The next day, I sat white-knuckled in a cushy seat as the airplane made its way down the tarmac. In nine hours, we would touch down at Prestwick Airport and I would be on my way.

"Nervous flier?" the passenger next to me leaned over and asked.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "It's just been a while." My thumb brushed continuously over my empty left ring finger. "Are you visiting family?"

"Actually just coming back home. My daughter lives in the states and I was visiting my grandchild for the first time."

"That's amazing! Congrats."

"Thank you. I just wish my wife were still around. Two years this coming February." He nodded to my hand. "How long have you been without the ring? Sorry, I know that must seem a bit forward, but I couldn't help but notice the 'phantom ring' movement you've been doing."

I blushed, wiping my hand on my jeans. "It's a nervous habit."

He let out a chuckle. "I do it too. It takes a while to get used to."

The plane lurched forward into the air and I clutched at the arm rests. Once the plane had leveled out again, I turned to the man sitting next to me.

"Does it get any better?" I asked.

My companion smiled. "Aye. Time heals, we just have to give it a chance." Then he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Well, I guess that's that. I placed the airline pillow behind my head and tried to get some rest.

I dozed on the plane until the flight attendants came around with dinner, which I immediately scarfed down. For airline food, it was pretty tasty. A few hours later—I swore it only felt like seconds—we landed in Scotland.

Passengers shuffled around in their seats, stretching their arms and reaching for luggage in the overhead containers. I grabbed my tote from under the seat in front of me and made my way down the line to exit the plane. With the time difference, it was very early in the morning so the sun had not yet risen in the sky. I made my way through the airport where I collected my suitcase at the baggage claim. As I walked to the exit to catch a cab, I noticed a man holding a sign with my name on it.

Frowning, I walked over to him.

He grinned as I approached. "Emilie Taylor?" he asked.

"Th-that's me."

The man tipped his hat. "I'm Lachlan Baird, your chauffeur. Welcome to Scotland."

A chauffeur? Wow, whoever sent the ticket really went all out. "Thank you. I, um, I didn't realize...sorry, it's been a long flight."

Lachlan laughed. "Not to worry." He led me to a town car parked out front and lifted my suitcase into the rear. "You're going to MacLeod's Book Emporium, aye?"

"Yes." I climbed into the backseat and the car rumbled forward along the road. I gripped the seat as we rolled into the lane on the left before remembering this was the correct side of the road. We were in Scotland, not America.

"I've been working with the MacLeod family for many years," Lachlan said. "They're good people. You're the guest they've been waiting for, aye?"

I fished out the note from my pocket. MacLeod, that was the name on the paper. "I guess so. Did they send me the ticket?"

"Sorry, ma'am. I do not know. All they said was to pick up a guest at the airport. I'm to bring you to the bookstore so you can get settled in."

Settled in? "Um, what about a hotel?"

"Ah, you will be staying in the flat above the bookstore. You're not the first guest to stay there."

I remembered reading on the bookstore's website how the owners of the bookshop rented out the apartment to guests. In exchange, the guests would help out around the shop. I guess that's what I was meant to do now.

"How much do you know about the shop?" I asked, now intrigued. The incentive to help out at the shop had drawn me in, and it was my dream to run my own bookstore some day.

"Quite a bit, actually. It's been in the MacLeod family for generations, now run by Angus's son."

"Wait a minute. Angus MacLeod?" I leaned forward in my seat. "The Angus MacLeod?" Angus MacLeod was the editor of a major newspaper in Scotland. He had connections all over the UK. How had I not seen the connection before?

"Yes." Lachlan veered the car into the next lane over. "I take it you are familiar?"

Familiar was an understatement. "Yeah, I've been trying to get an entry in for years. Maybe that's why I was picked to come here?"

"Possibly." Lachlan glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Although, most folks who come to stay are just here for vacations and they go through a screening application process. You are the first that the family hadn't been in contact with before arriving."

I frowned. "So they really didn't know I was coming?"

"Not until the other day. If you were directed here, there had to be a reason, aye?"

"Yeah." I leaned back and pursed my lips in thoughts. The question remained as the car drove away from the highway, past the rolling green hills illuminated by the early morning light that began to touch over the horizon.

Who had sent me here? And why?

After closing my eyes for what seemed like only seconds again, the car rolled to a stop. I rubbed my eyes and stretched as Lachlan lifted my suitcase out and opened the door for me.

"Here we are," Lachlan said. "He should be out in a minute."

I looked up at the building in awe. It was even more beautiful in person. But with the earliness of the hour, there was not a single soul in sight.

Wait a minute. Did Lachlan say 'he'? Someone else was coming to meet me?

Without missing a beat, I said, "Thank you. I hope I'm not waking anyone by arriving so early."

"Not at all," a new voice chimed in. "I was already awake. Perks of insomnia I guess."

I turned at the sound of the new voice, my heart thudding in my chest. The man gave me a tired smile.

This must be who Lachlan was talking about.

"Are you, um—" I glanced at the card that came with the plane ticket again. Fionn MacLeod, it said. My eyes widened. How was that pronounced? Fee-on? Fi-on? "'Finn'?" I asked.

The man scoffed lightly. "In Scotland, it's pronounced 'Fe-yon'." The word rolled off his tongue in one breath. "Americans always botch the name. But yes, I'm Fionn. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand to greet me.

Great first impression, Emilie.

I shook his hand, feeling the rough calluses against his skin. "Emilie. I-I'm staying here I think."

"Yes." He dug out a key. "Emilie Taylor, right?"

I nodded. At least he knew who I was, which had to mean I was expected. So whoever had sent me the ticket must've informed him as well.

"Good." Fionn turned to Lachlan. "Thank you, Lachlan. That'll be all for tonight."

Lachlan tipped his hat at us. "Good night."

"Come, I'll help you get set up," Fionn said when we were alone. He pulled my suitcase behind him and I hurried after him, only stopping once in awe as we entered the bookstore. "The door on the right is the office. You're not to go in there. Up the stairs and to your left is the flat. Here are your keys: one for your room, one for the shop. Get changed into something comfortable and we'll go for a walk."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he'd already unlocked the door to the apartment and started down the stairs.

He turned around when he reached the landing, smirking at the look on my face. "You'll thank me later."

I nodded. "Give me five minutes."

"Sure, love. Oh, and welcome to Scotland."