The Magic Ring of Brodgar. Кейтлин Эмилия Новак
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?”
There was a brief silence. He continued to look into her eyes without blinking.
“Derek. My name is Derek.” His face remained calm and serene.
She couldn't read any emotions on it, “Why do you come here in the evenings?”
He calmly replied, “I found out someone tried to kill you. By chance, I was here then. Now, I make sure that this person doesn't come back again.”
“But it wasn't you who saved me then. The man who attacked me was stopped by a bird.”
“After you lost consciousness, I carried you to your bedroom.”
“I figured it was you. But how did you know which room was mine?” Megan asked with some insistence. By this point, she had regained her composure, thus managing to control her trembling.
“I saw your reflection in the window before you left the castle. It's not hard to guess where your bedroom is based on the window,” Derek replied, still calmly and undisturbed.
“Where are you from?”
“I'm local, we're neighbors, you could say.”
“My name is Megan,” she introduced herself, slightly satisfied with his answers.
A faint smile touched Derek's lips – the first emotion since the start of their conversation. From the expression on the highlander's handsome face, it was clear he already knew the girl's name.
“Nice to meet you, Megan. Glad to make your acquaintance. Why are you outside at such a late hour? It's dangerous. The attack could be repeated, and I might not be nearby to protect you.”
“I saw you and decided to find out who you are, and what your intentions are by coming here.”
“Are you satisfied with your curiosity?” he asked, still with that slight smile.
“Not entirely. Why do you need to do this?”
“Do what exactly?”
“Protect me, for example. You say you come here to see if the murderer shows up again. Why do you need to do this?” Megan asked, shifting back to a more emotional tone.
He was silent for a moment before answering.
“You will find out in time. Now go home and go to sleep. That man is not nearby.”
“Do you know him? Who is he? And why does he want to kill me?” Megan asked anxiously.
“I don't know yet, but the time will come when everything will be clear.”
“I…”
But Derek did not let her continue. The tone in his voice changed, he said sternly and authoritatively, “Go to sleep, Megan!”
She did not dare to object. The command was so categorical and unexpected that she could not find the words to respond. At that moment, the cold and harsh expression on the man's face made it clear that he was not intending to continue their conversation. Megan silently turned around and walked back to the castle. Inside, she was seething with indignation: he had given her an order! And she had been too flustered to put him in his place.
Derek watched her until she disappeared from view. With a sigh of sadness, he turned back to the sea. He knew the girl would watch him from her bedroom window for a few more minutes, but he did not turn around.
Megan couldn't sleep. The Highlander's inexplicable behavior greatly troubled her. He was so strange, mysterious. One thing she knew for sure – she needed to talk to him again; learn more about him. And at the very least make it clear that it's not alright for anyone to speak to her in a commanding tone. The beautiful, inscrutable face constantly hovered before her eyes. She had never before felt such a passionate desire to kiss a man. A French kiss – yes, but to want to kiss, besides the lips, his cheeks, nose, eyes, forehead. This was new to her. She desperately wanted to press herself against his chest and drown in his embrace.
Megan finally stopped understanding what was happening to her. Knowing nothing about the man except his name, to experience such mixed feelings: anger and ecstasy, curiosity and passion. It made her doubt her sanity.
When the girl finally dozed off, the dream where a man whispered her name, standing by her bed, and then kissing her, unexpectedly resurfaced in her memory. And in the morning, she found the window in her room open. It was him, Derek! That's why his face seemed so familiar. Realizing all this, Megan sat up abruptly.
“So, who are you?” she whispered, puzzled.
9. The Fern Festival
The inhabitants of Castle Mal and Castle Raven were preparing for the festival. For three days, Megan could not find peace. Every evening, from ten o'clock to three in the morning, she looked out the window every fifteen minutes, searching for Derek, but he never appeared. She asked