The Magic Ring of Brodgar - страница 25

“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?”