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The Magic Ring of Brodgar
Кейтлин Эмилия Новак
The Magic Ring of Brodgar is an epic fantasy saga. A story of the collision between love and magic, betrayal and loyalty, light and darkness. This book will embark on a journey where the pulse of the plot synchronizes with the beat of your own heart, leaving no soul untouched by its spellbinding tale. Young and successful Megan McKenzie’s life is turned upside down when she goes to the north of Scotland to claim her inheritance of an ancestral castle. There, she meets her Scottish family—a powerful clan that plunges her into the history of the mystical traditions and beliefs of their land.Unexpectedly, Megan finds loyal friends and worst enemies and falls in love with a handsome and mysterious highlander, Derek. For Megan, who is afraid of the dark and everything inexplicable, her lover’s terrible secret comes as a blow, plunging her into a world of fear. How much will she have to pay to discern friend from foe, and can she stay true to herself while walking this dark path?

Кейтлин Эмилия Новак
The Magic Ring of Brodgar

Book One. The Inheritance

Prologue
June of 2016 proved to be unusually cold in Great Britain. The last suitcase was packed, and the path to Scotland lay ahead – Megan's ancestral home, yet a place she has never known. With a sense of longing, she looked out the window, where the rain had been falling incessantly for days on end. Her gaze then swept over her favorite room in the cozy Chelsea apartment, where she had spent most of her life with her mother, until she got married and moved to America, leaving her daughter behind. Megan was just nineteen when she found herself completely alone in London – a young woman in the heart of a vast metropolis. By the age of twenty-five, she had learned to live independently and handle all the challenges that life presented.
The day before, she received a call from Thurso, a town at the northernmost tip of Scotland, informing her that her grandfather, Malcolm, the patriarch of the McKenzie clan, had passed away. This clan had been deeply respected in the north since the medieval era.
Twenty – five years prior, following a bitter dispute with her father, Megan's pregnant mother, Arline, left her family home for good, moving to London and severing all ties with Malcolm. Over the years, reconciliation remained elusive. Even on his deathbed, the elder McKenzie could not forgive his daughter, leaving Arline with nothing in his will but regrets over the family discord. However, he harbored a deep affection for his granddaughter Megan, with whom he kept regular contact, and to whom he bequeathed his entire fortune, including an ancient castle and a thriving whiskey distillery.
Megan was unaware of both the ancestral home and the distillery that had now come into her possession. She only knew that her grandfather's passing marked a profound loss for her. The next step was to venture to Thurso and decide what to do with the inheritance.

1. The Arrival
The trip proved to be quite challenging. After flying to Inverness, Megan boarded a train for an additional four-hour journey. She was pleasantly surprised by the stunning landscapes for which Scotland is renowned. The view from the window showcased mountains, crystal-clear lakes, scenic beaches, and ancient castles, each with its own secrets. Admiring the scenery, she became lost in thoughts about the future and didn't notice how quickly time flew by. There were very few people at the small station, but Megan immediately noticed a man in his sixties rushing to meet her – a silver-haired gentleman with a kind expression.
“Miss McKenzie?” he inquired.
“Mr. Douglas?” Megan responded.
“Welcome to Scotland! I hope your journey wasn't too exhausting, despite the distance?”
He greeted her with a warm, paternal smile and shook Megan's hand. She appeared quite youthful to him. The girl was of modest height, with a slender waist and lean legs. Her large, expressive brown eyes and thick chestnut locks of hair, both typical traits of the McKenzie clan, were certainly distinguishing. Her delicate build and facial features gave Megan a porcelain, doll-like appearance. She was dressed in a formal dark pantsuit that elegantly complemented her slim figure. Simple shoes with modest heels completed the young woman's business-like, sophisticated look – just as Malcolm had described his granddaughter.
“All is well, thank you,” she took in the small railway station with a quick glance. Judging her surroundings, Megan quickly surmised that this was not a town but a village.
“I'm delighted by your arrival and our acquaintance. I've heard much about you from your grandfather,” the silver-haired man said as he carefully placed Megan's suitcases in the trunk of the car. “He was very proud of you. I've spent a large part of my life by his side, always as his loyal friend and the family's solicitor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Douglas. I’m glad to meet you too,” she said politely.
“Allow me to escort you to the castle, Miss McKenzie.”
“Please, just call me Megan.”
“As you wish, Megan.”
“Have we far to go?”
“About thirty minutes. Your home is near Melvich Bay, roughly 15 miles from Thurso. Tomorrow morning at 10, your relatives will be waiting for you in the meeting hall.”
“Is anyone currently living in my grandfather's house?”
“Yes, your cousin Warren and his wife are there, along with the estate manager. The couple had to leave for urgent matters right after the funeral, so they'll be returning late. It's unlikely you'll meet them today, but there should be an opportunity tomorrow morning.”
“I see. Thank you.”
* * *
“My goodness! It’s gorgeous! I could never have imagined seeing such a delightful place,” Megan exclaimed in awe as she stepped out of Mr. Douglas's car.
Before her, stood an extraordinarily beautiful castle. Its last renovation was completed in 1768. Over the centuries, the interior decor changed and improved with the latest technologies, while the exterior maintained its historical appearance, as depicted in pictures and postcards dedicated to medieval Scotland.
The castle was perched on a hill, offering breathtaking views of cliffs and mountains stretching into the North Sea. The magnificent green landscape extended for miles around. The estate was meticulously maintained, Megan noted immediately. Near the massive entrance door stood the manager, observing Megan intently.
“Good evening, Gregor!” she greeted, eyeing the tall, lean middle-aged man in a formal grey suit. He was exactly as her grandfather had described in his stories. Gregor's face seemed impassive and even stern, perhaps due to his thinness and lack of smile.
“Good evening, Miss. Welcome.”
Malcolm had greatly valued the estate manager for his impeccable manners, respectfulness, discretion, and cool, calculated intellect. He was one of those individuals who spoke little but listened much. When the distillery faced a downturn, it was Gregor who secured lucrative contracts with partners. Now, he was in charge of communication with the main whiskey buyers, working in tandem with Megan's cousin Warren, whom Malcolm had recently involved in the business affairs.
Gregor took two suitcases from Mr. Douglas and led the way inside.
As Megan entered the mansion through the grand doors, she paused, taking in the interior with interest, which blended modernity with history. The original stone walls were adorned with numerous hunting trophies.
“Deer hunting has long been considered a noble pursuit for true gentlemen, such as your grandfather,” Mr. Douglas explained, noticing Megan's surprised examination of the hall's unique decor.
“Are there bears around here?” Megan inquired warily, noticing a bear skin by the fireplace.
The manager smiled at her question, “No, that skin was a gift to your grandfather from an American hunter, an old friend of his.”
“That’s good…” replied Megan thoughtfully. She had always been afraid of wild animals.
“One need not fear the beasts,” Gregor unexpectedly interjected, his gaze inscrutable as he looked at her. “Often, it is people who pose the greater threat…”
Megan scrutinized his face with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. His last remark seemed odd, even menacing. Deciding she might be reading too much into his words, she chose to remain silent and turned her attention back to the hall's interior.
The chairs and sofa were upholstered in wool fabric made at the McKenzie mill, featuring the family's traditional blue-green tartan. Legend has it that this pattern and color scheme were adopted by the clan chief and his kin in the 13th century. Consequently, it had become a tradition for all family members to own several items in the blue-green tartan, for holidays, significant events, and everyday wear, suitable for any weather.
Megan's initial impressions of her ancestral castle were undeniably profound. A bittersweet melancholy washed over her as she realized that, despite the years which have passed by, she had never once made the effort to visit and see everything with her own eyes, to feel the deep connection to her lineage.
All these years, Arline had painted these places as a godforsaken backwater, untouched by civilization. Megan had imagined nothing more than crumbling walls of an ancient castle, frozen ruins on the verge of turning to dust, a vague memory of a glorious past. Now, she understood that her previous notions bore no resemblance to reality.
A grand staircase led upwards from the hall. She approached it, touching the cold stone balustrades. The center of it was carpeted with dense wool, also in the McKenzie tartan style, as was the furniture. Twenty steps led to the second floor, where the bedrooms were located.
“I wasn't sure which room you would prefer,” Gregor said, “so we've prepared two options for you – your grandfather's chamber and your mother's former bedroom.”
“I'll stay in my mother's room,” Megan replied, thinking that she likely wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully in her grandfather's chamber. Despite being 25, she still harbored a fear of something unexplainable associated with the dark. Megan occasionally chuckled at herself for this; after all, she was an adult, a capable woman who could quickly find a way out of any difficult situation while maintaining complete composure. Yet, she was still afraid of the dark, ghosts, and horror movies, just like a little girl!
The castle is probably filled with the ghosts of ancestors, she thought, and immediately tried to dispel this notion to avoid scaring herself.
On the second floor, two corridors branched off from the staircase, one to the right and one to the left, with bedrooms lining both.
“The second door on the left,” directed Gregor.
Arline's chamber, was both cozy and spacious. To the right from the entrance stood a king-sized bed made of mahogany, covered with a white down comforter and topped with a woolen blanket in the recognizable family colors.
Everything in one style, Megan thought, and she found it very appealing.
In front of the bed was a wide, large fireplace, above which hung a set of bagpipes – the national musical instrument of Scotland – mounted on the wall. The room, situated in a corner of the mansion, was one of the brightest in the castle thanks to two tall windows. Between them, there was a small round table and two chairs. The stone floor was covered with a, thick, plush carpet that was soft underfoot.
Warm rugs were often used in the interiors of ancient castles; they added a sense of comfort and retained heat. The climate of northern Scotland was harsh, and the close proximity to the North Sea brought cold winds and dampness. However, thanks to modern technology, the McKenzie castle was well-equipped to combat these elements.
“Thank you, Gregor, everything is perfect. I'll see you tomorrow at ten.”
“The meeting hall is to the right of the main entrance on the ground floor. Have a good evening, Miss.”
“Megan, if you have no further questions for me, I'll take my leave as well.”
“No questions, Mr. Douglas, thank you for meeting me. I'm very grateful.”

2. Independent Life
She didn't know how long she would need to stay in Scotland, so she packed enough for a stay of about two to three weeks. She could manage her time freely, as back in London, her romance with a young man had ended, and the restaurant her mother had opened sixteen years ago was in excellent hands with a great manager.
After Arline moved to America, the business was left to Megan. She was only eleven when she started taking an interest in her mother's work. She saw how Arline loved her business and was proud of it. Megan, too, wanted to experience the same joy as her mom and emulate her in every way. She spent all her time after school in the restaurant, and over time, began to undergo professional training for future business opportunities. By seventeen, she knew everything about the industry.
Megan was shocked when Arline announced that she was marrying Ted from California and moving to the USA.
“But the restaurant, Mom, what about our restaurant? Surely, you aren’t ready to sell something that we’ve put so much love and effort into over these years?” pleaded Megan desperately.
Arline cried and answered, “Baby, I know it’s a very difficult choice right now, but one day you’ll understand me. There’s nothing more powerful in life than love. When it comes – everything changes: your values and meaning of being. Megan, we’ll have a new business in the States and start afresh, bringing all our habits and way of life there. You’ll make many new friends, and we’ll be happy, all of us together: you, me, and Ted.”
“Mom, dear, your values may have changed, but mine haven’t. I love this city, this country, this life, and most importantly, this restaurant – not some other. I want to live and work here. Please, don’t make me give it up.”
At that young age, the girl didn't fully understand what love and a beloved person meant to her mother. They had always been together, working and relaxing in unison. Arline had never been married; she dedicated her entire life to her dearest daughter, and only child.
“Honey, what should we do then? How can I live like this? My soul is torn between two fires: you, my daughter, and him, the love of my life!” the desperate woman sat down in the chair and began to cry bitterly.
Megan’s heart was breaking for her mother. I’m so selfish, she chided herself.
“Go to America, get married, be happy. I will stay here and run the restaurant. I’m old and mature enough already,” she said, making the only decision she felt was right.
“But how will you manage alone? You still need to complete your studies. Have you got any idea how difficult this will be?” said Arline anxiously, worried about her precious daughter.
“I don't think it will be too hard because I love this job. Besides, I'm not alone. We have a good manager; he will help me.”
“I will be happy if you succeed. I believe in you; you are a great girl. You take after your grandfather in character, just as stubborn, goal-oriented, and independent. Once you've made up your mind, no one can persuade you otherwise. I'm proud of you, my dear,” Arline wiped her tears and hugged her brave daughter tightly.
“Thanks, Mom. I love you. Go in peace and be happy.”
“Promise me that if you need any advice, no matter what it is, no matter what time of day or night, you’ll call me, and I’ll always be ready to help you.”
“Of course!”
“I love you, baby!”
“And I love you, Mom!”
Five months after that conversation, Arline got married and moved to California. Over time, Megan realized that her ideas about independent living didn't quite match reality. Due to her perfectionism, she demanded the utmost attention to detail in everything she did. Sleepless nights were spent with textbooks, and days at work. Vacation remained a distant dream, and there was absolutely no time left for a personal life. But she bravely carried on, telling no one just how hard it really was for her.
When Malcolm McKenzie learned during one of his visits that his granddaughter had been living alone and managing the restaurant by herself for a year, he was beside himself with rage. He yelled, unable to contain his anger.
“Your mother was a frivolous girl twenty years ago, and she hasn’t matured one bit since. To imagine, abandoning her child, her only daughter, for a man. How dare she, the shameless woman?! Look at you, all skin and bones! Dark circles under your eyes! You’re still just a child, but everything has fallen on your frail shoulders! When I die, she won’t see a penny of the inheritance. Never will I permit the fortune of our clan to be squandered in another country, and for our family name to be scattered in the wind and forgotten as if it had never existed. You are my pride and joy, Megan. Proud that you stayed and didn’t trade Great Britain for another continent.”
This conversation had taken place five years prior, and Malcolm has since been visiting his granddaughter in London every year.
Eight months ago, on his last visit, he said, “My health is not what it used to be, Megan. In all likelihood, this is probably my last visit. Now it’s your turn to come and visit your old man.”
“I was planning to do so this year, but you see, mom had surgery, and I needed to be with her in California. Next summer I will come to visit you for a few weeks. The summer there, as I’ve heard is the only time of year when you don’t freeze to death and drown in the rain,” Megan laughed. “But I promise; this time I will definitely come; nothing will make me change my mind.”
“Drown in the rain? What nonsense! No doubt your good-for-nothing mother planted such ideas in your head. Of course, it’s cooler in the north than in the center of the country, but it’s not nearly as awful as you say! Your visit will give me great pleasure. I will arrange a celebration to mark this day.”

3. Bagpipes
And now she was here. He would have been so glad to see her. What cause for celebration her arrival might have been. But, as it turned out, she arrived the day after his funeral. He had passed in the evening, and the very next day his body was buried in the McKenzie family crypt, such were the burial customs in this place. Feelings of guilt had tormented her ever since she learned of his death.
“Grandpa, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please. I didn’t make it in time,” she whispered. Wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks, the girl thought that she couldn’t permit herself to break down right now, she needed a clear head to make important decisions. Tomorrow would be a difficult day and she had to be ready. She would have to meet her grandfather’s brother Alaric and his grandchildren, Warren and Duncan. As she recalled from Malcolm’s stories, by the twentieth century, their family had two castles in possession: Castle Mal and Castle Raven. Castle Mal was the ancestral home built by the McKenzies, and Castle Raven was inherited from the neighboring Drummond clan in 1898, when the last member disappeared without leaving any heirs. Grandfather Malcolm and Great-Uncle Alaric were the two heirs of David McKenzie, who bequeathed to Alaric, Castle Raven and the wool factory, while Malcolm inherited Castle Mal and the Scotch whisky distillery. At present, Alaric and Duncan are residing at Castle Raven, while Warren and his wife are temporarily staying at Castle Mal with Megan, who, from tomorrow, will become the official owner of the ancestral home, after the lawyer reads the will. The best solution that came to Megan’s mind was to offer the relatives to buy the distillery and the castle from her, if they so wished. She had no intention of selling the estate to strangers; she didn’t want Malcolm turning over in his grave, knowing that the clan’s home had been sold to someone outside the family circle.
Having changed her clothes and finished unpacking, Megan looked at the clock on the fireplace mantel. What a long day it had been; the memories of arriving at the airport that morning felt as if they were a week old. The clock showed 22:25. The room was getting cooler, and turning on the heater, she draped a shawl over her shoulders. She was about to go and remove her make-up when she heard an unusual sound. It took her a while to figure out where it was coming from. She listened carefully. This intriguing continuous melody was mesmerizing, capturing her attention and evoking a vague sense of unease.
“Bagpipes,” she said softly.
Her heart suddenly pounded loudly, while her soul clenched sweetly yet painfully. The girl couldn't understand why the sounds of a Scottish musical instrument stirred her so deeply. It was as if something magical, something supernatural, was beckoning her. She opened the window and saw that someone was playing the bagpipes not far from the castle. After listening for a short while, Megan left her room, drawn to stand outside and savor the melody. Leaving the house, she struggled to make out the shapes of objects until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was cool outside; the temperature had dropped and the wind from the sea sent chills down her spine.
Within a few minutes, she could clearly see the river at the base of the castle grounds, and hear the North Sea's rumble to her right. The sound of the bagpipes came from that direction. There was no one around, but she wasn't afraid. It was strange; she never made such reckless decisions, always cautious of the dark, but this time, she was magnetically drawn towards the source of the magical music. She walked as if enchanted. The area was private property and unlikely accessible to just anyone. With such thoughts, she calmed herself, rationalizing her impetuous act. She knew the entrance to the castle was nearby, and if fear overtook her, she could quickly return.
At that moment, the full moon came to her aid, appearing in the sky and illuminating the river and surrounding hills. On one of the hilltops, Megan noticed a man with a bagpipe. His tall, graceful figure resembled one of the true northern highlanders described in legends. He stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, wearing a Scottish kilt and high white woolen socks up to his knees. Megan couldn't make out the colors of the kilt, the moonlight wasn't bright enough to illuminate the details. The jacket, with a cape, was draped over his left shoulder. He continued playing the same heartbreaking melody, which was as beautiful as it was sad. Megan crept forwards, desperately wanting to take a closer look at him, to fulfill her irresistible desire. Her soul trembled as if her life depended on the encounter with this highlander. But the moon hid behind a cloud as suddenly as it had appeared, and the melody stopped.
It became very dark, and only the sound of the sea was audible. Megan felt an instant sense of unease, as if she had just awoken from a dream. Despite her attempts to discern the stranger's silhouette on the hill, she could not. At that moment, a crunch on the gravel came from behind. She froze in place, feeling as though someone was watching her. But there was no one around.
You're just tired, Megan soothed herself mentally, that's why you're seeing things.
But her heart was racing with fear. She had decided to return to the castle when she heard another sound, a rustling. The girl quickly turned and saw the shadow in a black cloak. It was following her. A soul-chilling fear paralyzed Megan. Somehow, she knew this was not the highlander with bagpipes, it was someone else.
The man in a cloak, with a hood thrown over his head, began to approach Megan, putting a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. Something ominous emanated from him; his intentions were clearly the most terrifying imaginable, she felt it with every cell in her body. The girl backed away, and in a state of fright, she didn't immediately realize that her feet were in the water; she didn't feel the cold of the river. Panic took over completely, and she dashed towards the entrance door. It was only about thirty meters away. The shadow moved along the shore, thereby blocking the path to the castle entrance.
“Gregor, help!” Megan screamed. She heard the man approaching, turned to see how close he was, and stumbling, fell backwards, hitting her head on a river rock. She didn’t even have time to feel the pain. All her thoughts were focused on one thing – survival. Frantically moving, she unsuccessfully tried to get up. Fear increasingly immobilized her movements. Meanwhile, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating everything once again, including the figure in the black cloak whose face was not visible. Suddenly, the flash of a blade of knife raised above her head. A rush of adrenalin gave the girl a little strength. She managed to crawl slightly away from the attacker, and just at that moment, a loud bird cry suddenly pierced the night. A huge, as Megan perceived, black raven flew directly at the face of the potential killer. The assailant swung the knife towards it but missed; the raven was more agile, hitting the face and head of the wrongdoer with its claws and wings. The attacker, trying to fend off the bird, dropped the knife and attempted to grab it by the wings, but in vain. Finally losing his balance, he fell on the riverbank, rolled onto his stomach, and covered his head with his hands, fearing the raven would peck out his eyes. After a minute, the assailant jumped to his feet and, bending over double to protect his face, ran away from the scene. Megan watched everything as if in a dream. Whether from the shock she had experienced or from the blow to her skull, her vision darkened, and she lost consciousness, never knowing how the struggle ended.

