Glendrake , livre ebook

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events in this book are the products of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Glendrake
Published by Gatekeeper Press
2167 Stringtown Rd, Suite 109
Columbus, OH 43123-2989
www.GatekeeperPress.com
Cover Design by Ned Hill
Copyright 2020 by Suzanne Brent
All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
The cover design and editorial work for this book are entirely the product of the author. Gatekeeper Press did not participate in and is not responsible for any aspect of these elements.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020947204
ISBN (paperback): 9781662905421
eISBN: 9781662905438
Other Books by Suzanne Brent
MASKERADE
THE SILVER SCREEN
For
My mother, Janet Michael, and her Scottish ancestry
Part One
San Francisco, California June 2000
Chapter 1
The dreams returned suddenly. Unexpectedly. Just beyond, a mysterious mist swirled into the shadows. Sarah watched, mesmerized, as she sensed something-no, someone-calling out to her. It compelled her and frightened her beyond anything she could explain. It was accompanied by an electric sense of anticipation. Instantly, she recognized that if she could find the courage to cross through the mist, it would change her life forever. Then the misty shadows began to shift their shapes. Vaguely outlined at first and then coming more into focus, she knew it was him.
He stood still, a bit unclear, waiting. She sensed him waiting for her to come to him. A terrifying longing consumed her. Then she heard the voice. Unexpected, deep, sensual, almost elegant, English in accent, with a soft accent undertone. Its origins undefinable. The oddest part was that she was able to hear through her feelings rather than in normal speech. It was all in her mind, telepathic in nature. Fuzzy sounds, muffled words at first, like a vibration that sought a clear channel.
Suddenly, it crystalized. He spoke her name then, over and over and over. He said her name that seduced her, her heart pounding in response. No one had ever spoken her name with that timbre or tone, with a cascade of emotion, as if he could express feelings beyond love and time. An undertone of yearning so deep and profound overwhelmed her. Sarah felt tears pool and seep from the corners of her eyes. Never in her life had Sarah experienced anything close to the waterfall of emotions that swamped her very being. The ache grew within her to reach out as if she was reaching for her other half.
Suddenly, the surroundings began to change and shift once again. What there had been of a physical form receded, replaced by a pair of soulful, large blue eyes. She was instantly hypnotized, lost in their reflection. She knew him in the deepest part of her soul, a soul recognition beyond question. Before her mind could grasp or question her feelings, unexpectedly, she was gripped in a blanket of anxiety. She watched then, helpless, as the mist quickly swirled, shifted, and receded, taking all from her sight. Terrified, she reached out. She cried out as a black fear rained down on her, jolting Sarah awake.
Bathed in sweat, her face still wet from tears, she sat up, trembling. Anxious now, she glanced at the full moon through the Victorian lace curtains of her San Francisco apartment. She took a few deep breaths. Unsteady still, she got up. She moved slowly toward her den, the dappled moonlight lighting her way to her box of dreams as she called it. Tucked away-no, hidden, was the truth-in the antique desk. The dream had brought it all back to her, after all these years. She knew now where the old, faded brochure of Glendrake Castle waited.
With less than a steady hand, Sarah went to sit at the old desk. Reaching down to the bottom drawer, slowly, carefully, she lifted the simple metal box out, setting it on the desk. Sighing, she paused a moment, somehow knowing the reopening of the box would reopen this mysterious porthole between her and the man whose portrait graced the background of the castle hotel brochure. She had valiantly avoided it so far, the impulse to simply go, to follow the calling, and now, the aching inside of her. But now, the dreams had returned, and she could no longer push it aside.
Resigned, she sighed again, gently lifting the lid. A part of her was surprised, somehow, when something magical didn t occur, but not even a breeze ruffled the sheer lace panels. She reached in, finding the brochure just where she had left it ten years ago.
Lifting it out, drops of moonlight fell on the dramatic cover photograph of Glendrake Castle. It still made her breath catch at its beauty, encased in the blue-grays and heather-greens of the Highlands. Sarah remembered thinking when she had seen it that it was love at first sight, and how ridiculous it sounded over a pile of stones. Yet the overwhelming sense of knowing and recognizing somehow, and then, of course, the dreams, had left little question about her impassioned emotions. This was not a reaction without meaning.
