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From the sound of the splash and the suddenly larger swell of the waves, they grew them as big as a tank.
Kris was tempted to return to the cottage. Not because she was afraid, but because she hadn’t brought the proper equipment needed to film in the fast-approaching night.
Kris cursed her lack of foresight. She wasn’t used to being her own cameraman, and she hadn’t thought she’d find anything so soon. But if she wanted to have clear, perfect footage of whatever—make that whoever—had made that noise, she’d need the light she’d left in her backpack.
Then she heard another splash, nearer the shore, just past that next grove of trees, and before she could think any more about it Kris plunged into the gloom.
The ground was slick beneath the cover of the branches, and she slid a bit, had to slow down. But it wasn’t even a minute before she popped out on the shore of Loch Ness.
She looked left, right, across. The far side was hazy—too far away to really see, and she’d forgotten her binoculars along with the light. But still she was pretty certain she saw—
“Nada.” Either the culprit was track-star fast or there really was a fish the size of Cleveland in the loch.
Which would explain a few things.
Kris frowned. One of the theories about Nessie was that an unknown creature lived in the depths. Current cryptozoological speculation set the amount of undiscovered species between half a million and ten million—no one really knew. Which meant—
“There could be damn near anything out there.”
And that was fine. That was good. Proving that Nessie was a big, toothy, prehistoric fish would debunk the lake monster theory, too.
Kris emerged from the trees, intent on returning to the cottage, then unpacking and taking a shower until the hot water gave out, before jumping into bed and sleeping until the jet lag went away. She even made her way up to the road and turned in that direction.
Then she noticed the castle below.
Despite the fading sun, Kris lifted her camera. The ruins were too spooky to resist—all Gothic and Jane Eyre–ish—perched on a precipice. She could well imagine locking a mad wife in that tower. Back when it still had enough walls to keep someone in rather than allowing her to tumble right out.
A shadow shimmied at the edge of Kris’s screen, and without thought she zoomed in—
On a man slipping through the ruins of Urquhart Castle, the last of the light sparkling in his glistening wet hair.
CHAPTER 2
Someone was following him, and they weren’t very good at it.
Liam Grant quickly made his way to the tower house, the highest point of Urquhart Castle. From there he could see all of the ruins, as well as some of the road and a good portion of the water. Since he spent a lot of his free time staring into Loch Ness, Liam was very familiar with the area.
Because of that, he was in good position to observe the curvy blonde as she crept along in what had recently been his wake.
She carried a video camera—didn’t everyone nowadays?—so she was probably a tourist. Though why she still hung about long after the last visitor had left Liam had no idea.
He continued to watch as she stepped on every stone in her path and even tripped over a piece of the castle that had cracked off in the last high wind. This time of year, they had a lot of wind. As she tried to right herself, she made more noise than a busload of schoolchildren trundling across gravel.
Liam expected her to blunder around the ruins a bit, then scuttle off when full darkness descended. Except s
he glanced up and she saw him.
Her face was a pale oval surrounded by glorious shoulder-length curls. He’d hadn’t seen golden curls since—
Liam jerked away from the edge. He hadn’t thought of her in ages.
“You stay right there!”
The woman’s order was soon followed by the sound of her scrambling up the steps.
“As if I’ve got a choice in the matter,” he muttered, disgusted with himself. “Unless I fly away on gossamer wings or disappear into the mist like one of the wee folk.”
And how often had he wished that he could?