4. Heather
When Megan awoke, she didn’t immediately realize where she was. In all certainty, she was lying in bed. The girl turned her head. The mantel clock showed 7:40. The sun was shining through the windows. Reconstructing the events from the previous night in her mind, she reached the moment when she heard the sound of the bagpipes and went outside. It took her breath away. Could everything that followed really be true? Or was it a dream? Just a terrible nightmare? Sitting up in bed, she took a careful look at herself. She was wearing the same clothes as the previous day. In the evening, she had put on white trousers, which were now completely soiled. Her beige and-white blouse was covered in mud, she had no shoes on her feet, and on the side of the bed lay her beige stole, all crumpled and wet.
“My God! It wasn’t a dream! How did I end up here? Who brought me back to my room?” Megan whispered in horror. Gregor? Warren? What happened to the man who tried to kill me? Could she have ever imagined that the trip to her ancestral home would turn out to be so dangerous?! After all, she hadn't even left the castle grounds.
Slowly getting out of bed, Megan went to the bathroom to clean herself up before meeting her relatives. Moreover, she was eager to see Gregor and find out what had happened after she lost consciousness.
* * *
Megan put on a formal black suit and low-heeled shoes, pulled her thick chestnut-brown hair into a bun, and finished off with a few light and subtle touches of makeup. She descended the wide staircase into the hall. Terrifying memories crowded in again, scenes of what she had experienced flashed through her mind like a movie. There she was, walking to the front door, mesmerized by the music, leaving the castle…
I wonder, what role the highlander with the bagpipes had to play in all this? From his vantage point on the hill, he must have had a clear view of what was happening on the riverbank. But he didn't come to help. Perhaps he was in league with the attacker?
Megan looked around. The castle was dead silent as if she were completely alone. Suddenly, the estate manager appeared, as if from nowhere.
“Oh, Gregor, I was looking for you,” she said anxiously.
“Good morning, Miss. What can I do for you? Are you comfortable in your room?”
“Yes, quite. I left the castle last night. I heard the bagpipes and wanted to find out who was playing…” she paused, waiting for a reaction to her words.
“The bagpipes?” Gregor asked, surprised. “I didn't hear anything like that.”
“You didn’t leave the castle at all yesterday evening?”
“No, Miss, I didn’t. After I left your room, I worked for several hours on the reports for our gathering today.”
“I see. Thank you,” the girl took a brief pause. “Where is the kitchen? I’d like to have breakfast before meeting my relatives.”
“The assembly hall is to the right of the stairs, and the kitchen is opposite it.”
“Thank you.”
“See you later, Miss.”
Megan was frantically pondering who had brought her to the bedroom after the night's incident, if not Gregor. Could he be the one in the black cloak? He hadn't heard the bagpipes nor responded to her scream. Could there be a conspiracy against her? Or was it truly a maniac who didn't care whom he killed?
Utmost caution is necessary; trusting anyone is now out of the question. Anybody could be the enemy. Yet, what reason would Gregor have to kill me? What would he gain from it? My relatives could be involved, considering their potential interest in the inheritance.
Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, ideas buzzing like a swarm of bees. The question of who had brought her into the castle at night haunted the girl. This person somehow knew which bedroom she was staying in. Lost in deep thought, she entered the kitchen. At the head of the table, was a man not much older than Megan, with hair the same color as hers, well-built and quite attractive. His face looked a bit tired. To his right sat a woman who appeared to be near Megan in age. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she was wearing practically no makeup, yet her face was open and pleasant enough. They sat in silence, drinking tea, and seemed quite contemplative.
These were Warren and his wife. Her grandfather had mentioned that the cousins were a couple of years older than her, but Megan couldn't recall their exact age. Seeing her, the man quickly put his cup down and stood up with a polite smile.
“Hello, I’m Warren, and this is my wife, Glenn. Malcolm spoke a lot about you, always in good terms,” he said.
“Good morning. It’s nice to meet you,” replied Megan, with a slightly strained smile.
“Please, have a seat,” offered Glenn, pushing warm croissants towards her and pouring a cup of hot tea. Megan felt that the woman seemed slightly embarrassed when their eyes met.
“Thank you. We didn’t have a chance to meet yesterday; did you come back late?” Megan asked, hoping that her relatives could shed some light on the evening's events.
“Yes, we got back well after midnight,” Warren responded. “There was a tragedy in Glenn's family, and we had to go to Inverness. My apologies we were unable to meet you.”
“It’s fine, Mr. Douglas and Gregor helped me.”
“Megan, Malcolm felt very lonely before he passed, and asked us to stay with him. I think it would be proper for Glenn and me to return to Castle Raven after today's meeting,” the cousin seemed to justify his presence in the castle.
“As you wish, but if you decide to stay a bit longer, I'd be glad. It would give us a chance to get to know each other better.” The thought of staying alone in this large, cold castle, aside from Gregor, terrified her.
“Alright,” Warren smiled more warmly this time, “we'll stay a few more days and help you get accustomed to the place.”
“Great, thank you,” said Megan. She thought to herself: First of all, it wasn’t Warren who brought me in last night. Most likely it was the Highlander with the bagpipes. But why would he do this, and how did he know which bedroom was mine? Time will sort things out. But it would be best to wrap up the business here as quickly as possible and head back to London.
Having finished their tea, they all went to the assembly hall together. Its stone walls were adorned with deer antlers and other hunting trophies. A massive mahogany table was placed in the center. Lancet windows along the long wall made the hall very bright, offering a beautiful view of the river and hills.
Mr. Douglas, Gregor, and two men unknown to Megan, were already seated at the table. The eldest of them stood up when she entered.
“Hello Megan. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to your historic homeland. My brother had been dreaming of your arrival for years, and now that day has finally come. I am Alaric McKenzie, your late grandfather’s brother.”
His words made the girl feel guilty, as they sounded like a reproach, but she kept her emotions in check and calmly replied that the pleasure was mutual.
“Hi, I’m Duncan,” said the other man, grinning broadly and gazing at her admiringly. “What a pity that we’re related by blood; otherwise, I’d have already started courting you.” The cousin not only shook her hand but also kissed her on both cheeks as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen one another in years.
Duncan was a bit taller than Warren. A good-looking figure, playful eyes – everything about him suggested that he was a very confident young man and had no shortage of women. When he smiled, his handsome face radiated incredible magnetism. If Warren gave the impression of a very serious and modest person, Duncan was the complete opposite: cheerful, lively, uninhibited, he immediately became the center of attention. It seemed that energy was bursting out of him like a fountain.
Megan was pleasantly surprised to find all her relatives – dressed in traditional style. Each wore a woolen kilt in clan colors, still an integral part of the Scottish national costume. The men's skirts with large pleats at the back; a tartan plaid thrown over the left shoulder, secured with a brooch. A white shirt, handkerchief tie, black waistcoat, and black jacket – all perfectly fit the members of the McKenzie family. High woolen socks up to the knees, and over the belt hung a sporran – a leather pouch on a chain that fastened around the waist. It featured three small, rabbit tail-like attachments.
Carefully observing all this magnificence, the girl thought that the male members of the McKenzie family were very distinguished by their tall stature and good physiques. Aloud, she remarked, “I’ve seen many Scots in national dress in England, including Grandfather, but never paid attention to the details. It's truly very beautiful and extraordinarily elegant, especially when men know how to handle all the accompanying accessories, which, I think, many people these days neglect. All three of you look gorgeous – like Scottish national fashion models.”
“You are absolutely correct. A properly assembled costume is our history, which started here in these mountains, and we are proud of our traditions. In the big towns, few people nowadays wear kilts; they mostly prefer trousers. But the northern Scots will never abandon their customs.”
Having delivered his speech on national attire, Alaric took his place at the head of the table. His grandsons, Duncan and Warren, sat beside him. Megan noted how much Alaric and her grandfather resembled each other. A robust, gray-haired man, shorter than his grandsons, with a serious expression on his face. The eyes, nose, authoritative chin, were all so reminiscent of Malcolm… It felt as if they were of the same age. This resemblance poignantly touched her soul. The whole family was here, but he was not…
She couldn't remember who was actually older, Alaric or Malcolm. Presumably, it was Grandfather since he had inherited Castle Mal, the ancestral home of the clan.
“Mr. Douglas, you may begin,” Warren said.
“All the members of the McKenzie family are gathered here today for the reading of the will of the late Malcolm McKenzie,” Mr. Douglas began. “Allow me to state his will: ‘I hereby bequeath Castle Mal and the Mal Scotch Production whisky distillery, as well as all the funds remaining in my bank accounts, to my only granddaughter, Megan McKenzie.’ Miss McKenzie, there is one more amendment you should be aware of. In the event of your death, if there are no legitimate children-heirs, your mother cannot inherit what your grandfather left you. The entire estate will pass to Alaric and his grandsons, as was the deceased's wish,” concluded Mr. Douglas.
Following these words, Megan was frantically thinking. It must be one of them trying to kill me, now it all makes sense. If I'm gone, they are the lawful heirs. This means another attempt on my life is imminent. Oh, what a nightmare! What should I do? There's no point in offering the family to buy the estate now. Why would they spend the money if they can get it all for free?
After several seconds of complete silence, Alaric asked her a question, “Megan, how are you going to manage the distillery and the castle? Are you going to stay in Scotland, or would you like to manage things from London?”
“This is precisely why I came here – to see the distillery first-hand and get acquainted with its management specifics. Based on this, I will make my decision. Perhaps you have some thoughts on this matter?”
“We can offer our assistance if you find it challenging. I believe Warren wouldn't mind looking after the castle, and along with Gregor, managing the production. Duncan is involved with our other factory with its woolen products. Warren is more available time-wise. As for the terms of your cooperation, I believe you are capable of negotiating them if you're interested in such an arrangement.”
“Thank you, Alaric. I will certainly consider your offer,” trying to speak very calmly and without unnecessary emotions, Megan continued, “but… there’s something I’d like to discuss. Last night, near the castle, I was attacked by a man with a knife. He tried to kill me. I don't want to accuse anyone of what happened, but just in case, I'm informing you that due to the inheritance order that has been revealed to me, I will definitely, right after the meeting, call my lawyer in London and ask him to prepare a document. If something happens to me, a thorough investigation will be conducted based on the information about a possible direct interest in inheritance matters.”
The meeting room fell into complete silence, surprised looks turned into offended ones. Duncan was the first to recover and find a voice to speak.
“Megan, what are you saying! You just arrived here, you’re meeting us for the first time, you’ve got no idea what kind of people we are, and you start threatening us? I can’t speak for my grandfather and brother, but personally, I’m offended to the core,” his cheerfulness and friendliness were abruptly replaced by a kind of aggression. His cousin's statement seriously angered him.
“I had no intention of offending or insulting anyone here. But since an attempt was made on my life yesterday, I think it’s quite reasonable that I bring this up – since I obviously have good reason to fear.”
“I'm terribly sorry that this happened to you, but it's hard to imagine. Could it have been some drunkard attacking you with the intention of robbery? It might just be a coincidence,” said Alaric in bewilderment.
“This man was following me and attacked me with a knife, but…” Megan hesitated for a moment, reluctant to mention the raven, knowing it would sound ridiculous, “but I swiftly dodged him. He slipped on some rocks near the riverbank and fell. That saved me, and I managed to escape.”
Everyone in the assembly hall exchanged puzzled looks. Who could it be? Why and for what reason? No one had answers to these questions, and it seemed unlikely that the girl had made up this story.
The awkward silence was broken by Gregor, “Miss McKenzie, I’ve prepared all the accounting reports for you; they’re in this folder. You can review them whenever you deem necessary. I am ready to answer any questions you may have.”
“Thank you, Gregor. I’ll start on them today,” she replied.
“Since Megan does not yet have any ideas regarding the future of Castle Mal and the distillery, we should schedule another meeting in the near future. What do you say, Megan? How much time do you need? A week, two?” asked Alaric.
“I think we should discuss everything in about ten days. I need to study the documents carefully and make an informed decision,” she answered.
“Despite the unfortunate situation we find ourselves in today, on behalf of our family, I still invite you to join us for dinner this Friday at Castle Raven. I believe we all need to get to know each other better. We are still one family, after all. Maybe you will stop fearing and suspecting us,” said Alaric more warmly, but still a bit stiffly.
“We’ll be glad to have you as our guest,” added Duncan, now composed, with a restrained, polite smile.
“Thank you, I will come. Is it far from here?”
“A ten-minute walk up the hill behind Castle Mal. Glenn and I will escort you,” Warren replied.
“I would greatly appreciate that. Alaric, Duncan, it was nice meeting you. I'll go study the materials now,” saying this, the girl quickly left.
What a foolish situation. They offered help, seemed friendly, and here I am with accusations, threats… Such absurdity. But on the other hand, they could be pretending. It might be a cunningly planned game. Time will tell. I shouldn't torment myself with guilt over what I said there. At least, now everyone knows about the attempt on my life. She thought while walking through the castle's corridor.
Megan really wanted to visit the family crypt where her grandfather now rested. Before the meeting started, she had planned to ask her relatives to accompany her there since she was afraid to go alone. But given how things turned, she felt it was improper to ask any of them now. Before delving into the documents, she decided to take a short walk, familiarize herself with the surroundings, and organize her thoughts. The weather was splendid, with the temperature reaching twenty degrees Celsius, quite warm for the north of Scotland.
Walking toward the shore, she relished the warm summer sun caressing her face. Just to be safe, she looked around carefully to make sure no one was following her. There was nobody in sight. It took her about ten or fifteen minutes to reach the beach through the green-pink meadows.
Gazing at the horizon and admiring the sea, she didn't immediately understand what had startled her so abruptly. Megan looked around again – nobody was there. Then she realized it was a bird. A large black raven had flown over her head two or three times with a cry. She feared it was the same one from her nightmare, worried it might attack her face as it had done with the assailant. But the bird flew off towards a cliff. Perching on an outcrop, it continued to watch the girl unblinkingly. She too could not take her eyes off it for several minutes, then shifted her gaze back to the water. Megan didn't know how long she had spent walking along the beach in contemplation. An hour, two? The raven remained on the same spot, watching her intently. Soon, she stopped paying it any attention and headed back to the castle.
So much heather around, covering all the hills, fields, mountains, just as grandfather described. Now I understand those who say the most picturesque part of Scotland is the north. Could it be that my mother never wished to come back here again? To once more enjoy the beauty so generously bestowed upon this land by nature.
Megan's contemplations were abruptly interrupted by a voice, “In the North of Scotland, heather is considered a flower of happiness and good luck.”
Startled, the girl almost jumped on the spot, fearfully placing her hand over her mouth to suppress a slight scream. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the old lady who had stopped beside her, holding a straw basket filled with heather. She held out one of the flowering sprigs to Megan.
“Oh God, you scared me,” said Megan.
The woman appeared to be about 85 years old. Short in stature, slightly stooped as if weighed down by the years she had lived, her snow-white hair was neatly tied back. Wrinkles furrowed her forehead, around her eyes, and lips, betraying her advanced age, while her bluish-grey eyes radiated wisdom and kindness.
“Take a flower, my dear; it brings luck. Who knows, maybe you will find the happiness left behind in the distant past…”
“Thank you,” the girl replied, accepting the flower.
She didn't understand what kind of lost happiness the woman was talking about. Maybe it was about her mother leaving the family home while pregnant. Or perhaps the old lady had just lost her mind…
“What’s your name?”
“Innes Wallace, and you’re Megan McKenzie, the late Malcolm’s granddaughter. It’s good that you’ve come back. The time has come. He has been waiting for you for so long, it's time, it's time, he has waited… May the pink heather stand in your room every day. You will see how you will regain your lost happiness. You’ll see; you’ll see. Love overcomes all, even centuries cannot diminish its power…”
With these words, Innes moved further away. Meanwhile, she continued to mutter to herself, seemingly forgetting about the existence of the girl watching her in astonishment.
“What was that?” Megan whispered quietly.
Concluding that the woman was out of her mind and didn't understand what she was talking about, Megan decided to take the flower to her bedroom. Let it stay, maybe it really will bring good luck. I need it now more than ever!
The rest of the day, the girl spent exploring the castle from the inside, and only in the evening did she start reviewing the reports given by Gregor. Tomorrow, she intended to visit the distillery and acquaint herself with the production processes.
Preparing for bed, Megan heard again the heart-wrenching sounds of the bagpipes. It was 10.45 p.m. on the mantel clock. Pain and sweetness filled her soul at the same time. The melody was enticing, mesmerizing, but the girl was afraid to leave her room. If it was a trap, she could be attacked again… She opened the window and saw the mysterious stranger. The moonlight illuminated him well. He stood on the same hill as the night before. The man raised his head so he could look at her, without stopping the musical instrument. Megan’s breath was taken away, and a thought flashed through her mind, It’s him. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her hands and legs trembled so much that she was afraid to fall. Not understanding what was happening to her, the girl whispered, "Who is he?" An inner voice answered, "It's him." But who «he» was remained unclear.
Emotions swept over her one after another: sadness, pain, love, despair, joy. Megan couldn’t make out the stranger’s features, but she knew for sure that his face was the most beautiful in the world, that the scent of his skin, his body, was the most desirable to her in the world. The highlander kept playing the bagpipes without taking his eyes off the girl. It seemed to Megan that he saw right through her, reading her thoughts and feelings. With an incredible effort of will, she forced herself to close the window, shivering as if from cold, although the room was warm.
“My God! What's happening to me? What kind of obsession is this?”
Without turning back to the view of the hills, the girl went to bed, but for a long time she could still hear the sad melody of the Scottish bagpipes, and she was unable to calm the feverish excitement that flooded her soul.
When Megan looked at the clock for the last time, it was already four in the morning. Falling into a restless sleep, she saw the highlander next to her bedside, whispering to her, “I’ve been waiting for you, Megan.” He kissed her tenderly and then disappeared, jumping outside, into the darkness.
She woke up late, a bit after 10 a.m. There was a fresh scent in the room – the smell of grass and nature.
“Nature! Grass!” Megan jumped up in bed, realizing that the window, through which the stranger disappeared in her dream, was wide open. The girl tried to recall closing it the night before but couldn’t; she’d been too excited.
“I simply forgot to close it yesterday,” she convinced herself to calm down. “It's just a coincidence. My nerves are frayed from stress. My God, what’s been happening to me these past few days? Complete madness!”

