Page 21 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“Are you okay?” Sophie stood in the foyer of the castle, and I paused to catch my breath and admire the grandiose room. Stone floors, high ceilings, and stately double wooden doors created an epic backdrop, and already I wasitching to take a million photos here. Even though Sophie was dressed casually in a UCLA sweatshirt and jeans, she looked effortlessly cool against the worn wood door with black metal scrollwork. Oh yeah, I wouldn’t have to look far for interesting and unique content for social media, that was for sure. “You look a little tense.”

“Your resident ghost paid me a visit.”

“Ah, yes. Clyde is a fan of the jump scare. Wait until you meet Lia. She’ll tell you about the time he made her pee her pants.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s like a toddler on crack. There is nothing more exciting to Clyde than being able to scare someone. It’s like he was given the rules of ghosting and took them to heart, but then immediately feels bad when he actually manages to scare someone, so he hangs around to make sure you’re okay.”

“He has feelings?” I hadn’t imagined the emotion in his eyes.

“Oh, big time. But his mainline is cheerful.”

“Fascinating. Is this something you’re just…used to now? Or have you always been comfortable with ghosts?”

We left the front hall and stepped into the brisk winter night. Sophie nodded toward the twinkling lights of Loren Brae at the base of the hill on which MacAlpine Castle stood.

“Are you okay with walking?”

“I was just living in New York. We walked everywhere.”

“Perfect. And yes, I’m used to Clyde now, but he still gets me from time to time. And no, I wasn’t someone who was into ghosts before my uncle left me the castle. I was amarketing manager for my uncle’s company in California. Huge fan of spreadsheets and things that add up and make sense. A highland ghost coo doesn’t fit neatly in any of my life-understanding boxes.”

“And yet, here you are. You inherited the castle?”

“I did.”

“That’s a pretty big deal. Also, sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks for that. Yeah, now? I can’t say I’d take it all back just to have Uncle Arthur with me again, because then I’d never have met Lachlan or started this new and amazing life, but I miss him. He was one of my favorite people, aside from his wife, Lottie, and the grief never fully goes away. It just sort of sneaks up on you in unexpected ways. Knowing him, though, he’d be happy as can be with how things have worked out for me. He was always up for an adventure.”

“I understand grief. I lost my mom quite young, so the edges of my grief are dulled and mixed in with those blurred childhood memories you get. But watching those around me grieve probably added to that experience.”

“I’m sorry.” Sophie shot me a sympathetic look as we walked down the path, the gravel crunching beneath our shoes. “Do you have a big family?”

“No, just my brother and my dad. My mother was from here, actually. Well, close by. That’s how we know Ramsay. We’d come to visit Gran in the summers and my brother, Miles, made friends. He was better at it than I was, always off fishing and playing sports, while I liked to stay home and cut up clothes to dress my dolls.”

“And look where that landed you, though. A celebrated fashion designer.”

“I don’t know that I’d say celebrated. But I’m gettingthere.” I paused. Loren Brae revealed herself to me as we reached the base of the hill, and my heart sighed. Even though it was dark out, it was hard to ignore the charm of this village. It reminded me of a postcard, with twinkling lights reflected on the dark surface of the water, and old-timey lantern style streetlamps lighting up cobblestoned streets. Was everything here a picture? Already I wanted to pull my phone out and take a ton of photos for inspiration, but I didn’t want to be rude to Sophie who pulled her coat more tightly around herself when an icy gust of wind rattled across the loch. Sophie turned to go up the main street of the village, but I paused, my gaze captured by the rippling waters of Loch Mirren.

When we’d arrived in Loren Brae, Sophie cheerfully chattering as she’d directed the car down a narrow lane that hugged the loch’s shores, I’d barely had a chance to admire Loch Mirren. In the daylight, it had been stunning, icy greyish-blue water hugged by intimidating hills, but at night? She was breathtaking. It was really a sense of openness, like I was the only person standing on the edge of the world, with the wind whispering the secrets of the past at my ears. Something tugged in my soul, like my blood rising to meet its roots, and for a moment, the world seemed to shimmer and shift around me as a faint glimmer rippled across the surface of the loch. My breath caught.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sophie’s voice was quiet at my side.

“Powerful,” I said.

“Ah. Then you feel it already? Interesting.”

At that I glanced at Sophie, a question on my lips.

“Sophie! Hi!”

Interrupted, we both turned as a slim woman withmessy curls and a puffy jacket waved at us from across the street.

“Agnes, hi! Are you going to the pub?” Sophie asked, nudging me toward her friend. We crossed the empty street, and I smiled politely at the woman.

“I am. I’m craving a bowl of soup on this brisk night. Hello.” The woman smiled at me, nodding.

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