Love Beyond Dreams (A Scottish Time Travel Romance): Book 6 (Morna's Legacy Series) Read online

  BOOK 6 OF MORNA’S LEGACY

  LOVE BEYOND DREAMS

  A SCOTTISH TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE

  BETHANY CLAIRE

  Copyright 2015 by Bethany Claire

  All rights reserved.

  License Notes

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Dj Hendrickson

  Cover Designer: Damonza

  Available In eBook & Paperback

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9960037-9-7

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9961136-0-1

  http://www.bethanyclaire.com

  Love Beyond Dreams

  ~Book 6 of Morna’s Legacy Series~

  by Bethany Claire

  © 2015

  [email protected]

  http://www.bethanyclaire.com

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  Magic lingers inside all who call Cagair Castle home.

  Gillian Wright dreams of the same man every night—his kind eyes and gentle smile as familiar to her now as her own reflection. She looks forward to her nights spent with him, but when she starts to hear his voice in the winds around Cagair Castle, she can’t help but wonder if he’s more than a figment of her imagination.

  Only pain comes to him when he sleeps. His dreams give him glimpses of all he can’t remember when awake. His name and memories are lost to him in a way that leaves him troubled and wanting. Then the opportunity for a new life places him in the path of a lass who seems to already know him. Could she be the key to helping him remember?

  For Dad

  CHAPTER 1

  Cagair Castle

  Present Day

  Eyes are the most important part of any portrait. People may not notice if you goof up a chin or if the shape of their nose isn’t just so, but they will always notice if you get the eyes wrong.

  My very first art teacher told me that—the eccentric old woman with a slight hoarding problem that my parents hired to teach me when I was no more than eight. I never liked the idea of so much pressure being placed on a piece of art, so I took to painting landscapes, abstracts, anything that didn’t require me replicating the image of another person with paint and a brush.

  Besides, I don’t have any real talent for portraits, or so I thought, but looking at the painting of the stranger in front of me made me think differently. Of course, I wasn’t sure talent had anything to do with the way this painting turned out. The image of my stranger was so burned into my mind that I believe I could paint him just as well even if I’d never held a brush in my life.

  This man—with his dark hair and eyes so blue they looked like they were made of stained glass—was the most beautiful thing I’d ever created. I wanted nothing more than for him to crawl right out of the canvas and into my bedroom.

  Maybe now that I’d placed him onto something that would last for longer than the duration of my dreams, he would stop haunting me in my sleep.

  All that remained was for me to add my signature to the bottom then the painting would be complete and maybe, just maybe, I could have a night’s sleep without him invading every corner of my mind.

  “Ye will run out of socks if he keeps that up.”

  It took the sound of Aiden’s voice behind me to draw my attention to the needle-like teeth that nipped at my big toe as Toby pulled at my sock in an effort to yank me off my stool. I sat the brush down after my final stroke and leaned down to scoop the young pup into my arms before turning to face him.

  Aiden stood tall and gangly in the doorway, his friendly, dimpled smile a welcome sight after my hours spent alone in the tower. Usually he was covered in sawdust, but he cleaned up nicely, albeit casually, with his longish blonde hair pulled into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck and bare toes sticking out underneath the bottom of his jeans. He had spent his entire life in Scotland, but at first sight I would have sworn he was a native Californian.

  “I already have. I’m pretty sure every other pair already has a hole. I should really start wearing shoes. I just hate them so much.”

  Aiden laughed and came over to rub Toby behind the ears before pointing to the painting. “Me as well. Is that the likeness of yer boyfriend?”

  I stood and moved to stand next to Aiden, setting Toby on the ground as I did so.

  “No, unfortunately, it isn’t.”

  Aiden crossed his arms and tilted his head as he grinned mischievously at me. “Best not show him this then.”

  I laughed and swatted his arm playfully. “Aiden, I don’t have a boyfriend. Don’t you think if I did, you would have heard something about it by now? We’ve spent pretty much every day together for the last six months.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  My confusion grew with each new word. “What are you talking about?”

  “Gillian, I knew that ye dinna have a boyfriend, or at least I dinna think that ye did. If ye did, I’d say he was a sorry arse of a man for ye havena seen him in the last six months. Billy asked me if ye had one, ye see. I told him aye, to save ye the misery of having the man try to woo ye.”

  I picked up Toby and handed him over to Aiden then went about cleaning up my mess.

  “Woo me? Billy has never said three words to me. I can’t imagine how he’d ever work up the nerve to do that.”

  “Oh, ye’d be surprised. A drink or two and he will talk yer ear off. Ye wouldna like it. Trust me.”

  “Oh, I do. What are you doing up here? Are you already done for the day?”

  “Aye, I’ve sent all the men home. Anne has a special weekend planned for our anniversary. We will be away, but I’ll have my phone if ye or Tracy need me.”

