn snatched a small package of M&Ms and added them to the serving tray before hurrying past a hallway that led to the library to get to the hallway near the gallery. It was one of many sections of the castle closed off for the event. It housed first editions of several great works, not to mention the old and valuable works of art in the gallery and throughout the house that Dawn would love to browse. Castle Carrick had its own private security staff but more security had been arranged for the event, some of the men and women unobtrusive, mingling with the crowd in costumes while others blatant, standing guard in certain areas, directing wandering guests away from the closed off areas.

  Dawn stopped abruptly once inside the small parlor, startled by the old woman, very old woman, if her wrinkles were any indication of her age. Her shoulders were stooped, though not severely and her hands were a bit gnarled. She was dressed in costume as well. That of a seer of old, black cloak and worn garments beneath.

  “Ahhh, a hot brew, just what I need to warm my old bones,” the old woman said with a smile.

  Dawn kept her eyes on the woman as she placed the tray on the desk, the sense that she looked familiar overwhelming but unable to recall where she may have known her from.

  “Sit with me a moment, Dawn,” she said, pointing a gnarled finger at the chair opposite her from the desk and where people would sit throughout the night to have their fortunes told.

  The woman knowing her name gave Dawn pause to think she might be right about having met her before. But then she would know she had no voice. She would love to stay and find out where she knew the woman from, but she had work to do. She looked anxiously at the door, then signed to the woman to see if she understood.

  “It will not take long, then you can return to your chore and your… fate.”

  Dawn scrunched her brow. The old woman understood her, but Dawn wondered over her words. Her fate? What did she mean? Dawn sat, curious.

  “You probably do not remember me. I am Old Mary.”

  The name registered somewhere in Dawn’s memory, try as she might, she could not place it. But then she had worked many an event, so it was possible she had seen the old woman at one or more of them.

  “All Hallows Eve. It is such a special night. Spirits are able to wander the earthly plane.”

  Dawn smiled, thinking the woman was playing her part well, convincing her that she knew of her fate as any good fortune-teller would do. Yet she could not shake the feeling that she did know the woman, and well.

  “Give me your hand and let me see what your future holds.”

  Dawn saw no harm in playing along and held her hand out to Old Mary.

  She ran her finger over Dawn’s palm. “Tonight the past and the present collide and you will finally be reunited.” She took hold of Dawn’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Listen well, Dawn, find him and let him know how you feel before midnight or he will be lost to you forever.”

  “What are you doing?” Lila asked, entering the room. “Flanna will have a fit if she finds you sitting here like one of the guests, getting your fortune told.”

  Old Mary stretched her hand out to Lila. “A quick one, Lila, to let you know when that wee bairn your husband Paul and you are trying so desperately to have will finally make himself known.”

  Lila stared speechless at the woman, then whispered, “I know you. You’re Old Mary.” She stretched her hand out to the woman with a smile.

  “You breech the two worlds well, Lila.” Without looking at her hand, Old Mary said, “You will have a fine son this time next year.”

  Lila and Dawn stared at Old Mary, speechless, unable to move.

  “Go, Lord Cree is on his way downstairs and you do not want to be caught with the fortune- teller,” Old Mary said with a soft laugh.

  Lila and Dawn both shook their heads and as they hurried out of the room Dawn signed, asking Lila how she knew the old woman’s name.

  Lila shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

  Chapter 2

  Cree stood in front of the full length mirror, staring at himself and wondering about the man who had worn a similar kilt, the simple plaid or tartan of the earlier Highlanders that came before the present day kilt. From what he had read in family writings, the ancestor he was named after had been a fierce warrior and a visionary, having accomplished things that far exceeded anyone else at that time. He had built something from nothing. Something Cree could relate to, having struck out on his own after university and developed several business ventures now worth millions, and he wasn’t done yet.

  One would say he had it all and yet he felt that there was something missing, a part of himself. The feeling had grown stronger in the last few years, yet he couldn’t quite explain it. Though, he supposed if he had to he would say that a part of himself had been lost. He never mentioned it to anyone, except Sloan, his best friend since they had been young. They were more like brothers really and he couldn’t have been happier when he married Lucerne, or Lucy as they called her, a few months ago. They were a perfect pair.

