Amulet of Fate

Amulet of Fate

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by Angela Ashton
     
 

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Can she free the familiar Scot that haunts her dreams before it's too late? Scottish legend tells of a fourteenth century chieftain cursed by a remorseful sorceress in order to escape certain death at the hands of his lover's English husband. While visiting her native Scotland, Alicia Cameron stumbles upon the secrets of the old MacKintosh castle, and the truth of her… See more details below

Overview

Can she free the familiar Scot that haunts her dreams before it's too late? Scottish legend tells of a fourteenth century chieftain cursed by a remorseful sorceress in order to escape certain death at the hands of his lover's English husband. While visiting her native Scotland, Alicia Cameron stumbles upon the secrets of the old MacKintosh castle, and the truth of her own tragic past? Enslaved by a cursed amulet, Zachariah MacKintosh has roamed the remains of his castle for six centuries. Guided by fate, he's reunited with the woman linked to his misfortune--the sole key to delivering him from his immortal hell. He realizes he must find a way to jog her buried memories, for if he should fail in this quest, the horrid curse would bind him for all eternity. There is just one problem? The curse has left him in the form of his clan motto: a cat.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
2940000104774
Publisher:
Champagne Books
Publication date:
02/29/2000
Sold by:
Barnes & Noble
Format:
NOOK Book
Sales rank:
862,049
File size:
0 MB

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Read an Excerpt

"Now ye see a staircase. Climb the stairs until ye reach the top." He paused. "At the top of the staircase is a tunnel." He paused again. "At the end of the tunnel, there is a door. Go inside and look around. Are ye alone? What are ye wearing? Do ye know the date?" Marcus hesitated briefly between each question allowing her subconscious to take note of her surroundings.

Ali followed his instructions to the letter. She looked around after entering the room at the end of the tunnel. The fog grew thicker and Marcus's voice faded farther into the distance with each step she took. Straining her eyes, her heart began to pound rapidly. A panicked strangling sensation consumed her as the fog began to clear.

What was happening?

Peering about wild-eyed, she looked down at herself. She was wearing a long, dirty white shirt of some sort, with a torn sleeve that flapped softly in the breeze from the opened door. She could taste a foul dread in the air, feel doom dance along her spine as it wafted in with the wind. Some blood spilled onto the sleeve from a gash on her arm.

She was in what appeared to be an old abandoned cottage. The door lay on the ground in the entry, as though it had been deliberately placed there. A fire burned in the stone fireplace. She could hear it sizzle and crack, could smell the burning embers.

And, God help her, she was not alone.

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