Kate walked past the central street and into a market with different stalls and booths. People wandered around, drank, ate, and looked at belts, beaded necklaces, silver jewelry, dresses, tunics, knives, swords, and spices. The scent here was divine—freshly grilled meat that had been marinated in vinegar, baked goods, along with beer and wine, which were sold from giant barrels, much like the ones she’d seen in Manning’s kitchen.
The thought made anguish rise in her like heartburn.
Even in this fake medieval world, she felt more at home than in New York. She didn’t miss just Ian. She missed the sight of the loch and the mountains. The scent of a freshly baked bread in the open fire. The comforting feeling of honest work in the kitchen, where everything was done by hand not machines, and food was grown on the land, not bought in plastic packages from a supermarket.
Farther along, two small towers stood, not taller than two floors, and probably made of foam plastic. Kate thought of Inverlochy, its massive, impenetrable towers and walls, and chuckled to herself. There surely weren’t any Pictish time traveling rocks underneath the foundation of that castle.
But if there were, would she go?
Just as she thought that, her eyes fell on the tall broad-shouldered figure of a man with short red hair, dressed in a tunic and the leine croich, the heavy quilted coat Ian wore instead of armor. He stood half turned, with his back to her, fiddling with a knife in his hands. There was a claymore in the sheath at his waist.
Kate’s knees shook violently, and she locked them, but they only trembled harder. Her breath rushed in and out as though she were having an asthma attack. She walked on weak legs towards him.
She stood right next to him, still unable to see his face.
“Ian?” she said.
The man turned.
Blue eyes. Not brown.
The nose was short, and he was much younger, his face rounded without Ian’s strong cheekbones.
Her heart sank. Her eyes prickled from tears, and her throat convulsed in an attempt to stop them.
“I could be, my fair lady,” the man said with a crooked smile. “If you give me a kiss.”
He was American. No deep Scottish burr.
“Sorry.” She shook her head and walked away from him.
“Your loss,” he murmured in return.
Oh, how she missed Ian. Silly her, thinking he might find her here, at a Renaissance fair. Despite none of this being authentic, it had been the closest she’d felt to him since she’d left. And that alone made her want to check into the inn and live here permanently.
Her life was empty without him. All her attempts to re-create the connection she’d had with him were just that, attempts.
She’d never live a full life without love. Without happiness. Even that doppelgänger she’d met just now, had been merely a shadow of Ian—a shadow that had made her shake and tremble and almost have a heart attack.
Would she even be able to be happy with Ian given her issues, given that her whole life she’d been looking for ways to make herself worthy? But that wasn’t what she’d been doing with him. And it wasn’t what she’d been doing in New York.
She wasn’t looking for external approval through her restaurant. Not even from her new friends and colleagues.
No.
She was going her own way. She had her own idea and New York City was a great environment to realize it, without begging for anyone to accept her for who she was.
The feeling was new, and yet familiar. It was how Ian had made her feel. That she was okay the way she was.
She just hadn’t realized it. Now she knew she deserved to be loved and appreciated.
Kate turned and walked towards the castle, then stopped to look at a jewelry booth. A woman in a dark-green hooded cloak stood there, studying a beaded necklace in her hands. Kate couldn’t see her face, but she looked familiar. Curly dark-red hair was visible from under her hood.
She looked like…
The woman looked up.
“Sìneag,” Kate breathed.
Sìneag beamed. “Kate! I was hoping to find ye here.”
Kate went to Sìneag and pulled her a little away from the fuss around the tent.
“What are you doing here?” Kate asked.
“I came to see how ye’re doing.”
“But how did you know where to find me?”
“Oh, lass.” Sìneag giggled. “I ken many more things than ye think. Ye dinna think I’m just a woman, do ye?”
Kate narrowed her eyes. Had she heard the woman right? Not just a woman? “What do you mean?”
“Ah.” Sìneag sighed. “Ye mortals. Always so skeptical. Dinna fash yerself, lass. I came to help. Ye walk around like a dead kelpie. Yer eyes are empty. Yer stride has nae lively spring. Do ye nae think ’tis enough that ye torture yerself and Ian?”
She tortured Ian? She’d wanted to stay with him. He was the one who’d told her to leave. But before she got angry, she needed to know if Ian had survived his wounds.
“Have you seen him? Is he okay? He was so badly wounded when I left.”
“Aye, if ye can call that alive. He walks around in even worse shape than ye.”
Kate swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means, he misses ye.”
Kate’s stomach squeezed and filled with hummingbirds.
“Did he change his mind?”
“What if he didna?”
Kate inhaled deeply, then let out a slow breath.
“I know he loves me. He has shown it to me many times. Because he loves me, he tried to protect me and send me away. He didn’t think his love was good enough for me. But what he doesn’t understand is that he’s
