Dearest Reader,
Do you love men in kilts?
I know I do. As a lifelong card-carrying Scotophile, I've always swooned for a man in plaid. There's just something about a flash of tartan that makes a girl's heart beat faster. And have you noticed that kilties always have cute knees? And such sexy calves? I won't mention their deep, buttery-rich voices. Everyone knows a Highlander can melt a woman at fifty paces with his burr alone. Throw in a rousing skirl of pipes and let the kiltie dazzle you with his smile and I'd dare any female to resist him.
Scotland is hard to resist, too. Its pull grabs people all around the world, making them yearn to go there. Or, for those like me who frequently visit, that same pull makes you ache to return.
Those who go for the first time are instantly enchanted, amazed that Scotland truly is as magical as they'd imagined. Everything so quintessentially Scottish is there to delight them. Great hills and mist and sparkling lochs, heathery moors and soaring cliffs. Dark glens abound and mysterious isles dot the coasts, begging exploration. The first waft of peat smoke on a chill autumn afternoon is downright intoxicating.
Thousands of years of history surround the visitor. Ruined castles and abbeys, medieval battlefields, ancient burial cairns and stone circles are still there. Tangible traces of all that's gone before and—to some sensitive souls—might still exist today, shimmering just beneath the surface of the world as we know it.
Celtic myth, legend, and lore springs to life before your eyes and it becomes so easy to believe in the mystical. My own pet fantasy when enjoying alone time within the tumbled walls of a castle ruin is to imagine stepping into the past and encountering the ghost of a medieval Highlander in all his kilted glory. If the day is one of low clouds and thick, swirling mist, it can seem possible. This is especially true if you visit my own favorite part of Scotland, the remote far north. This is Sutherland and it is Scotland away from the usual tourist path. It's also the setting of my latest Scottish-set paranormal, Tall, Dark, And Kilted.
I've always loved wild places as you can see from the photo of me at Muckle Flugga in Shetland, the northernmost point of land in the British Isles. I had great fun writing Tall, Dark, And Kilted because so many of the places Hardwick and Cilla visit are places near and dear to my heart. Whenever I put my fingers to the keyboard, I was there again, back in Sutherland with my characters. They had very different reasons for being there. Cilla wanted to mend a broken heart and get away from the stress of a failing business.
Like me, Cilla appreciates wild places as is shown in this exchange that takes place when she encounters Hardwick on the battlements of Dunroamin Castle, her aunt and uncle's home. She wants to know who Hardwick is and where he comes from. It isn't an easy question to answer because Hardwick is pushing 700. He's a medieval ghost, you see, and he isn't at all pleased by Cilla's arrival at Dunroamin....
***
"Who are you?" She regarded him warily. "Where did you come from?"
"From a place more distant than you'd believe." He ignored her first question. "And I've good advice for you. If you're after a true taste of Scotland, hie yourself—"
"Hie myself?" She blinked.
"Take yourself," he clarified, scowling. "Quit this place and journey south. Inverness, the Isle of Skye, Stirling and Perth, perhaps even down to Edinburgh. Or Glasgow. Aye"—he appeared to warm to the idea—"Glasgow is where you should be! Loch Lomond is there and—"
"I saw Loch Lomond on the drive up here." Cilla frowned right back at him. "We stopped for lunch at Luss and I've never seen so many coach tour buses crowded into such a tiny car park. Or so many people jammed into souvenir shops no bigger than a postage stamp. If that is Scotland"—she scooted around him and made a wide sweeping gesture with her arm, taking in the rain-dampened parapet and the broad, silvery Kyle—"I'd rather be here."
Suddenly in her face again, he leaned close. "Be warned," he breathed, his dark gaze piercing her. "Sutherland is filled with lonely moors and dark bogs. Mountains so vast and bleak they'd eat a lass like you bones and all and no one would ever be the wiser."
"I like wild places." She tossed back her hair, defiant.
He snorted. "This is the end of the world."
Cilla smiled. "Exactly."
***
Obviously, Hardwick fails in his endeavors to chase Cilla from Dunroamin. I would not have had a story if he'd succeeded. But he did have major reasons for wanting her gone. Hardwick was cursed by a traveling minstrel to wander the world forever, pleasing a different woman each night yet never attaining his own... er, ah ... satisfaction.
Not surprisingly, after seven centuries, he grew weary of his plight. He strikes a bargain with the Dark One, Lord of the Netherworld, to end his misery and be granted the eternal peace he craves. But, of course, the Dark One doesn't undo curses without a price.
If Hardwick's wishes are to be granted, he dare not become aroused for a year and a day. Fortunately, Hardwick is allowed to choose the site of his proving period. He picks Dunroamin Castle in Scotland's far north. Dunroamin is a now a retirement home and there isn't a resident under 60. He is sure Dunroamin is the one place he can avoid temptation. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on the arrival of the castle owners' American niece. And the last thing Cilla expected was to fall in love with a tall, dark, and kilted ghost!
I hope you'll enjoy visiting my favorite part of Scotland with Hardwick and Cilla. To learn more about their world and see photos I've taken of some of the places they explore, visit me at www.alliemackay.com.
And if you ever get to Sutherland, walk gently and the hills will welcome you.
With all good wishes,
—Allie Mackay
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