Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Marie stood alone next to the Chapel in the Woods, studying the castle grounds at Dunstaffnage Castle, Scotland. Bree, her friend and colleague, told her, "Not everyone single is lonely, and not everyone taken is in love. You should embrace you for you." She sighed. Alone remained alone, no matter what anyone said. Embrace myself. Well, that's history.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and imagined what this area might have been like in the seventeenth century, a small village of squat huts lined in rows, some lived in, and some made an aisle for a market. Folks scurried about as they attended to everyday chores. Others slowly lumbered along on their regular duties. Closer to Loch Etive's shoreline sat a series of buildings that stored and repaired boats. All around, serfs, guards, maids, and craftsmen all lived and worked to support the enormous castle behind her. This would've been a small village today, a large community in the past. She opened her eyes to the land before her. Being a specialist in historical buildings was what she loved, and she anticipated the next portion of the project from the Historic Environment of Scotland.

Hands closed over her eyes and startled her. At first, she grew concerned, but the familiar scent of clean male musk with an undercurrent of light aftershave wafted to her, and she recognized who held her.

A breath blew gently against her ear as he whispered, "How do ye get a geologist girlfriend?"

Marie giggled and shrugged as she leaned back against John's muscular chest. Her head fit perfectly under his chin. John removed his hands, but she kept her eyes closed as he turned her in his arms, then kissed her lips. She returned his kiss and rose on her toes as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He lifted his head. "Well, how do ye get a geologist girlfriend?"

Another of John's corny rock jokes, she opened her eyes to his expectant stare. "I don't know. How?"

He smiled and replied. "Ye best esker out!" He paused. "Get it? Esker is a long, winding ridge of stratified sand and gravel…"

She giggled and kissed him quickly as she stopped his speech. "Are ye asking me to be yer girlfriend or asking me out?"

John hugged her and replied, "Both, be my girlfriend and have lunch later today. But first, I need to exercise."

John took her hand as they strolled toward the Chapel in the Woods. "Woman of the rocks, were ye examining the excavation site ye and Bree believed to be a small village during the eighteenth century? Yer project starts today, right?"

She smiled at his endearment. He called her "Woman of the rocks" in their emails and phone conversations when they first spoke about Bree's chapel renovation project, over a year ago.

She glanced around. "Aye, the lads are due any minute, and we'll begin on it." Bree confirmed the small village site had existed. She accidentally tripped back into the eighteenth century the previous year. She saved her and her now-husband Colin MacDougall from the evil Fae when they recovered a magic Iona stone, the Stone of Love.

God, if she had visited the castle and village in the past. That would be awesome. But not the way Bree did with her life threatened and the mission to search for a magic Iona stone. No, Marie would've loved to stroll through the grounds in the past.

She recited the project description in her memory. "A charter of 1572 refers to a place on the property called ‘sen dun,' apparently an attempt at the Gaelic word Sean Dùn, old fort. The Historic Society identified the location as Chapel Hill, a rocky ridge about one hundred and sixty meters southwest of the castle." She stared at the Chapel in the Woods. This past year, she and Brielle MacDougall, then DeVolt, managed the renovation of the chapel ruin for the MacDougall family. Brielle—Bree—headed up the project, and Marie oversaw the mosaic floor restoration. The Historic Environment of Scotland selected them for the special project, and their friendship quickly developed.

During that time, she fell in love with John MacArthur, captain of the castle at Dunstaffnage. She squeezed his hand as they continued their stroll. They flirted via email and phone while they coordinated the project.

John stopped them and turned to her. "I wanted to say last night was exceptional for us both." The morning breeze blew a blonde strand of hair across her face. His hand brushed the piece behind her ear, and his palm caressed her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. Last night was remarkable for them. It was the first time they declared their love.

Marie smiled and returned his gaze with all the love of her heart. "Aye, it was."

He bent, brushed his lips over hers, and whispered, "If I don't get jogging soon, I'll never leave and end up spending my day telling ye how much I love ye." He pecked her cheek and took off on his run as he headed toward the castle for his daily roundabout route, which ended at the chapel beside her.

As he jogged away, she recalled his appearance when she first met him. He stood at the top of the castle steps, appearing younger than she first imagined. Tall with light brown hair and a strong nose. She noted his very muscular body as her gaze traveled over his form. His arms shifted, and her eyes snapped back to his face. He smiled as she drew closer. A warm sensation spread over her when she returned his smile.

