Before she knew it, she had loaded up her plate with a little of everything. Deciding to eat her feast in quiet company, she cast a glance around the room. She spied a cozy corner where sunlight was streaming through the beveled windows.
Kate bustled in bringing out plates of scones, fresh from the oven. She looked up to see Brigid, and was pleased to see her eating her meal with relish. Wiping her hands on her apron, she grabbed the pot of coffee, briskly moving toward her.
“It’s a grand day indeed when I see a lass breaking her fast properly,” she said, pouring some coffee into Brigid’s cup.
Brigid drew back, placing her fork down. “I can’t help myself, Kate. This is delicious. I really should not be eating this much.”
“Pish, posh! You’re a wee lass, and the Highland air makes everyone hungry,” asserted Kate.
“You have got to be kidding me?” Brigid almost choked on the scone she was devouring. “I am not a
wee
lass by any means. Just look at my hips.”
“Brigid, don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise. If I think you’re a wee lass, then so be it. That’s the trouble with this century with all the lasses fretting about the look of their bodies. Tsk, tsk.” Taking her pot of coffee, Kate kept muttering some more as she walked out of the room.
“Thank you, Kate.” Smiling, she no longer cared that she had two scones, rashers, eggs, one sausage, and some blueberries with cream. Finishing the last of her coffee, she went to find Conn. She wanted to visit the ruins of Urquhart Castle.
Brigid found him in the stables with Hamish, tending a newborn colt. He never said a word when she asked if he could show her Urquhart Glen and the castle, only nodded.
The sun was warm, though the day was still brisk. October in the Highlands was showing its golden autumn splendor. Trees decked out in red and golden hues against the pines took her breath away. How could anyone ever leave this place? However, that’s exactly what she was going to do after she returned the sword.
Brigid made a mental note to contact Lisa and Archie when she returned to Rowan Cottage. She had left both of them voice messages when she landed in Scotland, but had not personally spoken to either. Though it had only been a couple of days since she left the States, Brigid felt as if weeks had passed. Time moved different in the Highlands, and she made a second mental note to take this serenity with her when she returned home.
Conn had his window open, and the air whipped through making her curls more of a tangled mass. Tugging a band from the pocket of her jeans, she pulled her thick tresses over her shoulder and braided it.
“Would you like me to close the window, lass?”
She waved her hand at him. “Oh no, Conn, I don’t mind the cool air, it’s just my hair is more trouble when it’s open. Some days, I think I should just cut it all off.”
Conn frowned and shook his head. “Your hair is like burnished copper, a rare beauty.”
Brigid’s jaw dropped. No one had ever called her hair a beauty. On the contrary, many had made fun of the mass of curls. Tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, she felt pretty for the first time in a long, long time. “Thanks Conn.”
“So, is this part of Urquhart Glen? Where is the castle?” Glancing out the window, Brigid was looking at the most scenic part of their journey along the banks of Loch Ness.
“Aye, we are in Urquhart Glen, and soon you shall see the castle. It was once a mighty fortress with a proud clan that stood within her walls.” His mouth was tight and a grim expression shown on his face. “Now it’s only ghosts who haunt the stones.”
“See the mound of wild looking grass over there?”
She angled her head. “Yes.”
“It’s
Both Ghlas-bheinn
—translated, it means, hut of the gray rock. And further up the road you will see
Tigh a
’
Chait
, house of the cat.”
Laughing, Brigid saw new insight to this magical place. “I suppose that rock over there has a special meaning, too.” She twisted around so she could catch a glimpse of the hut of the gray rock.
“Och, Brigid, do not laugh. For you mock the good folk, and I ken well their wrath when provoked.”
When she glanced back at Conn, she noticed that he was not smiling. “You’re serious?”
“Aye, as you should be, too.”
Brigid believed, but she found it fascinating that this man, who looked like a Viking god and dressed like a Harley biker, would truly believe in faeries. If he were in any other place than here, she would have laughed until her sides hurt.
