Lost Bride E-Book

J.L. Jarvis

• Herausgeber: Bookbinder Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Highland Passage
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 237

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Born centuries apart, they found love — but how could they find a future?

When Lucy Buchanan arrives at the altar for her wedding, she is devastated to discover that her groom has called off the marriage. Desperate to escape the pitying stares, she flees into the woods and discovers a mysterious stone chamber. When she steps through it, Lucy finds herself in 1746 Scotland where she’s almost trampled by a horse — only to be rescued by Rory Munro, the son of a wealthy Highland laird.

Betrayed in the past, Rory guards his heart closely. But as the two work together to unravel the mystery of how she can return to her own time, Rory finds himself drawn to Lucy. Yet falling in love will only sharpen the pain when they part. As their love grows, Lucy must face the reality of returning home and leaving Rory behind forever.

If you enjoy a timeless Scottish romance, get your copy of Lost Bride today!

Leseprobe

Born centuries apart, they found love —but how could they find a future?

When Lucy Buchanan arrives at the altar for her wedding, she is devastated to discover that her groom has called off the marriage. Desperate to escape the pitying stares, she flees into the woods and discovers a mysterious stone chamber. When she steps through it, Lucy finds herself in 1746 Scotland where she’s almost trampled by a horse — only to be rescued by Rory Munro, the son of a wealthy Highland laird.

Betrayed in the past, Rory guards his heart closely. But as the two work together to unravel the mystery of how she can return to her own time, Rory finds himself drawn to Lucy. Yet falling in love will only sharpen the pain when they part. As their love grows, Lucy must face the reality of returning home and leaving Rory behind forever.

Also by J.L. Jarvis

Waterfront Summers

(Can be read in any order)

The Cottage at Peregrine Cove

The House on Serenity Lake

Moonlight on Mariner’s Bluff

Drake & Wilde Mysteries

(Reading Order)

1 Love in the Time of Pumpkins

2 Secrets in the Hollow

3 Shadow of the Horseman

Standalones

(Can be read in any order)

A Christmas Eve Stop

Christmas by Lamplight

A Kiss in the Rain

App-ily Ever After

Once Upon a Winter

The Red Rose

Highland Vow

Short Stories

(Can be read in any order)

Seasons of Love: A Short Story Collection

The Eleventh-Hour Pact

A Christmas Yarn

The Farmer and the Belle

Work-Crush Balance

Cedar Creek

(Can be read in any order)

Christmas at Cedar Creek

Snowstorm at Cedar Creek

Sunlight on Cedar Creek

Pine Harbor

1 Allison’s Pine Harbor Summer

2 Evelyn’s Pine Harbor Autumn

3 Lydia’s Pine Harbor Christmas

Holiday House

(Can be read in any order)

The Christmas Cabin

The Winter Lodge

The Lighthouse

The Christmas Castle

The Beach House

The Christmas Tree Inn

The Holiday Hideaway

Highland Passage

(Can be read in any order)

Highland Passage

Knight Errant

Lost Bride

Highland Soldiers

1 The Enemy

2 The Betrayal

3 The Return

4 The Wanderer

American Hearts

(Can be read in any order)

Secret Hearts

Forbidden Hearts

Runaway Hearts

For more information, visit jljarvis.com.

Get monthly book news at news.jljarvis.com.

Lost Bride

A HIGHLAND PASSAGE NOVEL

J.L. JARVIS

LOST BRIDE

A Highland Passage Novel

Copyright © 2017 J.L. Jarvis

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published by Bookbinder Press

bookbinderpress.com

ISBN (paperback) 978-1-942767-04-6

ISBN (hardcover) 978-1-942767-70-1

ISBN (ebook) 978-1-942767-03-9

Contents

1. Best Laid Plans of Brides and Men

2. Taking Whisky from a Stranger

3. A Castle of Ghosts

4. Road Closed

5. The Cèilidh

6. Memories of Love

7. Forgive Us Our Debts

8. What If?

9. The Uninvited Guest

10. Matters of Honor and Duty

11. The Price of Passion

12. The Meeting

13. A History Lesson

14. Travels with Wendy

15. The Price of Losing

16. For Peat’s Sake

17. The Plan

18. The Unexpected

19. The Announcement

20. Home Indeed

Thank You!

