Page 4 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

McKeran’s Castle had been built in the twelfth century but had been torn down and moved from Scotland to California eight hundred years later.

It had become notorious for all the people who had disappeared inside it, starting with the mogul who had originally shipped it to Monterey.

Just this year an FBI agent who had come to investigate the disappearance of a wealthy couple had died in a car crash not far from the property.

Despite dozens of searches of the property by the police and private investigators, no bodies of the missing had ever been found.

Like Grace’s grandmother, everyone who had vanished inside the castle had been declared dead .

Why would my grandmother want to come here anyway?

When she reached out and tugged on the big carved door, it swung open with an eerie creaking sound. From inside a faint trace of something rotten drifted out to greet her. The rooms would probably be littered with small, mummified bodies of the animals that had crept inside and become trapped.

I’m really going to do this.

As she stepped over the threshold, Grace wondered if Beaumont had any security guards.

She should have checked that out before coming here.

The rotting smell faded while she closed the door and then walked down the front foyer to where passages separated and went in different directions.

She had the sense of being watched, although she couldn’t see anyone or anything as she slowly turned her phone’s light from one side to the other.

The air seemed colder than it was outside, but gradually grew warmer as she made her way to the spot on the tiny map Inga had drawn on the back of her message.

What made her stop in her tracks was seeing the torches lining the passage ahead of her suddenly burst into flame.

Beaumont knew I’d come here anyway. He set up the special effects to scare me.

She switched off her phone and tucked it into her bag, and then took a step toward the passage.

The air seemed to take on a peculiar shimmer as she came closer, exactly like the transparent waves of heat did when they rose from asphalt roads in mid-summer.

Was that the magic that made the spell trap open up and swallow people?

If she walked through it, would she find her grandmother on the other side?

It’s been seventy years. If she was still alive she’d be over ninety now.

Grace slowly approached the distortion, and her vision seemed to double.

The sense that someone was close by came over her, along with a chilly waft of fresh air.

She halted again as she saw a large silhouette at the other end of the passage.

It looked like a man; had Beaumont somehow cornered her?

When she took a quick breath the air tasted of cinnamon and apple.

She was almost sure it was coming from the man too.

When he stepped into the light she ended up being the one staring, for the man was mesmerizing.

About the same height as her, he had roofbeam shoulders, a broad chest and such well-developed arms he could have served as the face of any athletic brand.

His odd clothing resembled some sort of medieval costume with lacing instead of modern fasteners.

A thick length of roughly woven wool in a brown, gray and gold plaid pattern hung from his shoulders.

Was he some kind of security guard? Was that the uniform he had to wear?

Under all that wool his clothing exactly matched his dark sienna hair and eyes, and looked as if it had been hurriedly stitched by a sample garment maker.

He couldn’t really be called classically handsome, for his slash-straight brow lines, slightly crooked nose and the high slant of his cheekbones would be considered major flaws.

The exotic masculinity they projected, however, made her stomach knot.

More than anything she wanted to see him smile, because the sculpted fullness of his mouth wasn’t made for frowning.

“Stay back, lass,” he told her, his tenor voice made musical by a Scottish accent. He made a quick gesture to his right. “The wall, ’tis near to collapsing.”

“I need your help.” Should she claim to be lost, or go with her instincts and tell him the truth? “I’m looking for my grandmother.”

“Dinnae come closer,” he said, his tone harsh now. “The stones, they’ll fall any moment now. Go back to your world, lass.”

My world?

A faint rumbling sound finally drew her gaze to the wall, which was shedding dust and bits of rock.

At that moment a chilly breeze swept over Grace, and suddenly she ran toward the man, flinging her arms around him.

Something white and gauzy wrapped around them both as huge blocks of stone shifted all around them, creating terrible rumbling and grating noises that grew louder by the second.

“Forgive me,” the man said, pulling her against him and covering her head with his arms.

That brought her face very close to his, and as his breath touched her lips she tasted that delicious cinnamon and apple scent.

As Grace looked into his gorgeous eyes she saw no fear, even when the wall collapsed on them.