Chapter 1

Scotland wasn'twhat I had anticipated. It was so much more. Magical and overcast. Inspiring and cold. And something I couldn't quite put my finger on. There was something in the air which felt…life changing.

After arriving, the first thing I did after going through customs was to find a taxi and ask for the nearest bar, er pub. Or was it a public house? I still wasn't quite up on my European terminology, but I told my driver I wanted authentic and off the beaten path. I now sat in the dingiest pub in Edinburgh. Lesson learned.

"Would you like another, Lass?" The barkeep was missing an incisor, but that hadn't kept him from grinning at every one of his customers as they approached the ancient, scratched bar top to request a pint.

"Uh, no. But thank you for the recommendation. I've thoroughly enjoyed my first Irish whiskey." While I reached inside my bag to pay, the odd little man raised a weathered hand.

"Your money's no good here. At least for the first drink. Welcome to Scotland."

Whiskey had never been my drink, but the shot had been smoother than I'd imagined, warming my insides. It oddly made me feel as if I belonged, had always belonged in this country.

My Aunt Betty had nagged me to visit Scotland for years. Her insistent claim, and the visions I'd told no one, that I'd discover my future in the land of our ancestors had finally convinced me I needed to be here. And at this particular time.

My inherent ability was spell work, the bread and butter of our coven. However, for the last year I'd experienced visions where I searched the Highlands, not for the ancient grimoire my aunt had said was stolen from us centuries ago, but for a faceless man who would leave me achy, begging for his touch before the vision swallowed in smoke. It had left me unsettled, as though my destiny was not with the coven my foremothers had started centuries ago.

A group of rowdy locals entered the pub, shaking me from my thoughts. The barkeep stared at me as if waiting for an answer. Had he asked me something else? No matter, I'd respond to the last thing I remembered him asking. Must be jet lag that had jumbled my thoughts.

I gave him a quick nod. "If I have time before I go back home, I'll stop in and have another." I rarely let myself be in debt to others, so I made a mental note to stop back in. Gathering my carry-on, I picked up the worn parchment off the bar and refolded it for the hundredth time before tucking it into the back pocket of my jeans.

"You searching for something, Lassie? I couldn't help noticing your scrap of paper. Looks as if you're heading to the Highlands?" The man's steady gaze sent shivers down my spine.

Then, between one blink and the next, I swear his eyes changed. A black screen filled the whites of his eyes before winking out and returning to their milky color. Wait, that wasn't possible. A trick of the light? Probably the whiskey.

Lassie? Who was this guy?I'd learned at an early age to trust no one and acts of kindness even less. Keeping my business to myself, I cursed the indulgence I'd allowed myself while sipping the smooth spirit. The piece of paper the strange little man had mentioned had been in my family for centuries. Or so crazy Aunt Betty had insisted. I tended to believe she'd created it out of her need for drama.

"It's possible," I carefully replied. "I plan on visiting many places during my stay."

"Aye. A pretty one such as yourself need be careful on her own." The words hung between us, begging to be addressed. But were they a threat or a standard warning for a woman travelling on her own? Either way, I planned on heeding the advice. As much as I wanted those around me to believe this trip was one of pleasure, it was the most serious undertaking of my life. To say I'd felt the weight of it as soon as the plane had landed was an understatement.

I turned away, then headed for the exit. Temptation to use a persuasion spell to discover who the barkeep really was almost pulled me back.

Instead, I whispered words to wipe his memory of me, and dropped a penny over the pub's threshold. The spell and the coin ensured my presence and that of the parchment Aunt Betty had thrust into my hands before I left would be forgotten—a penny for your thoughts—as soon as I stepped onto the cobblestone path lining Rose Street.

As I made my way toward a hotel for the night, my aunt's last words replayed in my head. "Trust in him, Bex. He's your destiny." The plea so loud, it was as if she were right behind me. Resisting the urge to look over my shoulder, the only truth I could discern from her prophetic words was that she wasn't speaking of the barkeep.

However, the thought that an unknown man would have some influence over me, or my future, gave me a case of the willies.

Jet lag hit me as I walked into my small room without a view. Not that it mattered. In the morning, I'd have all the views of Scotland and the famed Highlands my heart could ever want. What I wasn't looking forward to was another night filled with visions of the faceless man running through fire toward me, only to morph into a bedroom where I was waiting for him with outstretched arms. The dream had visited me every night since I booked this trip. And each day since, including this morning, I woke achy, full of a need to be in the faceless man's arms.

The long-anticipated search for an ancient spell book my family had lost generations ago would begin at dawn. And the only thing I knew for sure was, no matter how many times my aunt wished it otherwise, I had vowed long ago that my destiny would never be tied to a man.