  Sloan had suggested that he had been so busy building his business empire that he had ignored his personal life. It was simple according to Sloan. He needed a permanent relationship, he needed to find love.

  Cree, on the other hand, believed that was more Lucy’s thoughts than Sloan’s since she had seen fit to introduce him to an endless stream of eligible women, some complete nightmares, others nice, but not for him.

  Sloan had given him a heads up that Lucy had invited a recent hire to her design firm to attend the party tonight with intentions of introducing her to Cree. He cringed at the thought, but he would be as pleasant as possible and play the part.

  Who knew what the night might bring? After all, it was All Hallows Eve, the night the spirits walked among the living. Maybe he would meet one of his ancestor’s ghosts.

  He scowled at the ridiculous notion as he left his room and traveled three floors down to the main level. He loved this castle and knew every nook and cranny and all of its history. It had been rebuilt around the existing, though damaged castle, in the 1500s after the castle on the hill overlooking the Kyle of Tongue had suffered severe damage. Time and weather wore it down again and it was refurbished in the 1600s and again in the 1800s. It wasn’t until the twentieth century that a massive restructure took place and constant maintenance followed to keep it in the excellent shape that it was today. His mum made sure that it remained so, hunting down any artifacts that pertained to the castle through the years and purchasing and having them restored when necessary.

  His father was proud of her and tolerant of the time she spent on it, but then he was busy himself running many of the family businesses. He was away now in London on business and unable to come home for the party, though Cree wondered if perhaps he was busy on purpose, since he was not fond of wearing costumes. To apologize to his wife for his absence and since the party was for a good cause, he had surprised her with a two week trip to Costa Rico. They would leave next week and stay for two weeks in a gorgeous resort owned by friends. His gift had soothed his mum’s disappointment… some.

  Cree descended the curving staircase, reaching the bottom as two female servants passed through.

  “Excuse me,” he called out and they both stopped and turned.

  Cree’s eyes fell on both, the one petite and shapely with bright red hair drawn up in a bun and a pretty face that men would look twice at, but he was drawn to the other woman.

  The woman in the window.

  There had been something about her eyes, even through the glass window panes, that had held his gaze. She was not beautiful by today’s standards, her features plain, more natural, not an ounce of makeup, except for a faint rose colored lipstick. Her auburn hair, like the other woman, was pinned in a tight bun on the top of her head. She was a good seven to eight inches over five feet, slim with slight curves, nothing that captivated or stunned the eye.

  Why then could he not take his eyes off her?

  “Dawn! Dawn!”

  Her name rang in his head. Dawn. The name of the woman who was wife to the ancestor he was named after. Strange that in all the years he had never met a woman named Dawn until tonight.

  A man’s loud shouts had the two women jumping and the one shooing Dawn, the auburn-haired one, away as if frightened for her. Dawn did not hesitate, she hurried off, leaving the other woman to face the short, barrel-chested man who seemed to fly into the room, an annoyed pinch to his face and so focused on finding Dawn that he did not see Cree standing at the bottom of the staircase.

  “Where is Dawn, Lila?” the man demanded sharply.

  “Is there a problem here?” Cree asked with an authoritative tone that had the man turning, his tongue ready to whip at Cree, though he stopped abruptly when he saw who stood before him.

  “Lord Cree, I did not see you there. I am gathering up the servants who should be doing their job instead of wandering curiously around your stunning castle.” The man waved Lila away and she looked relieved and scurried off. “I’m Colum Liege of Elite Catering and I am pleased to attend this fine event.”

  “Make sure you do your job well, Mr. Liege, or Elite Catering will not be returning to my home.”

  The pinched annoyance returned to Colum’s face at Cree’s reminder that he was here to do a job, not attend the event, and he gave Cree a nod, forced his chin up, and walked away.

  “Oh my goodness, you look so dashing,” his mum said as she bustled into the room dressed in a red ball gown circa 1800s that befitted the Countess of Carrick. “The guests will be arriving in about thirty minutes, just enough time for you to have the fortune-teller reveal your fate.”

  “Mum,” Cree said with as much tolerance as he could muster.

  His mum hooked her arm around his, manners forcing him to walk with her. “Please, do this for me, then you can honestly tell all those naysayers what a wonderful reading you had and remind them it is for a good cause. The fortune-teller is donating all her proceeds for the evening to the Carrick Foundation.”