5. Scotch Whisky
When Megan descended the staircase, she saw that Warren and Gregor were already waiting for her in the hall.
“Good morning,” greeted the girl.
“Good morning,” the men said in unison.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” her cousin inquired.
“No, I was just about to have a cup of coffee now. I didn't think you'd be ready before the appointed time.”
“It’s all right, Megan, no need to rush. We’ve got plenty of time.”
She quickly went to the kitchen. In two minutes, she managed to drink coffee and eat a small piece of shortbread. Megan didn’t like being late and felt uncomfortable if she kept someone waiting. Punctuality and perfectionism were in her blood. Brushing the biscuit crumbs off her fingers, she hurried back to the hall.
After leaving the castle, they got into Warren’s car and Megan asked how far it was to the distillery.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he replied.
“Warren, would you be able to take me to the family crypt afterwards? I’d like to pay my final respects to Grandfather, but I don’t dare go there alone. It’s a bit creepy.” She felt very awkward asking for anything after the unpleasant situation the day before, which she herself had created. But there was no choice; she had to establish a rapport between them.
“Yes, of course, as soon as we return, we’ll go there.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Megan, if there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask. I'm always ready to help.”
The girl nodded in appreciation and said, “Tell me, are there any other inhabited castles around here besides Castle Raven and Castle Mal?”
“In the nearest thirty miles, definitely not. However, there are some abandoned ones that hold historical value for tourists. There are many such places throughout Scotland.”
“Don't you find it boring living here all the time?”
“Not at all. We’re used to a measured way of life. I don't know anyone who could get bored with a such beautiful place. We don't stay locked up at home for weeks. We work, have fun, hunt. There are a lot of deer, wild boars, and hares in the local forests. It's a true pleasure. We, Highlanders, really love our local, traditional festivals, and they happen quite often. I hope you get to attend such an event. The next one is in four days. It's called the Witch's Night, or Fern Night. According to Celtic beliefs, it's the only night of the year when you can see the fern flower bloom. It lasts only a moment. It's very difficult to pick the flower, especially since evil forces do everything to prevent it, sometimes even driving people to madness.”
“I've never heard in my life that ferns could bloom,” Megan exclaimed in surprise, looking at Warren with wide eyes, trying not to miss a word of his story.
“The fern flower is mythical, supposedly revealing the secrets of the magical world to its owner. It also grants clairvoyance and power over evil spirits. Evil forces try in every way to distract the hunter, for example, by calling out to him with the voice of a loved one. And if one turns around at the call, it could cost them their life. It means looking into the eyes of death.”
“That’s terrifying! Do locals really believe in this to this day?”
“Of course, Megan. You can't imagine how many people head off into the bracken before midnight. Each one of them hopes that they will be the luc ky one. Some even go into the forest!”
“Do you know at least one person who has actually had such luck?”
“Not yet,” laughed Warren. “But my grandfather knows many legends related to it. He believes in the fern flower bloom, as do many of his age. They say that in the past, most northern Highlanders had abilities for clairvoyance, witchcraft, and so on. Our land is special, and so are the people here. Well, I'm skeptical about it, but my wife, Glenn, believes everything my grandfather and his peers tell her. If you're interested,” he continued with a smile, “she can tell you a lot more. I, for one, love this festival like the others, simply because the whole north celebrates. Our people have fun, dance and play the bagpipes. Ale, cider, whisky, flow like rivers. Various Northern Scottish dishes are available to choose from. Lots of local game. Meat that's cured, grilled on coals, pan-fried, stewed, and anything else you could want. Almost all the townspeople and neighboring villagers come here. After all, the forest is nearby, and most ferns grow near us too. Tents, wooden tables, and benches are set up on the hill.”
“Warren! It sounds wonderful! I can’t wait for this festival!”
“We Highlanders just need an excuse to have fun! Well, Megan, here we are.”
“Thank you. Your story was absolutely fascinating. If you and Glenn have got time this evening, I would love to hear more legends related to the traditions of Northern Scotland.”
“Of course! Tonight, after dinner, we'll happily share with you all we know about our north over a glass of whisky by the fireplace.”
“Great, I’m already looking forward to it,” Megan spoke joyously, pleased with Warren's openness and the fact that he harbored no resentment toward her for the previous day's events.
When Megan got out of the car, she found herself in front of a long two-story building made of large stone blocks. This style, she noted, was a common feature of most historical buildings in Scotland. The distillery was situated on a hill. From there, magnificent landscapes opened up. Megan thought it would be impossible to get used to such beauty. Surely, these views could never become dull.
“How long has this distillery been here?” she asked her cousin.
“From the 15th century. It was built by our ancestor William McKenzie, in 1486. Naturally, a lot has changed and improved inside since then. But externally, it remains as it was centuries ago.”
At the entrance to the building, a large oak barrel lay on its side, with "Mal Scotch Production" painted on it in white; the clan coat of arms was underneath.
Gregor, who had come with them but had remained silent the whole way, swung the door open, gesturing for them to enter. The girl immediately noticed a distinctive smell – malt, as it seemed to her.
Megan didn't consider herself an expert in this field. She had never been fond of strong alcoholic beverages, preferring ale or cider instead. She had only drunk whisky once in her life, a few years back, and now barely remembered how it smelled. Inside, there was a reception desk and a small sofa. A pleasant-looking blonde woman – around fifty, dressed in a smart business suit, immediately approached the visitors.
“Good afternoon, Miss McKenzie. My name is Kirsty, I’m the head technologist at the distillery. Warren, Gregor, it’s good to see you. If you’re ready, we can proceed further. I will take you to the production technology and show you the distillery.”
“Thank you, Kirsty; lead the way,” Megan said.
In the room where the first stage of production took place, there was a huge vessel.
“This is the mash tun, where barley is added. Then, water is poured into it and left for 4–5 days. This is called the malting stage. During this time, the starch turns into sugar. The barley grains, after this process, need to be thoroughly dried with hot smoke from peat. We do that here,” the woman pointed towards an open door to another large room. “The peat subsequently gives the barley a unique aroma, which becomes an integral part of the future whisky.”
Moving ahead into the next room, Kirsty showed a massive purpose-built machine designed to grind malt into flour. Next to it was another huge mash vat.
“In this vat,” she continued, “we mix the grain with hot water, and keep it for about twelve hours. Then, in the cooled wort, we add yeast for the fermentation process to occur. After that, the contents of the vat are transferred into these copper stills. In there, the heat increases to 86 degrees Celsius. The alcohol rises up through the tubes then cools back down into a liquid state. This process is called distillation. It usually happens twice so that the content reaches 70 degrees. Then, we pour the obtained liquid into oak barrels and send them to the warehouse. The minimum period the liquid must age to be called whisky is three years. During this time, the spirit evaporates from sixty to forty degrees. The longer the whisky stays in the barrel, the richer its color and taste become. Whisky is the water of life, as they say in the north of Scotland.”
The small procession moved on, listening to Kirsty.
“And in this room, we proceed to bottling and packaging. As you can see, there is nothing complicated; just barley, water, yeast, and time.”
“Are the grain and barrels local?” Megan inquired.
Warren took the liberty in answering this question.
“The best Scottish grain grows here in the north. We have peaty heather fields which are unique to us, giving barley a special flavor. And we order oak barrels from Andalusia, Spain that come with sherry. The best barrels for whisky are those from sherry.”
“Thank you! You explained everything in great detail.”
They also visited the warehouses where barrels filled with whisky are stored. Megan tasted one of the aged single malt varieties, twenty years in maturation, noting that the flavor was very rich and the alcohol was barely noticeable. “Now I understand what good Scottish whisky means!” she said with a smile.
For another two hours, they remained at the distillery. Gregor and Kirsty educated the new owner on employee work details, explained how many people were involved in the production, and much more.

6. Legends of the North
After going up to her room, Megan sat on the bed and reflected. Too many events had occurred during the three days she had been here. It felt like a whole week had passed since her arrival. Meeting new people who had now become her family; the harsh and majestic beauty of the nature and the castle she was living in; an attempt on her life; visiting her own whiskey distillery… She had experienced so many different impressions and emotions, more than she had ever experienced in London with its fast-paced, event-filled life over a year.
Megan didn't immediately notice the strange rustling at the window. Turning around, she saw a black raven. It sat on the outside windowsill, staring intently at her. The thought that this bird was constantly watching her made her uneasy. Trying to calm herself, she thought that there were probably many such birds in this area.
After resting for a bit, she went down to the hall and waited for her cousin. Soon he appeared and said, “Well, Megan, are you ready?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
Upon entering the chapel, which was about hundred yards from the castle, Megan admired the ancient structure.
“It's beautiful,” she remarked, examining the old building closely.
“Yes, and this chapel remembers all the marriages, baptisms, and funerals of the McKenzie clan. It was built at the same time as the old castle.”
Inside, to the left of the altar, there was a massive wrought iron door leading to the family crypt. Warren opened it with a key, and Megan shivered at the realization that the burials were so close to the castle. She feared anything associated with death.
The young people moved down the grim, quiet corridor, passing other doors, but these were not locked. After passing several, they stopped at the penultimate one.
Warren swung it open for his cousin, “Go ahead.”
Megan was frightened, feeling as if dozens of eyes were watching her from all sides. She saw a recent burial to the right of the entrance. Unlike the others, it was not covered in dust. Fresh flowers stood in vases at the gravestone. The stone bore the name, birth date, and death date in large letters. It was her grandfather's resting place.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Only now did she fully comprehend that he was no longer among the living. He would never come to her in London again. He would never call her to Castle Mal. She was already here. She had come, but it seemed Malcolm had to die for his beloved granddaughter to finally be in his homeland. These thoughts made her feel even worse. She whispered to herself, Here I am. You waited. But I can't hug you now, or tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how much I miss you! Forgive me! Forgive my late arrival. You will forever remain in my heart and memory. I love you, Grandpa! I promise to do everything in my power to ensure that everything in our estate goes as you would have wished. I've already grown to love your beloved north and your home with all my heart.
After standing by the grave for another ten minutes, she wiped her tears and said, “Thank you, Warren, for coming here with me. We can return to the castle now.”
“As you wish.”
Her cousin patted her shoulder sympathetically, and they headed back to the house through the chapel.
“Where is the key to the crypt kept? I would like to come here again to bring flowers to Grandpa.”
“In Malcolm's former office. In the drawer of his desk, you'll find the keys to all the doors in the castle.”
“Thanks. I'll go to my room. What time shall we meet for dinner?”
“At seven. Is that time convenient for you?”
“Yes, perfect.”
Megan spent the next few hours reviewing the documents previously given to her by Gregor. She also called her assistant Sam to check on the restaurant's affairs. He assured her that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about. Megan breathed a sigh of relief, it's good to have someone reliable to count on.
* * *
When she came down for dinner, Glenn was already busily helping the cook set the table.
“Hi, Megan! Warren said you had a tough day today.”
“Yes, it wasn't the easiest. I'm so sorry I didn't make it here earlier while Grandpa was still alive. Things would have been entirely different.”
“Don't be so hard on yourself. It's all God's will. It must have been predestined for you to come to us when you did. Finella has prepared stewed lamb with mashed potatoes for dinner tonight. I hope you'll like it. This dish is very popular in the north. Sorry, we didn't ask in advance what kind of meat you prefer.”
“I'm not picky about food. I'll be very happy to try the local cuisine. Glenn, I've been meaning to ask, who takes care of the castle and its surroundings?”
“Finella is responsible for preparing lunches and dinners, and she also keeps the dining room clean. Everyone cleans their own room. About once a month, a cleaning company comes to mop the floors, clean the walls and carpets; basically, do a deep clean of the whole house. When needed, we call the gardener, who has been trimming our lawns and bushes for many years. Malcolm used to take care of everything. Now it's our responsibility.”
Over dinner, they discussed production matters, and Warren explained his management duties. Megan replied that his responsibilities would now increase and so would his earnings accordingly.
Towards the end of the meal, Glenn turned to the cousin of her husband, “Warren mentioned you're interested in the traditions and legends of our area. We'd be delighted to share everything we know about it with you.”
“And I'll be delighted to hear it!”
“Then we can move to the living room, and over a glass of whisky, begin our stories, which you've been anticipating like little girls. Oh, ladies, how you love fairy tales!” Warren said with a playful smile.
Megan took a seat on the sofa. The couple settled into armchairs by the fireplace, where logs softly crackled, adding warmth to the large room.
“There are no ghosts in the castle, right?” Megan asked cautiously.
Warren laughed and replied, “I've never encountered any, and Malcolm never mentioned any to me. So, I can assure you, there have been no ghosts here for at least the last seventy years. And you, I see, are quite the scaredy-cat. Afraid of everything.”
“Well, not everything, just inexplicable things: the darkness, and the dead.”
“You should be afraid of the living, not the dead! Inexplicable things are always explainable, depending on how you look at it. The dead, they’re sleeping peacefully and not making any trouble. Why do you have this fear? Did something happen in the past?”
“No, thank God! And hopefully, it never will. Perhaps, as a child, my friends and I told each other too many horror stories, and I was impressionable. Or, for example, that one movie about Freddy Krueger was enough. Left me scarred for life,” Megan said, laughing.
“So, maybe we shouldn't talk about legends today? They're all related to something, as you say, inexplicable.”
“No, no, Warren, it's different! This is about the history and traditions of your land. I really want to learn about them to understand what the local people believe in and how they live.”
Glenn spoke enthusiastically, “Scots, like many people closely connected with nature, are superstitious. They place great importance on omens, legends, and myths. We celebrate the start and end of the harvest, as well as honoring various saints. Many of the festivals and traditions in northern Scotland are inherited from the Celts. The nearest local one, as Warren already told you, is in four days. On Fern Night, witches' powers are enhanced so, – the most potent magic is performed, and it's the only night it can be undone. It's the most magical and mystical festival we have. And the next one after that is on the first of August. People wear masquerade costumes for it.”
“So, on that day, Scots are willing to forsake their beloved traditional attire? By the way, I’ve noticed that in daily life everyone wears it around here; even the men working at the distillery today were all wearing kilts.”
“Our traditions have been in our blood for a very long time,” began Warren. “Back in the early medieval era, the highlanders wrapped themselves in dense woolen cloth that protected them from the winds and cold of this region. They would wrap a large plaid around their waist and throw the remaining part over the shoulder and secure it. It was not only convenient and warm for walking but also for sleeping. This was especially appreciated by warriors who had to spend nights under the open sky. During battles, if the costume got in the way, they could easily throw it off with one hand and rush into battle in their birthday suits.”
“Are you joking?” laughed Megan.
“I'm not joking, it's true! Often in those times, highlanders fought naked because it was inconvenient to fight in clothes,” Warren said enthusiastically.
“What a sight! I can just imagine.”
“Over time, the costume evolved, and the kilt became a separate piece. It's still wrapped around the waist, fastened with buckles on the side, and a kilt pin at the bottom,” continued the cousin.
Glenn spoke again, “I'm really glad that Scots have preserved their love for the traditional costume and wear it in everyday life. It's truly beautiful. Don't you think so, Megan?”
“I completely agree. I really like it. By the way, I've already seen a man in a kilt playing the bagpipes near the castle in the evening, twice. Is he one of the neighbors?”
Warren raised an eyebrow, “Hmm, possibly. I also heard the melody yesterday. The bagpipe is the main Scottish musical instrument. You can often hear it, but mainly during celebrations or in local pubs. Playing it on the streets, just like that, without any special occasion, is rare.”
“At the festival, there will be plenty of bagpipes, and you can fully enjoy the magical music. By the way, legends say that the bagpipes were gifted to the Scots by forest fairies,” Glenn replied.
At that moment, Megan was thinking about whether the stranger from the hill would be there. But aloud, she said, “Forest fairies… What other magical creatures are found in these parts?”
“Many people with special abilities have always lived here. For example, old lady Innes, who knows a lot and can see into the future. People from all over the area come to her when traditional medicine doesn't help. Her house stands right next to the forest, like a witch's dwelling. She gathers various herbs for her potions and heals many with infusions and spells. Now, there are almost no people like Innes left, but in the past, the north was full of them. Legends say that the highlanders won many battles thanks to the power of charms and spells.”
“They say that in our family, at the end of the nineteenth century, we had a gifted great-great-grandmother, or perhaps some other ancestor. Her name was Margaret McKenzie. She could talk to animals and read their thoughts. She gathered herbs and healed an entire area of diseases. She helped people but only communicated with those in need. She always preferred the company of animals, explaining that they were kinder and more sincere than humans. She was engaged to a lord from a neighboring castle. However, he went missing, and she died of grief, unable to overcome his disappearance. Such a sad story,” said Warren.
“Indeed, very sad,” Megan replied.
“The castle passed into our possession after the disappearance of Lord Drummond, as he left no heirs and had no relatives. That's Castle Raven, where my grandfather and brother now live. By the way, you remember that we are going there for dinner tomorrow?”
“Yes, I remember. I’m really looking forward to seeing that castle!”
“It's truly extraordinary and looks completely different inside compared to Castle Mal. I think it will make a big impression on you,” said Glenn enthusiastically.
“I have no doubt about that. Tell me, Warren, where did Margaret get such a gift? Maybe she picked a fern flower?”
“According to legend, the founder of the clan was Aidan McKenzie. He married a local witch who bewitched him with some kind of love potion. They married despite her having no family or name. From her, along the maternal line, Margaret and a few other females in our clan inherited the gift. However, unlike others who had the ability of clairvoyance, Margaret could only communicate with animals and heal.”
“I definitely don't have any gift, which I'm quite happy about,” Megan said, laughing.
“Well, that's good. It's probably hard to live with such a thing. To be honest, I don't believe in it. In my opinion, it’s just fiction to give a mystical aura to the clan's history and elevate its importance. Maybe Margaret did brew concoctions that actually helped people, but all that can be explained medically. Back then, there weren't many medicines, and she was known as a good doctor and pharmacist, choosing the right herbs for treatment.”
“And what about her communication with animals?” asked Glenn to her husband.
“Maybe she fed and trained them… set up a zoo next to the castle. And as for reading thoughts, someone probably embellished that part, and thus a legend was born. Most likely, she was just a regular woman with a talent in medicine and a love for animals.”
“And what about the other women in the clan? They had the gift of clairvoyance!” insisted Glenn.
“Perhaps there was only one such person in the clan – Mary. After all, clairvoyants exist all over the world, even today. We only know of Mary McKenzie, who truly had the gift. She lived in the castle from 1632 to 1679. It's said there were others, but no specific names can be given. Mary could see the future and could tell everyone what was, had been, and would be. So, I believe if anyone in our family ever had a magical gift, it was Mary.”
Megan, who had been listening to the couple with interest, asked, “And what do your grandfather and brother think, Warren? Do they agree with your opinion?”
“Yes, they also support this version.”
Glenn seemed a bit disappointed, “You can think what you like, but I believe in all of it. Megan, will you join us for the fern flower festival?”
“Definitely, I'm eagerly looking forward to the day. But I really hope we won't go searching for the fern flower at midnight. Those are the kinds of things I'm afraid of, even though I don't believe in them, you never know… what if…” the girl answered, laughing.
“Don’t worry; we won't be going after the flower. We'll just be enjoying the atmosphere and having fun.”
“Great! Warren, Glenn, thank you for taking the time to share all these stories with me; I truly found them very fascinating. To be honest, I didn’t expect such warmth and hospitality. My sincerest thanks to you both.”
“Come on, Megan! It was our pleasure. As I said earlier today, I hope with time you’ll see that we truly are your family and that you can count on us,” Warren replied, and Glenn added, “I’m also very glad you’re here. Being the only woman among three men, I’ve been missing having a female friend around. I really hope to find one in you.”
“Thank you, Glenn. I think we’ve already become friends. Overall, I’m very grateful that you both agreed to stay with me for a while. I can’t imagine what it would have been like for me alone in such a huge castle.”
Megan set aside her empty whiskey glass, wished everyone a good night, and went to her room. In her bedroom, she listened for any sounds, but all was quiet. She approached the window to see if the mysterious man in the kilt was on the hill. It was empty. With a peaceful heart, Megan took a shower and went to bed. Tonight, she was not troubled by irrational thoughts.