He seemed more than she first assumed. From phone calls and emails, he seemed an older, educated man with a dry sense of humor, not the young, intelligent, witty man she got to know now, yet his soul was old and held knowledge beyond his years. His appreciation for life and all around him sparked her interest, which grew a few months later when she first examined the chapel floor, then swelled in the following weeks. When she arrived and stayed for months to work on the chapel renovation, they dated, and the romance led up to last night.

She smiled as she remembered. Marie giggled aloud as she recalled what John had said. He opened his mouth, then stopped like he had trouble saying what stayed on his mind. John opened his mouth again and told a rock joke.

At first, Marie was a little put off since his jokes were always so corny, but when she registered what he said, "Marie, what did the infatuated boy volcano say to the beautiful girl volcano?"

He brushed her lips and whispered, "I lava ye."

"Excuse me, my dear." The deep voice startled Marie.

She glanced up and found a priest in full black robes with a white collar stood close to her. So close she smelled his aftershave, leather, and musk with an undercurrent of rosemary. Marie had never met a clergyman who wore so much aftershave. She turned her head and breathed fresh air as she searched for the lads from the wharf. Ronnie, Ian, and Conner were the workers hired for the projects at the castle, but they weren't around.

She turned back to the priest. "May I help ye, Father?"

The man beamed, and the hawkish gleam in his eyes made her skin crawl. "I heard about the chapel renovation, the Chapel in the Woods. You are the woman they say renovated it. Am I right?"

He put her immediately on guard. People rarely appeared unexpectedly on the castle grounds. A tour boat docked daily at the castle near Loch Etive during the spring and summer, but the season had passed. She remembered they expected no tourists in the area today. She glanced around again and found no one. The father stepped closer. She stepped back.

In full black robes, the priest reminded her of a recurring dream which haunted her for weeks. She dreamed it again last night, and no matter how much she focused on the Chapel on the Woods project, the memory flashed there now.

She stood before the historic display of Ardchattan Priory. "They say she had an affair with a monk. She hid beneath the floor of his room to visit her lover at night, but the Prior found her and buried her alive."

The dream flashed, changed, and she stood in a hole. She couldn't reach the opening. The hole seemed barely large enough to turn around in. Her fingers grazed the dirt as more dropped upon her face. She clawed the walls repeatedly as the soil packed under her nails, but she didn't care. Grime landed on her head, stuck in her hair. She leaned back and tried to find fresh air, but more dirt fell. No, this could not be happening. As she tilted her head back for air, the monk's red, sweaty face appeared at the top of the pit.

She stretched toward the opening again, like a lost soul who reached for heaven, but a shout answered. "Women are the temptation placed on the earth to foul men. You shall pay the price of the priest's sin. Die, whore!"

Debris fell continuously now and covered her legs. She cried for help, but none came. The monk shuffled around at the top. The dirt fell in large clumps and piled up as clumps gathered around her body. Please, God, don't let my life end, not this way, not without John. Please let me see him one last time.

The soil covered her chest, pressed in, and she struggled for air. She couldn't stop the dirt's fall, and the mound trapped her arms. She couldn't reach her face. Earth piled around and covered her. She drew in a breath but failed. Left suspended, her lungs desperately burned as she tried to breathe.

Marie was startled awake and gasped. She drew in another precious breath. Her chest hurt from her nightmare's struggles, but she breathed. Her hand pressed her chest. Her tee, bathed in sweat, stuck to her. The dream's image faded as her breathing turned to normal. She glanced around. She lay in her bed at the castle, not a dirt pit. She took a deep breath and calmed her nerves.

Her heart finally slowed, and her mind cleared. The vision came every morning for weeks, and the dream was always the same: a nun buried alive. John told her the ghost story during their visit to Ardchattan Priory. Marie closed her eyes tight and banished the images. She took a deep breath and released it, as she tried to focus on other, more pleasant thoughts.

After a while, she opened her eyes, and at the end of her bed stood The Green Lady, Dunstaffnage's resident ghost. The ghost's appearance foretold the fates of the people in Dunstaffnage Castle. If she smiled, she preceded good tidings. If she cried it meant bad. A visit from the ghost rarely occurred, the person chosen, important to the MacDougall clan. Marie felt honored until she noticed the spirit silently cried.

