After her ordealat the antique shop, Brianna picked up takeout and returned to the hotel. As soon as she was done eating, she passed out as exhaustion overtook her.
The dream started instantly, bursting through her mind with a force for which she wasn’t prepared. She rode toward the castle with a man dressed in a kilt with dark auburn hair and eyes the color of spilled ink. When he smiled at her, dimples dented both cheeks. Though she should be wary of him, she wasn’t. There was something about him that put her at ease. He took her hand in his and kissed it.
“Yer safe here, lass. Dinnae fash yerself,” he said.
She fell into his arms and they kissed, a daring but sweet kiss that sent her senses reeling.
Now, morning pressed against Brianna’s closed eyes as the dream faded and she awoke, alone, in the hotel room bed. She stared at the drab ceiling, remembering the vivid dream like she was there. She touched her lips, certain she’d felt his kiss.
The castle, of course, was that of Dundale, the same castle she saw in the painting over the counter in the antique store. It must have been why it appeared in her dream.
But the man? She hadn’t a clue who he was. She had never seen him before. Her rational mind tried to tell her she’d likely seen him somewhere—in the airport or on the Royal Mile—and he imprinted on her subconscious. However, there was an all-too-familiar feelingthat swept through her when she remembered, with clarity, the way he looked, the way he smiled at her.
She pushed aside those thoughts as she sat up, slid out of bed to stand and stretch. She didn’t know a soul in this city. She wasn’t even sure where to start searching for Chloe and Evie. Maybe she’d start with the local police and then head to Chloe’s place of business, the museum. She might be able to get answers there.
But first, she needed a shower and a jolt of caffeine.
She took a step toward the bathroom, but a low humming noise caught her attention. Turning, she expected to see her phone buzzing, but it was silent. Next to her phone was the blue velvet bag Moira had given her in the antique store. Curious, she picked it up and felt the vibration through the material of the bag.
How strange.
Opening the drawstring, she dropped the small stone into her palm and stared down at it. Smooth on one edge, the other two were jagged as though it were part of a bigger piece or pieces. The lines across the stone were faded but still visible: One that looked like an arc. Another that seemed to be part of a circle sweeping through that arc. It emitted that low hum and a vibration that warmed against the skin of her palm.
What was it about this stone that was so intriguing? Why did Moira want her to have it?
As she stood there, staring at it, memory slammed into her with such force she sank to the edge of the bed.
Find your sisters, Brianna. They need you. Now more than ever. Without you, all will be lost.
It was Moira’s voice that flickered through her mind. Moira who had told her to find her sisters and that they needed her.
She recalled the woman saying that to her in the antique store, but afterward the memory faded away as though it was nothing more than an illusion or a dream.
But it hadreally happened.
Cold pricks of dread and worry settled over her. She dropped the stone back into the blue velvet bag and pulled the drawstring tight.
She had to find her sisters.
*
Much to herdismay, the hotel didn’t have regular black coffee. All they had were coffee machines offering fancy lattes and cappuccinos. She’d never developed a taste for that. Dismayed, she settled for a glass of orange juice and a dry pastry.
Once she’d eaten, she headed out; it was a short walk from the hotel to the museum stretching before her. The wind bit through the layers she’d bundled herself in, and despite the proper clothing she’d bought, a shiver snaked down her spine. She tugged her coat tighter, her teeth clenching against the cold. The Caribbean heat had spoiled her. Even the faintest chill cut through her like ice now.
Before she left her hotel room, she’d stuffed the strange little stone still in the bag in the front pocket of her jeans. And despite it buried inside the layers of velvet and denim, she still felt the weak vibration as it continued to hum.
She kept her hands shoved deep into her pockets and her head down to shield her face from the stinging wind, so she never saw the man until he rammed into her shoulder. The moment she bounced off his hardened exterior, her head snapped up, ready to lash out at him.
He looked genuinely shocked he’d bumped into her. He reached out to her, placing hands on her upper arms to steady her as she stumbled backward. Brianna jerked her hands out of her pockets and pushed him off her as she took a step back.
“Watch it,” she snapped.
“Och, lass, I dinnae mean to do that to ye. Are ye all right?”
His Scottish brogue was so alluring she almost forgave him. Almost.
He was tall with a head of thick, wavy black hair and steely blue eyes that met hers without flinching. His face was all hard angles.
