Chapter 5

E meric rode through the deepening dusk. The sky was splashed with hues of pink, purple and gold. The beauty of it, however, had a bitter edge. In the opposite direction, the sky had turned black, the storm racing steadily closer. He hoped he made it home before it hit.

His thoughts mirrored the growing storm. The closer he drew to his destination, the deeper his unease became. Part of him longed for the sights and smells of home—but part of him dreaded it too. He was no longer the boy who had watched his father and uncle playing chess at the high table, the boy who had badgered the cooks into giving him fresh bread from the oven and gotten into mischief at every opportunity. He was no longer the boy who had been content in his role in the clan, certain of the future mapped out for him.

There is a choice coming yer way, a choice that will force ye to question everything ye think ye want. It will be a choice that will force ye to heal the division in yer heart, to decide, finally, who ye are and who ye want to be .

What had Irene meant by that?

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a distant cry echoing through the twilight. He pulled back on the reins, Plover rearing his head and snorting.

"Help! Somebody help!"

It was a woman's voice, filled with desperation and fear. Adrenaline shot through him and he kicked Plover into a gallop in the direction of that shout.

As he rode, the ground began to change underfoot, turning wet and springy. He could smell the rankness of rotting vegetation and decay in the air and knew he had to be careful. He was passing into the swampy ground that bracketed the east end of Mackintosh territory—a place he'd spent many hours exploring as a child but one he knew could easily trap an unwary traveler.

It was a landscape of moaning willows bowed over murky water, and he kept to higher, drier ground as much as possible, until finally, the willows pulled back and a large open stretch of bog loomed before him.

There, sitting in the mud with her feet stuck in the mire, was a woman. Her clothes were sodden and covered in mud, her hair plastered to her face. Her eyes were defiant though, flashing with determination.

"Thank God!" she shouted when she spotted him. "I've just about yelled myself hoarse! Can you get me out? My boots are stuck!"

"Hold on!" he called back, swiftly dismounting.

He worked quickly to uncoil a length of rope from his saddle, the fibers rough against his palms. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the rope sailing through the air towards the woman. It landed with a wet slap just within her reach. With trembling hands, she grasped at it, her fingers slipping on the wet hemp before finally securing a firm grip.

"Tie it around yer waist!"

Nodding her understanding, she did as he commanded, knotting it securely. Once she had a firm grip on the rope, Emeric tied its other end to Plover's saddle. The horse snorted and stamped but settled as Emeric took hold of his bridle.

"All right then, lad?" he said. "Ready to earn yer oats?"

With a gentle nudge, he prompted Plover into a slow, steady walk. The horse strained against the weight, his hooves sinking slightly into the soft earth. The rope strained and stretched, wet fibers creaking as they bore the weight of the struggling woman.

"Hold on!" Emeric shouted.

Suddenly, with a sound that was half-squelch, half-suck, the woman's boots came free of the bog and she was pulled head-first through the mud as Plover heaved.

Emeric kept Plover moving, maintaining tension on the line until the woman was safely on solid ground. She was panting heavily, mud smeared all over her clothes and face, making her look like some wild thing out of a child's tale.

Emeric approached her cautiously. "Are ye hurt?"

The woman rolled onto her back, arms and legs spread-eagled, making no effort to stand. She snorted. "Yes, I'm fine, although my pride could do with some CPR. I cannot believe I just got myself stuck in a bog! Ugh. If you hadn't come along..."

She looked up and her eyes met his, earth-brown and lively. Surprise suddenly flared in them .

"I don't believe it!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. "Emeric? Is that you?"

Startled, Emeric had no time to react as she threw her arms around him, crushing him into a bear-hug and splattering him with mud.

ANNA WAS SURE SHE WAS dreaming. Surely she must be dreaming? Not only had a knight in shining armor—well in some sort of strange tartan wrap actually—come riding to her aid, but that knight had turned out to be Emeric Mackintosh! The man she'd been dreaming about for the last three weeks.

She must definitely be dreaming even though the guy in her arms felt very real indeed. She pushed him to arm's length and looked him up and down. He was exactly how she remembered him: same green eyes, sandy-colored hair, slightly bemused expression like he wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

"So you're visiting Lily and Oskar too, huh?" she said. The fear and desperation of being stuck in the bog was forgotten in her sudden excitement. "What a stroke of luck! Or maybe it was fate?"