7. Sufferings
Despite Megan going to bed without any worries, her night was tormented by nightmares. Margaret, whom Warren had spoken about the day before, sat in a chair by the window in Megan's room, half-turned with her legs pulled up to her chest, crying, and occasionally pressing a handkerchief to her face. She wore a mourning dress, and her black thick hair was spread over her shoulders. The girl's face was in the shadow of the dimmed light.
Then Megan dreamt of the crypt. She was running through its corridors, hearing behind her, “You can't escape from the past.” This cry echoed from the tomb where Margaret's remains lay. And at the exit from the crypt, Mary, whom her cousin also mentioned, opened the door for her. She appeared to be about fifty years old and must have been a beautiful woman once. Mary said, “Go, it's still possible to change everything.” On a large stone by the chapel sat a black raven, watching Megan. And at the castle's door stood her grandfather Malcolm, who told her, “Thank you for coming, I'm very glad. Now I know you need to be here. It had to happen; the time has come. Mary is right; everything can still be changed. Go forward through life without fear, no matter what and in spite of everything. I will protect you, my girl.”
At these words, Megan woke up. It was six-thirty in the morning. Good thing it's light, she thought, or I would have gone mad with fear after such a dream. Regaining her composure, she noted that the window was closed, and everything was in its place.
Leaving her room, Megan attempted to recall where her grandfather's office was located. She stopped in front of one of the doors, feeling that Gregor had pointed her here. Upon entering, she realized it was Malcolm’s bedroom. Her heart clenched with sorrow. She caressed the pillow on the bed.
Looking around, Megan noticed another door. The manager had mentioned that the office was next to the bedroom.
Indeed, a few seconds later, she saw Grandpa’s desk at the center of the room. To the left there was a lancet window and a bookcase filled with various folders. Behind the chair, on the wall, hung a large canvas in a frame, at the top of which boasted the family coat of arms, and beneath it, the genealogical tree of the McKenzie clan. Sitting at the desk, Megan began to examine the contents of its drawers. In one, she found a bunch of keys mentioned by Warren yesterday. In others, were various documents, seals, and writing instruments. She opened the folder she had brought with her, and for the next two hours, she meticulously studied the affairs of the distillery and all matters related to the upkeep of the castle.
Suddenly, a slight movement at the window caught her attention. Megan froze. Then she turned her head and saw a black raven.
“Oh no! You again! What do you want from me?” she exclaimed with anger and fear. She didn’t like this bird at all. “How much more will you harrass me? Can birds even stalk people?! It’s just surreal!”
She grabbed the folder and dashed into the corridor. Glenn was heading towards her, “Megan, hi. I thought you’d gone somewhere. I knocked on your bedroom door, but there was no answer. I thought maybe you’d gone with Warren to the distillery. Why do you look so scared? What’s happened?”
“Glenn, this might sound silly, but there is a bird that’s driving me crazy – a black raven. I’ve been seeing it every day since I arrived. It’s either by the window where I am, or near me in the field, by the shore…everywhere. It scares me! Aren’t there any legends related to black ravens here?” The girl desperately fought the urge to break into hysteria.
“It’s the first I’ve ever heard of a raven. Take it easy, Megan. I presume, because of the stress you've recently experienced and the legends you've heard, your nerves are on edge. It's just a bird, don't pay any attention to it.”
Seeing as she hadn't convinced Megan, Glenn continued, “Get it out of your head, you're giving too much importance to a trivial matter. You’re seeing things that aren’t really there. Let's focus on something important, which is why I was looking for you. Since all the representatives of the McKenzie clan are gathering in one place today, there’s going to be a kind of celebration. I wanted to suggest you wear a kilt in our colors, if you don’t mind. I can show you how to wear it.”
“But I don’t have a kilt.”
“I’ll lend you one of mine. We're about the same size.”
“I’d be very grateful, and I'd love to wear it – my first time ever,” Megan said, calming down and smiling.
“Wonderful! Let's go. Here is mine and Warren’s bedroom.” Glenn took out everything necessary for Megan’s new look from the wardrobe.
“Thank you so much! You're so kind and attentive!”
“No worries, I'm always happy to help you. You can count on me anytime.”
“Are you also from here? From the north?” Megan inquired.
“Yes, I'm from Thurso.”
“When Warren mentioned that you went to Inverness, I thought you lived there before.”
“No. My sister lives in Inverness; her husband is originally from there. When I moved to Castle Mal, my sister stayed with our mother in Thurso, but then she got married two years ago and left our ancestral home. Our father has been gone for a long time, and it's very sad for my mother to be alone. I'm glad she's close. We see each other often. That evening, when you arrived, we were all visiting my sister. She lost her baby in the fourth month of pregnancy, and she's having a very hard time right now.”
“I'm so sorry, it's indeed a tragedy.”
“Such is life.”
“Do you and Warren have children?”
“Not yet, but we haven't lost hope,” Glenn said sadly.
“Of course. I’m sure that with time everything will work out and you’ll get pregnant. It just isn't your time yet. I know many couples who didn't have children for the first seven or ten years of marriage, and then they had one after another.”
“Doctors say everything is fine with us and there's no reason to worry. You know, Megan,” the young woman whispered, “last year I asked old lady Innes what she sees. And she predicted that in two years, I would become the mother of a lovely girl. And I believe her! But please, don't tell Warren; I don't want him to know I went to a seer.”
“She gave you wonderful news! So, it will happen just like that. How long has it been since your meeting?”
“Eleven months.”
“So, you have to wait just a little longer, about four months until you’re pregnant,” Megan said with a smile.
Glenn's eyes lit up with happiness and anticipation of this joyous moment.
“Megan, what about your personal life? Sorry if the question is inappropriate, you don't have to answer. I won't be offended.”
“It's all right, I can easily talk about this topic. I had a boyfriend in London. We dated for more than five years but broke up last year. We realized that the feelings were gone and that we should be free from one another and move on to other things in our lives – real things, you know? I had no time for a relationship. I was always busy with work and my studies. It’s amazing how he managed to put up with me for as long as he did. Five years is really overstating it. During that time, we seldom saw each other.”
“Wasn't that real love?”
“We had a lot of warmth, respect, and affection for each other. Initially, of course, there was some spark, if you can call it that, but I don’t think it was love. I don't know what real love between a man and a woman is. Probably because I've never experienced it. My relationship with Thomas gradually turned into friendship, and nothing more,” Megan spoke without emotion.
“Everything has its time, and soon you'll find your happiness.”
“I have no doubt about it,” the girl laughed.
“Maybe you'll meet someone at the festival! All the men from this area will be there. Choose anyone you want! Warren and I will introduce you to our friends and acquaintances,” Glenn said enthusiastically, already mentally picking out a groom for her friend.
“Excellent!" said Megan, hoping for a chance to meet the handsome, mysterious stranger.

