Amulet Of Fate

By Angela Ashton

Scottish legend tells of a fourteenth century chieftain cursed by a remorseful sorceress in order to escape certain death at the hands of his lover's English husband. While visiting her native Scotland, Alicia Cameron stumbles upon the secrets of the old MacKintosh castle, and the truth of her own tragic past…

Enslaved by a cursed amulet, Zachariah MacKintosh has roamed the remains of his castle for six centuries. Guided by fate, he’s reunited with the woman linked to his misfortune…the sole key to delivering him from his immortal hell. He realizes he must find a way to jog her buried memories, for if he should fail in this quest, the horrid curse would bind him for all eternity.

There is just one problem… The curse has left him in the form of his clan motto: a cat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Nov 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781897261644

Book preview

Prologue

Scotland, Present Day

She lived.

He sensed her existence as distinctly as he felt the cold rain trickle down his back. Peering out over the lofty catwalk, Zachariah MacKintosh closed his troubled eyes and reached out to her with the remnants of his shattered heart. Remember, he urged, desperation heating his ancient blood.

Six hundred years had left the powerful warrior aimlessly wandering the castle grounds, forced to watch segments of his treasured home crumble in ruin, helpless to do anything to deter it. And damned to relive that grievous day in the tattered theater of his mind. The day his beloved had met with her tragic end, the day he had been timelessly enslaved by that unspeakable curse.

Time had forsaken him; had become his bitter enemy. He loathed every second of every day he was forced to live without her. What he wouldn’t give to be shrouded in the addictive warmth of her passionate embrace for just one stolen moment.

Six hundred years.

Yet, he could still taste the sweetness of her kiss, could still hear the taunting echo of her laughter as though it were only yesterday.

Hence, his broken spirit waited on the hushed whisper of a dream. She was his only hope.

Would she remember him? Remember the abyss of passion and love they once shared?

Would she forgive him?

Recent events saturated Zachariah’s vengeful soul with renewed faith, rekindled his reason to live-not that he’d had any choice on the matter.

So long ago she had been his life, his heart, his soul, his every breath.

And now...

She held the sole key that could unlock the door and release him from his immortal hell.

Or keep him bound to it for all eternity.

One

Present Day

Men! And she actually thought she’d found her diamond in the rough—Ha! Derrick Mitchell had turned out to be a carbon copy of all the other sex-starved fiends she had dated.

Alicia Ali Cameron marched into the crowded nightclub and strolled to the table currently occupied by her boyfriend and a rather busty red head. A Mona Lisa smile curled her lips as she met and held Derrick’s mortified gaze. The red head’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Ali, then at Derrick. Picking up his half drank Crown and Coke, Ali took a sip and looked at the other woman. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ali, Derrick’s girlfriend. Pretending to sit the glass on the table, she added in a cool, deliberate tone, "Make that ex-girlfriend." Then threw it in his face before storming away.

Silence is golden, she mused, satisfied she’d gotten her point across without causing too much of a scene. Men were all alike when it came right down to it. She’d actually dated this cad for several months—a record for her—before discovering his womanizing ways.

As she drove back to her lonely apartment, she found it funny that she wasn’t as upset about finding her boyfriend with another woman as she ought to be. What she felt was actually closer to relief.

"Face it Ali, you’ll never find anyone to measure up to him. She puffed a strand of dark hair from her eye. You’ll be an old spinster surrounded by thirty cats and still waiting for the man of your dreams to materialize."

Literally.

Even her own mother teased that she’d never be able to find a man who measured up to her unreasonable standards. If you spent less time reading about romance and more time dating, you might actually surprise yourself and find a nice young man to settle down with. I’m not getting any younger you know, I’d like to see a grandchild or two before I pass on.

Her own children? That line of thought never ceased to unsettle her.

~ * ~

Save me my love, only ye can set me free, the handsome, raven-haired man called as he stood in the midst of the murky fog, his strong arms open and inviting. The wind played teasingly with his kilt and lifted his long silky hair in waves about his shoulders.

