“Listen to this. The property was purchased through an estate sale. The woman who owned it had no surviving relatives and the estate passed to the Crown under the principle of ‘bona vacantia,’” he told her, propping himself up more to read on. “It was built in 1589 and because of its age, it was considered a historical building, and they were only allowed to do minimal renovations to it.”
“My God, these books must be the old owner’s personal library. I bet she is rolling over in her grave knowing they are in a rental,” Nora said.
“These people have no idea what they have. I bet there’s twenty thousand pounds worth of antique books here,” he said, looking up at the shelves of books.
“Does it say who the original owner was?” Nora inquired.
“I’m sure I can dig it up,” Alistair said, tapping away at his phone again. Nora could tell he was in his element when he was in research mode; he had an air of confidence that filled the room. It was no wonder he was a journalist.
“Now, that’s weird,” he said, his eyes darting back and forth as he read whatever it was on his phone that had sparked his attention.
“What?” Nora asked, her curiosity piqued.
“The woman who owned it was M. MacDonald, it says. No first name that I can find yet. Crap, my battery is almost dead,” he said, his eyes moving faster as he read.
Nora’s heart plummeted into her stomach at the mention of the name. The chances of finding the rare old book mentioned in the little red book was one thing, but now finding out the cottage was once owned by a MacDonald had Nora’s head spinning. What were the chances that this MacDonald was part of the same family as Colin? It was a common name in these parts, but the fact that her grandmother had a picture of the cottage in her album made her think that if they dug a little more, they would probably find out that it was. What was the universe trying to tell her? She had already discovered the secret about her grandfather; what else was there? If there was something more, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. The discovery about her grandfather and the impending task of telling her father the truth was already overwhelming. What if there were an even bigger secret lurking beneath the surface? Shewas here to build up the courage to tell her parents she didn’t want to take over the bakery, not dig up more heartbreak. Her heart quickened its pace, and her palms grew clammy with the rising tide of anxiety.
“I found an old article about the house from 1964. The oldest house recorded on Loch Duich has been in the MacDonald family for—” He stopped reading abruptly. “Bloody hell, phone died. I forgot how much losing power sucks,” he said tipsily as he set his phone down on the coffee table with a thud.
Nora sat stunned into silence for a long while, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace. She grabbed the whisky and took a rather large swig, sending her into a fit of coughing.
“You all right?” Alistair asked, but it wasn’t the coughing that prompted the question. It was the fact that she had gone silent for so long that had him guessing.
She was trying her best to quell what felt like a rising panic attack, as if her body were so full of energy that it didn’t know what to do. The weather seemed to rise up to meet her panic. The wind picked up and the branches of the tree next to the deck began thrashing against the cottage walls. The snow was now coming down so heavily that it nearly blocked out the setting sun.
Attempting to anchor herself, she focused on the burn of whisky making its way down to her belly, but this time it wasn’t helping subdue the feeling. Nora closed her eyes, attempting a grounding technique a therapist had taught her years ago: trace your thumb over each fingertip, counting forward and then backward. However, instead of finding solace in the repetitive task, the energy within her surged even more, tightening its grip. The sensation escalated, her lungs constricting, and she couldn’t shake the notion that without her rib cage holding it back, her heart might have pounded its way out of her chest.
“Nora,” Alistair said, taking her hands in his. “Breathe. It’s just a panic attack.”
She looked up at him. How did he know what was going on?
“I think I’m going to pass out,” she said through short, shallow breaths.
“No, you’re not. Just keep your eyes on me.”
Her breathing turned into short, quick bursts, and the sounds in the room began to ebb and flow. Panic etched across her face, her eyes widening with fear.
Alistair’s eyes reflected back her own panic. He was trying his best to calm her, but as the situation escalated, she could tell he didn’t know what to do.
Just when she thought her heart might implode from the panic, he swiftly leaned forward and kissed her. As their lips met, the energy building within her broke free, escaping into their kiss.
The kiss deepened, tongues intertwining in a dance, mirroring the intensity of the energy within her. Panic no longer coursed through her body. It had been replaced with primal desire. She leaned into him, feeling a sense of control over this newfound force. His hands moved up to cup her face as the kiss intensified. He ran his fingers through her hair, down her back, pulling her closer. In response, her kisses grew hungry, and a different kind of energy began to build within her—a spark of longing, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Blasted Board
Nora fell deeper into their kiss as the heat of their passion filled the room. She ran her fingers through his thick wavy hair, pulling him in closer. Her lips burned with each sweep of his, and she could taste the slight hint of whisky still clinging to them. A feeling deep within her began to rise to the surface, surging through her like a storm about to break land. With a swift motion, she swung her right leg over his lap, now straddling him. Alistair, responding in kind, grasped her hips and drew her closer, and the heat between them grew. As she gazed into his deep emerald eyes illuminated by the flickering candlelight, the flames mirrored the passion that consumed them both.
The tension within her continued to build as she slid her hands up under his shirt and ran them across his muscular build,intensifying the passion between them. Alistair, breathless, broke away from their kiss and asked, “Are you okay now?”
Nora looked at him, the desire evident in his eyes, eager to rekindle the fire he had momentarily interrupted. “I’m fine—scratch that, I’m great,” she said, diving back into his lips.
He responded to her kiss but pulled away once more, concern etched on his face. “We’ve had a lot to drink tonight. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes.
“Yes, yes to everything,” she affirmed, meeting his gaze with unwavering desire. “But let’s move it somewhere a little more comfortable,” Nora proposed, standing up and making her way to the bottom of the stairs. Alistair followed suit, quickly ascending, and pulled her into another passionate kiss at the bedroom doorway. Though the room was cold, the heat they generated shielded them from the chill. As they stumbled into the dark room, entwined in kisses and discarded clothing, Alistair’s toe caught on a loose floorboard.
“Aw, fuck!” he yelled out in pain, dropping to his knees and almost taking Nora down with him.