The Highland Passage Trilogy

Book News

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Chapter1

Best Laid Plans of Brides and Men

The guests were all seated on white cloth-covered folding chairs with large bows on the back, and the weather was just as she’d dreamed it would be, with the morning sun shining as it should for a wedding. Lucy Buchanan lifted her face to the cool breeze as she looked at the sweeping carpet of green that sloped down to the sparkling Hudson River. It was time.

A stab of panic struck without warning. What had she done? This would be a life sentence. But she’d accepted it, and it was too late to turn back. Pulse racing, she took a deep breath, forced a smile, and pressed on down the aisle toward the altar. Everyone turned on the musical cue. With all eyes on the bride, the guests must have missed seeing the groom murmur something to the minister before he walked over to the pianist and cellist. They stopped playing. The groom picked up a microphone and turned to the guests.

Now several feet down the carpeted aisle, Lucy stopped. This was not what they’d rehearsed.

He cleared his throat. “Family and friends, I… uh… thank you for coming. I’m sorry, but there’s not going to be a wedding today.”

For Lucy, time stopped as a collective gasp was followed by heads turning en masse toward her. She could not move. Then the hushed murmurs crescendoed and rang in her ears. It was as if the wedding guests were all watching a tennis match as they looked from bride to groom then to bride. Tyler’s eyes met Lucy’s once before he turned and walked away. Lucy stood there, unable to move or react.

What happened next was a blur. People began to approach her. God bless them, her bridesmaids would not stop chattering well-meaning expressions of shock, sorrow, and support that were simply not helpful. On a day on which she was supposed to be the center of attention, she wanted to hide from the world. How could this have happened? Why her? She needed to think—or not think. Whichever it was, she desperately needed to do it alone.

Her mother-in-law—scratch that—her would-have-been mother-in-law was approaching. With lightning-fast reflexes, Lucy averted her eyes and pretended not to see the woman then fled in the other direction. Wearing the gown that had cost several paychecks, she fled into the woods in a billowing blur of white silk, leaving a trail of snagged shreds of lace and organza in her wake that would have made Hansel and Gretel proud. Voices called out, so she kept running in hope of escaping. Her heel caught on a tree root, and she fell. She looked up to find a man-made cave constructed of stacked rocks and dirt, with a few weeds and roots that had worked their way through.

She had seen one of these before. Putnam County, New York, was riddled with the mysterious stone chambers. They were a well-known local curiosity, but there was no definitive explanation for their presence. Theories abounded, ranging from extraterrestrial way stations to Neolithic structures built by the Celts. Lucy had settled upon the most logical—that they were the remains of early settlers’ root cellars. After all, this was the land where the last of the Mohicans had roamed. Even today, parts of it looked as though nothing had changed in the past few hundred years—except people, evidently. Take Tyler Van Beek, her fiancé who had just left her at the altar. Hawkeye would never have done that to Cora. He’d jumped off a waterfall, for Pete’s sake. Tyler Van Beek, on the other hand, had just jumped off a six-inch altar platform. Not quite the same thing.

Too angry for words, Lucy cursed Tyler as she pounded the earth that covered the chamber. “Ow!” Apparently, there was a little more rock than earth. Once more, she cursed, this time from the pain. But a light came from inside the chamber. “It must be my burning rage,” she muttered to herself.

A voice called out from behind her.

“Oh no.” They were coming for her in a fluttering mass of moss-green bridesmaids’ gowns. Lucy ducked into the chamber. Her dress caught on something. The tearing sound that came next made her wince, but then she reminded herself that she would never be wearing that dress again. Ever. Inside the stone chamber, she walked toward the light. Walking toward the light in a tunnel might not have been a good sign of things to come, but it was that or face the bridesmaids. She would not have it get back to Tyler that tears had been shed. One of her friends would let something slip. And that person would tell someone else, until it got back to that jilting, spineless, exoskeletal, cold-footed coward! God, she loved him.