8. Castle Raven
“Megan, would you prefer to go by foot or by car?” asked Warren.
“I would love to take a walk.”
“Alright, it's not far from here.”
Dressed in traditional attire, Warren, his wife, and Megan left the house. Castle Raven was clearly visible from everywhere. It towered over the entire area, unlike Castle Mal, which was situated in a valley by the river. For about fifteen minutes, the owners of both estates climbed the hill. The evening was warm and pleasant. The sea was calm, and the wind occasionally brushed against their faces. A few minutes later, the group arrived at the entrance of the historical castle.
“It's breathtaking!” Megan exclaimed in admiration, trying to take in all the details of the facade. Her gaze fell upon a majestic three-story stone building made of heavy square blocks. On either side, there were four high rectangular towers adorned with battlements, slightly taller than the main building. Above the massive entrance door was a coat of arms unfamiliar to the girl. And from where the castle stood, there was a magnificent view of a series of cliffs stretching into the sea. The area around this historical structure was empty except for the small chapel containing the Drummond family crypt.
“Warren, why is there a bird on the coat of arms?” Megan asked a bit tensely.
“It's a raven, the heraldic symbol of the clan,” her cousin responded. “As I told you, the last of the Drummonds disappeared, and Castle Raven passed to the McKenzies. Everything here has been left as it was, in respect of the centuries-old friendship between the clans.”
“This bird is now going to haunt me everywhere! And has probably already become my life companion,” the girl murmured.
Once in the main hall, she immediately noted a significant difference between this and the hall of the ancestral home. This one seemed a bit gloomier and colder, with heavy bare stone walls. The furniture, made of mahogany, was upholstered in dark burgundy velvet. A huge, antique chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling. A large fireplace was built into the wall, above which was also the family crest of the former owners. Six tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, lined the fa?ade wall. They were decorated with velvet curtains in the same hue as the upholstery, tied back with gold twisted cords and tassels. Like the neighboring castle, this one also housed many hunting trophies.
“This home isn't as modernized as Castle Mal,” said Warren.
“Well, that's not modern either,” Glenn objected, “but Castle Raven only looks old-fashioned on the ground floor. The last of the Drummonds redesigned the rooms in the style of the late nineteenth century. They're beautiful, cozy and comfortable.”
At that moment, Alaric and Duncan came into the hall.
“Oh, I see you've already become a true McKenzie,” Duncan said, carefully examining his cousin's outfit.
“Our colors suit you very well,” Alaric said approvingly.
“Thank you, I'm glad to see you both.”
In reality, Megan felt quite awkward in their presence. She very much wished for the lingering tension, left after the family meeting, to finally dissipate so they could interact without strain.
“Really?” Duncan asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Warren intervened before anyone could comment further, “How's it going, bro?” Getting ready for Witch's Night?” he cheerfully said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as a greeting. “We've already introduced our relative to the local traditions and recounted the legends of this region. She's eagerly awaiting the festival!”
Megan inwardly thanked Warren for finding a way out of the awkward situation Duncan had created with his question. It seemed the younger of her cousins was not yet ready to let go of the suspicion she had cast on their family.
“That's wonderful! It’s high time she joined our traditions and celebrations,” Alaric said amiably.
“How are you doing, Megan? Have you settled in? How were your days at Castle Mal?”
“Very eventful! We visited the distillery yesterday, and I got acquainted with the production technology. It was interesting to learn and see all this with my own eyes.”
“I'm happy for you, girl! Duncan, go show our guest around the castle!” the eldest of the clan told his grandson.
“With pleasure! Megan, would you mind if I act as your guide for the next half-hour?” he asked with a wry smile.
“I'll be grateful for that!” the girl responded as friendly as possible.
They walked through a stone arch that divided the hall, leading to a wide semicircular staircase with beautiful stone railings. In the flight between the floors, there was a lancet window framed by carved wooden molding. On the windowsill, designed as a bench, lay two decorative pillows made of dark red velvet. The upper floor extended into a gallery, from which there was a view of the hall situated below. Portraits of the Drummond clan members hung on the walls of the gallery. Megan admired everything around her. When they reached the residential area, Duncan opened one of the doors, saying, “Guest room. If you decide to stay in Castle Raven, you're more than welcome. We would be glad.”
The girl liked what she saw. Walls draped in blue silk; a bedspread on the large double bed with the same hue, standing opposite the entrance; a canopy with golden edging, and high windows on either side of the bed. It was a complete surprise to see such a cozy, warm chamber after the somewhat gloomy nature of the lower floor.
“Practically all the rooms have been modified and improved. The last representative of the clan wanted them all to match the era's style. This bedroom was intended for the future mistress of the castle,” the cousin explained.
“For Margaret?! Warren told me this tragic tale yesterday,” Megan exclaimed with passion mixed with surprise.
“Yes, for her. And this inner door,” Duncan swung it open for his companion, “leads to the lord's bedchamber. Voil?!” he sang cheerfully.
The girl eagerly entered. The room was slightly larger than the neighboring one. Dark blue tones, gold trim, more heavy grand furniture, a serious style – everything indicated that a man lived here. Above the headboard of the bed hung the clan's coat of arms.
“Does anyone live here?”
“Nope. Our ancestors didn't touch it for a long time, hoping that Drummond would return. Time passed, generations changed, but it remained uninhabited. There are many other comfortable bedrooms in the house, so let this one remain for the spirit of the lost lord,” Duncan said theatrically, with an angelic smile, amusing Megan greatly.
“Are there really ghosts in here?” she asked skeptically.
"Are you afraid of them? Then come stay with us! Let's see if the spirit of Drummond comes to meet you if you take his former fiancеe's apartment. Then you can tell us what he reveals to you,” Duncan joked, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease Megan.
“Not funny! Now I definitely won’t stay with you. You can ask him everything you want to know yourself, and then tell me,” she retorted cheerfully.
“What a coward! I'm joking, of course, there are no spirits here and there never have been. Otherwise, we would have met them long ago. Let's move on, otherwise, while you're looking around here, I'll miss dinner. And that I definitely won't forgive!” the young man smiled.
They went to one of the castle towers and found themselves in a large library. Megan was surrounded by tall shelves filled with a rich collection of books.
“What beauty! I love books so much! I could spend days here without leaving,” she said dreamily. The girl ran her hand over the spines, enjoying the opportunity to touch history. The library housed editions dating back to the 18th century and later. Her gaze quickly scanned the long row of unusual bindings and settled on the legends and tales of Scotland. I mustn't lose sight of these, she thought. I'd like to look at these first.
“What's there?” she pointed to a small door built into one of the bookshelves. It was clear that it led somewhere.
“Something like a storeroom. Paintings, portraits, personal belongings of the Drummonds. No one has cleaned it for about a hundred years. Once, as a child, I wanted to hide there but I got caught in a web, and a spider fell on my face. I ran out of there screaming and never again felt the urge to enter that dreadful place.”
“A spider isn't as scary as a ghost."
“To each their own! I've never encountered ghosts. But spiders are absolutely real and very unpleasant creatures," Duncan said with slight disgust.
In a good mood, with playful comments, Duncan showed Megan several more rooms, and then they went into the dining hall where they were expected.
During dinner, they discussed many different topics, and the girl’s relatives took a keen interest in her London life. Everyone there seemed to have decided not to bring up the unpleasant conversation from the day of the meeting. They all acted as if nothing had happened, although Megan was sure that such things are hard to forget.
“Megan, allow me to ask you a provocative question!” exclaimed Alaric, smiling warmly, “Have you started to miss London yet?”
“Indeed, a provocative question!” Megan smiled in response. “In the last few days, I've been discovering a new world. Breathtaking castles! Incredible heather fields! The mystique and history of my family – all of it truly fascinates and attracts me. I don't remember London making such an impression on me. But I'll admit, I do miss its noise and the fast pace of life.”
“I see,” the elderly man said thoughtfully, cutting a piece of venison.
Dinner went smoothly and comfortably, and afterward, everyone gathered in the hall by the fireplace.
“Having a glass of good whiskey after dinner is one of our family traditions,” Alaric said with a satisfied smile.
“Warren introduced me to this tradition at Castle Mal yesterday,” Megan responded. “He and Glenn told me a lot of interesting things. Though, I'm very impressionable, and it led me to have nightmares all night.”
“I warned you, since you take everything to heart, you'd be scared at night! But your curiosity overcame your fear,” Warren joined in.
“Yes, that's true. I dreamt about Margaret and Mary, the crypt, my grandfather…”
“Well, now that I showed you Margaret's and the lost lord's rooms, you won't sleep tonight either!” Duncan said, laughing merrily.
“No, it's all good. I truly found it very fascinating. They had such a sad story,” Megan said thoughtfully.
“That’s life. It's not the first nor the last sad love story in the world,” concluded Alaric.
The McKenzie family spent another hour and a half by the fireplace. Megan, holding a glass of whiskey, watched the dancing flames and felt the warmth spread through her body.
“It's getting late, we should head back,” Warren said, placing his empty glass on the coffee table.
After thanking her relatives for such a magical evening, Megan slowly headed for the exit. Seeing her off, Alaric said, “Our doors are always open to you, girl. I'm very glad you came. Do visit us more often. We'll be very happy to see you!”
“Thank you for your hospitality and kind words, I appreciate it!” she responded with a warm smile.
In the moonless night, Megan could hardly make out the silhouettes of her companions. She liked this couple; the spouses were harmonious, kind, and sensible. With them, she felt comfortable and confident. Warren was open-hearted and sweet, never prone to sudden mood swings, and Glenn was gentle, empathetic, and always ready to help – they were comfortable in life and saw positivity and joy in everything. Wishing them a good night, Megan hurried to her room. Eagerly, she rushed to the window, flung it open, but there was nobody outside. She very much wanted to go to the hill, to wait for him there, but the fear associated with the risk of another attempt on her life held her back. She looked at the mantle clock – 10:10 p.m. He will definitely come, I just need to wait a bit longer, she thought.
The girl picked up the folder, flipped through the papers, but couldn't concentrate. Setting the documents aside, she started pacing back and forth in her room, like a tiger in a cage, once again confirming that there's nothing worse than waiting. She checked the clock again and was surprised to see it was only 10:35 p.m. It felt like weeks had passed. Once more, she approached the window, and her heart raced at the sight of a man's silhouette in a kilt. All her rational thoughts switched off instantly. Rushing out of her room, Megan flew down the stairs. Fortunately, she didn't encounter anyone in the hall. But a faint voice of reason, cutting through the thick fog of emotions, tried to caution her. She decided to take a knife from the kitchen so that she could defend herself if necessary. Tucking her acquisition behind the belt of her kilt and covering it with her cape, she left the castle. Looking around, she silently made her way to where she had seen the mysterious stranger.
He was standing with his back to her, looking towards the sea. The light from Megan's window illuminated his tall, beautiful, well-built, and sturdy figure. The Scottish outfit fit him impeccably. High black hose socks, a black kilt with a dark gray check pattern, a black jacket, over which a tartan cloth matching the kilt was thrown over the left shoulder. A black beret on his head blended with his black hair. To Megan, the man seemed mysterious, yet perfect. Walking quietly on the grass, she approached him, trying to get closer, unnoticingly. Her hands and legs were trembling. Overwhelmed with excitement and anticipation, only now did she start to realize that she was afraid, but she could no longer turn back. It was vitally important for her to find out who he was. An incredible force of attraction pulled her entire being towards this man. His appearance was mesmerizing. Just as she was about to touch the highlander's shoulder, he calmly turned towards her, as if he had always known she was there, just waiting for her to come closer. Megan covered her mouth with her hand in a silent scream. Her eyes widened with fear, but she couldn't look away from the stranger. He looked at her impassively and silently. Megan realized he was not going to start the conversation, and, summoning the last of her courage, she asked, “Who are you?”
There was a brief silence. He continued to look into her eyes without blinking.
“Derek. My name is Derek.” His face remained calm and serene.
She couldn't read any emotions on it, “Why do you come here in the evenings?”
He calmly replied, “I found out someone tried to kill you. By chance, I was here then. Now, I make sure that this person doesn't come back again.”
“But it wasn't you who saved me then. The man who attacked me was stopped by a bird.”
“After you lost consciousness, I carried you to your bedroom.”
“I figured it was you. But how did you know which room was mine?” Megan asked with some insistence. By this point, she had regained her composure, thus managing to control her trembling.
“I saw your reflection in the window before you left the castle. It's not hard to guess where your bedroom is based on the window,” Derek replied, still calmly and undisturbed.
“Where are you from?”
“I'm local, we're neighbors, you could say.”
“My name is Megan,” she introduced herself, slightly satisfied with his answers.
A faint smile touched Derek's lips – the first emotion since the start of their conversation. From the expression on the highlander's handsome face, it was clear he already knew the girl's name.
“Nice to meet you, Megan. Glad to make your acquaintance. Why are you outside at such a late hour? It's dangerous. The attack could be repeated, and I might not be nearby to protect you.”
“I saw you and decided to find out who you are, and what your intentions are by coming here.”
“Are you satisfied with your curiosity?” he asked, still with that slight smile.
“Not entirely. Why do you need to do this?”
“Do what exactly?”
“Protect me, for example. You say you come here to see if the murderer shows up again. Why do you need to do this?” Megan asked, shifting back to a more emotional tone.
He was silent for a moment before answering.
“You will find out in time. Now go home and go to sleep. That man is not nearby.”
“Do you know him? Who is he? And why does he want to kill me?” Megan asked anxiously.
“I don't know yet, but the time will come when everything will be clear.”
“I…”
But Derek did not let her continue. The tone in his voice changed, he said sternly and authoritatively, “Go to sleep, Megan!”
She did not dare to object. The command was so categorical and unexpected that she could not find the words to respond. At that moment, the cold and harsh expression on the man's face made it clear that he was not intending to continue their conversation. Megan silently turned around and walked back to the castle. Inside, she was seething with indignation: he had given her an order! And she had been too flustered to put him in his place.
Derek watched her until she disappeared from view. With a sigh of sadness, he turned back to the sea. He knew the girl would watch him from her bedroom window for a few more minutes, but he did not turn around.
* * *
Megan couldn't sleep. The Highlander's inexplicable behavior greatly troubled her. He was so strange, mysterious. One thing she knew for sure – she needed to talk to him again; learn more about him. And at the very least make it clear that it's not alright for anyone to speak to her in a commanding tone. The beautiful, inscrutable face constantly hovered before her eyes. She had never before felt such a passionate desire to kiss a man. A French kiss – yes, but to want to kiss, besides the lips, his cheeks, nose, eyes, forehead. This was new to her. She desperately wanted to press herself against his chest and drown in his embrace.
Megan finally stopped understanding what was happening to her. Knowing nothing about the man except his name, to experience such mixed feelings: anger and ecstasy, curiosity and passion. It made her doubt her sanity.
When the girl finally dozed off, the dream where a man whispered her name, standing by her bed, and then kissing her, unexpectedly resurfaced in her memory. And in the morning, she found the window in her room open. It was him, Derek! That's why his face seemed so familiar. Realizing all this, Megan sat up abruptly.
“So, who are you?” she whispered, puzzled.

9. The Fern Festival
The inhabitants of Castle Mal and Castle Raven were preparing for the festival. For three days, Megan could not find peace. Every evening, from ten o'clock to three in the morning, she looked out the window every fifteen minutes, searching for Derek, but he never appeared. She asked Glenn and Warren about a neighbor named Derek, but they responded negatively – there were no neighbors by that name in their vicinity. During these three days, she covered many miles on foot, exploring the surroundings of both castles in hopes of encountering him somewhere. Now she could only hope for his presence at the festival, where she could ask him the questions that had been tormenting her lately.
Finally, the day of the fern festival arrived. Malcolm McKenzie's granddaughter, dressed in a kilt and cape, carefully examined every detail of her appearance in the mirror when Glenn knocked on the door.
“Megan, are you ready? Warren is waiting for us downstairs.”
“Yes, we can go. Glenn, did I fasten everything correctly?”
“Everything is fine, you look magnificent. If only your grandfather could see you now! Let's go, it’s time!”
The celebrations took place very close by. All over the field, there were preparations for bonfires. Bonfires had a dual significance in folk customs. They were associated with the sun and believed to have purifying properties. According to ancient beliefs, the flame protected a person from evil, witchcraft, and impure forces. It was precisely on this night that the boundaries between the world of humans and the supernatural realms blurred, allowing evil spirits to guard the magical fern flower.
Numerous tents stretched along the field, offering a variety of foods, while beer, ale, and whisky were sold in every third stall, attracting the longest queues. The aroma of hot stewed lamb and venison wafted from some tents and different types of sausages and frankfurters were grilled on coals right on the spot. Children's eyes widened at the sight of various sweets, cotton candy, and balloons. Opposite the tents, rows of wooden tables with benches were set up. Bagpipers played around other musicians and dancers in national costumes performed captivating folk dances. Voices buzzed and laughter rang out from all directions. The crowd mostly moved around the field; only a few sat at tables, everyone was eager to socialize. People walked towards each other, encountering familiar faces at every step, stopping to exchange a few words. Several tourists mingled with the locals, drinking ale and taking photos of everything that seemed interesting and engaging.
“It's such a nice atmosphere,” Megan remarked.
“I like it too! Warren, look, there's Alaric! Let's go say hello,” Glenn suggested.
The head of the McKenzie clan stood with a pint of ale among a group of adult males, engaging in a lively and cheerful discussion.
“Ah, here come the youngsters!” Alaric joyfully said, giving Warren a friendly slap on the shoulder.
“Friends, let me introduce you to Megan, Malcolm's granddaughter. She arrived here a few days ago.”
Megan greeted them. The new acquaintances were curious indeed; they asked her about life in London and her impressions of Scotland. She responded, but eagerly awaited the chance to leave the adult company. After twenty minutes, she took advantage of a brief pause to ask Alaric, “Have you seen Duncan? Is he at the festival?”
“Yes, we came together, but he opted for some younger companions; he’s here somewhere. I suggest you look for a group of young ladies, Duncan will surely be at the center,” he laughed.
“Oh, that Duncan!” chuckled one of the older men. Everyone began to jovially discuss Duncan's love-persuits.
“I'll go look for him. Thank you for the advice,” Megan smiled.
In a moment, she blended into the crowd, trying to quickly disappear from the elders' view, before they have a chance to stop her. In reality, she wasn't really looking for her cousin but needed an excuse. She aimlessly wandered past the tents, peering into the faces of passersby, in hopes of seeing Derek. Roaming the fair, she didn’t notice how quickly time flew by. The sun had set, and she had neither encountered Derek nor any of her relatives. Some drunk men tried to strike up conversations with her, as the festival was in full swing. People grouped together around tables overloaded with food and drinks. Ritual fires were lit all around the fairground, illuminating the surroundings with their bright light.
Megan felt tired after several hours of walking. She was looking for a place to sit, but now all the seats were taken. Ordering a pint of ale at one of the tents, she asked what time it was.
“It’s only 10:15. The fern hasn’t bloomed yet,” said the man with a smile, handing her the drink.
Moving among the celebrators, it was possible to catch snippets of conversation. Many spoke of the mystical plant. Some sincerely believed in its blooming, others mocked the believers, especially those who planned to search for it at midnight. However, Megan didn’t pay much attention, as she was occupied with searching for Derek and had no intention of wandering the dark forest at night, in the hope of finding a mythical flower, which may or may not exist. Her gaze quickly scanned the faces around the tables.
As she moved away from the crowd, the hum of voices grew fainter. She walked down towards the river. Behind her, the folk festivities and the reflections of burning fires remained. She sat on one of the large stones at the water’s edge and thoughtfully looked ahead. There, on the hill, stood Castle Raven, and to the left, in the valley, was Castle Mal. They created such a beautiful and harmonious picture.
Megan turned abruptly when she felt someone sit beside her. And there he was, the one she had been waiting for. Calmly and silently, he gazed at the river.
“Derek!” I’ve been looking for you.” Her heart began pounding with joy.
“Really?” he asked, shifting his gaze from the river to her.
“You were in my room, not only the night I was attacked, but the other night too. You kissed me. I realized it wasn't a dream. Why did you secretly sneak into the castle in the middle of the night? You say you’re protecting me, but you appear in my bedroom and ignore my questions. Who the hell are you? And what do you want from me?” Megan asked assertively, eager for answers.
“So many questions, Miss McKenzie. Where shall I start?” he asked with a slight smile on his face.
"Why did you come to my room?”
“To bring you back after you fainted,” Derek stubbornly pretended as if he hadn’t understood which night she was referring to.
“You know perfectly well I'm talking about your other visit. You were in my bedroom, whispering my name, kissing me!”
“Ah, that night… You enchanted me with your beauty. I couldn't resist; I had a strong desire to kiss you.”
“So, you really believe this barbaric tactic, of sneaking into the castle while I'm asleep, kissing me, and then jumping out of the window from the second floor, is a good approach? Lucky you didn't break your neck,” she smirked for the first time, seeing his broad and genuine smile.
“I thought it was rather romantic, not barbaric,” he teased her.
Megan was astonished by the unfolding of events, while he found it genuinely amusing. On one hand, she was angry that he ignored her questions or made light of them. Yet, at the same time, she felt joy that he was here. He had found her.
“Tell me, who are you?”
“I’m Derek.”
“You’ve already told me that. Where do you live?”
“Not far from here.”
“No one here knows anyone by the name of Derek.”
He continued to speak with a smile, never taking his eyes off her. “Really? You’ve already inquired? You’ve taken quite an interest in me; I’m flattered.”
“Yes, quite an interest. Because you’re a strange individual.”
“It only seems that way to you. I'm just an ordinary person, absolutely normal.”
“It’s odd, to say the least, that you stand on the hill outside the castle every night.”
“Not every night.”
“Fine, not every night. But you’re watching me!”
“I see nothing strange in this.” Derek kept bouncing the questions back at her, smiling playfully.
After a short pause, he added, “I’m from Thurso, that's why you couldn't find any information about me.”
“I see,” muttered Megan, feeling foolish. Mentally she tried to analyze the situation: perhaps there really was nothing strange. She might have imagined all these absurdities and believed in them. Perhaps Derek just stood near the castle on the first evening, enjoying the scenery, and after seeing that she was in danger, carried her safely to her room. Maybe she appealed to him, and decided to get acquainted with her in this unusual way. Methods of acquaintance do vary. Derek, presumably, preferred this one. After all, they are Highlanders; perhaps this is their custom.
“Are you going after the fern flower?” Derek asked with a grin.
“No, of course not.”
“Why so categorically?”
“Firstly, I don't believe in it. Secondly, I'm afraid of the dark and anything unexplainable.”
“Really?” he asked, smiling enigmatically.
“Yes really. And do you believe in these fairy tales?”
“The fern blooming once a year is an absolute fact. And I am not afraid of the darkness or the inexplicable,” he answered with a serious expression on his face.
“I hope you're not saying that you've once picked the flower and now possess magical powers?” she teased him.
“I have never picked a fern flower, and I do not have any magical powers,” Derek said just as seriously.
“That’s good to know, because I was starting to get scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Well, as I’ve already mentioned, I’m afraid of what can’t be explained.”
“But even the inexplicable can be explained; don’t you agree?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t like this topic,” Megan responded, frowning.
“Did you enjoy the festival?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How long are you planning to stay here, Megan?”
“Another week, I think, and then it’ll be time to go back home,” she answered with a slight sadness in her voice.
At these words, he grew more serious and thoughtful.
“And who will manage the distillery?”
“I suppose my cousin Warren will. Wait, how do you know about the distillery?” Megan asked surprised.
“Everyone around here knows about it,” Derek smiled and again lapsed into silence.
After waiting a bit, the girl asked, “What are you thinking about so deeply?”
“You,” he said with a smile.
“And more specifically?”
“If you leave, how will I live without you?” He seemed to be joking, but her heart beat faster at these words.
Suddenly Derek pulled her close and kissed her passionately. Megan's head spun and her chest pounded so loudly that she thought even he could hear it. She was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions. This kiss was the sweetest she’s had in her life.
Derek looked into her eyes.
Megan thought about the astonishing feeling taking over her, as if she has known Derek for a long time. He felt so familiar and beloved to her. Her entire being was drawn to him. Her soul sought his. The girl ran her finger across his face, from his temple to his chin, carefully studying his handsome features. Flawless skin, precise eyebrows, dark thick hair. Today, Megan noticed, he wasn't wearing his beret.
“You’re admiring me?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes, you’re remarkably attractive; how old are you?”
He was silent for a moment, continuing to gaze at her intently.
“I'm twenty-nine,” he said after the brief pause.
“What do you do for a living? Where do you work?”
He did not seem to expect this question and wasn't ready to answer it right away. It was the first time Megan saw him at a loss.
“I work in the city administration of Thurso,” he said calmly after a moment's hesitation.
“And what about you? What do you do in London?”
“How did you know I'm from London?”
“You're originally from here, you just live in London,” he emphasized. “Everyone knows the story about how your mother left this place many years ago, being pregnant with you.”
“Yes, that's right. I keep forgetting that this is a village. Everyone knows everything about each other. I own a restaurant; my mom opened it many years ago. She moved to America to live with her husband while I stayed in London. Sam, the restaurant manager, helps me out. He’s great; without him, I wouldn’t have been able to do it."
“You’re great, Megan.”
“Thanks. Have you got family? Brothers, sisters?”
"I was an only child. My father and mother have long passed away."
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m used to being alone,” he said calmly and emotionlessly.
“You know, me too,” she said, smiling. “Do you hear that? The sounds of bagpipes have nearly fallen silent. Everyone has probably gone looking for the flower.”
“Are you scared?”
“No. After all, you’re here with me.”
“I'm glad you feel safe in my presence.”
“I think my family is worried about my disappearance. I left them at the beginning of the festival. They don't know where I am. I need to go. I don't want to cause any panic.”
“Responsibility is one of the main traits of your character,” he smirked. “Let's go, I'll walk you back.”
They walked slowly towards her home, enjoying each other's company. It had completely darkened. The moon was entirely hidden behind the clouds. Without getting too close to the castle, Derek embraced Megan, kissed her goodbye, and wished her a good night. She expected him to suggest meeting again or to set a date, but he remained silent. Apparently, he was the type of man who decided when and where the next meeting would occur before letting others know. Discussions and agreements were not his style.
“Good night, Derek,” said the girl, and walked away without looking back.
Closing the door behind her, she stole a quick glance at the spot where they had just said goodbye, but he was no longer there.
“Megan! We were looking for you, where did you go? I was so worried. We couldn't find you among the people at the celebration, so we thought you had returned home before us, but imagine our horror when we didn't find you here either.”
“Sorry, Glenn. I met a young man, we got to talking, and I lost track of time.”
“Well, that’s a pretty good reason,” Glenn said approvingly.
“What time is it?”
“Past one in the morning.”
“Oh, that’s late indeed.”
“It's okay, don't worry. I'll go calm Warren down. He went up to our room for his jacket and was about to go out looking for you.”
“Megan! Thank God you're back!” her cousin was already descending the staircase.
“I’m sorry; I really didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Everything’s fine. The main thing is you’re home and you’re safe. Now we can all sleep in peace.”
All three went upstairs and dispersed to their rooms. Megan was happy. She remembered Derek; his handsome face, his kisses, and realized that she didn't want to leave for London anymore. A light, dreamy smile appeared on her lips as she went to bed, full of anticipation for their future meetings. That night, the girl slept soundly and sweetly, without any dreams.
* * *
In the morning, Megan invited Gregor to Malcolm's office to discuss some points about the documents he had handed over to her a few days ago. The manager meticulously answered Megan’s questions and helped her analyze all aspects of the work. Pleased with the results of their brief meeting, she let him go.
Now that I have studied all the information, it's time to make a decision, she thought. There seemed to be only one decision to make – appoint Warren as the head of the factory, leave him in charge of Castle Mal, and head back to London. The castle, in any case, needed to stay in reliable hands. Someone had to live in it to prevent it from falling into disrepair. But Megan had no desire to leave at the moment; after all, Derek had come into her life. She pondered for a long time on what to do. The family meeting was scheduled in three days, and she would have to announce her decision. First of all, it was necessary to talk to Warren, offer him management responsibility with a fifty-fifty profit split. She had no desire to manage the work personally, as the restaurant business required her full commitment.
She could stay a few more weeks at Castle Mal to see how events would unfold. Extending her stay in her historical homeland would not be too bad. The only thing left was to make arrangements with her cousin. Leaving the office, she went down to the hall.
“Glenn, do you know where Warren is?”
“He left for the distillery this morning.”
“Did he say what time he’d be back?”
“No, he always returns at different times. If I see him before you do, I'll definitely tell him you were looking for him.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you had a successful introduction yesterday. Warren and I wanted to introduce you to our friends. If you're interested, we can arrange, for example, a friendly lunch or dinner in the coming days.”
“Why not? Meeting new people is always useful. Yesterday's rendezvous was quite ordinary, nothing special,” said Megan, feigning indifference. She didn’t like discussing her personal life, so she decided not to mention anything about Derek just yet. There was still nothing between them, and perhaps there never will be.
“Glenn, if you're not busy right now, shall we go for a walk? I'd like to bring some heather back to my room.”
“I'd love to join you. Just let me grab my wrap. It's always chilly with the sea breeze.”
For the next two hours, Megan and Glenn strolled along the beach and through the heather fields. They got to know each other better, chatting non-stop and discovering their differences. Megan was reserved and usually only talked about what she considered safe. She could carry any conversation, but skillfully changed the subject when necessary, so her interlocutor could hardly notice the shift. She only superficially touched on personal matters. Glenn was much more sociable. Always ready to share her thoughts, experiences, and hopes – she never seemed gossipy or pushy. She had a fine sense of when someone didn't want to talk about something and tactfully changed the subject. She was interested in everything around her and listened to her company with joy and attention. Megan felt easy and calm with Glenn.
When they returned to the castle, Warren was already waiting for them.
"There you are! I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”
“Megan wanted to pick some heather, and I decided to keep her company.”
“Warren, I was looking for you earlier today. I’d like to discuss some important matters,” Megan got straight to the point.
“Sure, whenever it's convenient for you.”
“If you’re free now, then I'm ready.”
“Then let's go to Malcolm's office,” the cousin suggested.
It took them about an hour to discuss all the details. Warren was receptive to the idea of staying in the castle and taking over the management of the distillery. He thought it was the best solution to the problem.
“I think I'll stay here a bit longer. A few weeks of vacation will do me good. I've enjoyed the peaceful, measured life here, unlike London, where every day is just hustle and bustle,” Megan said.
“Excellent news! Glenn and I would be delighted. The more frequent and longer your visits, the better. Glenn is so happy with your friendship. She missed that. She has become very attached to you.”
“Thank you, Warren, I'm also very glad that we became friends. By the way, I think it's time to eat something.”
They went downstairs, where Glenn was eagerly waiting for them.
“It's so good you came, I'm so hungry. I thought if you didn't come in ten minutes, I'd start dinner without you,” she said, neatly folding the wrapper from a candy she just ate.
“What's with you today? Where does this appetite come from?” Warren asked.
“I burned hundreds of calories today! Your cousin and I walked many miles. I probably broke my weekly record in one day,” Glenn laughed.
Dinner was pleasant and cheerful, but Megan couldn't wait to go up to her room and look out the window. She was anxious and thought only, will he come tonight? Every day of her life had become one continuous wait. Every few minutes, she looked at the hill in hopes of seeing him, but in vain – Derek did not appear that evening. Only at dawn did the girl finally fall asleep.
* * *
All morning Megan was tormented by theories as to why he hadn’t come. Perhaps he decided not to appear in her life at all anymore? She was suffering, not knowing how to pass the time until the evening. Assessing her own state of mind, she found it highly disturbing. The girl justified her restlessness and confusion by the lack of activities here; she was used to the busy schedule and dynamic life of a metropolis. The first half of the day was drowned in idleness.
When Megan came down for lunch, her relatives were already waiting for her.
“Warren, I keep forgetting to ask, what does the tree and sword on the family crest mean?” she inquired.
“The tree is a Celtic symbol of life. The meaning is that the McKenzies are firmly grounded, having set their roots, and the sword is nothing other than a symbol of bravery and valor of the clan's members.”
“And why do the Drummonds have a raven on their coat of arms? What does that signify?”
“According to one legend, the founder of the Drummond clan was a tall, thin, dark-haired man. He dressed in black and probably resembled a raven. Members of his family were nicknamed The Ravens by the people. They were all dark-haired. After some time, he decided that this bird would be on his clan's crest. But don't be afraid, Megan. They were not warlocks and had no association with magic. The Drummonds were honorable people, just like the McKenzies, and there was never any conflict between our families.”
“Thank you, Warren. I've learned so much these days, it's incredible. By the way, I really wanted to visit the neighboring islands. Can we go on a tour there? I can't wait to see them,” Megan asked with genuine interest.
“If you like, we can go there tomorrow.”
“That would be great.”
The girl sighed with relief, finding a way to spend another day.
“Megan, tonight our family plans to have dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in town. Will you join us?” asked Warren.
“With pleasure.”
After lunch, the girl headed to the library she had discovered a few days ago while roaming around the castle, and continued to explore the vast rows of ancient books. Reading was one of her most favorite hobbies. Moreover, just as in Castle Raven, she found a book of Scottish tales and legends on a shelf and reached for the thick, old, ancient volume with remnants of a greenish image on the cover.
She binge-read stories about the mysteries of Scottish castles, about the blood shed within them, and the bodiless spirits forever locked within these stone walls. Here, she also learned that many Scottish families had their own spirits or house ghosts. She became so engrossed in the history and her own thoughts about it that she didn't notice how quickly the time had passed.

