Page 4 of Dear Kilted Scotsman
I flip it over in my hands. It's sealed, but there is no name on it. I tear it open and pull out the folded sheet of paper inside.
Dear Highland Stranger,
I know we haven’t met, and this is probably presumptuous of me to be saying this, but my heart is yours. The Highlands of Scotland call to me, but it’s the vision of you in my dreams that have stolen my heart. Although I can’t see your face, I will know it is you, that we are meant for one another with only a kiss. I long for your touch, your kiss, that moment when two souls become one. Whatever divides us, be it miles or time, we will find one another, and our love will be one stories are written about. Until then I will wait for you.
Sincerely Yours,
Brianna
I look back down the hall and wonder when she could have written this. I reread the letter, noticing that this letter was written ten years ago. Nothing about this night makes sense. First, Brianna appears like a ghost by the loch. And now it looks like she's written me a love letter years before meeting me. At least the hope filling in my chest tells me that I hope this letter is for me.
She says she’ll know I’m the one with a kiss. A determination in me that I’ve never felt before sparks hot inside my chest. I have one day to get a kiss from Brianna to see if this real.
3
BRIANNA
The following day when I wake up, I look around the room that looks like it’s hardly been touched by time and have to remind myself where I am. I'm in a castle in Scotland. I pinch my arm and flinch at the sharpness, but I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face. This isn't a dream. I'm really here.
I pull back the heavy covers and swing my bare legs over the side. My jeans are lying over the bench at the end of the four-poster bed. I stop and think about how Katherine felt on her first day after she traveled back in time. She felt frightened and alone, despite already having a connection with Graeme. But for me, I feel like, for the first time in my life, I'm home.
I grabLetters from a Highlanderoff the bedside table, looking to re-read the chapter where Katherine is introduced to her new life. I flip through the pages but stop when I realize my letter is gone. I look around the room, wondering if it fell out, but I don't see it anywhere.
I playback the previous evening out in the woods and remember how I dropped the book when I fell. It had to have fallen out then. A feeling of loss comes over me, not for the loss of the letter itself, but for the potential, that letter could have brought to me. I know it's crazy to think that a man would read that letter and suddenly feel like there is something more between the two of us. I was only eighteen when I wrote it, and yet those feelings that I felt then are just as strong today as they were when I wrote that letter.
Colin's face pops into my mind, and he fits so well into the dream I've fantasized about so many times. Is it possible to just meet someone and know that they are the one for you? Am I crazy to even be having these thoughts?
A soft knock on the door makes me jump.
“Just a minute!” I yell as I lunge for my jeans and slip them on over the ample curve of my hips.
I run over to the door and swing it open to find Ainslie standing on the other side, smiling at me with a dress draped over her arm.
“Good morning,” she sing-songs, the soft lilt of her Scots accent making it would like a beautiful melody. “I was hoping you were awake.”
“Just barely.” I smile and step back so that she can come in.
“Did you sleep alright?”
“Like a dream.”
“Good.” She holds up the dress. “This is for you to wear at the festival.”
I take in the floor-length cream-colored dress, with long sleeves that bell out from the elbow. I’m a curvy woman, and I don’t often find that borrowed clothing fits me correctly.
“I don’t think I can wear that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Of course, you can,” she insists. “I worked on it last night to make a few alterations so that this dress would fit you like a glove.”
With anyone else, I might have been offended at her casual way of talking about how she had to alter clothing to fit my curves, but there wasn't a hint of malice in Ainslie's voice. She wasn't trying to shame me but help me, and I couldn't be mad over that. I wanted to stay for the festival, and after she and Colin allowed me to spend the night, I didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful guest.
Ainslie hangs the dress on a hook on the four-poster and pulls out a small makeup kit from her sweater pocket.
"The village likes to dress as authentically as we can for the festival, but I don't think it hurts to add a subtle touch of makeup to look our best."
I look at the dress and then back to Ainslie. "I'm not sure this dress matches the period you are going for here. It's beautiful for sure, but—"
“Trust me.” She smiles confidently. “This dress is perfect.”
