Highlander Unleashed

Prologue

Prologue

New Year’s Eve: Present Day

Inverness, Scotland

Charlotte Campbell smoothed the sleeves of her leine and adjusted the airisaidh over her shoulders to provide warmth against the chill of the night air. Scotland was much colder than Texas.

“It’s a good thing these costumes are made of wool,” she said. “Do you think it might snow? It smells like it.”

Her friend Vi snorted. “You can’t smell snow.”

“I can.”

“Only because you’re a romance writer. You’re always making things up.”

“Actually, you can smell snow.” Their other friend, Thea, intervened. “If it’s not freezing at ground level, falling snowflakes will begin to melt, which creates evaporative cooling, cleansing the atmosphere and making it feel—”

“Okay!” Vi laughingly held up a hand. “No lectures! You promised you’d just enjoy yourself tonight.”

“I am.” Thea smiled. “I like explaining the science of things.”

Vi shook her head. “You’ll have to put that aside for now. Hogmanay doesn’t exactly have its roots in logic.”

“That’s true, Thea.” Charlotte looked around at the people gathered on Castle Road, holding lit torches high. They’d just completed a somewhat circulatory route around the base of the cliff that held the castle at its top. There had been some Gaelic chanting along the way that she didn’t understand but was pretty sure was meant to ward off evil…or at least bring good luck.

There was also the myth of a dark-headed man bringing good luck, but she’d better not mention that because Vi would just accuse her of getting all romantic about legends. Still, a dark-haired stranger did sound interesting. Charlotte glanced around the crowd closest to her. Some of the men wore traditional bonnets with their kilts, others were bare-headed, but she saw no one fitting her imaginary description of tall, dark, and handsome. She gave herself a little shake. Maybe she was just a bit too romantic…

Vi gave her an appraising look. “What was that for?”

“Nothing. Just cold.” Charlotte wrapped the tartan closer for emphasis. “We need to come back in the summer when it’s warm.”

“That’s a good idea,” Thea said. “We can do the Jacobite summer cruise on River Ness then.”

“Isn’t Nessie supposed to be in the loch?” Vi teased.

Thea blinked. “I was thinking about Culloden. Scotland lost its independence on that battlefield because they supported Bonnie Prince Charlie. So many Scots were killed.”

“I know.” Vi sobered. “I’m the one doing the research project for TU on eighteenth-century warfare, remember?”

Thea frowned, then straightened her brow. “I’d forgotten. It’s an unusual subject—”

“Please don’t say ‘for a woman,’” Vi interrupted. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Rest assured. You’re our Amazon.” Charlotte smiled impishly. “Maybe I should say Boudicca, since she was a Celtic warrior queen and we are in Britain.”

“Yes! That would be perfect! There’s even a statue of her in her chariot by Westminster Bridge in London,” Thea added, not looking in the least disturbed by Vi’s outburst.

Charlotte smiled to herself. It was a good thing they’d all known each other since grade school, but it was still a wonder the three of them were friends since they were so different. Thea—Athena—was a thinker and Vi—Vihansa—was a doer and she…well, she tended to go off into flights of fancy.

Like looking for that dark-haired stranger. Inspiration for her next book. She looked around the crowd, which was now throwing the lit torches into the River Ness in anticipation of starting the circle dance which would end the public festivities. For a moment, she thought she’d spotted a black-haired man at the edge of the crowd. He looked more rugged, more muscular than the men milling around. Then, in a swirl of muted plaid, he turned and was gone.

Charlotte squinted. Gone? He’d just been there. He couldn’t have disappeared.

Vi’s voice brought her back to her friends.

“Yes, well.” Vi sounded somewhat mollified after being compared to a warrior queen.

“I think the dance is getting started,” Thea said.

“We didn’t get these costumes just to stand around and watch. Let’s join up.” Charlotte replied just as a man approached to ask a question.

Vi waved them on and stayed to answer him. Charlotte and Thea had just started toward the dancers when Thea stopped suddenly.

She pointed. “I just saw a man fall down over there.”

“Probably drunk. It’s pretty common tonight.” Charlotte laughed.. “Come on.”

“You go. I’m going to make sure he isn’t hurt,” Thea replied.

Charlotte knew from past experience that Thea always had a soft spot for the down and out—although she hadn’t meant the thought to be a pun—so there was no point in arguing. She nodded and continued on.

In a short time, she’d joined hands with the other revelers and was skipping in a somewhat convoluted circle—thanks to whisky having been consumed with the previous proceedings—along the banks of the river and into the street.

Some of the dancers broke rank, led by a young woman whose long, auburn hair swirled around her as she formed an inner circle that moved counter to the outer one. When Charlotte reached out to join hands again, she found herself looking into the eyes of the dark stranger she’d seen earlier.

Close up, he was even taller than she’d thought. His hand was warm and strong as it grasped hers, and he grinned, showing a dimple on one cheek. He didn’t speak, but the speed of the dance had picked up so much that Charlotte would have had trouble answering him if he had.

Finally, the pace slowed and the merrymakers launched into an edition of Auld Lang Syne. And as the final lyrics were sung, he leaned over.

“Would ye be mindin’ if I stole a kiss, lass?” He grinned again. “’Tis tradition.”

Would she mind? Mind? Mind? Charlotte had a hard time not throwing herself at him. What a perfect way to end Hogmanay! And the man even had a Scottish burr!

“Aye,” she replied, trying to mimic his accent. “I’d be likin’ that, I would.”

He bent, his lips slowly brushing hers. Not questioning, or asking permission, but rather a slow, lazy exploration that promised it was only a beginning.

She sighed as his arms closed around her, drawing her into his embrace.

And then she was drifting…drifting…drifting… into a fine, white mist.