As she was gazing out toward the loch, her senses became alive watching the water lapping along the edges of the bank. Waves gently weaved and flowed as if caught up in a mystical dance. What lay beneath these waters, she pondered. “They say that a monster lives beneath the loch. What do you believe, Conn?”
A smile curved ever so slightly, and he slowly looked at her before turning his gaze back toward the road. “What do
I believe
?” He paused to consider her question, for his answer could only confuse and possibly frighten her. Yet...she
was
the chosen one and did have a right to know some truth. He was always one to bend the rules just a wee bit to see what reaction he could glean.
As they were coming upon Urquhart Castle, Conn pulled onto a path away from the tour buses, but not too far for them to walk. “We’ll walk from here.”
Stepping out from the car, Conn headed toward the loch. Brigid followed tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. A brisk wind had descended onto the loch, bringing the chill of the Highlands with it.
Conn stood legs apart with his hands on his hips gazing out toward the loch, sensing Brigid’s approach. He removed his sunglasses and stuffed them in the pocket of his jacket.
“You asked me what I believed. Well, I shall tell you,” as he gestured in a sweeping motion with one arm. “This here is a great magical place where within the depths of these waters, a dragon, the last of her kind, lives. She was brought with the fae and lived to see the last great battle only to flee in the end. She now resides here, protected. Yet, on rare occasions, she awakens from her slumber and ascends to the realm of humans.”
Breathing deeply, Conn turned toward her, his eyes burning brightly. “It is not a myth nor legend, lass, but the truth I have told you. Just as you carry the sword which is an ancient relic, so she is what you call Nessie.”
Brigid stepped back, “Who...
who are you
?”
“I think you know the answer, Brigid.”
Arching her eyebrows, she replied, “Other than a nickname for you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Conn reached out with his fingers gently tipping her chin up toward him. “I’m not a Viking god, Celt yes, Viking, nae,” and with that, he left her standing speechless along a bank as ancient as time itself.
Chapter 14
“In the veil between the worlds remember the faery folk who guard the ancient places and protect the last dragon.”
“Egotistical man!” she shouted. Brigid watched as Conn walked back up toward the road, her anger boiling. How
dare
he make fun of her, and how in the hell did he know about his nickname she gave him?
Kicking up her heels, she took off after him. By the time she made it back up the road, he was almost at the entrance of Urquhart Castle.
“Wait just one bloody moment, Conn!” Now she was running after him. “Stop!”
Conn halted, slowly turning to face her. He had his hands on hips, with an arrogant look on his face.
Breathing hard she managed to spit out, “How did you know that’s what I call you?”
Arching an eyebrow at her, he answered,” I heard you tell Kate.” He walked through a tunnel, which led to the ticket counter. Turning back toward a confused-looking Brigid, he grabbed her elbow and directed her down a dark tunnel leading out onto the castle grounds.
Yanking free from Conn, she snapped, “I don’t recall saying
anything
about you to her!”
“Perhaps when you were mumbling in your sleep in the car?” He just shrugged. “Now would you like to see the remains of this grand castle, or are we going to stand here all day and argue?” A glint of humor sparked in his eyes.
“I would never...” and then a blush crept up her neck, spreading across her face. It dawned on her that he thought her dream was about him.
Biting her lip, she looked away and stepped past him, for if she had muttered something aloud, it was more to do with the man in her dreams and
nothing
to do with Conn. He might think he’s some kind of Celtic god, but to her, he was just a man with an immense ego that rivaled his height.
Tucking the embarrassment within, she thought back to his earlier words. She had heard the tales that the Loch Ness monster was indeed a dragon from Archie, but the way Conn had described it, was as if he had witnessed some fantastical myth come to life. His face had transformed as he was telling the tale, speaking with reverence. Either he was very serious,
or
he was teasing her. Brigid made a mental note to call Archie and tell him what she thought about his choice of a guide.
“You may think you’re a Celtic god, but don’t all men think they’re some kind of god?” she muttered with a smirk.
She followed along the path winding up to the castle ruins, aware that there was hardly anyone else around. As she came closer, she had that eerie sense of déjà vu. It was as if she had walked among the walls before, whispers of voices from long ago echoed around her. Shaking her head, she squeezed her eyes shut until the sensation stopped. When she finally opened them, her gaze drifted beyond the walls toward the Great Glen and the loch.