She emerged from the tunnel feeling very empowered after having wiped dry the evidence of the ugly blubbering that may have occurred in the chamber. So much for walking toward the light. That was gone. A thick fog had rolled in. After taking a couple of steps, she stopped, afraid she might fall into the Hudson.

To test the visibility in true storm-chaser style, she stretched out her arm. Nope. She couldn’t see her hand. She could feel it was wet, though. A light, drizzling rain was beginning to fall.

Pounding hooves shook the spongy ground. That didn’t seem right. Then a curse cut through the sound of the rain. She looked up to see a horse and rider break through the mist. A strong arm hooked around her waist from behind and yanked her back just as a horse reared up and galloped past. She and her strong-armed rescuer fell to the ground. She looked up into the deep-set eyes of the man lying on top of her. For a moment, she lay there, stunned by the fall or transfixed by his gaze. She couldn’t have said which at the moment. Rain drizzled down both their faces.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Yes, I think so.” Her eyes drifted down to his lips—not because she found them attractive, per se, but because they were mere inches from hers. Of course, from a purely objective standpoint, one could say they fell within the realm of attractive. In addition, from that same purely objective standpoint, she was losing her mind. What sane person would just lie there? Her eyes darted to the hand on her shoulder. It was large. He immediately removed it and got up. With a firm grasp, he took hold of her hand and pulled her to her feet.

His mood instantly changed. “Are you daft? What do you think you’re doing out here in the rain?” Without waiting for an answer, he grasped her hand as though she were a child and guided her along behind him. To where, she had no idea.

Disoriented, Lucy looked about at her surroundings. “It wasn’t raining a minute ago.”

He frowned. “It’s been raining all day.” When his stare had completely unsettled her, his eyes drifted down to her silk-and-organza gown, now muddy and limp.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Her head felt fuzzy and tingly, and this guy sounded like Sean Connery. But why would Sean Connery be rescuing her from galloping horses? Come to think of it, why were there galloping horses to be rescued from? She had to be dreaming. Or maybe she’d injured her head in that fall.

“Lassie?”

“Lucy.” It was a reflexive response. She’d thought he had called her by name. By the time she realized her mistake, she’d already spoken. Now he knew one more thing about her than she knew about him. Not that she wanted to know much about him, except who he was and where they were going.

“Lucy.”Her name sounded better when he said it. Too bad her name wasn’t longer. And then there was the touch of his hand as he held hers and the way he studied her until she blushed, which was no small feat, given the day she’d had. Which reminded her, what the heck was going on?

“I’m Rory.”

That wasn’t exactly what she’d been wondering, but hey, good to know. “Rory.” She eyed his kilt. “More like Rob Rory.” She chuckled, alone. “Sorry, it’s a thing I do—make lame jokes under stress. It’s a coping mechanism I can’t seem to control.” She winced then extended her hand. “Good to meet you. I’m Lucy Buchanan—almost Van Beek, but not really. So where are we?”

He took in the landscape with a sweeping glance. “Everything you see here is Munro land.”

“Oh,” she said, still confused. “Munro land. So…kind of like Disneyland but without all the rides?”

“Disney? I’ve not heard of that clan.”

Lucy smiled. She was actually smiling despite everything—well, despite just the one thing really, but it was a biggie. She looked down the dirt road. “So who was that insane bastard on the horse?”

“Ah, that insane bastard was my brother.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You’re a fine judge of character—although he’s not actually a bastard. He’s quite legitimate, and in line to inherit a fortune. I’m the second son, and I’m not.”

“A bastard or in line to inherit a fortune?”

He started to answer, but she said, “I was kidding.” She began laughing a little too hard then caught herself before the tears started.

He tilted his head and peered at her. “Lass?”