"You are Marie Murray?" She blinked, and the priest stood before her. He smiled as he spoke. "The Historic Society of Scotland mentioned you were the one who managed the mosaic flooring renovation. I spoke with Odell McEntyre. She said you were still on the property for the next project."

Marie nodded and recognized the name of the director of projects for the Historic Society.

"I'm Father Matthew Clarke." He held his hand out for a shake.

Marie stood and glared at it.

"I am addressing Marie Murray, right?"

Marie shook herself. Don't be rude to a colleague. She placed her hand in his and encountered a sweaty palm. He gripped her hand for a moment.

She pulled her hand back and turned as she wiped her palm off her pants. "Aye, I am Marie. Why did Odell send ye?"

Father Clarke nodded. "Oh, I would love to see the mosaic tile floor. She said you restored the building to the original eleventh century pattern." He smiled at her, but it didn't extend to his scrutinizing eyes. "I would very much like to see it."

Marie glanced around again, still not spotting anyone else on the property. Where were the men? They were supposed to be here by now.

She glimpsed back at the priest. Father Clarke followed her gaze. His head slowly turned as he surveyed the property. When he came back around, his eyes met hers, and stared at her. He took a deep breath and smiled.

Her stomach fluttered. Maybe breakfast hadn't settled well.

As he spoke, the priest waved to his side, his eyes still focused on her. "If it's too much trouble, I can return another time." Father Clarke folded his hands behind his back. "But I'd love to see your work."

He grinned again, but his face looked off. Marie couldn't quite place it.

"I was told the quality matched some of the restoration done on the Iona Abbey."

His statement caught Marie's ear as praise rarely came from the Historical Society director. "Odell said that?"

She glanced at the chapel, then back at the priest. He said he came from the Historical Society.

Marie stepped around him, then strode toward the chapel. Father Clarke quickly stepped beside her, so close his arm brushed her shoulder. He looked the same height as John, close to six feet tall. Now that the priest strolled close, she noted how large his body was. Marie glanced at him again, and his stomach filled his robes and pulled on the fabric.

His arm brushed hers again as he leaned in to speak to her. "Yes, my dear. Odell has extolled your work, said this was some of the best she had seen in a long time."

Marie blushed under the praise. Odell came out last month and said Marie did a good job but never mentioned this merit level.

The trip to the chapel seemed short, and Marie opened the heavy wooden doors for the priest, who gestured for Marie to proceed with him into the Nave. As she strode inside, she sensed he followed close behind.

"My, what a magnificent achievement in the mosaic work you have completed in the glory of God." Father Clarke spoke as he strolled in behind Marie, who turned when she reached the center of the chapel.

Marie blushed again under his praise. "The floor is stone pieces placed here in the eleventh century. The floor depicted Christ on the cross with the sun halo around his head, spanning twelve feet. We've duplicated near exact based upon drawings recently discovered."

Father Clarke stepped closer as he studied the tile. "You have replicated the pattern well and in such detail. You positioned the center of the cross in the center of the chapel, pointing east/west as the building should." His eyes traveled the chapel slowly, his gaze resting on the open door, then snapped to Marie.

His smile shifted swiftly. "Most impressive."

The priest glanced toward the circular stained glass above the altar. Marie followed his gaze; the cross in the stained glass reflected the light against the opposite wall in perfect duplication.

"Ms. McEntyre mentioned you believed the chapel held magical properties but found no evidence or stories in your research. Said you hoped more research guided you to what you believed that was." He stepped back as he spoke, his gaze still on the stained-glass window.

Marie crossed and stood under the window.

She loved those windows. "Emily MacDougall, the last Lady of Dunstaffnage, believed light from the west window at dusk hit the center of the chapel and the stained glass matches the floor or, at minimum, the cross."

The father shifted behind her, and she assumed he approached to look at the window with her. She always enjoyed staring at the stained-glass windows. They were magical, and Bree said they were. She claimed they transported Colin back from purgatory after he battled the evil Fae as he sought a magic Fae Iona Stone.

The father whispered behind her, "Yes, my dear. The stone dipped under the cross shall show us the power of the Stones of Iona."