  “That is quite charitable of her,” Cree said.

  “Then you will do it?” his mum asked.

  “Do I have a choice since you brought me to the small parlor where I assume she is doing the readings?”

  His mum stood on her toes and Cree lowered his face down so that she could kiss his cheek. “Tell me what she says,” his mum said, then turned and hurried off.

  Cree watched her go. He loved her dearly and worried over her. When he was young, he had this dreadful feeling that he would lose her much too soon. He was relieved she was still around and hoped she would be for many years to come.

  He entered the room to see an old woman seated at the desk, sipping tea from a fine china cup. He thought he recognized her, but it was a fleeting thought and he dismissed it.

  “Come in. Come in, Lord Cree,” she called out to him.

  Cree wasn’t surprised that the fortune-teller knew his name. Any search on the Internet would reveal that and more about his family.

  “I have looked forward to this day—”

  He waited when she paused and after a few minutes when she didn’t resume talking, he was about to thank her for donating her night’s earnings to the foundation when she suddenly spoke.

  “All Hallows Eve. It is such a special night. Time and worlds collide to let the spirits walk among us.”

  Cree smiled. “You do play your part well.”

  She laughed, a bit of a cackle to it, and held out her hand. “Let me see what the future holds for you.”

  Cree didn’t believe in such nonsense, but it was for a good cause so what harm would it do? He stretched his hand out to her.

  She turned it palm up and ran her finger over it. “You search.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “For someone very special, someone who has always been a part of you. Someone you desperately miss. Someone you ache to be reunited with. Someone who belongs to you.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe several lifetimes ago, but nowadays you better not tell a woman she belongs to you. They’re independent and would stand for no such nonsense.”

  “None of that matters to a timeless love.”

  “A timeless love? Does that even exist?” he asked, wishing there was such a thing.

  “Your heart will answer that tonight,” Old Mary said and released his hand.

  “Did my mum set this up intending to introduce me to a woman tonight or was it Lucy and the new hire she’s bringing with her who got you to do this? No, wait, I bet it was my sister, Wintra.” He shook his head. “No, my brother-in-law Torr would have warned me.”

  Old Mary pointed a crooked finger at him. “Listen well, Cree, for I have traveled very far to see this done and you have but this one night to claim her or she will be lost to you forever. I was there the last time you thought she was lost to you and you did not take it well at all. Do not let it happen again, for this time… you will not get her back.”

  Dawn!

  The servant’s name screamed in his head.

  Old Mary smiled and nodded. “It is good to see that your love survives through the ages. Now go and meet your destiny.”

  Cree left the room not knowing what to make of the prediction or the fortune-teller and tried to dismiss it without success. The old woman had played him, mentioning nothing specific. What love? What ages? What destiny?

  Dawn.

  The name struck him once again and he felt it clear down in his stomach. What was it about that name, besides hearing it earlier, that struck such a gut-wrenching feeling in him?

  “What did she say? Tell me everything.”

  Cree felt his mum’s arm slip around his as she caught up to walk beside him. “Where did you get the fortune-teller?”

  His mum’s brow wrinkled. “That’s odd, I can’t recall.”

  It was odd. His mum had a sharp mind, a far sharper memory than his and his father’s.

  “Did a friend of yours recommend her?” Cree asked and looked to see his mum struggling to recall.

  “That is so annoying. I never forget anything.”

  “I know, since there were many times growing up that I had wished you had forgotten,” he teased.

  She poked him in the side. “You are trying to distract me, but it will not work. You will tell me what the fortune-teller had to say.”

  “Foiled again,” he said dramatically. His mum poked him again and she would continue to do so all night if he did not tell her. “She says I will meet my destiny tonight.”

  His mum gasped. “You’re finally going to meet the one.”

  “What one? There’s a one?” a voice came from behind them.

  Cree and his mum stopped to turn and face his sister, Wintra, dressed like a garden fairy layers of gossamer in deep purple to lilac flowing around her, covering her very pregnant stomach. A lilac wreath sat like a crown atop her black, shoulder length hair and attached at her back were translucent wings in the darkest shade of purple at the top and graduating to a lighter shade at the bottom.