She'd meant the words lightly but as she said them, a sudden shiver went through her. Fate? Hadn't Irene MacAskill talked about something like that?

The balance is out of kilter because ye are not where and when ye are supposed to be, Anna Webster. But now ye have a chance to change that .

It was only then that she realized Emeric was staring at her like she'd gone mad. "Do...do I know ye?" he asked hesitantly.

Anna's smile faded. Was he joking? They had spent an entire night dancing and laughing at Lily and Oskar's wedding! And after that, she spent the last three weeks thinking about him constantly! But it seemed he hadn't been doing the same. He looked at her like a stranger, like she was just another unfortunate mud-caked woman he'd saved from a bog.

Oh. The bog. Of course he didn't recognize her. She was smeared from head to toe with mud. And she stank. Not an auspicious way to begin.

"Um...do you have anything I could clean myself up with?"

Emeric blinked then reached into his saddle-bag. "Aye," he said, rummaging around before pulling out a slightly frayed leather water bottle and a rag. "Will this do?"

"Perfect," she murmured, taking it and tipping the bottle over her head. Cool water cascaded down her hair and face like a mini waterfall.

She managed to wipe the worst of the grime from her face with the rag but she suspected her clothes were beyond salvage. She risked a glance at Emeric through her wet lashes. He was looking at her with an intensity that made her heart flutter. His eyebrow was slightly raised, that bemused expression still on his face.

"Better?" she asked, offering him a shaky smile.

"Aye," he responded, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Seems there's a woman under all that muck. "

After what felt like an eternity of silence, recognition sparked in his eyes. "Anna?" he said incredulously. "Anna Webster?"

A wave of relief washed over her. "Yes! It's me! I thought for a moment I had been completely forgettable!"

"My apologies, but well, it's not exactly how I remember ye," he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No, I suppose not. Bog mud isn't really the look at weddings. You know, I never expected to meet you again like this." She tried not to blush under his gaze, but it was a futile attempt.

"That makes two of us," he murmured. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Anna, what by all that's holy, are ye doing here?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. Same as you. I've come to visit Lily and Oskar."

"Lily and Oskar?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your friend. My friend. Got married recently. Remember?"

"I know who they are. But why would ye come here looking for them?" He looked around. "Come to think of it, how did ye come here looking for them?"

"How do you think?" Anna replied. "In a car. Well, in a train then a car, actually." She proceeded to tell him everything that had happened to her today, leaving out the fact that she'd been fired and her odd meeting with Irene MacAskill. She wasn't quite ready to think about that yet.

"So here I am," she finished with a shrug. "And I don't know about you but I'm getting cold. How about we get going? It's almost dark. "

Emeric didn't move. His expression looked more confused than ever. "I...dinna understand," he said, shaking his head. "How could this ‘car' bring ye here? Can it open the portals?"

Anna had no idea what he was talking about. "Um... Sure. Whatever. Can we get going now?"

But Emeric remained planted in the muck, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to solve a riddle. "Anna," he began, talking slowly. "Lily and Oskar aren't at the castle."

Anna's heart sank. "But I thought..." she began, her words trailing off. "Where are they then? The address she gave me is around here somewhere."

Emeric glanced at her and then away, scanning the landscape. "No, it isnae. They live in Edinburgh."

Edinburgh? What? How could that be? Her trip—her random, unplanned trip—was starting to look like a disaster. An adventure, maybe, but still a disaster. She would have to trek back to the car—somehow—and pray she had enough fuel left to drive to that little hotel. All while covered from head to toe in mud. Fabulous. What a crappy end to a crappy day.

"Hang on," she asked, as a thought struck her. "So why are you here?"

A quizzical smile played across his lips. "I'm going home."

"Home? You mean..." She thought about this, trying to put it all together. "You mean...the castle?"

Emeric nodded. "Aye. The castle."

Anna frowned at him, her brain turning over as she tried to make sense of this. " You own the castle? "

He laughed at that, a pure sound that echoed in the surrounding stillness. "No, lass, I dinna own it. The castle belongs to Clan Mackintosh."

