Chapter 4

A nna wasn't sure what she expected to happen. For her fingers to disappear like vapor as they touched the threshold? For a tunnel of light to appear and for her to be zapped into some wormhole?

What actually happened was that as she took a step, she caught her toe on a loose flagstone, stumbled through the arch with her arms pinwheeling, and landed on her knees on the other side.

The smell of mud assailed her nostrils and it felt cold and wet underneath her hands. Damp began soaking through the knees of her jeans.

She felt something bubbling up in her throat and a moment later, she was laughing. Not a small, contained snicker but a disbelieving snort that grew into a gut-busting laugh that echoed around the bleak landscape. Her hands were covered in mud, her jeans were stained with dirt and she had nearly landed face-first in a pile of sheep droppings by the door of the ruined farmhouse.

What an idiot! She was just glad it was only Irene around to see her foolishness .

"Good one, Irene!" she gasped between fits of laughter. "You really got me there. How about I buy us both a drink and we can toast my stupidity?"

She looked around and her laugh died in her throat. There was no sign of the old woman. Anna climbed to her feet, brushing the mud off her jeans. "Irene?"

She went back inside the house but found it empty. What the—? Irene had been here only a moment ago. No woman of her age could move that fast!

Anna walked quickly from room to room, searching. The house looked different somehow. Still a mess, still tumbledown and abandoned, but it looked...newer. The mortar between the stones wasn't crumbling and the flagstones that made up the floor were neat and even. Eh? That made no sense.

Finally, having looked in each room, she exited through the front door. Irene MacAskill was nowhere in sight. Anna made a circuit of the farmhouse, ending up by the back door where she'd started. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. What the heck was going on? Irene MacAskill could not have just disappeared like a puff of smoke!

All right , she thought. This has been a very weird day and I've just about had enough. I'm going back to that hotel right now and the first thing I'm going to do is order myself a double scotch!

But before she could retrace her steps back to the car, she spotted something in the distance. Over the top of the hill, she could see a dark column filtering into the air.

Chimney smoke! And that meant a house !

Without stopping to think, Anna charged up the hill, maneuvering around thistles and small scree that littered her path. The hill was deceptively steep, and her calf muscles protested as she climbed. Damnation. Perhaps she ought to renew her gym membership.

At the crest of the hill, she paused to catch her breath, absently brushing a stray lock of hair off her face. Her heart hitched as she spotted something on the horizon.

The smoke was rising not from the chimney of another farmhouse as she'd expected, but from one of several chimneys belonging to a many-turreted castle that was nestled between two hills in the distance.

Anna felt her jaw drop. A castle? Seriously?

She blinked, suddenly remembering the odd vision she'd seen through the doorway in the abandoned farmhouse. There had been a castle in that too, hadn't there? But her memory was indistinct and blurry, like a dream, and Anna suspected she'd imagined the whole thing.

She looked around but there was nothing else in sight, no other houses, or hotels or anything. She'd been out here looking for Lily's home. That couldn't be Lily's new home, could it? A castle? She pictured a roaring fire, a grand hall, and sitting up until the small hours gossiping with her friend. Perfect!

Pushing all thoughts of Irene MacAskill out of her mind, Anna started down the hill. She moved with purpose now, the uneven terrain of the hillside unable to temper her newfound enthusiasm. A castle! A real castle!

The ground made it tough going. Thick tussocks of grass growing over boggy peat meant her boots kept sinking until her jeans were black up to her calves. If she'd stopped to think for a minute, she'd have gone back for the car and driven up to the castle but in her excitement she'd acted without thinking. No change there, then.

The path began to dip, gradually leading her to a stream. Following the stream seemed like the best course of action, so she splashed her way along it and became aware that she was in a kind of valley now; high banks on either side topped with gorse bushes and bracken that blocked the view of the way ahead.

Anna felt a pang of worry. What if she got lost? She shook her head, dispelling those thoughts. The stream had to lead somewhere, and that somewhere was probably the castle. Right?

She squinted at the sky, noting how it was beginning to darken; the sun being overtaken by dark storm clouds. She picked up her pace, one eye on the quickly dimming sky and the other on the uneven ground around her.

The stream started widening and became shallower, eventually petering out altogether into a wide, boggy area of clinging mud. As she squelched unsteadily through it, a fresh rumble of irritation pushed its way into her thoughts.

Ugh! Why had she decided to come this way?

Suddenly, with a wet slurp, the bog swallowed her right boot whole. Anna yelped in surprise and attempted to yank her foot free, but it remained stubbornly stuck.

"Wonderful!" she muttered, looking around to see if there was any dry ground she could use as leverage.

All around her was a seemingly endless expanse of swampy ground, dotted with tufts of withered grass and peculiar-looking mushrooms. The light was fading fast, the sunset disappearing behind a huge bank of black clouds building up in the west, threatening a storm.

Anna took a deep breath to steady herself, then braced her hands on her knee and gave a hard tug. The boot refused to budge. She tried again, this time throwing all her weight into it. Nothing. In fact, if anything, it felt as if her boot sank deeper into the mud.

Panic began to bubble in her stomach. She had to get free. The temperature was dropping rapidly, suggesting the storm was coming closer.

Crouching, she dug her fingers into the disgusting silt, feeling it cold and clammy against the skin of her hands. It was like trying to grasp jelly; it slipped through her fingers, devoid of anything solid she could get hold of. With a grunt, she pulled with all her might. Her foot stayed stuck and she overbalanced. Pinwheeling, she fell backwards into the muck with a squelch.

She gave a squeal of frustration and hammered her fists against the slush, sending more of the stuff spurting around her. What a nightmare! How had she managed to end up stuck in a bog in the middle of nowhere? She'd been an estate agent in a plush Glasgow office only hours ago and now she was lost in the Scottish Highlands and covered in stinking mud!

Well, you've gotten yourself into some ridiculous messes , she told herself. But this really takes the biscuit.

Pushing herself up to sitting, she brushed back her hair, feeling the soft squish of the mud that coated it, and looked around, assessing her options. She couldn't even call for help because her phone was dead. Aargh!

She blew out a deep breath. All right. There was only one thing for it.

"Help!" she bellowed, cupping her hands to her mouth. "Somebody help!"