Page 32 of Wild Scottish Beauty

The smoke from the sage bundle that Hilda burned had coiled around me, carrying the secrets of my ancestors with it, and my blood had hummed in my veins.

“I accept the power bestowed upon me.”

We’d all waited a moment after the final recitation, and I’d flexed my fingers, wondering if I was going to start shooting laser beams or something of that nature. When nothing extraordinary had happened, another blast of icy wind had sent us toward home.

“Time will tell,” Archie assured me as we trudged back toward the castle, my feet almost frozen. I made a mental note to wear wool socks the next time I hiked around the property. We left the line of trees, three crows swooping low over our tracks, and Sophie chattered to them as they flew after her.

The sight of MacAlpine Castle made me catch my breath. If I was a different type of artist, I’d paintthe castle, just as she stood, jutting proudly into the air with the wintry grey waters of Loch Mirren spread out below her. The whisper of those gone before us carried to me on the wind, and the urge to create something beautiful for this place rose. It didn’t matter if this hadn’t been my original plan for my future as a clothing designer. What mattered was that I was here now, standing on this land rich with history, and my story would be woven into its future.

Ramsay rounded the corner of the castle, wearing a thick grey sweater pulled over a muted tartan green kilt, and wool socks with workman’s boots. He strode across the garden to meet us, as confident as any warrior of yore, and nerves made my stomach twist. I couldn’t get a read on him, because he vacillated so quickly between terse and somewhat friendly, so I didn’t know what to think. It was almost like he was considering being my friend and yet couldn’t quite bring himself to do so. Maybe he just wasn’t good at making friends?

“Did I miss something?” Ramsay asked after the group had greeted him, the soft burr of the highlands in his accent making my skin tingle.

“Just out for a bit of a wander to show Willow the lands,” Hilda said, nodding briskly. “Tea, anyone?”

“Please,” Lachlan said, starting toward the castle with Hilda and Archie while Sophie drew Ramsay and me aside.

“I called Ramsay to come by because I thought you two might want to look at some of the boxes of fabrics we have in storage. And maybe, from there, you might get some ideas for collaboration for the castle shop.”

“I thought we weren’t working together.” I lifted my chin at Ramsay. His eyes narrowed slightly before heglanced out to the loch. The moment drew out in silence, before Ramsay shifted, and sighed.

“I gave Sophie my word.”

“Oh, so honor is the only thing forcing you to work with me? Cool, cool.” I rolled my eyes and looked at Sophie. She just shrugged, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Another blast of icy wind shook us, this time bringing with it a smattering of rain that hit my face like little shards of glass. Ramsay said nothing, instead turning back toward the castle, as Sophie ushered us through a smaller side door that looked more like a service entrance, unlike the grand doors that led into the foyer.

“You can leave your coats here if you’d like.” Sophie pointed to a bench just inside the door, and I squinted in the dim light.

“This feels like you’re taking us to the dungeons.”

“I could, at least if I’d remember the way correctly.” Sophie tapped a finger against her lips, thinking about it. “I do still get a bit lost in here.”

In contrast to the sweeping ceilings and ornate decoration of the grand foyer at the castle’s entrance, this hallway had low ceilings, dull grey stone walls, and uneven flooring. Sconces lined the hall, lighting the passageway dimly, and I felt like I was in my Indiana Jones era. Maybe instead of a punk rock look, I should have channeled the explorer side and gone with a full khaki outfit and a knotted scarf around my neck. Ramsay stood back, allowing Sophie and me into the hallway first, and I was definitely aware of his nearness as we followed Sophie down the narrow hall. Glancing back, I noticed that Ramsay had to duck to avoid hitting his head on theceiling and was once again reminded just how large this man was. I wondered…

“Here we are,” Sophie said, dragging my thoughts away from the naughtier direction than they needed to be going, and I snapped to attention as she turned an old iron knob in a worn wooden door with large bolts. The door creaked on its hinges as it swung open, and Sophie hit the lights.

“Oh wow,” I breathed as I stepped inside the storeroom. It was like stumbling upon Aladdin’s Cave, at least for someone like me who loved digging through thrift stores for cool finds. Here, the room opened, with higher ceilings showcasing exposed wood beams, and rows of shelves lining the walls. Old-timey steamer trunks were stacked in a corner, and hat boxes were piled on the shelves. Surprisingly, the room didn’t smell too damp or moldy, nor was it all that dusty, so somebody must have taken care with the preservation of its contents.

“Anything in particular you’d like us to look for?” Ramsay asked as I trailed slowly along the shelves, my fingers already itching to open some of the boxes.

“Inspiration, I guess? I don’t want to put thoughts in your head on what way the designs need to go for the shop, so I’ll just invite you to dig around and see where your creative side takes you. If you need anything or have questions, just text me, and I’ll pop back down.”

“Nothing’s off limits?” Ramsay asked and the way he said it made my blood heat.

“Nope, have at it.” Sophie squeezed my arm on the way out and gave me a knowing look, which I interpreted to mean she wanted me to call her if any of my newfound magickal powers suddenly popped up.

Right. That should be interesting. What if I grew a third arm or something wild while we were digging in the boxes? I mean, I’djustdone a magickal ritual. Was this really the right time to be stuck in a basement room with a grumpy Scotsman who’d already made it clear he didn’t want to work with me?

“Keep an eye out for any, um, tools,” Sophie said, holding that look.

She thought I might find my weapon down here.

Yes, apparently as part of the Order I was supposed to pick a “weapon” to defend myself, though the wordweaponwas defined loosely it seemed. More of a power item, I was told, so I assumed mine would likely be a needle or something of that nature. Not sure how much damage I could do with a needle, but at the very least I could annoy someone to death by pricking them a million times over.

If I had that kind of time, of course.

“Tools?” Ramsay asked after Sophie departed.

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