10. What Is Love?
The restaurant chosen for dinner specialized in game dishes, and its interior was largely adorned with hunting trophies.
“This is the best place in town. Malcolm and I used to come here often for freshly brewed ale and delicious meat,” Alaric recalled, smiling as he remembered the good old times.
“You won't find better game preparation anywhere else,” Duncan added.
“You praise the local cuisine so much that I can’t wait to try everything,” Megan laughed.
Ordering various dishes of wild boar, venison, duck, hare, they drank ale and enjoyed the food. The conversation throughout the evening revolved around the factories; they also discussed the latest local news. Megan didn't wait for the planned family meeting to announce her decision and share her plans, which she had previously discussed with Warren.
Alaric was pleased with this turn of events, saying, “I think you made the right decision. It's quite hard to split your time between two cities and manage two enterprises. Warren is a worthy candidate and will handle the business well. You are a member of our family. This is your home, and you are welcome here anytime. We will always be happy to see you.”
“I completely agree,” Duncan chimed in approvingly.
At that moment, a man in his thirties approached their table: tall, broad-shouldered, with light hair and green eyes. The McKenzie men warmly greeted him – he turned out to be an old friend of Warren's. Without much thought, Alaric invited him to join them at the table.
“Craig, I'd like to introduce you to my cousin Megan. She's Malcolm's granddaughter. She came to take care of her inheritance and decide its fate,” Warren explained.
“Nice to meet you,” Craig said, looking at her with an admiring smile, extending his strong firm arm for a handshake.
Megan found the highlander quite attractive. It seemed that the feeling was mutual because throughout the evening, almost all his attention was directed at her. Craig clearly wanted to learn as much about the girl as possible, and she happily engaged in conversation, enjoying the company of the young man and her family members.
“Craig, what do you do for a living?” she inquired.
“I work for one of the local shipping companies.”
“Tomorrow we're using one of your ferries to get to the island,” Warren said.
“Really? What are you heading there for?”
“We're going to sacrifice Megan on the altar of the druids,” joked the younger cousin.
“Thanks, Duncan. At least I know the real purpose of our journey now,” Megan laughed.
“If you don't mind, I’d like to come along,” the young man said, looking hopefully at the girl.
“Of course, you’re welcome to join us. Megan, you don't mind, do you?” Duncan asked.
“Of course not.”
“What time will you be at the dock tomorrow morning?” he asked Warren.
“I think we'll arrive by eleven thirty.”
“Well, Megan, prepare yourself! You're in for an unforgettable experience, since it will be conducted by true local highlanders,” Craig said with a proud smile.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she replied cheerfully.
After dinner, everyone said their goodbyes, and went their separate ways. On the drive home, Warren said, “Megan, in just one evening, you've charmed my friend. I've known him for a long time, and he's already smitten with you.”
“Is he always so quick to fall in love?” she laughed.
“No, quite the opposite! I can't remember the last time he was so enchanted by a woman. Since Craig decided to join us tomorrow, it means he wants to get to know you better.”
“Did you like him? He's quite interesting and handsome, isn't he?” Glenn chattered.
“Glenn!” Warren protested.
“What did I say? I just asked if she liked him. I would be really happy if she found her love here and stayed with us.”
“I understand you'd be happy, but it's tactless to ask such questions. They've known each other for a few hours, and you’re probably already imagining a wedding and a bunch of kids in your romantic fantasies. Let people get to know each other better and then we'll see.”
“Don't worry, Warren. We're women and it's normal for us to ask such questions. Craig is certainly a charismatic and handsome young man, in my opinion. But it's too soon to say anything more. We barely know each other to draw any conclusions.”
As they arrived at the castle, Megan checked the time; it was already 11:10. Her heart beat faster. Was he waiting for her tonight? What if he came, saw no light in her window, and left?
She eagerly anticipated their next meeting and feared it might not happen anytime soon.
After wishing Warren and Glenn goodnight, Megan rushed to her room and ran to the window. He was there, on the hill, waiting for her. Her hands trembled, butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and a joyful smile lit up her face. Without a second thought, she quickly left the castle.
Coming close to Derek, she said, “I'm glad you came; I was waiting for you.”
He smiled, brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and kissed her.
“I'm glad to see you too,” he whispered softly in her ear.
“Derek, I don't understand why all the mystery? These meetings under my window, without any warning… It's as if we're living in the Middle Ages and there's no other way to meet. Can't we do it differently?”
“You don’t like this?” he asked with a barely noticeable smile.
“Well, it's a bit strange.”
“I work late every day.”
“Don't you have any days off?” Megan asked surprised.
“Not at the moment. I'm currently working on a secret project, and I’m only free in the evenings.”
“There are secret projects in city administration? I never thought that was a thing,” she said dubiously.
“I can't explain everything to you yet. It's not just about the city administration. I've signed nondisclosure agreements regarding my current mission. So, please don't ask me about my work for now. I'll definitely tell you everything when the time comes. This… mystery, as you call it, is temporary.”
“Alright, I understand. Non-disclosure means nondisclosure. You’re probably a 007 agent,” she joked.
Derek just smiled, “How was your evening?” he said, changing the subject.
“Very good, I wasn't as bored today as I was on the other days.”
"Who entertained you?" he inquired.
In his question, Megan sensed strange notes, as if he knew about her new acquaintance.
“We had a family dinner,” she shared without going into details.
“I'm glad you had a good time. Would you mind taking a walk with me? We could go down to the sea or up the hill.”
“I'd love to,” she responded, happy for the opportunity to spend more time together.
Derek wrapped his arm around her waist, and they headed towards the beach. Megan was dressed warmly, so the light breeze blowing from the sea didn't bother her. Large boulders were scattered across the sand. The young man sat down on one of them and pulled her close. They sat there for a long time, talking about various topics. The conversation flowed easily and naturally. Megan noted to herself that Derek was intelligent, well-educated, and knowledgeable on many issues; with his wisdom and tact she felt they could discuss anything and everything. He seemed perfect. For the first time in her life, she felt truly happy, spending almost the entire night in his strong embrace.
“You know, Derek, I find myself liking you more and more,” she said with a smile, gazing into his eyes.
“Thank you, I'm flattered. And what did I do to earn such affection today?” he asked, cocking his right eyebrow.
“You're smart…, interesting. It's very easy and comfortable to talk to you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“It's hard to believe that one person can embody incredible beauty, wisdom, romanticism, and so much more,” she continued.
“So many compliments! You're idealizing me, I'm embarrassed,” he laughed.
“I'm not idealizing. Actually, I was thinking… there must be at least one flaw in you! Tell me, what's not right, what am I not seeing?” she playfully said.
“Like everyone, I have my downsides.”
“Such as?”
“The most serious one you'll find out about later,” Derek said, devoid of any emotion.
“You're a sadist? Or a maniac?”
His loud laughter broke the silence of the night. It was the first time Megan had heard Derek laugh so genuinely and contagiously. The suggestion amused him greatly.
“Why of all things did you come up with these ones?” he asked, still laughing.
“I don't know,” Megan chuckled.
“Your guesses are wrong. Any other ideas?”
“You're not really a 007 agent, are you?” she asked, making a disapproving face.
“What an imagination you have!”
“I can't think of anything else. You tell me,” Megan insisted.
“In time, you'll definitely find out,” Derek replied, kissing her face.
“Alright, we'll see how imperfect you can be,” she said.
But her companion had already resumed his usual serious demeanor.
“Dawn is soon,” he whispered.
“Already? That was quick.”
“It's time for you to go home. I'll come tomorrow if you don't mind. We could have dinner at that restaurant,” Derek pointed towards one of the hills.
“I don't mind,” Megan replied, looking forward to their next meeting.
“I'll be there at 10:00 p.m.” he said, releasing her from his embrace.
“Great!”
“Let's go, I'll walk you home.”
She embraced him around the neck and gently kissed him. She didn't want to leave him at all, and he didn't want to let her go. But he knew it was time…
When the girl found herself in her bedroom, she understood what it meant to be the happiest person in the world, because that's exactly how she felt at that moment. She discovered what love is. Love that fills every cell of the body. This intense emotion seemed to squeeze her heart so tightly that it was hard to breathe. For Derek, she was now ready to go to the end of the world and back again. And now, she very well understood what her mother meant before she moved to America. Megan's ears echoed her words, “Baby, I know it’s a very difficult choice right now, but one day you’ll understand me. There’s nothing more powerful in life than love. When it comes – everything changes: the values, the meaning of being.” Megan was amazed at how quickly and unconditionally one can fall in love with someone, how in one moment everything changes, and there's no turning back.
It was difficult to fall asleep. Thoughts overwhelmed her, emotions ran high, but she needed to rest at least a little before the trip to the islands tomorrow.
* * *
She managed to sleep only a couple of hours before the alarm went off and it was time to get ready. Megan thought about the unfortunate day they chose for this trip. But somehow, the usual predictability of life didn't apply here. Nobody could have known in advance that on this sleepless night she would find the love of her life.
She quickly washed up, combed her gorgeous hair, dressed warmly, and went down to the kitchen to drink a double shot of strong coffee. Warren and Glenn were just finishing breakfast.
“Good morning, Megan,” the couple said in unison.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile and reached for the coffee.
“Aren't you going to have breakfast?” Glenn asked in surprise.
“No, I don't want to. I'll just have some cookies,” murmured the sleep-deprived girl.
“Are you feeling okay?” Glenn asked worriedly.
“Yes, I'm fine. Just didn't sleep much. Insomnia. It happens sometimes.”
“If you want, we can stop by a pharmacy today and get you some calming drops; they'll help with the insomnia.”
“Thanks, Glenn, I think that's a good idea. We can stop by on the way back.”
“Well, are you ready? If so, let's go,” Warren said cheerfully, getting up from the table.
“Yes, we can head out,” Megan replied.
Sitting in Warren's cozy car, she again immersed herself in thoughts about Derek.
Arriving at the port, they saw Duncan and Craig there.
“Hi, Megan,” Craig greeted her joyously.
“Craig, Duncan, it’s nice to see you both!” she said.
“The weather is wonderful today, so the trip should be fantastic,” Craig observed.
Leaving their cars in the parking lot, the group chatted and headed towards the dock, where a boat was prepared. Fifteen minutes later, everyone was aboard the vessel heading to Kirkwall, located on the Orkney Islands.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard!” Craig announced playfully, mimicking a sea captain, wanting to catch Megan's attention. Spreading a blanket in his hands, he continued, “If you get cold during the journey, you can always cover yourselves with the blankets under your seats,” with these words, he carefully covered the girl's shoulders.
“Thank you, captain, you're very kind!” she thanked him with a smile.
The day was clear and sunny. The sky was cloudless. But Megan knew that despite the good weather, it would definitely be cold on the way due to the headwind.
“How long will it take us to get there?” she asked.
“About an hour,” Duncan replied.
The company was made up of interesting conversationalists, and time flew by unnoticed.
From Kirkwall, they began their exploration of the island. Megan couldn't get enough of the beauty that unfolded before her eyes. Magnificent cliffs of various shapes and heights extended deep into the sea. The delightful sandy beaches invited peace and solitude. She couldn't have imagined such a variety of landscapes in this area. Moving from one place to another, they eventually arrived at the famous Ring of Brodgar. This ring consisted of 27 megalithic stones and had been here for several thousand years. It was unknown who built it and for what purpose – whether it was the Celts or those before them, there were no answers to these questions.
“Originally, the ring had about 60 stones, the rest hadn’t survived to our time,” Warren began. “Legends say that for many centuries, sacrifices were made on an altar situated in the center of the megalithic circle to appease various gods. Locals say that at first, virgins and children were offered as sacrifices, and in later times – animals. Nowadays, this place is just a tourist attraction, listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.”
“Such gigantic stones,” Megan exclaimed in admiration.
“And how many terrifying stories they hold in their memory,” Duncan said. “I really like this place; it's definitely filled with mystique.”
Craig also contributed, “The local legend says, once every four years, according to the Celtic calendar, on the night of November 11th to 12th, a unique astronomical event occurs. Stars and planets align in a special order, creating a connection with the altar within the ancient stone circle. It's said that if you lie on the altar at midnight, you can momentarily connect with cosmic forces and receive answers to the most important questions about the past and the future. However, the altar must first be sprinkled with the blood of those seeking knowledge.”
“This is the first time I'm hearing such a legend, Craig. Did you just make it up to scare Megan?” Warren asked, laughing.
But Duncan supported the storyteller, “I've heard about this from some locals as well.”
“And does the belief actually work?” Megan asked Craig, surprised.
“I have no idea, nor the desire to test it. Many tell the legend, but no one has ever named a single person who received any information from the cosmos while lying on this altar. I think it's just as much of a fairy tale as the blooming fern. Our region loves mysterious stories. Point out any mysterious place, and immediately a new tale is invented, giving it the utmost mysticism,” he replied.
“I completely agree with you, Craig,” Duncan said. “If we were to go to the sea now and set up another stone circle, even if it’s smaller than this one, by tomorrow a story would be born about some sea monster that built its altar on land to communicate with the Universe. And by next year, this myth would be known across the north of Scotland.”
Warren also eagerly joined the conversation, “Megan, Scots are special people, remember, it's only in our country that the Loch Ness Monster lives. Just think about it, nowhere else in the world, in none of the tens of thousands of lakes on Earth, does any creature like this exist, but in Scotland, it does, and what a creature it is! Do you know how many tales are associated with it? All you have to do is visit any bookshop and you'll find dozens of books with countless myths about this being. During the boat ride on the lake, they'll tell you at least ten different stories related to the Nessie monster within an hour.”
Megan was impressed. People had invented so many stories about a single lake inhabitant! For a moment, she wondered what she actually knew about the most popular, albeit possibly fictional, Scottish creature.
“Could you tell me more about this monster?” she said, addressing Warren. “I saw something about it on TV, but I can't remember what it was.”
“I'd be happy to share all I know. In the lake itself, Loch Ness was formed at the end of the Ice Age, about 10,000 years ago. Its water is murky and black due to the abundance of peat, but it is very deep and surrounded by steep cliffs. Until recently, before tourist paths were laid, it was an impassable and inaccessible place. Hence, the most popular theory is that the Loch Ness Monster is a descendant of a surviving dinosaur. Some scientists believe the lake is connected to the sea through underground tunnels and that several dinosaurs could have survived thanks to this. There's no confirmation that there's more than one, but it's unlikely that the creature could have survived alone. According to ancient legends, Roman legionnaires were the first to tell of this monster. All known animals were immortalized by local inhabitants on stones. There was only one animal the Romans couldn't identify – a huge seal with a very long neck. In the sixth century AD, a certain water beast appears in the chronicles, but then all mentions of it disappear until the late nineteenth century. People living near Loch Ness today remember being forbidden to swim as children, because of a hellish creature with a horse's head that drags people into the depths and eats them there.”
“You're telling too many horror stories,” Craig said.
“What do you think about this creature? You probably know a lot about it too?” Megan asked him.
“I prefer the theory that the Loch Ness Monster is a vision that appears under the influence of hallucinogenic gases. The lake is located on a huge earth crust fault. This fault facilitates small earthquakes, and the release of gases from underneath can cause hallucinations in people. However, it's unclear why these hallucinations are similar among different people. Or perhaps it's a supernatural entity that penetrates our world through astral tunnels.”
Duncan continued the theme, “Also, Loch Ness and the creature living in it are a local attraction that draws many tourists. And that brings substantial money to hoteliers and the city administration. It's quite possible that all the tales about the monster are made up to keep visitors interested in the place. Tourists will visit the lake in hopes of seeing an unknown creature to humanity, meanwhile leaving quite a sum of money behind.”
“Regardless, for several centuries, scientists have been trying to get to the truth of whether something large and unexplored lives in Loch Ness; locals and tourists try to photograph it… But so far, there's not a single convincing explanation for this phenomenon,” Warren concluded his story.
“Yes, Scots are indeed unique people,” Megan said.
The group members dispersed in different directions around the stone circle, examining the ancient megalithic slabs. Megan approached one of the megaliths and ran her hand over its rough, cold surface. At that moment, a strong wind blew from the sea, and strands of hair blew onto her face. Craig, who stood beside her, carefully moved the strands away from her face. This gesture seemed quite intimate to her. Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, a black raven flew between them, brushing the young man's face with its wing.
“Damn bird,” he snapped, stepping back slightly startled.
It was so sudden that they each got a fright. The raven made a few circles above their heads and flew away.
“I've noticed that these ravens are very bold around here. One constantly circles around Castle Mal. Once, it even landed on my hand when I was trying to pick flowers in the field. These birds scare me,” Megan said, looking disdainfully after the departing raven.
“Pay no attention to them, Megan. They're just birds. Maybe they're going through some kind of nesting frenzy right now, who knows,” Craig said, annoyed at being robbed of an intimate moment with the girl.
“You're right. It's just a bird. But it's very unpleasant when it suddenly appears everywhere I go,” Megan sighed, stepping away from the giant stone.
“Guys, come here!” called Glenn, spreading a picnic blanket on the grass outside the circle.
The diligent hostess had prepared everything for a picnic in advance. She placed a checkered basket in the center of the makeshift table, from which she took out cheese, sandwiches, apples, and a bottle of wine, which Warren immediately opened. Pouring the contents into glasses, he handed each person their share.
“Here's to a good, warm day! Such weather is rare around here,” Duncan said.
They clinked glasses. After taking a sip of wine, Megan noticed a raven sitting nearby on the grass, watching them attentively. Glenn followed her friend's gaze and said, “It's staring at us so strangely; it's probably hungry."
With these words, she pinched off a piece of bread from a sandwich and extended it towards the bird. The raven shifted its gaze from Megan to Glenn, looked at her intently, but stayed put. Then, she threw the bread towards it, thinking the feathered creature was simply afraid to come too close to people. But it simply looked at the offered treat then fixed its gaze back on Megan.
“Try feeding it; it's looking at you. Maybe it will take food from your hands,” Glenn suggested.
“Indeed, perhaps yours tastes better,” added Duncan with a playful smile, and he winked at Megan, as if teasing Glenn.
“I don't want to, I'm scared of it,” the girl said, looking at the raven in terror.
“But this is a different raven. Not the one from Castle Mal. It wouldn't have flown so far from home. Try giving it some bread,” Glenn persisted.
“Alright. Only because you're asking. But I really don't like these birds being near me,” Megan said, displeased.
She pinched off a piece of sandwich and cautiously extended it to the bird. She was scared it might peck her hand or attack her. The raven looked at her intently for a long time, then approached slowly and carefully, taking the bread from her hand…never taking its eyes off her face.
“Look at that, you're more to its liking than Glenn,” Craig laughed.
“Megan, maybe you did inherit something from Margaret after all? See how the creatures come to you! Can you, by chance, hear its thoughts? What's on its mind?” Warren joked.
“No, I can't hear them! And I wouldn't want to be able to,” she said, feeling a bit relieved that she wasn't bitten.
The thought that the raven wouldn't harm her greatly calmed her fear of it.
For the next fifteen minutes, each took turns offering food to the unexpected guest, but it accepted treats from no one other than Megan. After some time, it lost interest in the crowd and flew away, leaving them to continue their picnic.
Having fully enjoyed and admired the local scenery, the travelers returned to the boat, and soon landed back at the pier from where their sea journey had begun. After saying goodbye, they headed home. Megan was thrilled about her day and eagerly awaited her meeting with Derek. At dinner with Glenn and Warren, she only drank tea, claiming she wasn't hungry. She didn't want to mention the dinner invitation. Thanking her friends for a wonderful day, she wished them a good night and went to her room.

