"In old Blacktower, beyond the wood." The man pointed.
Why on earth was Torr living there and not with his clan? Had they cast him out? She faced the guard again, and his scowl deterred her from asking anything more. "I thank you."
He bowed.
She and Aggie strode away across the short grass, dodging piles of sheep dung.
"I hate the wood," Aggie whispered when they neared the trees. "Spent a miserable night in there, I did. And the kelpie could still be lurking."
"He left us alone last night. 'Haps he went back to his home in the loch." Catriona tugged her maid into the dimness beneath the dense canopy of limbs. She shivered at the drop in temperature and inhaled the pungent smell of pine needles and moldy rotten leaves. They followed a well-worn path across the mossy, leaf-strewn ground and emerged a while later close to what must have once been a large medieval castle. Most of it now lay in crumbled ruins, but for one dark gray stone tower left standing. Had Torr's brother forced him to live in a ruin?
Catriona ran ahead of Aggie across an expansive flagstone courtyard and up the steps to the wooden door. She lifted the heavy iron knocker and let it fall four times. Many long minutes passed, but no one answered. Where was he?
"Torr MacElrath!" she yelled. "Are you here? Anyone?"
Moments later, the door screeched open, and an ancient man with a long white beard peered at her through his spectacles before removing them. "Aye?"
Surely, he couldn't be... "Torr?"Please, God, nay. Torr could not have been cursed into the form of an old man. Could he?
The elderly man cackled. "I wish, but nay. I'm Finnian. Wait a moment." He left the door ajar.
"He must be here," she whispered and glanced back at Aggie. Excitement tingled along her arms and legs.
Her maid nodded, her eyes still round as she surveyed the area and glanced over her shoulder.
"Stop fashing over the kelpie. We're safe here."
A short time later, the door swung wider, revealing a lean, muscular man in a belted plaid.
"Sir Torr. Thank the saints!" Catriona wanted to fling herself into his arms, but he would think her mad. She curtseyed instead.
With his striking good looks, Torr appeared the same as the last time she'd seen him—long chestnut-brown hair, intense pale green eyes that cut through a person, sensual lips, and short stubble covering a strong square jaw. Her dream of him kissing her flooded her mind, and heat rose to her face.
He frowned. "Who the devil are you?"
