Free Return of the Highlander (Immortal Warriors) by Sara Mackenzie Page B

she…
    “Where is that draft coming from?”
    She was looking around, a frown wrinkling her brow.
    “I’m no draft!” Maclean said in disgust.
    Bella shivered again. “There’s something wrong with this house,” she muttered. Then, reluctantly, as if she didn’t really want to believe it: “Maclean?”
    Just then the talking box began to sing its song. Again.
    As usual, Bella rushed to answer it. Only this time she jumped up and walked right through him.
    “Bloody hell, woman, dinna do that!”
    She started and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and for a moment he thought for sure she had heard him. Or seen him. Heart beating hard, he waited, but she was already grabbing up the box and holding it to her ear.
    “Hello?”
    Maclean sat down on the chair she had just vacated and tried to think. Bella was writing about him in her book; he was fairly certain the whole book was about him. Why else would she have his portrait on her wall? Why else would she be here, in Fasail, where he used to live? When he first arrived he hadn’t thought much about the significance of her being here, but this changed things. This meant that it wasn’t just chance. He had attached himself to Bella because it was meant to be. The Fiosaiche had chosen this moment to bring them together, and they were both playing a part in her plan.
    But if that was so, then why couldn’t he show himself to Bella in the flesh?
    “Yes, of course it’ll be ready on deadline.” Bella was still speaking into the box. She gave a little laugh, but she was pretending. Her eyes had a worried expression. “I didn’t realize you were so keen on this one, Elaine. You said you couldn’t even promise you’d take it on until you had read—” She paused, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Oh, I see. Is that…good?” The frown cleared and she smiled, a proper smile this time, wide and beautiful.
    Caught up in that smile, forgetting his own problems, Maclean leaned forward. The chair creaked ominously.
    Bella stopped smiling. Her gaze was fixed on the chair.
    Maclean held his breath and moved again. The chair gave another creak.
    Bella’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes, I see,” she was saying, but it was obvious she wasn’t really concentrating. “Thanks for calling, Elaine.”
     
     
    Bella finished the call from her agent. Her empty chair had creaked and when she looked at it she could have sworn it…it moved .
    She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Nothing. The chair was perfectly still. The room was completely empty. What did she expect? Maclean sitting there writing her book for her?
    But she didn’t laugh. She’d remembered that when the phone rang and she’d gone to answer it she had felt a small, intense electric shock. That was the only way she could describe it. As if she had passed through some living…force.
    Bella narrowed her eyes and gave the room another minute inspection. However much she might fantasize about Maclean, it was really just that, a fantasy. He wasn’t real. Then why did she have this intense awareness of someone else sharing her cottage? Was it the man on the horse with his hate-filled face? Bella shuddered. She’d much rather have Maclean; black-hearted villain or not, he was the man for her.
    “Maybe you can help me with the book,” she said aloud, wildly, to try and jolt herself out of the creepiness of the situation. “Do you hear me, Maclean? Come on, give me some clues. What were you feeling as you marched to Culloden? What went through your mind? An Interview with a Dead Highland Chief. Mmm, I wonder if Reading England would want to review that.”
    At least it made her laugh.
    The smile stayed. That was what her agent had rung to tell her. Bella’s last book had just been reviewed on the prestigious television show Reading England . Afive-star review. It was unheard-of. And since then it had sold out and the publisher was reprinting.
    It was unbelievable. Her books never sold out, they