What seemed to capture his interest was a mystery to her. He must have picked up on her subtle internal hysteria.

“Yes, lad?” Stress made her snarky. She winced as she brushed herself off, only managing to smear dirt on her bodice and skirt. It was hopeless. She looked as if she’d been dragged through the mud, and her wrist hurt along with her backside and elbow. “I’m sorry. Do I know you? Were you at the wedding? I’m sorry the show was canceled.”

“The show?” He peered at her as though she had just come unhinged.

She shook her head. “Never mind. I was just being funny. Or not. Being left at the altar does that to me. Just hilarious.” She felt herself starting to cry, which was not going to happen. Not now. Not for that numbnuts Tyler the Timid-hearted. She steeled herself and looked at the man before her. Not too shabby once she got past the distractingly muscular shoulders and chest. Then there was his face. A girl could get a stiff neck looking up at that face and not mind it. Not that he was perfect. He wasn’t. He was more rugged than handsome, with large facial features and straight chestnut hair tousled as though he didn’t care how it looked. And why would he need to? It looked great from where she was standing. Yeah, this guy was the type she had always avoided—the dangerous kind. “So, uh…”

“May I?” He leaned closer and pointed at her forehead, which apparently had something on it.

She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead then shrugged as though it were futile. “I looked so pretty this morning with my airbrushed makeup and a fresh mani-pedi. That was before my groom left me at the altar and walked away with my hopes and dreams. Then I dragged my beautiful dress through the woods, pretty much did a face-plant into—man, I hope that was dirt—and then I was knocked to the ground, as you know, and for which I am very thankful, by the way. But still, at this point, does a smudge on my face really matter?”

His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “I think you look bonnie.”

She took in a breath. “Oh, wow! Would you mind just stopping by every morning and saying that to me? And then maybe again during my afternoon slump at work—about 2:15, 2:30…”

He gazed back in silence.

“I’m just kidding, of course. I mean, that would be crazy. You could just make a GIF.” She made a goofy face.

“Make a what?”

“You know, a video on a loop…” She spoke in a throaty, low pitch and attempted his accent. “‘I think you look bonnie. I think you look bonnie. I think you look bonnie.’” She burst into laughter.

He gave her a blank stare.

She averted her eyes. “Yeah. Never mind.” She glanced about, uneasy because he was still watching her.

A droplet fell from her hair to her nose, and he wiped it off with his finger as he gazed into her eyes. Then he took the end of his plaid and squeezed it about her dripping, shoulder-length hair. She was too startled and cold to resist.

That might have been a good time to wake up before she swooned—not that she was one prone to swooning, but it was a dream, after all. On the other hand, what safer place was there to swoon than a dream? She’d already been horizontal, so why not? And, c’mon, look at this guy! When he looked at her, she knew she’d been looked at. And those arms—sturdy without being steroidal.

“What were you doing out there on the road in the mist? My bastard brother might have trampled your bonnie behind.”

Bonnie behind? Well, that was a little personal. She wasn’t sure whether to thank him or smack him. She frowned. His Scottish accent was thick. Otherwise, she might have understood him quickly enough to respond with something more than her current slack jaw.

“I don’t see many Scotsmen on horseback, so you caught me off guard.” She looked down and did a double take as she spied his hand on the hilt of a sword. Suddenly, her bonnie behind was the least of her concerns. While his hand merely rested upon his sword at the moment, in an instant, he might whisk that sword out of its scabbard and point it at her. With a smile that didn’t come close to looking as casual as she’d intended, she took a step back. “Anyway, enjoyed the chat. Gotta go!” She turned and began to march off.

He grabbed her wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She did her best to behave as if she were not terrified that he might swing his sword in her general direction. “I don’t know. I thought I might go back to my car and drive home.”

“Lucy, I can hardly allow you to wander off to your peril.”

“That’s awfully nice, but⁠—”

“There’s an inn over there.” He nodded back in the direction the horse had come from. Through the mist, she could faintly make out a stone-walled structure.