Remember, he whispered, in that seductively familiar Scottish brogue.

Ali sprang awake as the alarm clock blared Bonnie Tyler’s ‘I Need A Hero’. Mumbling some spirited adjectives, she reached toward the night stand in attempt to muffle the thundering noise and restore peace to her modest apartment.

The thin nightgown clung to her body with the insatiable hunger his delicious Herculean physique left burning inside. Fate seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting her. The dreams had converted to nightmares as this dark prince remained beyond her grasp. He lived only inside her head, teetering somewhere between real and surreal. Sometimes it felt as though she needed him as much as he needed her. The erotic sex-god could easily fill the void that concealed something in her life that she couldn’t quite grasp, like the missing piece still needed to make the puzzle of her life whole and complete.

The gallant man had haunted her dreams for many years now, beckoning to her to save him. He never asked for anything more and seemed quite desperate in his plea.

And, worst of all, he forever interfered with her miserable love life. In fact, he was the sole reason she didn’t have one, his presence continually lurking in the back of her mind. Always between her and her date. She couldn’t help comparing all men to this enchanting phantom, usually finding them lacking in some area or another. His hold on her was beyond her control, an invisible magnet that pulled her back whenever she ventured toward the arms of another.

Numerous sleep studies left specialists scratching their heads. It seemed the dream invader’s need to plague her psyche was far stronger than the script of sleeping pills, or any other alternative they could conjure up.

A bittersweet echo kissed her heart whenever she awoke from one of his nocturnal visits.

Tales of the bewitching gentleman had also inspired her best friend, Sandy, to purchase the novelty alarm clock that exclusively looped the song ‘I NEED A HERO’. Ali had proclaimed it her official theme song many years ago, secretly hoping her dream-man would appear one day and they’d run off together and live happily ever after.

The clock itself was a figurine of a muscle-bound warrior stationed atop a huge boulder. Chest bared and wild hair draped down his broad, V-shaped back. His long sword and face lifted proudly toward the sky. A shapely damsel peered up at him as she clung wantonly to his muscular leg.

Ali often laughed at herself for believing in such childish fairy tales. True love didn’t exist in this day and age. Unlike tales of long ago when gallant knights wooed and won their women, and were more than willing to sacrifice all in the name of love and honor.

Freshly showered and still draped in the thick yellow towel, Ali wandered into her kitchenette and proceeded to make a cup of chai. She liked to call it her ‘wannabe’ kitchen on account of it being just a fraction of the size of an average kitchen.

The small apartment shook as the cantankerous train went by, causing the few remaining dishes in the cupboard to rattle angrily in response.

Note to self: find a quieter place to live after returning from Scotland, she hissed, filling her mug with the sweet tea. Now that she had graduated and had been offered a job at a prominent veterinary clinic, she could afford to move.

Mommy’s going to miss her little baby while she’s away, Ali said, reverting to baby talk. She bent down to collect the Himalayan currently brushing its furry frame against her sun-kissed legs. She fussed over the animal before depositing him back on the floor for his breakfast. Luckily, her parents had agreed to cat-sit while she was away.

Ali’s fondness of cats resulted from a story she’d been told many times as a child. It had been one of her grandfather’s favorites involving a handsome warrior, a curse and a vengeful witch.

She often dismissed her tenacious apparition to this fable. And the fact that she was shamelessly addicted to romance novels! Her dream invader could easily grace the cover of one of those books, she thought with a devilish grin.

Thrilled with a pair of round-trip tickets to Scotland presented by her parents at her graduation party, Ali would be traveling with her grandmother on her return home tomorrow. She secretly toyed with the idea that she might find the man of her dreams while away.

Ali had been in the guestroom helping her grandmother pack at the time she’d invited Sandy along. Maybe ye’ll be meetin’ a nice young lad while ye’re there lass, Grandma Jenny said playfully as she folded a blouse, her aged hands thin and soft like tissue paper. Ali smiled at the slim woman whose once perfect complexion was now blanketed with wrinkles, her once long dark hair now gray and cut short, above her ears. Her soft brown eyes glowed with affection and wisdom.

