Chapter 1
Inverness, Scotland
Muscled calves curved into the beginnings of well-defined thighs. Just above the knee, a kilt covered what Lainie longed to see. The long sculpted legs of the Highlander made her heart skip a beat. She wanted to know what was under that kilt.
Lainie imagined running her hands up the sculpted thighs until she reached the heat of him—solid, waiting, achingly real in her imagination. Staring at this beautiful specimen of pure maleness conjured up feelings in her body she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Her nipples grew taut against her sweater.
The tingling at the tips of her breasts thrummed through her, circling around her belly and slipping lower.
As if the man in the painting reached out and traced her most sensitive places with invisible heat.
Shuddering, she continued to gawk at the painting of the highland warrior at MacDuff Castle, working her way from the tips of his toes and up.
Who was he? If only she could have lived just for a day in his time. She would let him rock her world and then return home, maybe take him with her.
He wore no shirt, just a flap of tartan thrown over his shoulder. The painter had done an excellent job of capturing each and every arch of muscle.
Lainie loosened her scarf, her body warm, invisible hands still demurely stroking her insides.
Tearing her gaze from the sexy man’s body, she studied his face.
A startling green gaze captured hers. Lainie was amazed at how well the paint had held up over four hundred odd years.
The warrior’s glance was so intense; she felt it like a caress on her senses.
His chiseled features were framed by wavy dark brown locks.
His nose was straight and sure like an arrow leading to the most sensuous mouth she’d ever seen.
The curve of his wide, full lips made her shudder.
Whoever he was, he’d surely made many women purr with his wicked smile.
She licked her lips and turned away.
“Now let’s head down the stairs. I will show ye where the warriors slept and where they kept their prisoners,” the tour guide spoke with a thick Scottish burr as she wiggled her eyebrows, causing a few of the guests to chuckle.
Lainie followed the rest of the crowd down the narrow, winding stone staircase, trying to ignore the pulsing heat within her and the pooling of liquid between her thighs. She waved the pamphlet containing facts about Clan MacDuff, to cool her overheated skin.
The vision of the stunning warrior still lingered in her mind. How on earth could a painting turn her on? Maybe she should feel ashamed, but she didn’t. The warrior was hot, and he reached a part of Lainie that had never truly been tapped. A need to just let go.
She bit her lip as they entered a square room. Ancient weapons lined the walls, and a few straw mats were scattered across the floor.
“This is where our mighty highland warriors would have slept, lined up along the floor with straw mats. And this here is…” Lainie tuned out the tour guide as she described the various weapons that hung on the wall.
Her mind took her back in time, and she imagined herself lying on one of the straw mats, a muscular warrior on top of her. His thick burr tickled her ear as he whispered sinful treats and nipped at her skin.
Oh, Lord. How was she to do an article about traveling to the Scottish Highlands, if all she could think of was sex?
“Now if ye follow me, I will take ye out of the castle and ye may at your leisure peruse the grounds. We have many cottages and little shops to visit. They are teeming with life, and ye will be able to see how Clan MacDuff truly lived.”
Lainie followed the group out of the castle, buttoning her jacket and wrapping her scarf around her neck as she meandered down a path.
The air was crisp and cool. Not too cold, just perfect, refreshing.
She breathed in the heady scent of burning peat, which grew stronger in the air as she passed by each building.
Somehow, she felt more at home, more peaceful.
She was descended from the Clan MacRae, which bordered the north side of MacDuff. What would it have been like to live back in the days of her clan? Nearly four hundred years had gone by since anyone in her family had been a MacRae.
From what her father told her, some four centuries ago, a MacRae woman eloped with a Shaw in the lowlands. Was life in the clan so terrible that she felt the need to escape?
“Might I interest ye in me wares?” The elderly woman’s words jarred Lainie from her thoughts. The woman’s arms were spread, and she gave a low bow. Her curly, gray hair, tinted with red, fell down her back; her eyes were dark and mysterious.
“Why, yes. What have you got?” Lainie liked the idea of playing along.
“Come and ye shall see. There are many a good trinket for such a lovely lass.”