11. Uncertainty
Ensuring the corridor was empty, at precisely 10pm., she left the castle. He was standing in the same spot as always, waiting for her. Black trousers and a black shirt made him almost invisible in the dark. Megan was unaccustomed to seeing Derek dressed like this; he always wore a kilt before.
“You look great in that style. I like it,” she said admiringly.
“Thanks for the compliment, you look great too.”
Derek embraced her and they began climbing the hill to the restaurant.
“How was your day? What did you do?”
“We went to the Orkney Islands. Such a beautiful place. Scotland is full of surprises. In just a few days, I've come to love this country. I don't understand why I hadn’t visited earlier. You’ve been to the islands, right?”
“Yes, several times. I like it there too. I think those places have a special allure, even magic: tranquil silence, enchanting nature, and powerful energy from the ancient stone giants,” his eyes lit up with the warm glow of memories.
“And what about you? Have you traveled a lot?” asked Derek.
“Yes, quite a bit. My mom loved warm countries, so we often traveled in winter, sometimes in summer, to lie on the beach and bask in the sunshine. So, you could call me a holiday expert,” she said with feigned seriousness. “We spent a lot of time in Cuba, flew to Thailand, but Italy has touched my soul the most. Oh, the emotions, passion…rhythm! And all that coexists with tranquility.”
Megan's face lit by a tender smile, as she became lost in thought. “And how do you feel about traveling?”
“I have visited all the capitals of Europe. So, I understand your feelings about Italy, even though I'm not a big fan of it.”
“To be honest, I'm terribly afraid of flying; I always feel more comfortable on the ground than in the sky or on water. That's why I don't really like long-distance travel. Our flights to Thailand and Cuba were tough for me. Aren't you afraid of flying?” Megan asked.
“No, not at all. Actually, you could even say I rather enjoy the process of flying.”
“Lucky you!” Megan said with a hint of envy.
“Indeed,” he remarked with a slight note of sarcasm.
They entered a small but cozy establishment. The place was furnished with lacquered tables covered with white-and red-checkered tablecloths, and massive chairs upholstered in rich mahogany fabric. Warm, subdued light filled the room, emanating from candlesticks attached to the wooden walls. Pleasant music played from the back of the hall, creating a unique atmosphere of comfort and charm. The few guests at the restaurant were mainly locals. They looked over the newcomers from head to toe and, taking them for tourists, quickly lost interest.
A friendly waiter greeted the couple. He led them to a small table by the window, where they could enjoy each other's company without interruption.
“Could I recommend something to you?” the waiter asked?
Megan and Derek exchanged glances and understood each other without words. The girl happily left the management of the evening to her companion.
“Bring us a bottle of your best red wine,” replied Derek.
The waiter took the order and left the guests, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of exquisite Italian Barolo.
The lovers continued their conversation.
“I still don’t know the most important thing about you!” Derek suddenly exclaimed. With silence as a response, he continued, “I don't know your food preferences. Being a pro in the restaurant business, I assume it's not easy to please you.”
“Actually, no. I'm not picky about food. At my establishment, I usually eat whatever the chef prepares. When on vacation with my mom, we always tried local dishes. And having arrived at Castle Mal and getting acquainted with the local customs, I've become a real fan of your cuisine. The way they prepare game and fish here is wonderful; I really liked it. And what about you? What do you like?”
“In that aspect, we're alike; I'm also not very fussy about food.”
At that moment, the waiter returned. He quickly but carefully filled their glasses with rich red liquid. After arranging the meat dishes with a side of potatoes and vegetables, he wished them a pleasant meal and left.
“To our first dinner together?” Derek proposed, with a raised glass at Megan.
“To our first real date!” she added.
After taking a sip of wine, they noted the waiter's excellent choice and started their meal.
“How was your day?” she asked Derek.
“Quite ordinary, nothing special. Who did you go to the islands with?” he unexpectedly asked, changing the subject.
“With my cousins, Glenn – Warren's wife, and his friend.”
“What friend?” Derek asked a bit tensely.
The girl shrugged, “I don't know, a long-time friend of Warren. He happened to be at the restaurant where we had our family dinner. That's where we were introduced. Are you jealous?” Megan asked teasingly.
“No, just curious,” he smiled back.
“His name is Craig, and he works for a shipping company. When he found out we were going to the islands, he decided to join us. Quite an interesting guy, easy to talk to.”
“Interesting…” Derek slowly repeated, cocking his right eyebrow.
“Why do you look like that? He's interesting to talk to, nothing more,” Megan laughed, pleasantly flattered by Derek's slight jealousy.
“I'm glad it's nothing more,” he said with a smile, looking straight into her eyes.
There was an awkward pause between them for a moment.
“Have you had any serious relationships with women before? Like, a long-term commitment or marriage?” Megan calmly asked, trying to hide her inner turmoil.
He paused before answering, his face once again becoming an impenetrable mask, making it impossible to read any emotions.
“I’ve had a serious and long-term relationship…” he continued to look into her eyes as he spoke.
Derek was hesitant, afraid to accidentally hurt Megan's feelings. He chose his words with utmost care. However, the pace at which she asked her questions threw him off balance.
“How long ago did this relationship end?”
“A long time ago.”
“Did it cause you pain and suffering?”
“Not the relationship itself, but the consequences.”
“Do you feel better now?”
“Definitely,” he replied, now smiling.
“Do you still love her?”
He watched Megan closely, noticing a flicker of fear in her eyes. She feared his answer to this question, afraid he might say “yes,” and he understood that.
“Too many years have passed…” he said slowly. “Let's leave the past behind and talk about us instead. I feel like I've known you all my life. Do you feel the same?” he asked calmly, with a slight smile and a squint in his eyes.
“I do,” she replied, satisfied with his answers.
Derek raised his glass, “Then let's drink to that.”
The tension at their table eased, allowing them to comfortably continue their dinner.
“Madam, now that you've extracted all my secrets, it's your turn to answer my questions. Tell me about your personal life. I'm eager to hear,” he said with a smile.
“There's not much to tell. I was in a relationship for several years, but it didn't feel like the sincere and true love portrayed in movies and novels. We parted ways and remained friends. And now there's you in my life, and I'm very happy about it.”
“I'm also very happy we met,” Derek said.
Taking a sip of drink, he added, “This wine is delightful! If it weren't for this decor, I'd believe I was in Italy! But we'll talk about that later. Have you decided on the fate of the factory and the castle?”
“Yes, I've made my decision known to the family. Warren will manage everything, after all he has experience in this business and he’s a McKenzie. Honestly, managing such a large and unfamiliar production was never of interest to me. I understand that my grandfather probably hadn’t foreseen this scenario. He wanted me to take full control and devote my life to the ancient family business. Unfortunately, I don't feel the same passion and enthusiasm for the distillery that I do for the London restaurant. It’s just not my cup of tea.”
“If that's what you really want, then it's probably the best solution. When are you leaving for London?” Derek asked casually, taking another sip of wine to dull his anxiety as he awaited her answer.
“I think I'll extend my summer vacation here a bit longer. It's been a while since I had a holiday. It's the perfect opportunity to make up for lost time.”
Derek breathed a sigh of relief and said, “So, we'll have more time to spend together.”
“Yes, I’ll have a chance to learn more about you,” Megan smiled.
“I thought you knew enough about me,” Derek said with feigned surprise, before revealing a genuine smile.
“On the one hand, yes, but on the other, it seems I know almost nothing about you. You still remain a mystery to me.”
“Does that frighten you?”
“Not anymore, but curiosity prevails,” laughed Megan.
“Everything in its own time. I think you'll find the answers to your questions soon.”
“I hope so.”
After dinner, they went for a walk to the sea. This had become their favorite spot, where they would sit on a large boulder, embracing each other, and talking the night away. As always, she returned to the castle just before dawn, first alone, and now with her beloved.
Weeks passed, and Derek spent the night in Megan’s room more and more frequently, where they passionately made love. Sometimes, without warning, he would appear in her bedroom in the middle of the night. Megan couldn't understand these strange appearances and disappearances, but she gave herself to him with all her soul, body, and heart. Their love for each other grew stronger by the day, and the girl could no longer imagine her life without him. Before dawn, her lover always left, leaving her alone with heavy thoughts about how time passed but nothing changed. He remained just as mysterious and enigmatic as ever, yet at the same time, he was the dearest and most beloved person in the world to her.
* * *
Three months had passed since Megan arrived at Castle Mal. As a perfectionist, she always required clear direction on how to proceed with her life and what actions to take. The situation she found herself in threw her off rhythm. Derek, occupied with his confidential job, wasn't ready to accompany her to London, and no one could say when his commitments would end. Megan realized that she needed to return home, yet she couldn't leave her loved one behind. Every day, she convinced herself that tomorrow she would find a way out of this loop and make a decision about her future. However, each new «tomorrow» passed without resolution. Megan waited for Derek to suggest something, to take some responsibility for their relationship and future, but he remained silent. Then one day, her phone rang.
“Honey, how are you? Are you in London yet?”
“Hi, Mom, I'm still at Castle Mal.”
“What are you doing there for so long? Did you like it so much that you decided to stay forever?”
“No, I just took a long vacation. I’m enjoying northern Scotland, it's very beautiful here, and I want to stay a bit longer,” the girl answered.
“Dear, you've been there for three months. What more is there to see? You can explore the entire north from end to end in just a few days. I can't understand you. It's a godforsaken place, where life has stopped, and there's no development. In my opinion, there's nothing to do there for more than a week,” Arline said, puzzled, unaware of what was really happening with her daughter.
“Everyone has their own opinion. Tell me how you're doing instead,” Megan decided to change the subject.
“Honey, I've missed you. You haven't visited us for a long time, and I really want to see you. Come back to London. Ted and I will be there in five days.”
Megan was stunned listening to her mother. Leave Derek and go to London in five days? She wasn't ready for that.
“Have you already bought the tickets?” she asked nervously.
“Yes, dear, we have,” Arline's voice was filled with genuine joy.
“Mom why don’t you come here to Castle Mal? It's your home, after all.”
“Megan, I have unpleasant memories of that house. I don't want to go back there. And your grandfather would turn in his grave if I stepped foot in Castle Mal,” Arline sighed heavily.
“But what happened between the two of you in the past? He didn't even want to reconcile with his only daughter before he died. There must have been a good reason.”
There was a brief silence on the line.
“Mom, can you hear me?”
“Baby, this isn't a conversation for over the phone. We'll talk when we meet.”
Megan suggested enthusiastically, “I have an idea! Let's meet in Edinburgh? I plan to return to London a bit later. Sam keeps in touch with me daily; everything’s fine at the restaurant and there’s no need for me to be there all the time. You know that over the years we've streamlined operations so much that now, for the first time in my life, I can afford to take a longer break.”
“Well, if that’s how you feel, I have no objections. I’m very fond of Edinburgh and I wouldn’t mind spending a few days there. I think Ted will like this idea. We could stop in London for a day first. I'll check in with Sam and see how things are going there. And the next day, we'll take a train to Scotland,” Arline clearly liked the plan.
“Great! I’d really appreciate it if you popped into the restaurant to check how things are going.”
“Megan, are you sure everything's okay? Or is there something I don't know about? This whole story with your extended holiday seems very strange to me. Have you met a man there? Are you in love? Be honest with me,” Arline asked anxiously, terrified at the thought of her only daughter staying forever away from civilization because of some Highlander.
“Don’t worry, Mum. I just like it here. I need a little rest and relaxation after all the hustle and bustle of London,” Megan convincingly answered.
“But I know you! You wouldn’t be able to sit still for even a day without something to do. And here we’re talking about months,” Arline disapproved.
“I guess I’m just very tired. Working non-stop caught up with me in the end. You know, I hadn’t taken a real break in ages. Well, the time has finally come to make up for all those missed holidays.”
“Okay, whatever you say. I'll look for apartments in Edinburgh today and give you the address. We'll talk in a couple of days. Love you, sweetie, and can't wait to see you.”
“Love you too. Hugs. Say hi to Ted.”
“Will do!”
The trip to Edinburgh appealed more to Megan than returning to London. Going to London meant leaving Scotland for a while and resuming her usual routine, but the time for that hadn’t come yet. She would have to tell Derek, as well as Glenn and Warren, that she would be leaving for a short while. She saw her friend from the hall window and headed outside.
“Megan! Look at how beautifully the roses have grown, they are even more beautiful this year than the last,” her friend admired, gazing at her own garden.
“Glenn, everything you plant grows beautifully! You have green fingers.”
“Thank you. I really enjoy the process when you plant a seed and watch it grow stronger day by day. Eventually, it turns into a work of art,” Glenn said passionately.
Megan shrugged, as she couldn’t quite appreciate the full joy of watching a seed or root sprout. She had never planted anything in her life.
“I just spoke to my mother. I’m going to Edinburgh on Saturday, and she’s coming there with her husband for a few days. I’ll be with them for five days then I’ll come back.”
“I’m glad you’ll see your mom! She wouldn’t like to come to Castle Mal, would she? That would be great!”
“No, she doesn’t like this place at all.”
“Pity, I don’t know how it’s possible not to love it. I’ve grown so attached to you, Megan, that I find it hard to imagine you being away for five days,” Glenn said, hugging her friend.
“But sooner or later the day will come when I’ll have to return to London and resume my usual life,” Megan said with a sad smile.
“I'm not even ready to think about that yet. I’ll be visiting you often then,” laughed Glenn.
“Come over, you're always welcome.”
“Let’s cut these roses and take them to Malcolm’s crypt.”
“Right now?” Megan asked, startled.
“Why not?”
“I'm scared to go there without male accompaniment. Warren has escorted me a couple of times, but even with him, I was frightened. And you're suggesting we go there, just the two of us?”
“Let's call Gregor.”
“He left for the distillery an hour ago.”
“Did he? I didn't even notice he was gone.”
“The main quality of Gregor is his inconspicuousness. He never seems to be around even when he is, making him always seem absent,” Megan laughed.
Glenn also laughed and said, “You're absolutely right. Oh, look, Warren is coming, he's early today.”
Warren didn't come alone; he was with his friend.
Craig greeted both women with a friendly kiss in turn, “Hello there, happy to see you both!”
Since their introduction, he had invited Megan to the movies and dinner twice. And twice she had declined. She felt very awkward around him. She knew about his clear interest in her, but she didn't want to conflict with Derek, or give Craig false hope.
“Hi, Craig. What an unexpected but pleasant surprise,” Megan sincerely said.
“I ran into him in Thurso and suggested he join us for dinner,” Warren joined the conversation.
“Good thinking. Megan and I have been quite bored these last few days. You're always at work, and we have no one else to talk to. Just each other, day in, day out,” Glenn jokingly told her husband.
“I'm always ready to keep you company. We can get together again and go somewhere, like the last time we went to the islands,” Craig suggested.
“I'm leaving for Edinburgh on Saturday for a few days. My mom is coming and I'm going to meet her.”
“You'll come back here afterward, right?” Craig asked hopefully.
“Yes, I'll come back. I've decided to spend some more time here.”
“We won't let her go to London for long,” Warren cheerfully said. “We've become so close living under the same roof that it's hard to imagine what Glenn and I will do without her.”
“Let's go inside; I'll hurry the cook with dinner and we can start earlier today,” Megan suggested.
“Sure. We can start with a glass of whiskey by the fireplace,” Warren proposed.
“Let's do that,” Glenn agreed.
While Megan went to the kitchen, they settled in the living room. Glenn and Warren in armchairs, and Craig on the sofa. Megan returned and sat next to him.
“Craig, how are you? How’s work? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Megan asked with interest.
“Nothing new. Work's the same as always. Everything's fine with the family, thank God! I've just been a bit bored with the monotony of life. But tell me, what do you do here all day?”
“In the morning, I'm almost always on the phone with London. Solving various issues; basically working. Then Glenn and I chat, and afterwards, I go to the library to read. It's pretty much the same routine every day. It's the first time my life has been like this. But I'm not complaining. The main thing is that there's something to do,” she said with a smile.
“A day packed with activity,” Craig chuckled.
“Indeed! I'm really looking forward to this trip to Edinburgh; It’ll give me a chance to unwind completely.”
“I've been to Edinburgh a few times. It's a very beautiful city. You’d want to return again and again.”
“That's true, it's so unique, amazing, I would say. My grandfather and I met there a few times when I was a teenager. Mom would see me off to the train in London, and Grandpa would pick me up at the railway station in Edinburgh. I feel like you can never get tired of that city.”
“I think everyone would agree with that,” said Craig.
“By the way, Megan, I saw Duncan today,” Warren joined the conversation. “He sends his regards and asked when you will finally come to visit them. He and Grandfather would be delighted to see you. I suggest we organize a family dinner at their place as soon as you return from your trip.”
Megan was pleased that her relationship with the family had developed in such a warm way. Over these months, she has grown fond of Alaric, who reminded her of her grandfather, and the lively Duncan, with whom it was always fun. Therefore, she responded very positively to her cousin's suggestion, “That's a great idea! Send them my warm regards.”
Warren smiled, “I also told my brother not to worry about your infrequent visits, and explained that as soon as you finish reading the entire Castle Mal library, you'll move to the Castle Raven library. Given the rate at which you devour books, I think that's about to happen. How many have you read during this time? Two hundred?”
“No, about twenty-five, I think,” Megan laughed.
“That's some speed! I don't read half that in a year,” Craig was amazed.
“Of course, Craig, you work all day. You're not going to read in the office in front of your colleagues. And I'm on vacation, so I have time,” she said with a smile.
“By the way, I also have a large library at home. Once you're done with these two, you can move to mine,” Craig offered cheerfully.
“Thank you. I think that might happen in a couple of decades. If I stay here until retirement and do nothing else, I could manage two libraries, reading twelve hours a day,” Megan reasoned with laughter.
“I'd be happy if you stayed here for a couple more decades. By the way, how's your interaction with the birds going? Still as successful? Warren mentioned that one of the ravens has become your companion and follows you everywhere.”
“Yes, it's true! At first, I was afraid of it, but then I got used to it. I feed it occasionally, so it looks for me everywhere. If I'm in the study, it sits by the window; if I'm in the bedroom, it's by another window. Well, not always, of course. But it definitely spends a couple of hours a day around me. It's quite funny,” Megan said, surprising herself that she had become friends with a bird.
“It’s her biggest fan,” Warren said, laughing. “Don’t forget, Megan: we’re responsible for those we’ve tamed.”
“Wise words, indeed. I’ll go see if dinner is ready,” she said, getting up from the couch.
“Don’t get up, Megan; I'll go hurry Finella along. I’m already hungry,” Glenn said, quickly standing up and heading to the kitchen.
At that moment, the phone rang. Warren excused himself and walked over to the grand staircase to answer it. Meanwhile, Craig turned to Megan and, seizing the opportunity to be alone with her, asked, “Are you avoiding me?”
“Of course not!”
“I've asked you out twice, and you turned me down.”
“I'm sorry, it was just bad timing,” Megan said, at a loss for how to properly respond to his question without hurting his feelings.
“So, you're saying there's still a chance? I just need to pick the right time?” he asked hopefully.
As they were sitting close, Craig tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her face, much like Derek often did. He leaned in closely, intending to kiss her. Megan quickly leaned her head back to avoid the kiss.
“Craig, I'm sorry, we're not alone… I'm just not ready…” she began to explain hurriedly, unsure of how to defuse this awkward situation.
“Sorry. I understand. I won't rush you,” he replied.
Glenn returned to the room, not noticing the tension that had lingered between Megan and Craig. Her appearance helped to ease the atmosphere.
Over dinner, both the girl and the young man tried to avoid eye contact. They were both upset by the uncomfortable situation that had occurred in the room, but tried their best to act naturally, as if nothing had happened. Without waiting for dessert, Craig excused himself by saying he had promised a friend to help with something, said goodbye to everyone and swiftly left.
“Meg, is everything all right? It seemed to me that Craig was upset about something,” Warren asked with concern.
“I don't know. I didn't notice. Maybe he has some personal problems; who knows! I'm going to my room; I want to have an early night tonight, you don’t mind?”
"Good night."
After saying goodbye to her relatives, Megan walked up to her room. She was tormented by a sense of guilt towards Craig, for possibly leading him on and giving false hope. She imagined how rejected he must now be feeling. Reason told her that it wasn't her fault. But to feel and to understand are two different things, and at that moment, they were battling inside her. The girl wanted to be alone as soon as possible to think over the day’s events: the call from her mother, preparations for Edinburgh, Craig…
Entering her room, she was greatly surprised to find Derek there. He sat in the chair by the window, legs crossed, arms folded over his chest. He was once again wearing his trousers and shirt, all in black.
“Derek!? You scared me! I didn't expect to see you so early.”
“Who were you expecting to see here? Craig?” he remarked, unable to contain his sarcasm.
“Did you see him? He joined us for dinner tonight.”
“Yes, I saw him; he just left, we passed each other a couple of meters apart. Why did he come?” Derek inquired.
“I told you before, he's Warren's friend, and he just came over for a friendly dinner.”
“I see. I think he's very interested in you.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“I don't know… male intuition.”
Megan had never seen Derek so agitated and tense, as if something was tormenting him inside. She decided to change the subject to find out what was really happening with him.
“Why did you come so early? It's only 9:20.”
He was staring into space, lost in his thoughts, not hearing the question.
“Derek!”
"Yes, Megan?” he looked at her as if he had just woken up.
“You've never come this early before. Is everything okay?"
“I got off work at 5 today and couldn’t wait to see you,” he replied calmly.
“I'm really happy you’re here. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he said, getting up and putting his arms around her before kissing her gently.
“My mom called today. She and Ted are coming, we’ve arranged to spend a few days together in Edinburgh. I'm going there on Saturday.”
“And then?” he asked tensely.
“I’ll come back.”
Each evening he spent with her, he feared hearing about her return to London. Today, he especially didn't want to broach the subject. He tried to steer the conversation away from it, but now realized it was inevitable.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you. What are your plans for tomorrow, and what did you do today?” he tried to guide the conversation in a direction he deemed appropriate.
“Same as usual. Work, Glenn, reading. Honestly, I'm starting to get bored with this lifestyle. My life in England was always so eventful and dynamic. I miss that. I don't know what to do with myself here. How long will this continue?! More precisely, how much longer can I take it?” Megan was depressed. She didn’t want to rake over all this again, but it was imperative for her to set her limits; she couldn’t wait in uncertainty forever.
Derek closed his eyes and sighed heavily, “Megan, I completely understand what you're waiting for from me. And I too want us to spend more time together. Not only at night but also during the day. But I can't give you that right now. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't, due to…certain circumstances.
“Derek, you say you love me, but we don’t go out. We don’t go anywhere together because everything is closed at night. You never call me. You don’t have days off. We’ve been together for more than three months, but nothing has changed. There's no development in the relationship. It’s all very strange and I’m plagued by various doubts and anxiety. Please understand I can’t stay here forever. Sooner or later, I’ll have to go back to London. What will happen to us then?” Megan was filled with despair and hopelessness as she laid these grievances on Derek.
“I’m sorry I’m causing you such discomfort. I understand perfectly well how you feel. You’ve got every reason to be angry with me. I need to know, in spite of all this, do you love me?”
“Of course, I do, but what does that change?”
“You've never told me that before.”
“I’m afraid – afraid of uncertainty and that you might hurt me.”
“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Megan. I love you. Give me a little time. Just one or two months, no more. I promise you everything will change. You’ll get answers to all your questions.”
His eyes were filled with so much sadness that Megan's heart clenched in pain.
“Fine,” she said with a note of resignation.
Derek hugged her tightly, feeling burdened himself by all the half-truths and deceit in which he has lived these past months. That night, he was the most passionate and tender lover in the world. Megan felt so good and peaceful because he was there. In such moments, she forgot all her fears concerning him. Beside her, was the most faithful and loving of all men. She believed in the sincerity of his feelings and knew that he truly loved her as deeply as she loved him. But she needed to wait another a little longer, as Derek had asked her to. They lay in bed, embracing. Megan looked at the clock – dawn was near, and it was time for him to leave again. Where? And why exactly at this time? These questions remained unanswered.