You’re wasting your time, Mother, said a younger version of Jenny as she entered the guestroom. At the rate she’s going, I’ll never be a grandmother, she added, only half teasing.

Mother! Ali cried, the phone ringing in the background.

Ali, it’s for you dear. It’s Sandy, came her father’s welcome voice from downstairs.

Offering a silent prayer of gratitude for her friend’s perfect timing, she excused herself.

Squatting on the bottom step, the hard wood cold on her backside, she picked up the receiver, Hey Sandy, what’s up?

You’re not going to believe what happened to me today! Exasperation laced her excitement.

Hmmm you found a new flavor of the month? Ali joked.

Huh, I wish. I got fired! Can you believe it? Me! Fired! Sandy shouted, her tone a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Oh Sandy, I’m so sorry. What happened? Although she truly felt sorry for her friend, Ali knew there had to be more to the story, having sung a similar song with her before.

It wasn’t my fault. Not all of it, anyway, Sandy sighed. I asked Lou to keep an eye on the prime rib while I went on break—and the dolt let it burn! Girt was furious. I offered to reimburse him for the meat, but the stubborn ass wouldn’t listen and had the gall to fire me! But do you think he said anything to Lou? Of course not!

Sandy was an accomplished chef; however, she often allowed her personal feelings to interfere with her professional duties, which almost always resulted in trouble.

Girt was her employer at ‘The Green Onion’, aka ‘Girts’ Green Onion’. A regular hot spot near downtown Charleston. Girts real name was Frank, a large, stout man that Sandy had definite personality conflicts with.

Sandy often liked to survey the dining room for potential marriage prospects, aka her breaks. Lou wasn’t the most reliable assistant chef; however, Girt was his uncle.

Aka, job security.

You’re a great Chef, Sandy, Ali stated truthfully. I can think of a dozen restaurants that will be delighted to know that you’re back on the market!

Sandy snorted. Yeah? Maybe, I don’t know, she paused. Maybe I need some time to rethink things, perhaps take a vacation myself. I hear there are tons of hotties in Hawaii! Besides, I think I have enough money to get me by for a while, she giggled.

That was putting it mildly.

Sandy came from a very wealthy family. Her father owned a chain of renowned jewelry stores across the country. She often played with the notion of opening her own restaurant, but decided it was too much work and would take away coveted time in her quest to land a husband.

Ali and Sandy had been best friends since grade school. Although the two women were as different as wet is to dry.

Sandy was tall at five foot, eight inches. Slinky, with shoulder length, curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. Her personality was outgoing, her curiosity often landing her in trouble. She liked to wear tight fitting, revealing clothes to show off what few curves she had. At twenty-four, she had ‘experience’ with the opposite sex, having been naive and deflowered at age nineteen. And she’d left nothing to Ali’s imagination when describing the milestone.

Ali stood five foot-four with eyes as black as midnight and hair that hung like a dark silken drape down her back. She was more reserved in her style of dress, preferring comfortable, loose fitting clothing. At twenty-four, she remained a virgin and would continue to do so until her dream lover materialized.

Sandy commonly ribbed her, Honey, you have to advertise the merchandise if you ever want to sell it!

Sandy, why don’t you come to Scotland for a few weeks with Gran and me? Ali had suggested.

Really? There was silence on the receiver for a few moments as Sandy considered the invitation. Well, I don’t seem to have any other plans. Sounds awesome! Do you think the men there still wear kilts with nothing underneath to secure the family jewels? she snickered.

Only one way to find out! They laughed.

Ali checked her watch. Crap! She was going to be late again. She had a few errands to run before she picked up Sandy. If she didn’t get the electric bill paid, she’d be returning to a cold, dark apartment. Nothing like waiting until the last minute.

She could just hear her mother saying, I do believe you’ll be late for your own funeral, dear.

She was probably right.

~ * ~

The plane ride was long and tiresome. Ali and Sandy discussed shopping and planned sights they wanted to see once they arrived in Scotland. Jenny napped near the window while they watched the featured film, ‘Highlander’.