Marie gasped. His phrase sounded like he referred to the magical Fae Stones, the Stones of Iona. She turned to ask the priest about his wording, but before she fully twisted, a searing pain exploded in her skull.

****

As he jogged down the hill from the castle, John's attention focused on Marie. She never strayed far from his mind. And these days, he was delighted at what their future promised. He stopped close to the Chapel in the Woods to catch his breath.

When he strolled toward the chapel, he smiled. She would stay there much longer now the Historic Society of Scotland approved the next project, the excavation of what Marie and Bree believed to be the village from the eighteenth century. Last night remained magical and marked the beginning of their new life together.

Magical. The word sparked John's memory of the first time he observed Marie from the wall walk the day she arrived for Bree's renovation project. Laird Ronald and Lady Emily MacDougall remained alive, back when things were simpler. The laird and lady were away, which left John to show Marie around. He never forgot the first time he viewed her.

From his perch on the wall walk, John waited for the scholar. She stepped out of the car, grabbed her bags from the back seat, and glanced at the chapel. She possessed bright golden hair she pulled back in a ponytail which flapped in the wind. John's eyes followed her gaze to the chapel as the building sat in the morning light. Like a beacon, it glowed brightly in the sunlight. The dew cast shimmering flecks of light which reflected off the water like jewels in the woods.

He sensed her step as she rounded the car. John viewed her more clearly. Marie's petite body strode with a lively bounce to her step. She came here for the chapel renovation—her specialty, rocks. Well, old churches, but Marie came here for the mosaic flooring. They communicated over the phone and email for some time before she made the trip to see the floor. Over time, professional banter quickly turned into romantic flirtation which made John search for any excuse to speak with her again.

John turned to go down to greet her when he sensed a tweak at his heart.

She stopped and glanced up. Time slowed. They stared into one another's eyes. A spark of awareness washed over John. His soul said mine. It felt like they floated and drifted together.

Someone startled Marie, and she turned, the spell broken by Mrs. Abernathy, the main housekeeper who called Marie inside the castle.

John pulled up short of his run. So lost in thought, he stood at the doorway to the chapel. The door stood wide open. John glanced around the yard and didn't see Marie. Now that he looked, he didn't see Ronnie, Conner, or Ian, the wharf workers hired to help with the excavation project.

John strode into the chapel and called Marie's name but only encountered an empty aisle. He called her name again, and his voice echoed lightly as dust particles danced in the sunlight that shone through the stained-glass windows. A chill spread up his spine as a bead of sweat dripped down his back. Something wasn't right.

He marched out of the chapel and scanned the area. Certainly, she couldn't have gone too far. Movement in the distance by the dock caught his attention. A man in all black carried a sack over his shoulder and lumbered toward a boat docked there. This seemed strange. There were no tourist boats due on the property today.

John strode to the man and, when he turned, John saw what he carried wasn't a sack, but legs dangled in front of the man. His heart skipped as he ran near the man and never took his eyes off him.

The man flung the body into the boat, and that's when realization hit him. A blonde ponytail flapped from the head. John almost lost his breath but ran faster and harder now; he would recognize that hair anywhere.

"Ye, stop. Stop!" John yelled as he ran hard to the man.

The man glanced over his shoulder, spied John, and clambered into the boat.

John pushed harder. I must get there before he gets away.God, I have to help her.He's hurt her, and Marie needs me.

John could kick himself. The safety of everyone at the castle was his duty. Today he failed. He pressed harder, but his body was slow to respond, weary from his morning exercise.

A shout came from his right. Conner ran toward him, blood dripping down his face.

John slowed as Conner yelled, "Get the priest. The bastard attacked us!"

The boat motor started, and he turned just as the boat steered away from the dock.

John took off again. He must get to her. "No, Marie. That bastard took Marie!"

When he finally reached the dock, the boat cleared the Firth of Lorn and headed into the open ocean. He jerked his head around and searched for a boat, but there wasn't another one nearby. He left his cell back at the castle. His heart dropped.

Conner made it to him.

John grabbed him by the shoulders and yelled in his face. "What the hell happened? Why did he take Marie?"

Conner shook his head, tried to speak, and fell forward in a faint at John's feet.

John tried to catch him, but his body remained exhausted.

Giving into his body's needs, John fell to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He glanced up and stared at the ocean.

That man kidnapped the love of John's life. His Marie had vanished.