"Clan...what?"

"Mackintosh," he repeated patiently. "It's the ancestral home of my family. We've been living there for generations."

Wait. Just wait. This wasn't making any sense. Why would Lily give her this address if she was in fact, living in Edinburgh? Anna sat down with an oomph and put her head in her hands. What was going on? She felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole and ending up in some weird alternate reality.

"Lass?" Emeric asked softly. "Are ye all right?"

"Oh just fine," Anna replied, not looking up. "I'm just trying to figure out whether I'm drunk or asleep. It has to be one of those."

There was silence, broken only by the pattering of the rain on the leaves overhead as the edge of the storm front finally reached them. Emeric crouched beside her, his expression unreadable. "I dinna know how ye've ended up here, but I can offer ye a warm hearth and some food in yer belly. Why dinna ye come to the castle with me? At the very least ye can get cleaned up and warm. We can figure out the rest in the morning."

Anna lifted her gaze from her muddy hands to meet his. His eyes were a deep green, flecked with gold and ringed with thick lashes that any woman would kill for.

"Provided ye're not too drunk," Emeric added with a teasing smile, "or asleep. "

Anna let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "All right," she agreed, taking his extended hand.

Emeric hauled her up a little too quickly and she stumbled. Her hand flew to his chest for support and for a fleeting second, she felt the hard planes of his body underneath the wet linen shirt. Emeric steadied her with a hand on her waist, his touch warm even through the layers of damp clothing.

She swallowed hard, torn between pulling away or leaning in. But before she could make a decision, he was moving towards the horse that was sheltering under the thick foliage of a tree. It was a magnificent beast, its coat glistening wet in the fading light, steam rising from it into the cool air. Emeric approached with an unhurried ease, murmuring softly to the animal as he ran a reassuring hand down the sleek neck.

"I... I've never ridden a horse before," she admitted, watching warily as he led the huge beast over.

"Ye havenae?" he asked, surprised. "Well dinna worry, Plover will take good care of ye. The quickest way out of the bog is if ye ride whilst I guide Plover."

Anna nodded dumbly. "If you say so."

"I do say so, lass." He guided the animal closer, his hand never leaving the bridle. The horse—Plover—was massive and even with Emeric's reassuring words, Anna felt a flutter of apprehension.

With his hands around her waist, he lifted her effortlessly into the saddle. The leather was slick and cold beneath her and she gasped slightly at the unexpected sensation. Taking hold of the saddle horn tightly, she clung on for dear life.

Emeric smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her clear discomfort. Was he finding this funny? "Ready? Then let's get out of here."

He took hold of Plover's reins and clucked to the horse. Plover lurched into motion and Anna clutched at the saddle horn to keep from being dunked right back into the mud.

As they made their way steadily through the bog, ducking under low hanging willows, and trying to find the driest route, Anna couldn't help looking at the man beside her. What were the chances that Emeric of all people—the man she'd been dreaming of every time she went on a date with someone else—would be the one to come to her aid in that bog?

The balance is out of kilter because ye are not where and when ye are supposed to be, Anna Webster. But now ye have a chance to change that.

A shiver went through her as she remembered Irene MacAskill's words. Anna had no idea what she'd been blathering about, but she had the oddest feeling that perhaps her meeting with Emeric wasn't an accident at all.

She pushed the thought away. Luck, or providence, or whatever it was that had made her cross paths with Emeric today, she was grateful for it.

He was wearing some very strange gear, she noticed as she studied him. Rather than the outdoor clothing she might expect, he had a baggy tartan plaid wrapped over the linen shirt. It only hung to his knees, giving her a nice glimpse of his thighs whenever he moved. There was a large bow and a holder full of arrows strapped to the saddle as well.

Had he been out practicing archery? Hunting maybe? Wasn't that the kind of thing these rich landowners did? She'd heard of grouse hunting up here but as far as she knew that was done with guns and Landrovers, not horses and arrows.

This was all very strange. But after the day she'd had, strange was just fine, as long as it led to a warm bath and maybe a dram of whisky or two.

And besides, now that she'd run into Emeric, things were definitely looking up.