“Oh, an inn, huh?” He didn’t waste any time. “No, thanks. I’ll just go back where I came from.”

His smile faded a bit as he studied her closely. “Back where? There’s nothing back there.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I daresay I’m not. I’ve lived here all my life.”

“And I’ve lived back there part of mine. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

“To where? Do you even ken where you are?”

Well, okay, she would play along—but only one round just to humor him. She looked beyond to a dirt road that sloped upward through waving grasses to the green hills beyond. There were very few trees, which made the hills appear clad in soft blankets of deep green. She’d never seen anything like it—except—ah, yes. She’d only been once, during a backpacking summer in her college days. But those few days had left an impression. “Wild guess, Scotland?”

“Aye.”

Of course it was Scotland. And that was how she knew she was dreaming. She loved Scotland, which was why she and Tyler had chosen it for their honeymoon. Well, there it was. That explained everything. Along with the wedding, their honeymoon in Scotland had been on her mind, so she was dreaming about it. Good, that was settled. Except why was she dreaming of Scotland with some brawny dude? Don’t overthink it. You’ll be awake soon.

Dark clouds blew in as Lucy and her Scottish mystery man took a few steps. Lightning cut through the sky and lit up the stone structure she’d just come from. To Lucy, it looked like a rounded pile of stones, only hollow. She walked toward it. Light shone through the doorway. They both stepped closer and looked inside. Lucy saw straight through to the woods she had come from. A gaggle of moss-green-clad bridesmaids and a couple of groomsmen stared back at her. Her mother made her way through the middle of them and stopped, appearing stunned. They all stood there, like a portrait of pitying looks.

Without taking his eyes from them, Rory asked, “Who are those creatures?”

“My bridesmaids. And that one in the middle is my mom.” Lucy called through the chamber, “It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Och, they’re people? Dressed as they are in the color of fairies, I thought…”

Tyler made his way to the front of the group and called out to her. Their eyes met.

Lucy muttered to herself, “You’re dead to me, Tyler. Go away.”

Then lightning struck just a few feet away and split a tree down the middle. Lucy flinched, and Rory held on to her shoulders with steadying hands.

Lucy looked up. “I didn’t mean it.”

When she turned back, the opening was gone. A wall of stones stood in its place. Lucy waited in hope that the wall would reopen. When she finally resigned herself to the fact that it was not going to open, she looked up at Rory, her mouth still agape.

“Could you use a wee dram?”

“Yes!” Maybe that sounded a bit too enthusiastic, but at least she was honest. “What if my fiancé—or whatever he is now—comes looking for me?”

“Your what?”

“My fiancé. The man in that stone chamber. He might come looking for me.”

“As he should. What sort of man would leave a bonnie lassie—or Lucy—out wandering alone?”

She gave those sparkling eyes her best withering stare. “I’m allowed out on my own now and then—if I’m good.”

He lifted a brow and revealed even, white teeth through a cockeyed smile. “As I imagine you are.”

That was it. She hauled off and punched him. Then cursed. The man’s abs were rock solid, unlike her fist. Apparently, she was a vivid dreamer. Her knuckles still hurt from the impact.

He offered her his arm and tilted his head toward the inn. He frowned and waited for a while. Then he shook his head and wrapped the end of his plaid about her head and shoulders. “We’ll go inside and wait for your fancy man.”

“Fiancé,” she said as they walked toward the inn. “It might be a while.”

“Lovers’ tiff, was it?”

“No. Not exactly. And don’t look so amused.”

He tossed her a curious glance as he opened the heavy oak door to the inn.

Chapter2

Taking Whisky from a Stranger

Inside, the inn smelled of baking bread, ale, and smoke from the fire. A man staggered past them to the stairs. Whew! Someone didn’t get the memo about antiperspirant. Still, the place was sheltered and dry, so she couldn’t complain. Everyone wore the same sort of costume, as if they were part of a Renaissance fair. One man, looking the worse for wear, lay draped over a table, asleep and contentedly snoring, his hand still grasping a pewter flagon of ale.