Placing a trembling hand against her heart she whispered, “It’s beautiful
and
sad at the same time. The majesty of this place is incredible.” Tears glinted in her eyes as a sense of sadness engulfed her.
Conn had quietly walked into a portion of the ruins. As he placed his hand on the stones, he gazed up into the sky.
Brigid stood watching him.
“When the English soldiers left in 1692, their last act of vengeance was to blow up part of the castle. That way it could not be used as a stronghold for the Jacobite rebels. It was a bloody battle, and it left many without a home. Now here it stands, still in ruins—a ghost of its former self.”
Shoving himself away from the wall, he muttered a curse as he walked away from her.
****
They spent several more hours among the ruins, Conn answering many of her questions regarding the castle and the Mackays. The Mackays were the original owners and builders of Urquhart, but after the battle, they had dispersed to other parts of Scotland, never to be heard from again. Then the Durwards took over the castle and from there the MacDonalds. Finally, the Grants were the last owners. They were the ones who had built the most prominent feature of the entire castle—the tower house at the northern end of the promontory.
Conn then went on to describe in detail the outer and inner close, the great hall, and the chapel, which Brigid found fascinating. Apparently, the chapel was the site where St. Columba baptized a Pictish nobleman and his family in 580 AD.
Legend states even the faery folk thought him a great healer not only with words, but also of plants and animals, so they let him lay the first stone for his chapel here.
Conn was a walking encyclopedia of Scottish lore.
“If the Mackays of Urquhart are no longer in existence, where should I return the sword? Should I just hand it over to the Scottish Trust?”
“Nae, lass. The Mackays may not possess Urquhart, but the Order still lives. You wouldn’t want to hand over a sacred relic to the Trust. They would just see it as an ancient sword to be displayed in glass and locked in a room. Nae, you must return it to a Mackay.”
Shocked, Brigid asked, “Well then, who?”
“I’ve heard a Mackay lives a few kilometers north of here at Castle Aonach. I could take you there in the morn.”
“Why not now? We could at least talk to this Mackay.”
Irritation laced his words. “Lass,
first
, you don’t have the sword and
second
, I would have to check with Hamish or Kate to see if this Mackay still resides at the castle.”
“Mackay or not, I’m not about to turn over an ancient artifact to someone I don’t know, unless they are part of a historical society. I just wanted to talk to them. I’ll bring the sword, but that doesn’t mean I’m handing it over to them.” Walking away, she headed for the entrance of the tunnel, leaving a stunned Conn, shaking his head.
“Blessed Danu, give me strength to deal with this lass,” he muttered.
Chapter 15
“Round and round they went singing, dancing, and laughing, till the darkness came, bringing with it evil, which spread like a cloak of thorns.”
Brigid was famished by the time they came back to Rowan Cottage. When she entered, there was a note on the entry table addressed to her and Conn. It stated that on Fridays, there was live music and storytelling at the local pub called the Black Swan. Kate insisted that she come on down to get a true flavor of Scotland.
“Well, it looks like we’ll be eating at the Black Swan for dinner,” showing Conn the note.
Rubbing his hands together to ward off the chill, he remarked, “Aye, it’s Friday, and you don’t want to miss a great meal and singing at the Black Swan.” Turning, he headed back out the front door.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, Conn. I just want to freshen up a bit,” she called out.
“No worries, lass. I’ll keep the car humming and warm,” as he gave her a wave over his head.
Dashing up the stairs, all Brigid could think about was a warm meal and a pint. The day had drained her emotionally, and she couldn’t think of anything better than being at a pub—
especially
in the Highlands of Scotland.
Walking into the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, noticing she had sprouted more freckles from being out in the sun. A little makeup would help to cover them, but she didn’t want to keep Conn waiting. The anticipation of food and a pint was causing her stomach to rumble. Braiding her hair quickly and securing it with a leather thong, she finished with a bit of lip-gloss and changed from her tee shirt to a pale green sweater.