Christopher Lambert is a total babe! Sandy declared, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Jenny.

He is rather sexy isn’t he? For a light haired guy, Ali baited.

Why, that’s why God invented hair color darling. All you have to do is find a good, willing man and he can have any shade of hair your little heart desires! she laughed as Ali rolled her eyes.

The dark haired man’s not so bad either, Sandy added while pulling a nail file from her carry-on.

Well, Adrian Paul has always been my favorite Highlander; tall, dark and oh-so-handsome! And, not only do you need a drool bib to look at him, he does a lot to benefit children through his PEACE fund. I just love a man who stands up for a good cause.

Sandy’s eyes rounded, Ali, what if you meet your dream man while we’re in Scotland? Wouldn’t you just die? I mean after all, he does wear a kilt! Sculpted brows wiggled suggestively.

Ali laughed, Yeah, right. I’ll bet he’ll ride up to me on his white stallion—with my missing loafer! She frowned. Spare me Sandy, please. I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.

Sandy leaned closer and whispered, Says the girl that secretly awaits a sultry Scot who wears a skirt and seduces her in the shadows of the night while she slumbers.

Ali swatted at her friend with the tiny pillow as they chuckled, Stick to cooking Sandy, your poetry leaves a lot to be desired! She closed her eyes and settled back into her seat. Pretending to nap, she let her mind wander as she’d done so many times before.

~ * ~

It was drizzling when they left the airport in Inverness, as it usually does in Scotland. Fascinated by their surroundings, the girls gaped open-mouthed out the windows of the bus, heading in the direction of Jenny’s cottage. Pictures don’t do justice to the natural beauty of this place, Ali noted, admiring the green, grassy hillsides and rolling mountains that went on as far as the eye could see. It’s absolutely breathtaking. The vision reminded her of hundreds of broccoli florets dotting the mountainsides.

How could anyone willingly choose to leave such a paradise?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the scent of fresh heather taunted her nostrils. And with it came the overwhelming sensation that she’d finally returned home.

Jenny lived in a small cottage within walking distance to town. The cozy home consisted of a living room with a fireplace, a kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. The girls would be sharing the guestroom in the loft.

A full sized bed, night stand and dresser with a large oval mirror furnished the loft. The smell of cedar loomed thickly in the air courtesy of the old wardrobe that stood tall against one corner.

Unpacking would have to wait as the women were anxious to explore and do some shopping. Are you sure you won’t join us, Gran? Ali asked. Jenny’d discarded her shoes immediately after entering the cottage. And, after setting aside her luggage, was now lounged in the plush recliner centered in the living room.

No lass, I’m not as young as I used to be, she chuckled. I need some time to collect myself after the long trip. You girls run along and have a good time. I’ll be sittin’ here holdin’ down this chair when ye return! That earned a smile from both women.

Garbed in rain gear and umbrellas, Ali and Sandy set out to do some serious shopping.

~ * ~

The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour. Once they reached town, the girls sought shelter in the nearest building, a shop dubbed ‘All Things Scottish’. After taking a quick inventory of the place, they decided the name was fitting.

Wow! Who’d have thought you could cram so much of Scotland into such a small space. And just look at all those kilts! Eyes twinkling with mischief, Sandy turned back to Ali. Now, if I could just find one with an eligible bachelor inside—

I’m afraid most Scotsmen no longer don the kilt, lass, came a deep, masculine voice from behind her. Pity that. He frowned. They do have their advantages.

The stranger smiled as Sandy, flushed with embarrassment, turned to match a face with the voice.

She gaped, open mouthed, at the tall, red-haired gentleman. He was dressed elegantly in black trousers, a black and white pin-striped shirt with a black tie, a long black trench coat and black dress shoes. He possessed the most captivating blue eyes she’d ever seen. A girl could definitely lose herself in them.

Forgive me lass, he said, extending his hand. The name’s Marcus MacShaw. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You’re Americans, are ye not?

