Glendrake

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? Sarah was agitated, twisting tendrils of her hair.

Yeah, pretty much, Meagan said. Sarah, listen, how can you have a life and death thing with a man who has been dead for who knows how long?

Maybe he has a cousin who’s breathing! Sarah interjected.

Oh, hilarious! Come on, you can’t let this turn you inside out again.

Too late.

Meagan shook her head, "Great, just great. A manic forty-year-old romantic, loose in the Highlands of Scotland. Sounds to me like a tasty meal for The Enquirer."

Stop, please stop, Sarah chuckled, trying to fend off any more verbal attacks. "Please, not The Enquirer."

The two friends fell to laughing. You are too much. How is it you can make me laugh, Sarah asked, when I don’t find this particularly funny?

It must have to do with all our past lives. Strong glue, you know.

Yes, I know, but… Sarah looked wistfully out the bay window at the San Francisco Bay dotted with sailing boats. On this clear summer day, it was picture perfect, but her life was not.

Finally, Meagan said, You’re going to do it this time, I suppose.

I have to.

I can’t change your mind? Meagan asked, somewhat resigned.

No, Meg, it’s a ‘got-to-do thing.’ I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering why this place, this man—okay, ghost—pulls me there.

Hmmm, Meagan pondered, drinking her coffee, trying to settle the nerves kicking in her stomach. So when does this got-to-do trip take place?

Soon.

And soon means?

Within the week. The travel agent is waiting for final confirmation.

Well, I’m going on record. You need parental supervision here.

That never helped before.

Yeah, yeah, well, if I wasn’t in this play up to my eyeballs…

Sarah smiled at her friend. I know you care, and I know you’re worried, but if I can’t get it together at forty, it’s worse than we thought.

Interesting take on getting it together. Well, Meagan continued, then there’s only one thing left to do.

And that is? Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shopping, of course! I wonder what’s fashionable in the Highlands this summer.

Sarah laughed. Now I know why I like you best. You can rise above your friend’s insanity and take her shopping.

Of course. Insanity with a shopping chaser puts everything in perspective. Everybody knows that.

Yeah, I suppose so.

Now come on, Meagan said. Shoo. Go change your clothes. We have important things to do.

Sarah grinned at her friend and turned away, padding down the hallway to her bedroom. Her smile only faltered slightly as, at this moment, she was only too glad to leave her fears and doubts hidden by the glare of the warm summer day.

Chapter 2

Sarah shook her head again as she watched frustration flicker over Meagan’s face.

What is it, Sarah? We have been at this for hours. You always breeze through a shop. You know your style. Classic stuff.

I know, I know. But nothing feels right. Sorry, Meg.

I have to say this. This whole deal with that castle, the dream man. When it affects shopping, we are in trouble. A subtle twinkle lurked in Meagan’s brown eyes as she watched for her friend’s reaction.

Her attempt at humor missed the mark, and Sarah turned, looking at her friend with troubled gray eyes. I don’t want what I have always worn. I feel, I feel I want… she paused, searching for the right words. I want something more feminine, more romantic.

Period costume, perhaps? Meagan teased. That would be fun. Okay, I flat out refuse to put you on a 747 in costume. The public is just not ready.

Very funny. Hey, I’m trying, Meg, but I feel I’m changing ever since I made the decision to go to Scotland, to Glendrake Castle. It’s like something is happening to me from the inside out. I know it sounds strange, but…

Don’t go there. More food for the tabloids. Meagan raised an eyebrow.

Sarah managed to laugh despite her concerns. Okay, I get it. Let’s try another place.

Okay, one more time, with feeling.

The actress has spoken.

Indeed she has, Meagan grinned. Grabbing Sarah’s arm, she pulled her out of the shop, turned right, and began to walk down the sidewalk. Okay. Now, where to?

Sarah stopped a moment, looking up and down the street. As she did, her eyes came to rest across the street upon a little boutique. The sign read Guinevere’s Closet and hung above a purple door. Her whole face lit up. There, there, over there. That’s it! she pointed energetically. Come on, Meagan. She grabbed Meagan’s arm and began to sprint across the street.

What? was all Meagan could manage as she ran to keep up with Sarah’s long stride.

Meagan stood just inside the store, completely amazed at the interior of this little shop.

Sarah, on the other hand, completely unfazed, dove in. Her oohs and ahhs echoed around them about the clothes that were decidedly different.

The store’s décor was clearly medieval—antique tables, an armoire here and there, and a tapestry added charm to the room. The plain white walls had been painted by artists to depict scenes from medieval history. The dressing rooms were small tents, charming, with crests embossed on the front door. An unusual scent of spice and orange lingered in the air.

But something else, something about all of this just didn’t sit right with Meagan. For one thing, the storefront was empty just a few days ago. That she would swear to. As she frowned, a saleslady appeared who looked to Meagan as though she were left over from the sixties. She had fabulous natural wavy-blonde hair to her waist and light green eyes, not to mention the flowery ensemble. She was beautiful but different. There was something else about her that went beyond