The Lost Dreams. Fiona Hood-Stewart

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      Dear Reader,

      As a native of Scotland, I have always been drawn to the rugged beauty of the Isle of Skye, and the great history found in this land of churning seas, gentle countryside, ancient castles and local village pubs.

      In The Lost Dreams I am thrilled to return to Strathaird Castle and the MacLeod clan. It is here, in this ancient fortress, that American Bradley Ward, caught between inherited responsibilities and new possibilities, must jump from being CEO of a multinational company and learn to become “Lord of the Manor.” Strathaird is also where Charlotte MacLeod must finally face the demons of her past, in order to reclaim her passions and her strength to face the future.

      Some of you may already have met the MacLeod family in my previous novel The Stolen Years, which introduced readers to twins Gavin and Angus MacLeod, and to Flora, the woman they both loved. I, too, loved these characters. In fact, they became so dear to me that I had to discover what happened to the next generation of this captivating extended family. I hope you, too, will enjoy sharing their struggles, their secrets, their passions, fears and hopes, and most of all, the lost dreams they had never thought to find.

      Happy reading!

      Fiona Hood-Stewart

      Also by FIONA HOOD-STEWART

      THE STOLEN YEARS

      THE JOURNEY HOME

      SILENT WISHES

      The Lost Dreams

      Fiona Hood-Stewart

       www.mirabooks.co.uk

      To John with love

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      As always, my love and thanks to my sons, Sergio and Diego, for their patience and support. Many thanks to Andrew, Jojo and Francesca Grima for their help in researching the jewelry described in the text. To my sister, Althea Dundas-Beeker for her input on the management of a Scottish estate, and to my editor Miranda Stecyk, and Dianne Moggy.

      Into my life you came

      When least expected.

      Out of the dark

      You stole my guarded heart.

      Led me by the hand

      To new tomorrows,

      Showed me love,

      Then taught me to impart.

      Gone are the tears of yesterday,

      The sorrows.

      Shed, the lingering shadows,

      Gone the pain.

      Now, in their stead

      The flame of your love lingers,

      Wonder, light and joy

      Their newfound name.

      Dream a little dream

      And let it wander.

      Dare to listen

      Deep inside your soul.

      Breathe love’s tender joys

      And heartfelt treasures—

      Can’t lose the dream

      When now, at last, it’s known.

      F.H.S.

      Contents

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

      1

      Did he feel anything? Charlotte Drummond wondered, gazing at the thin, waxlike body lying perfectly still under pressed white sheets. Was it possible that, despite medical evidence to the contrary, the seemingly lifeless man before her somehow sensed her presence?

      She shuddered, took a deep breath, and quickly shifted her gaze to the sterile hospital wall, then reached out blindly to pull the gray plastic chair back from the side of the metal bed and sat down wearily. The trip to Glasgow and the hospital was both physically and mentally wearing. Now, as she prepared to wait out the self-imposed hourly visit she undertook once every two weeks, as she had for the past year, she forced herself to get a grip on her emotions. She gazed at him once again in a more detached manner, studying the vestiges of those strong, handsome features that once had set the world on fire. Although the devastating smile that had flashed across movie screens and into the hearts of millions around the globe was gone now, obscured by the respirator tubes that kept him alive, his good looks were still evident.

      Then another image flashed. Not so pleasant, but just as memorable. Instinctively she tensed and her fingers moved to her cheek, where more than once she’d felt the impact of his hand, sending her reeling. She trembled involuntarily, knuckles gripping the metal bed rail, hoping he would never wake, afraid that he would.

      She rose nervously, moved quickly away, toward the long, paned window, and stared at the midday traffic trundling slowly under a thin summer drizzle in the street below, wishing she could somehow outrun the obsessive thoughts that always haunted her visits here. Memories she’d never escape, she realized,