Pleasure to meet you, Sandy beamed, catching a whiff of his cologne. ‘Obsession’ mmm, her favorite. I’m Sandy, Sandy Jacobs. This is my friend, Alicia Cameron, we call her Ali. We’re from South Carolina, she flashed her most radiant of smiles, revealing perfectly white teeth on which her father had spent a small fortune.

Marcus was visibly taken aback as Ali came into full view. He nodded in Sandy’s direction, acknowledging her presence, then returned his attention to Ali.

Have we met? he inquired, taking her hand and holding it a little longer than necessary.

No, at least I don’t believe so. Unless you’ve been to South Carolina, I’m afraid I haven’t been in Scotland since I was three, she responded, also revealing a brilliant smile.

Although born in Scotland, her parents had relocated to Charleston, South Carolina. The move had been necessary due to her father’s company’s expansion. With the move came better opportunities and benefits.

No, I suppose you’re right. I can’t say that I’ve ever been to America. Perhaps in a previous life then? Marcus added with a playful wink as they laughed.

Do you and your, er, wife, own this shop? Sandy asked, fishing. She had noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band on his oh-so-Scottish finger. Although some married men didn’t, she reminded herself.

He smiled, revealing a prominent dimple on his left cheek. No, I don’t own the store. And I’m not married. I just stopped in to borrow Will’s phone. The phone lines are down again at my place, happens whenever it storms. Will just stepped in the back room for a moment. Shall I get him?

Ali chuckled behind Sandy, I’m sure the owner isn’t selling what she’s in the market to buy. Unless he’s—Ow! She winced as an elbow made contact with her ribs.

What kind of shop do you own, Mr. MacShaw? Sandy batted her lashes at the handsome man as they stood casually near the counter. The sound of bagpipes filtered softly through speakers mounted in the ceiling.

Call me Marcus, please, he insisted. I am the co-owner of a shop just a few doors down, ‘Wishes and Dreams’. We specialize in hypnotism and past life regression. Leaning on the counter, he lifted his brows as though he awaited the multitude of questions that normally rode the tails of the revelation.

You’re serious? Hypnotism? Really? How fascinating. Sandy feigned enthusiasm.

Is that really possible? Past-life regression? Ali’s suspicions surfaced.

Please, Marcus held up a hand in his defense. Don’t look at me as if I’m some kind of crook. It can and does happen, I assure you. He leaned in closer to allow patrons to pass. Do ye believe in reincarnation lass?

Ali hesitated. I can’t say that I’ve ever really given it much thought.

Same here, Sandy shrugged. Do you get much business?

He laughed, a deep, robust sound. Sandy thought her clothes would melt right off her body as a result of the heat racing through her veins.

Actually, I do. Ye might be surprised to know just how many people are intrigued by the possibility that they may have lived in another lifetime. They often come in with some fantasies about having been royalty and the like.

I can see why they would be intrigued, Sandy purred, meaning something entirely different than he did. But, I don’t know. It sort of goes against everything I was raised to believe, she added, battling herself to try and stay on the current topic.

Marcus cringed. Ah, but those are the magic words ‘raised to believe’ aren’t they? Why is that? I’ve often wondered why most people reject even the slightest possibility that their way is not the only way of thinking. A closed mind never opens itself to opportunity, ye know. A soft smile graced his lips.

Have you ever done it yourself? Ali asked, Regressed?

Yes, er, a few times.

Did you go back to a former life? Sandy was visibly bewitched by the stranger.

Would ye believe me if I said yes? Marcus studied her. When Sandy blushed and averted her eyes to the floor, he added, I thought not. His smile turned melancholy, as though he wasn’t surprised by her reaction.

What did you see in your past life? Ali asked with genuine interest.

Ye believe me then, lass? Marcus seemed encouraged.

At least there was hope.

That is the hurdle that most people can’t get past ye know. Those that choose not to open their minds to new possibilities remain captive to the knowledge exclusive to their present existence, denying themselves growth and the passage to other worlds. Divine knowledge will forever be beyond their grasp. He sighed heavily.

I don’t understand. Ali’s expression reflected her puzzlement.

