“Are you satisfied with your curiosity?” he asked, still with that slight smile.

“Not entirely. Why do you need to do this?”

“Do what exactly?”

“Protect me, for example. You say you come here to see if the murderer shows up again. Why do you need to do this?” Megan asked, shifting back to a more emotional tone.

He was silent for a moment before answering.

“You will find out in time. Now go home and go to sleep. That man is not nearby.”

“Do you know him? Who is he? And why does he want to kill me?” Megan asked anxiously.

“I don't know yet, but the time will come when everything will be clear.”

“I…”

But Derek did not let her continue. The tone in his voice changed, he said sternly and authoritatively, “Go to sleep, Megan!”

She did not dare to object. The command was so categorical and unexpected that she could not find the words to respond. At that moment, the cold and harsh expression on the man's face made it clear that he was not intending to continue their conversation. Megan silently turned around and walked back to the castle. Inside, she was seething with indignation: he had given her an order! And she had been too flustered to put him in his place.

Derek watched her until she disappeared from view. With a sigh of sadness, he turned back to the sea. He knew the girl would watch him from her bedroom window for a few more minutes, but he did not turn around.

Megan couldn't sleep. The Highlander's inexplicable behavior greatly troubled her. He was so strange, mysterious. One thing she knew for sure – she needed to talk to him again; learn more about him. And at the very least make it clear that it's not alright for anyone to speak to her in a commanding tone. The beautiful, inscrutable face constantly hovered before her eyes. She had never before felt such a passionate desire to kiss a man. A French kiss – yes, but to want to kiss, besides the lips, his cheeks, nose, eyes, forehead. This was new to her. She desperately wanted to press herself against his chest and drown in his embrace.

Megan finally stopped understanding what was happening to her. Knowing nothing about the man except his name, to experience such mixed feelings: anger and ecstasy, curiosity and passion. It made her doubt her sanity.

When the girl finally dozed off, the dream where a man whispered her name, standing by her bed, and then kissing her, unexpectedly resurfaced in her memory. And in the morning, she found the window in her room open. It was him, Derek! That's why his face seemed so familiar. Realizing all this, Megan sat up abruptly.

“So, who are you?” she whispered, puzzled.

The inhabitants of Castle Mal and Castle Raven were preparing for the festival. For three days, Megan could not find peace. Every evening, from ten o'clock to three in the morning, she looked out the window every fifteen minutes, searching for Derek, but he never appeared. She asked Glenn and Warren about a neighbor named Derek, but they responded negatively – there were no neighbors by that name in their vicinity. During these three days, she covered many miles on foot, exploring the surroundings of both castles in hopes of encountering him somewhere. Now she could only hope for his presence at the festival, where she could ask him the questions that had been tormenting her lately.

Finally, the day of the fern festival arrived. Malcolm McKenzie's granddaughter, dressed in a kilt and cape, carefully examined every detail of her appearance in the mirror when Glenn knocked on the door.

“Megan, are you ready? Warren is waiting for us downstairs.”

“Yes, we can go. Glenn, did I fasten everything correctly?”

“Everything is fine, you look magnificent. If only your grandfather could see you now! Let's go, it’s time!”

The celebrations took place very close by. All over the field, there were preparations for bonfires. Bonfires had a dual significance in folk customs. They were associated with the sun and believed to have purifying properties. According to ancient beliefs, the flame protected a person from evil, witchcraft, and impure forces. It was precisely on this night that the boundaries between the world of humans and the supernatural realms blurred, allowing evil spirits to guard the magical fern flower.

Numerous tents stretched along the field, offering a variety of foods, while beer, ale, and whisky were sold in every third stall, attracting the longest queues. The aroma of hot stewed lamb and venison wafted from some tents and different types of sausages and frankfurters were grilled on coals right on the spot. Children's eyes widened at the sight of various sweets, cotton candy, and balloons. Opposite the tents, rows of wooden tables with benches were set up. Bagpipers played around other musicians and dancers in national costumes performed captivating folk dances. Voices buzzed and laughter rang out from all directions. The crowd mostly moved around the field; only a few sat at tables, everyone was eager to socialize. People walked towards each other, encountering familiar faces at every step, stopping to exchange a few words. Several tourists mingled with the locals, drinking ale and taking photos of everything that seemed interesting and engaging.

“It's such a nice atmosphere,” Megan remarked.

“I like it too! Warren, look, there's Alaric! Let's go say hello,” Glenn suggested.

The head of the McKenzie clan stood with a pint of ale among a group of adult males, engaging in a lively and cheerful discussion.

“Ah, here come the youngsters!” Alaric joyfully said, giving Warren a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Friends, let me introduce you to Megan, Malcolm's granddaughter. She arrived here a few days ago.”

Megan greeted them. The new acquaintances were curious indeed; they asked her about life in London and her impressions of Scotland. She responded, but eagerly awaited the chance to leave the adult company. After twenty minutes, she took advantage of a brief pause to ask Alaric, “Have you seen Duncan? Is he at the festival?”

“Yes, we came together, but he opted for some younger companions; he’s here somewhere. I suggest you look for a group of young ladies, Duncan will surely be at the center,” he laughed.

“Oh, that Duncan!” chuckled one of the older men. Everyone began to jovially discuss Duncan's love-persuits.

“I'll go look for him. Thank you for the advice,” Megan smiled.

In a moment, she blended into the crowd, trying to quickly disappear from the elders' view, before they have a chance to stop her. In reality, she wasn't really looking for her cousin but needed an excuse. She aimlessly wandered past the tents, peering into the faces of passersby, in hopes of seeing Derek. Roaming the fair, she didn’t notice how quickly time flew by. The sun had set, and she had neither encountered Derek nor any of her relatives. Some drunk men tried to strike up conversations with her, as the festival was in full swing. People grouped together around tables overloaded with food and drinks. Ritual fires were lit all around the fairground, illuminating the surroundings with their bright light.

Megan felt tired after several hours of walking. She was looking for a place to sit, but now all the seats were taken. Ordering a pint of ale at one of the tents, she asked what time it was.

“It’s only 10:15. The fern hasn’t bloomed yet,” said the man with a smile, handing her the drink.

Moving among the celebrators, it was possible to catch snippets of conversation. Many spoke of the mystical plant. Some sincerely believed in its blooming, others mocked the believers, especially those who planned to search for it at midnight. However, Megan didn’t pay much attention, as she was occupied with searching for Derek and had no intention of wandering the dark forest at night, in the hope of finding a mythical flower, which may or may not exist. Her gaze quickly scanned the faces around the tables.