“Something like a storeroom. Paintings, portraits, personal belongings of the Drummonds. No one has cleaned it for about a hundred years. Once, as a child, I wanted to hide there but I got caught in a web, and a spider fell on my face. I ran out of there screaming and never again felt the urge to enter that dreadful place.”

“A spider isn't as scary as a ghost."

“To each their own! I've never encountered ghosts. But spiders are absolutely real and very unpleasant creatures," Duncan said with slight disgust.

In a good mood, with playful comments, Duncan showed Megan several more rooms, and then they went into the dining hall where they were expected.

During dinner, they discussed many different topics, and the girl’s relatives took a keen interest in her London life. Everyone there seemed to have decided not to bring up the unpleasant conversation from the day of the meeting. They all acted as if nothing had happened, although Megan was sure that such things are hard to forget.

“Megan, allow me to ask you a provocative question!” exclaimed Alaric, smiling warmly, “Have you started to miss London yet?”

“Indeed, a provocative question!” Megan smiled in response. “In the last few days, I've been discovering a new world. Breathtaking castles! Incredible heather fields! The mystique and history of my family – all of it truly fascinates and attracts me. I don't remember London making such an impression on me. But I'll admit, I do miss its noise and the fast pace of life.”

“I see,” the elderly man said thoughtfully, cutting a piece of venison.

Dinner went smoothly and comfortably, and afterward, everyone gathered in the hall by the fireplace.

“Having a glass of good whiskey after dinner is one of our family traditions,” Alaric said with a satisfied smile.

“Warren introduced me to this tradition at Castle Mal yesterday,” Megan responded. “He and Glenn told me a lot of interesting things. Though, I'm very impressionable, and it led me to have nightmares all night.”

“I warned you, since you take everything to heart, you'd be scared at night! But your curiosity overcame your fear,” Warren joined in.

“Yes, that's true. I dreamt about Margaret and Mary, the crypt, my grandfather…”

“Well, now that I showed you Margaret's and the lost lord's rooms, you won't sleep tonight either!” Duncan said, laughing merrily.

“No, it's all good. I truly found it very fascinating. They had such a sad story,” Megan said thoughtfully.

“That’s life. It's not the first nor the last sad love story in the world,” concluded Alaric.

The McKenzie family spent another hour and a half by the fireplace. Megan, holding a glass of whiskey, 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.”