12. Story of the Past
Megan packed her suitcase, filled with a sense of joy in anticipation of the trip. Despite feeling sad about leaving Derek for five days, especially since their maximum separation over the past three months was no more than 24 hours, it did not overshadow the upcoming meeting with her mom, whom she’s missed so much. She was eager to be among the crowd and immerse herself in the life of the capital.
Warren and Glenn accompanied her to the station. The journey to Edinburgh took seven hours, but time flew by unnoticed. She admired the spectacular views from the train window. The landscapes were stunning in their diversity, changing one after another. Part of the route passed along the North Sea, with its magnificent sandy beaches and mountains, dotted with pink heather. Only in the north of Scotland can one see fairy-tale pink mountains, beautiful valleys with rivers and streams, pastures, and flocks of sheep that provide wool is to produce national clothing and accessories. It was impossible to get tired of the scenery. Love for these lands and for Derek filled Megan's heart. After their conversation a few days ago, she decided to stay at Castle Mal for another two months. She hoped that something would really change and there would be some certainty for the future. She also looked forward to meeting her mom, remembering their life in London, working at the restaurant, their joint vacations… Why had she never been interested in the reason behind her mom's argument with her grandfather? Why hadn't he forgiven her even before his death? Why was her mom so categorically refusing to come to the house where she was born and raised? So many «whys» swirled in her head. Well, perhaps it was time to uncover the family secret. Her mom promised to tell her everything. With these thoughts, lulled by the monotonous rumbling of the wheels, the girl dozed off.

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