Sarah had read a lot about reincarnation and soul mates, and she had always wanted to believe. Even in today s modern world, as they had just entered the twenty-first century, where romantic true hearts of style and chivalry had become nearly nonexistent, she still wanted to believe. But it had never happened to Sarah, love at first sight. It had just remained words until Meagan, her dear friend, had taken her to the travel seminar on Celtic castle hotels.
Sarah continued to stare down at the brochure of the castle, lost in her memories. She hesitated even now, with the last whispers of the dream lingering about her, but his portrait waited for her; the dramatic, handsome man, with large eyes so blue, an aristocrat, a poet, but awash with a haunting sadness that had never ceased to touch her deeply.
She turned to switch on the small Tiffany lamp that cast a soft glow in the charming old room. She slowly opened the brochure. As her large gray eyes widened slightly, she brushed the strands of her long red hair away from her face as her heart beat a bit faster as the portrait of Drake Glennis looked back at her. She reached, brushing her fingertips across the picture. A tingle went up her arm that made her shiver.
Drake. She said his name as if he could hear her. But even then, as her heartbeat kept time with her racing thoughts and so many unanswered questions, she knew at last she had already made up her mind.
* * *
Meagan stopped dead in her tracks, holding the two Starbucks coffees. She thought she had entered her friend Sarah s apartment, but now she wasn t sure. She shook her head and blinked. The room looked like a tornado had whirled its way through the usually neat and charming bay-windowed room. Sarah, what is going on? asked Meagan, her almond-brown eyes taking in a tableau of suitcases, piles of clothes, an assortment of shoes, and travel brochures.
I m packing. What does it look like? responded Sarah.
Packing? And where are we going? questioned Meagan.
To Scotland.
Of course, I should have known. This is I m turning forty and I m losing my mind.
Sarah paused as she sat on the floor, glancing up from her assortment of piles. Her pint-sized friend, whose short, dark-brown hair framed a pixie face, looked back at her, completely stunned. Sarah laughed. Oh, stop that! I don t know what you mean.
Well, something s going on here, Sarah. I ve known you for more than ten years and you are organized. Your life never falls far from daily routine. I m Meagan suddenly stopped speaking and frowned. Oh no, don t tell me. It s
Sarah nodded, her long straight red hair piled up on her head as stray tendrils bobbed in motion.
You re not, Meagan continued, having those crazy dreams? God, I remember the last time.
Yep, he s back.
Very funny, Meagan quipped. But you can t be serious. They told you it was a portrait of some old ancestor. He s not breathing, Sarah. No heartbeat. Don t get crazy over this.
Don t start, Sarah said.
Meagan walked over to the dining table, putting down the two coffee cups with a purposeful thud. Yes, I will. Come sit down. I have to hear this from the top.
Actors. Sarah rolled her eyes, but she stood up in her gray sweats, looking, Meagan had to admit, far too vibrant and beautiful.
Meagan sat down as Sarah joined her. He does this to you every time. Now, from the beginning, if you please. Meagan s lips curled in an amused smile.
You know what the problem is with old friends? Sarah began, carefully removing the lid from the Starbucks coffee. They know you too well.
Really, Meagan chuckled. No stalling, Sarah, details.
Please, can t a woman enjoy a peaceful moment with her latte?
Nope.
Merciless!
You bet.
Okay, okay, you win. I had one of them last night.
Them, as in a dream about the man who seduces you with that voice and those eyes?
Yes, the very one. But Sarah paused, frowning slightly. I know it s nuts, Meagan. I ve fought this and fought this for years. I thought it was a done deal, really, you know that.
Yes, only too well, Meagan responded. Obviously you ve having a what-if attack.
You don t understand. Listen, this is compelling stuff. When I m looking into those eyes, I m hypnotized down to my very soul.
Sounds like Harry Houdini to me, Meagan teased.
Well, he is mysterious, Sarah said in earnest.
Incurable romantic. So it could be worse.
Maybe.
So Meagan encouraged her friend.
So, okay, yes, I m turning forty, and yes, I need-no, I have to do this. It s kind of a life-and-death thing here. I mean Oh God, it s insane, isn t it?