Megan really wanted to visit the family crypt where her grandfather now rested. Before the meeting started, she had planned to ask her relatives to accompany her there since she was afraid to go alone. But given how things turned, she felt it was improper to ask any of them now. Before delving into the documents, she decided to take a short walk, familiarize herself with the surroundings, and organize her thoughts. The weather was splendid, with the temperature reaching twenty degrees Celsius, quite warm for the north of Scotland.

Walking toward the shore, she relished the warm summer sun caressing her face. Just to be safe, she looked around carefully to make sure no one was following her. There was nobody in sight. It took her about ten or fifteen minutes to reach the beach through the green-pink meadows.

Gazing at the horizon and admiring the sea, she didn't immediately understand what had startled her so abruptly. Megan looked around again – nobody was there. Then she realized it was a bird. A large black raven had flown over her head two or three times with a cry. She feared it was the same one from her nightmare, worried it might attack her face as it had done with the assailant. But the bird flew off towards a cliff. Perching on an outcrop, it continued to watch the girl unblinkingly. She too could not take her eyes off it for several minutes, then shifted her gaze back to the water. Megan didn't know how long she had spent walking along the beach in contemplation. An hour, two? The raven remained on the same spot, watching her intently. Soon, she stopped paying it any attention and headed back to the castle.

So much heather around, covering all the hills, fields, mountains, just as grandfather described. Now I understand those who say the most picturesque part of Scotland is the north. Could it be that my mother never wished to come back here again? To once more enjoy the beauty so generously bestowed upon this land by nature.

Megan's contemplations were abruptly interrupted by a voice, “In the North of Scotland, heather is considered a flower of happiness and good luck.”

Startled, the girl almost jumped on the spot, fearfully placing her hand over her mouth to suppress a slight scream. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the old lady who had stopped beside her, holding a straw basket filled with heather. She held out one of the flowering sprigs to Megan.

“Oh God, you scared me,” said Megan.

The woman appeared to be about 85 years old. Short in stature, slightly stooped as if weighed down by the years she had lived, her snow-white hair was neatly tied back. Wrinkles furrowed her forehead, around her eyes, and lips, betraying her advanced age, while her bluish-grey eyes radiated wisdom and kindness.

“Take a flower, my dear; it brings luck. Who knows, maybe you will find the happiness left behind in the distant past…”

“Thank you,” the girl replied, accepting the flower.

She didn't understand what kind of lost happiness the woman was talking about. Maybe it was about her mother leaving the family home while pregnant. Or perhaps the old lady had just lost her mind…

“What’s your name?”

“Innes Wallace, and you’re Megan McKenzie, the late Malcolm’s granddaughter. It’s good that you’ve come back. The time has come. He has been waiting for you for so long, it's time, it's time, he has waited… May the pink heather stand in your room every day. You will see how you will regain your lost happiness. You’ll see; you’ll see. Love overcomes all, even centuries cannot diminish its power…”

With these words, Innes moved further away. Meanwhile, she continued to mutter to herself, seemingly forgetting about the existence of the girl watching her in astonishment.

“What was that?” Megan whispered quietly.

Concluding that the woman was out of her mind and didn't understand what she was talking about, Megan decided to take the flower to her bedroom. Let it stay, maybe it really will bring good luck. I need it now more than ever!

The rest of the day, the girl spent exploring the castle from the inside, and only in the evening did she start reviewing the reports given by Gregor. Tomorrow, she intended to visit the distillery and acquaint herself with the production processes.

Preparing for bed, Megan heard again the heart-wrenching sounds of the bagpipes. It was 10.45 p.m. on the mantel clock. Pain and sweetness filled her soul at the same time. The melody was enticing, mesmerizing, but the girl was afraid to leave her room. If it was a trap, she could be attacked again… She opened the window and saw the mysterious stranger. The moonlight illuminated him well. He stood on the same hill as the night before. The man raised his head so he could look at her, without stopping the musical instrument. Megan’s breath was taken away, and a thought flashed through her mind, It’s him. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her hands and legs trembled so much that she was afraid to fall. Not understanding what was happening to her, the girl whispered, "Who is he?" An inner voice answered, "It's him." But who «he» was remained unclear.

Emotions swept over her one after another: sadness, pain, love, despair, joy. Megan couldn’t make out the stranger’s features, but she knew for sure that his face was the most beautiful in the world, that the scent of his skin, his body, was the most desirable to her in the world. The highlander kept playing the bagpipes without taking his eyes off the girl. It seemed to Megan that he saw right through her, reading her thoughts and feelings. With an incredible effort of will, she forced herself to close the window, shivering as if from cold, although the room was warm.

“My God! What's happening to me? What kind of obsession is this?”

Without turning back to the view of the hills, the girl went to bed, but for a long time she could still hear the sad melody of the Scottish bagpipes, and she was unable to calm the feverish excitement that flooded her soul.

When Megan looked at the clock for the last time, it was already four in the morning. Falling into a restless sleep, she saw the highlander next to her bedside, whispering to her, “I’ve been waiting for you, Megan.” He kissed her tenderly and then disappeared, jumping outside, into the darkness.

She woke up late, a bit after 10 a.m. There was a fresh scent in the room – the smell of grass and nature.

“Nature! Grass!” Megan jumped up in bed, realizing that the window, through which the stranger disappeared in her dream, was wide open. The girl tried to recall closing it the night before but couldn’t; she’d been too excited.

“I simply forgot to close it yesterday,” she convinced herself to calm down. “It's just a coincidence. My nerves are frayed from stress. My God, what’s been happening to me these past few days? Complete madness!”

When Megan descended the staircase, she saw that Warren and Gregor were already waiting for her in the hall.

“Good morning,” greeted the girl.

“Good morning,” the men said in unison.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” her cousin inquired.

“No, I was just about to have a cup of coffee now. I didn't think you'd be ready before the appointed time.”

“It’s all right, Megan, no need to rush. We’ve got plenty of time.”

She quickly went to the kitchen. In two minutes, she managed to drink coffee and eat a small piece of shortbread. Megan didn’t like being late and felt uncomfortable if she kept someone waiting. Punctuality and perfectionism were in her blood. Brushing the biscuit crumbs off her fingers, she hurried back to the hall.

After leaving the castle, they got into Warren’s car and Megan asked how far it was to the distillery.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he replied.

“Warren, would you be able to take me to the family crypt afterwards? I’d like to pay my final respects to Grandfather, but I don’t dare go there alone. It’s a bit creepy.” She felt very awkward asking for anything after the unpleasant situation the day before, which she herself had created. But there was no choice; she had to establish a rapport between them.