Lucy didn’t know what to make of the place. It had to be one of those historic pubs with the old, dark wood paneling and benches they all had. She’d visited more than a few of those pubs during her carefree college backpacking days, and they all had a similar look, especially after a couple of beers. But the clientele hadn’t dressed quite like these people. No, if she wasn’t drunk, then she had to be dreaming.

Rory led her to a blazing peat fire, where he set a chair down before her and gestured for her to sit. “Dry yourself here by the fire.” Without asking, he unfastened her hair clip and unpinned her soggy bridal updo.

“Oh!” Startled, she began to protest. “Well…” She was not nearly as comfortable with his hands on her as he was. It wasn’t that the touching was so wrong. After all, it was only her hair. “Well, okay.”

But it didn’t feel okay. It felt way better than that, which was when she began to feel guilty. Until a few hours ago, the only hands in her hair—not counting her stylist’s—had been Tyler’s, and not all that often. She quietly breathed in through her nose just to make sure she wouldn’t sigh as he combed his fingers through her hair by the heat of the fire.

He stopped, and she missed him already.

“Wait here. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Lucy looked into the fire and tried to make sense of her day, which she should’ve conceded was not going to happen.

* * *

“A fall wedding would be perfect!” How well she remembered that moment not one year ago. She’d said yes. How could she not have? And they had celebrated—well, they’d gone to tell Tyler’s parents. They had proceeded to spend the whole evening in his parents’ Westchester mansion, backs straight, hands folded, and knees pressed together. They’d all agreed it was a perfect match.

Her life had always seemed perfect in everyone else’s eyes. She had sailed through school to college and graduate school, lined up a job before graduation, and met Tyler in a training seminar during her first week on the job. They’d been together for nearly five years before Tyler popped the question. Well, if glancing up over his laptop to posit—in the same tone of voice he used when making a tee time—his reasoning as to why marriage would be a logical step at this point in their lives could be considered a proposal, then yes, he had proposed.

He’d startled her, really. They had both been buried in work, he with a computer programming crisis, and she with a sales team communication challenge.

“Okay. Let’s talk about it after we come up for air.” And she looked back down at her laptop and returned to her usual work-stress balance. She’d always assumed a formal question-popping would follow at some point after his impromptu presentation. It hadn’t. But no worries, that was just Tyler’s way. He was good and kind and everything a future husband should be. And he loved her. She paused to ponder. She was pretty sure he loved her. Who would spend seven years with someone they didn’t love? Of course he loved her. They were destined to be happy. After all, it wasn’t as though there were any scary mysteries ahead. They’d lived together, kicked the tires, and perfected the fit, end of story. They were going to be married and live happily ever after. Happily. Ever. After.

* * *

Which was why she was lost God knew where in a setting that made no more sense than the rest of her life at the moment. A chilly breeze found its way in through the cracks in the windows and doors, catching the flames in the nearby fireplace. She glanced over at Rory, who was engaged in a chat with the innkeeper. And there Lucy was… how or why, she had no idea. All she knew was that her stomach felt as if she were riding the waves of the raging North Sea.

She shivered. Rory appeared with a crumpled tartan he’d apparently borrowed. He arranged it over her shoulders and sat down beside her with one arm protectively draped over the back of her chair.

He offered her a glass of amber liquid. “Here, drink this.”

Lucy drank it straight down. “Oh, this is good. What is it?”

He eyed her as though he did not quite believe her. “Lass, have you never had whisky?”

“I’m more of a wine drinker, myself. But that felt so warm going down. May I have another?”

With a crooked smile, Rory nodded and went to the bar. This time, he returned with a bottle, which Lucy generously poured into her glass and proceeded to drink.

“Easy.”

She gave him a cross look. “It’s not like I haven’t had alcohol before. I’ve been to college.”

Rory leaned back and folded his arms. “It’s a wee bit stronger than wine.”