  “I haven’t heard from Tracy in three months. I’ll be shocked if you hear from her this weekend.”

  My sister, Tracy, didn’t need anyone except her husband, Mark. And even with him, if she ever had to choose between him or his bank accounts, I knew without question which one she would choose.

  “Aye, well, I doona expect to hear from her but if she tries, I’ll have my phone.” He gestured toward the painting. “Is this a piece of work that has been commissioned?”

  “No.” I bit the corner of my lip as I paused my cleaning and reached to grab onto my thinnest brush as I dipped it into black paint before quickly scribbling my signature on the bottom. “This one’s just for me.”

  “Just for ye, eh?” He raised his brow and nodded teasingly.

  I laughed and resumed cleaning my brushes, ignoring him.

  “So why did ye paint this man? Do ye know him?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t know him. I’m not even sure if he’s real. It’s the strangest thing. Every night, and I mean every single night since I’ve been here, I’ve dreamt about him.”

  Aiden’s eyes widened as he nodded his head knowingly. “Have ye now? Ye know this castle has quite a history. Perhaps he is one of the ghosts that roam these halls.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ve been here for months, and I’ve not seen any ghosts.”

  “Neither have I, but other things hav
e happened. The lassies that owned the castle before yer sister bought it vanished no more than a month after buying the place, and that is no the only strange occurrence to take place here.”

  It was the first I’d heard of anything like that, but it went a long way toward explaining why Tracy purchased the castle in the first place. “Well, that’s probably the reason Tracy bought it. She loves stuff like that—anything that screams of adventure. Although, she never loves anything enough to stick with it, hence my being here to watch over you and Toby.”

  Aiden pointed to the pup now sleeping soundly in his arms.

  “It will be hard for ye to give him back to her when she returns, aye?”

  “Oh, that’s so not happening. She had him a whole three days before I got here to watch him and the castle. He’s known me way longer than he knew her. Toby’s my dog now.”

  Aiden nodded then, seeing I was finished cleaning, stepped toward the doorway before we walked down the spiral steps together.

  “As he should be. I’ve known Tracy a long time, but even I canna believe how little time she’s spent here. She’s no approved most of the work. What if she doesna like all I’ve done?”

  My sister and I were as different as night and day, but even she couldn’t deny the good that Aiden and his men had done to this place. They had breathed life back into a structure that had needed it for so long.

  “I doubt it. All she wants is for you to restore the property with as much historical accuracy as you can. You have more than enough consultants helping with that so I’m sure she will be very pleased. How could she not be? I can’t believe how much you’ve accomplished so quickly. It’s gorgeous.”

  “I’ve no done it alone. I’ve had help.”

  He had, but the rest were just hired workers that came in and out in however many days it took them to complete their specific job. Aiden had put everything into the castle, even moving him and his wife into it so he could devote his time to the castle’s restoration around the clock.

  “Maybe so, but none of them have worked as hard as you have. You really have a love for this place. I can see it in the way you care for it. It’s what this place has needed for centuries.”

  “Aye, I do. As do ye. Tracy shouldna own a place like this. I know she willna keep it. If I had the funds, I’d buy it from her in a minute.”

  Of course she planned to sell it. Tracy and Mark never stayed in any place for more than a few months. His endless supply of money earned through some sort of self-made internet business—I couldn’t begin to tell you what he actually did for a living—afforded them the sort of lifestyle that allowed them to do exactly what they wanted whenever they felt like it. They took full advantage, never taking anyone or anything else into consideration when making their decisions.

  I was truly flabbergasted the day Tracy called to tell me she’d bought the place, even more so when she called me three weeks later saying they were headed to Japan for something related to Mark’s business. Naturally, she wanted me, the artist who could work from anywhere, to come and oversee the renovations.

  Tracy didn’t make commitments. She and Mark didn’t own a home. They didn’t have children. As far as I knew, they didn’t even have a consistent place to pick up their mail. Then suddenly, within a month, she purchased a castle, adopted a puppy, and passed both ginormous responsibilities over to me.

  Not that I overly minded really. How could I complain when I’d been able to spend the last six months in a gorgeous castle painting in a storybook-like tower and my evenings cuddling the fluffiest puppy I’d ever seen?

  “You’re right. I’m certain she has no intention of staying here. You’re old friends though. Maybe you can talk her down on the price and buy it like you said?”

  “If it were only Tracy, I might convince her, but Mark has his money for a reason. He willna accept a penny less than what it’s worth. It’s a shame. Cagair needs someone who loves it to stay and care for it—to live in it.”

  “Yes, it does.” I motioned my head toward the door. “Are you about to head out?”

