The Highlander's Haunted Kiss by Joanne Rock

Chapter One
    Scotland, 1890
    Lillian Desalles, the former Viscountess Broadville, had run away twice in her life.
    The first instance occurred in New York when she was still Lily Rothmore, a headstrong American heiress who mistakenly thought she had some say in her life. At ten years old, she protested against the firing of her favorite drawing master by packing up the sweetbreads from teatime, dressing in a stolen groom’s livery and hiding out among the bushes in Central Park. No one had noticed her disappearance for hours, and by the time they did, her father was so furious to have his evening cigar interrupted, he’d retaliated by dismissing Lily’s governess and the groom.
    Guilt plagued her after that incident, so Lily had tried to be a dutiful daughter, even going so far as to marry the Viscount Broadville, a man older than her father. The marriage had been a farce with an aging, impotent man left to consummate the union. But it left her with a modest parcel of land in the remote Highlands when the Viscount died a fortnight after they spoke their vows.
    Lily now made the crumbling tower at Invergale the destination of her second attempt to run away. She had no choice but to risk her father’s wrath this time, lest she find herself bound forever to another man who wanted only an alliance with her wealth.
    â€œMy lady? Shall I bring a lantern?” a worried voice called from the road where a lightweight carriage rested with her maids, a footman and a Highland guide she’d paid to show them the way to the lands. “Or perhaps we should return to the inn until someone can escort us properly?”
    â€œNo, thank you, Glenda.” The maid had been protesting this trip since they’d been five minutes outside of London. “I can see. There is a side entrance here.” Lily’s eyes had already adjusted to the moonlight.
    Invergale loomed, a forbidding stone tower bracketed by two wings on either side and perched on Loch an Eilein. Any corners of the structure had worn away due to moss slowly devouring the ancient medieval stronghold. Arrow slits loomed like dark caverns in the facade, hinting at the keep’s days as a fortress. Cold wind whipped around what was left of crenellated parapets, creating an eerie whistle and wail, an unearthly warning to trespassers.
    Or so it felt to Lily as she tugged at a vine over the side entrance, since the main doors had been curiously bolted from within. Shivering in the traveling cloak that covered her widow’s weeds, she took a step back to inspect her work and her foot sank in a soft spot along the bank of the loch. Frigid, murky water soaked her slipper and weighed down her skirt.
    â€œFor pity’s sake,” she murmured, plucking her toes from the muck. Apparently, the loch washed close to the castle walls here.
    Snap.
    A noise from the forest made her pause. She peered over her shoulder toward a thick stand of trees in the opposite direction from where the carriage sat.
    A shadow darted between the gnarled trunks of the rowan trees. A man. She could see broad shoulders in the moonlight.
    Who trespassed here? Had she been followed? She had hoped her removal from London would put the matter of her marriage out of her father’s mind for a bit longer. Her heartbeat quickened as the shadow stood utterly still.
    â€œSir?” she called out, her lips gone dry with new fear.
    â€œLady Lily?” A gravelly voice sounded from her other side as her footman—Edward—approached the tower.
    â€œI’m down here, Edward.” She stood on her toes for a better view. “Do you see that man?” She pointed toward the rowan trees and the outline of a man of considerable height and breadth.
    â€œA man? Where?” Edward peered in the direction she indicated then glanced back to her. “Certainly not. It’s well past dusk and there are no villages nearby.”
    How could he not discern the figure among the