The past is there to teach us lass, for us to learn from. If we remain ignorant to it, we tend to go on making the same mistakes in each life thereafter. Common belief is that we are often, but not always, linked with the same people from one life to the next, in some form or another. Perhaps there was some ‘unfinished business’ in a former life. For instance, ever meet someone and felt as though ye’ve known them forever? Or had an immediate dislike for someone, but couldn’t quite figure out why?

Yeah, Girt! Sandy spat under her breath.

You mean like what happened when we met a few moments ago? Ali’s interest grew. I think everyone has experienced those feelings before.

Aye, lass. Many things are related to our past. Another example, say someone has a fear of water; perhaps they’d drowned in a previous existence. I had a client once that had worked all her life in a custodial position. She couldn’t figure out why she was attracted to that type of work. When she regressed, she found that in a former life, she’d been a favored maidservant and confidante to the Queen of England.

Amazing. Sandy turned her focus to Ali. You must have been a cat in a previous life! She chuckled, then turned back to Marcus. Can you regress us?

Well, we can certainly give it a try. How long will ye be staying in Scotland? He glanced back and forth between the two women.

A few weeks, at least, Sandy informed him. Maybe longer if things go well, she thought. After all, it wasn’t as though she had a job to rush back to.

I have some appointments this afternoon. He paused a moment. Actually, I’m booked over the next few days. If ye’d care to stop by the shop tomorrow, say around noon, I’ll make myself available during my lunch hour.

Are you sure? We wouldn’t— Sandy started.

It would be a pleasure, he assured them with a nod.

It’s a date! I’ll bring sandwiches. All right with you, Ali? She turned pleading eyes toward her friend.

Sure, why not? Ali shrugged, What harm could it possibly do?

Indeed, Marcus agreed, openly pleased.

So, what happened when you regressed? Sandy asked him.

Just then, Will, the store’s owner emerged from the back room. Marcus released a sigh of relief at the old man’s appearance. Will thanked him for minding the store. Did ye get hold of the repairman, lad?

Yes sir. They’ll be out sometime this evenin’, busy due to last night’s storm, ye know. He grabbed his umbrella and headed toward the exit. Some other time lass, he promised Sandy. I’ve got to be gettin’ back now. Like I said, I have some appointments. Pleasure meetin’ ye both. I’ll see ye tomorrow. With a nod in their direction, he disappeared through the door.

Again, he murmured once outside, smiling as he strolled toward his shop. The image of the dark haired beauty he’d just encountered monopolizing his thoughts.

Finally, after all this time.

He will be pleased.

Two

Remember, he pleaded, standing at the castle gate. He wore only his kilt, his broad muscular chest bare and glistening from the sprinkles of rain that caressed his flesh. Come to me, my love, his tone seductive. Ali reached for the hypnotic stranger but something held her back-as though there were an invisible barrier separating them, intent on keeping them apart.

And then he was gone.

Ali awoke to a loud thump. Although she had restlessly kicked the blankets off sometime during the night, her skin was clammy and the cotton gown clung to her. She looked around the unfamiliar room and suddenly remembered where she was. Sandy was sitting at the dresser, leaning over to pick up something off the floor.

Sorry, I dropped my brush. ‘Bout time you got up anyway. She grinned, struggling with the few curls that resisted being grouped with the others piled neatly atop her head. Seeing her friend’s bedraggled appearance, she added, Wet dream, eh? We’ve got to find you a man while we’re here. Perhaps Marcus has a friend, she laughed.

Ali stretched and rubbed her eyes, ignoring that last remark. Yawning, she asked, What time is it? Snatching her slippers from the bedside, she headed for the shower.

Eight o’clock. Want some chai? Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to a cup.

Sounds yummy. Mmm. Gran’s making breakfast. The sounds of rattling dishes along with the delectable scent of freshly brewed coffee, eggs, potato scones and Scottish pancakes penetrated her nose as it wafted up from the kitchen. Ali loved her mother’s cooking, but there was something special about her grandma’s creations that no one else seemed to be able to master. Jenny had tried to