  “Aye, I just thought I’d come and tell ye goodbye. I’ll see ye on Monday. Will ye be all right here all by yerself?”

  I stood with him in the foyer and glanced around at the beautiful stones and soft lights installed to modernize the place in a way that made it functional for future generations. I loved everything about this castle. I would be more than okay staying here by myself. I would love every minute of it.

  “Absolutely. You two go and have a great time.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The Caves Near Cagair Castle

  1649

  Marion thought the waves should frighten him, should serve as a fierce reminder of how close he’d come to losing his life so many moons ago. They didn’t, for he couldn’t bring himself to be scared of something he didn’t remember. Instead, he found the water to be a balm to his sore skin and soul—a place where he felt most at home in a world that now seemed so unfamiliar. His arms moved with ease, his head lifting and falling as he breathed in the wet, salty air. He only allowed himself a few moments in the water each day, and he reveled in them. For there among the waves, he didn’t have to try to remember everything that he could not.

  He didn’t remember his fall into the water or the slight but strong arms of Marion who pulled his seemingly lifeless body off the shore and into her cave. The days and weeks following were a haze of pain and messy dreams, but all of that seemed so far away now.

  His bones were now healed, his skin scarred but no longer open, and his mind was as whole as he imagined it would ever be. He could remember nothing before Marion’s hands found him at the water’s edge, and the loss of himself remained a constant torment to his mind.

  What if he had family or friends who cared for him, that thought him dead or missing? He hated the thought that his broken mind might keep those he loved but no longer knew in a state of endless grief.

  He dressed quickly after his swim and made the short walk to where he fished each day. Despite the loss of his memories, his skills remained. He could catch fish in half the time it took Marion to do the same task. They planned to meet on the rocks so that he could start teaching her the proper way to fish. He wondered how she survived for so long on her own with the way she did it, bouncing and lashing down at the water like some sort of forest bear. He needed to begin working with her soon. It would take time to improve her skills, and he couldn’t stay here forever.

  He smiled when he saw her. Her dark black hair, wild and tangled, blew in the wind around her face as she held up a hand to block the sun. From such a distance, Marion looked much younger than she did up close. He couldn’t help but wonder how old she really was. Her gentle mannerisms made her seem young, but the deep lines in her face aged her considerably.

  Not that it mattered, he knew even less about her than she did of him, and that suited them both just fine. It made theirs an easy sort of friendship. He would forever be grateful to her for saving his life. He only hoped that she would understand his need to leave here.

  He wasn’t sure she could see him with the sun blinding her eyes, but he knew when she spoke that she could at least hear him approaching.

  “Craig, what took ye so long? Did ye swim to the other side of the ocean and back?”

  There were times, brief and fleeting, when something would pull at some lost corner of a memory. Each time Marion called him Craig was one of those. While he didn’t know what his name was, he knew it wasn’t Craig. He had to remind himself to reply to the name each and every time.

  “’Tis no my name, Marion. And it dinna take me any longer than usual. ’Tis only that ye are no usually about here waiting for me to finish.”

  Marion nodded and stood. He knew she was ready to begin the lesson.

  “True enough, but doona tell me no to call ye Craig. Until the day ye are able to tell me yer real name, ’tis what I shall call ye. For it means ‘rocks’ and ’twas the rocks from which ye fell.�
��

  He’d spent every day since he was strong enough to walk looking up at the perilous rocks leading to Cagair Castle. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could survive such a fall, but Marion swore that was when she first saw him—tumbling from the rocks that lay far above them, crashing into the ocean before he washed ashore at her feet.

  “Are ye ready for me to show ye how to fish so ye can catch enough to feed yerself without me?”

  She looked squarely at him, crossed both arms, and sat back down on the rocks before motioning for him to do the same. “No. We willna be fishing this day. Come and sit next to me, Craig.”

  “Ye dinna need to say that name right then, Marion. I know at times ye must say the name ye have given me to get my attention, but ye could have just ended after saying, ‘come and sit next to me.’ Ye dinna have to say ‘Craig.’”

  She smiled and nudged him as he sat next to her. “Aye, I know it.”

  He waited for her to finish laughing before speaking again. “Now, what do ye mean we willna be fishing this day? I’ve spent enough days with ye to know that ye willna be willing to go without eating.”

  “Ye are right, I willna go without eating. I’ve already caught three fish all on my own, and I fed myself for many years before ye came along. Yer way might be better, but mine works just fine for me.”

  “Mayhap so, but I’d still like to teach ye during the time I have left here.”

  “And just how much time to do ye think that might be?”

  He shrugged, hoping that his answer wouldn’t upset her. Guilt always filled him when he thought about leaving Marion, but he couldn’t stay with her. If his memories didn’t return, he had to start anew in whatever way he could. He didn’t wish for the sort of solitude Marion seemed to crave.