Gooseflesh rose on Lainie’s skin. There was something about this woman that gave her the creeps. The air around her suddenly seemed to turn almost ominous.
Lainie studied the peddler for a moment before entering the cottage. The woman was old and reminded her of what a medicine woman, or a palm reader, would have looked like. Surely, she was harmless. Probably just a really great reenactor.
The cottage’s interior was small, lit by a peat fire and candles. Lainie loosened her scarf a little as warmth flowed over her. The small windows didn’t allow much sun to filter through, and it took a second for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Set out on table after table were little artifacts.
Some were undoubtedly antique while others were newly handmade.
Lainie let her fingers glide across a few until she stopped on an intricately carved chest about the size of a small jewelry box.
Its wood shone a deep mahogany. Carved on top of the lid was an ancient Celtic symbol.
The same patterns and designs wound around the bottom.
“This is beautiful,” she muttered.
What a great keepsake. Placed on her dresser, she could look at it every morning when she awoke. Remember the enchanting sites, scents, and memories of her time in Scotland. Maybe escape back to this blissful country for just a moment.
“‘Tis a special box.” The woman stared intently at Lainie. “Meant for someone truly extraordinary. ’Tis said the wood remembers,” the woman murmured, her gaze distant.
“Cut from the tree that once grew near the stone circle at MacDuff’s Hill.
They say the box chooses its keeper when the time is right. ”
“Chooses?” Lainie asked, half amused.
“Aye. Not all who open it are ready for what lies within.”
Was she trying to say Lainie didn’t deserve such a treasure? “I see.” She couldn’t help the small bite her tone inflected.
She turned to leave. There would most probably be another little shop with a similar box.
“My dear, ‘tis perfect for ye.”
Lainie’s gaze shot up, and she stared at the woman who gaped at her in awe.
“One must be careful with such a precious item.” The old woman’s gaze flickered to the box.
“It’s an antique?”
“Aye, nearly four hundred years old. Carved by the MacDuff himself.”
“The MacDuff?” Could it be the same man in the painting? Her heartbeat quickened its pace.
“Laird MacDuff. The box has been in my family for many generations.”
“Oh, then, I couldn’t buy it from you. You must keep such a treasured item.” Disappointment washed over Lainie. The box was probably on display, not for sale.
“Nay lass, there is notta one left of us. I can see in your eyes that ye would take care of the precious antique, just as carefully as I have.”
Lainie contemplated the offer. She really did want the box.
Not only was it beautiful, but if what the woman said was true, it would be amazing to have such an artifact.
She was drawn to the box, her need to have it almost overpowering.
Perhaps the desire to possess it had something to do with the intense feelings the image of Laird MacDuff evoked in her…
“Yes, okay. I’ll take it.”
A wide smile crossed the woman’s face, and Lainie couldn’t help but return the gesture. Why was the woman so excited for her to buy the little box?
The woman ran behind one of her tables and sifted through another box. She drew out an old key with the same symbol as the one on top of the box.
“This key will open the box for ye. Be careful of what’s inside. Only open the box when ye’re ready…and alone.”
Lainie raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help but smirk a bit. The woman truly did put on a good show.
“I’ll be careful.”
“We often cherish what we keep locked away. Ye can take it out whenever ye please, for your own pleasure.”
“Yes, thank you.”
What a strange woman. The lady truly took pride in her work. Lainie smiled, tucking the box into her bag. She made it seem as though the antique possessed special powers. She shook her head, reminding herself it was only a box.
As Lainie was leaving the store, the woman called after her.
“When what’s inside must go and hide, tap it thrice and wave goodbye.”
“A riddle?”
“Aye, I suppose, ‘tis passed down from generation to generation to whoever possesses box. Although no one I know has been able to solve the riddle. Maybe ye’re the one.” The old woman winked.
Despite her odd demeanor, Lainie wanted to run all the way back to the cottage she’d rented on MacDuff land. She wanted to know what was inside. The superstitious part of her warned to heed the woman’s advice.
She laughed at herself. What in the world could be inside such a tiny box anyway?