MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland by Kam McKellar

between them, ye might say.” Abbie picked a chip from the bowl nearby, wanting to inquire more, but she didn't want to seem nosy. Luckily, Fran continued without a hitch.

    “Liam wants his brother ta live, no' lock himself up there in that big house of his. And our Ross—as good as he is—seems ta think everything is fine. Why, look at the lad. Big, handsome brute needs ta find a good woman, have wee ones...” Fran looked at Abbie with a critical eyes.

    Abbie laughed and held up her hands. “No, not me. I'm off the market.”

    “Well, canna blame an auld woman for trying,” Fran said with a smile. “Is yer husband no' here with ye, lass?”

    “No. No husband. Divorced. Have a beautiful little boy, though.”

    Fran seemed just as eager to talk kids as she had been about Ross, so Abbie spent the next few minutes going on about her favorite subject. When Fran went off to refill the punch bowl, Abbie made her way to the patio. Liam had already come in and was dancing with a large group, including his brother and the gorgeous blond.

    The evening air was mild, the loch beautiful, the slight breeze making her turn her face into the wind. With the music and sounds of the party behind her and the view in front of her, she felt content. She never minded being alone. She had no issues with dining alone, watching movies alone, or living her life the past four years without a partner. The quiet was her balm, the thing which energized her. An introvert, some might say. And they'd probably be right.

    But there were times when she missed and craved connections.

    She was lonely. Acutely so, and had been for quite some time.

    Her eyes misted, so she avoided the subject and walked to the edge of the patio where she found the garden, which wrapped around the corner of the castle and then spread out in a neatly designed pattern. As she strolled the narrow paths between herbs and flowers and vegetables, she thought of her mother, an avid gardener, and reminded herself to call when she got back to the cottage and also to send a few pictures she'd taken of the ruins.

    One of the paths led into the trees. Abbie took it, figuring it was the path to the chapel that Riley had mentioned.

    Among the trees, the air was cooler, the scents of earth and pine strong. With the Scottish music blaring behind her, she felt like she'd stepped through time and the thought made her smile.

    Soon, she arrived at the stone chapel. It was small and quaint and utterly charming with its peeked roof, arched double doors made from thick wood, and matching arched windows. The wildflowers in beds, the wooden bench in a secluded spot, the vines framing the chapel door... It was all so perfect.

    Riley's wedding was going to be amazing. It was the most romantic spot Abbie had ever seen.

    Inside, the chapel was cool and the light was dim. There was a short row of pews and an open area at the front with a raised dais, altar table, and a wooden Celtic cross hanging on the wall below a small stained glass window.

    She sat in the front row and closed her eyes, just absorbing the atmosphere, the history, the smell of wood and stone, and the lovely sounds of bagpipes now playing from the castle. Like a dream, she thought with a smile. She'd always wanted to visit Scotland. Her love of books had led her through Scottish historicals , romances, and mysteries. But no words on paper could ever compare to the real thing, to the place she sat right now, to the people she'd met, or the landscape in Balmorie .

    How great would it be to live here, to buy a small cottage and watch Logan grow up with miles and miles of hills and forests and all the freedom a kid could ask for.

    Letting her imagination run wild, Abbie stayed in the chapel until the hard wooden pew hurt her back. By the time she left, twilight had descended—or the gloaming—as it was called. The tall lantern by the chapel had come on and as she began the journey back, she noticed the path was lit with