Scotland, 1801

The sun hadn't risen yet, and damp mist wreathed the Scottish Lowlands, making the rugged landscape look eerie and mysterious.

Isabeau Aguillon loved it.

The dark shape of an eagle winged overhead, and she watched it glide through the air, silent and deadly.

She'd only been in Scotland for a handful of months, and glimpsing the local fauna still delighted her. Eagles were a particular favourite, though she had a soft spot for beavers too. There was something irresistible about their round bodies and buck-toothed faces.

Isabeau sat on the mossy trunk of a fallen tree and leaned back, resting her weight on her hands.

Seven years had passed since she had fled Paris and the bloody terror of the Revolution, since Celeste and Renee had burned alive in their own home, since Jeanne had chosen to part ways from Isabeau because continuing their friendship was too painful for her.

As she had planned, she had journeyed to England once leaving France, where she'd lived for three quiet years, spending much of the time learning the language. She had picked up some rudimentary English while travelling across Europe, but focusing on improving her language skills had helped keep her mind off what had happened in France. It had helped ease the ache in her heart, the part that had burned away along with her friends.

But being French had made her a subject of interest to the Englishmen and women in the town that she had lived in. They'd all heard the horror stories of the Revolution, and Isabeau was a real link to that, a person who had seen it firsthand and survived. Everyone wanted to ask her about it. Everyone wanted the gory details. Everyone wanted to know about the rolling heads, the slaughter of the royal family, the blood washing through the streets.

Some people had genuinely wanted to understand what was going on.

Some people just loved the macabre, and found a perverse sort of glee in questioning Isabeau.

After three years, she had grown tired of it all, and had moved to Wales, living rurally, as far away from people as she could. Surviving on animal blood wasn't ideal, but it was a price worth paying to be completely alone.

She had lived in Wales for another three years, slowly coming to terms with what she had lost, and by the time she decided to move on again, it was with a fresh spirit, a renewed zest for life.

Scotland had beckoned, and she had willingly gone.

A red squirrel darted up a tree and paused halfway up the trunk, bushy tail twitching. The chatter of another squirrel came down from the higher branches, and Isabeau smiled.

This small patch of woodland was new to her – she'd spent most of the last few months exploring the Highlands before moving into the Lowlands – but the gentle peace of it was something she felt deep in her bones.

Maybe it was time to find somewhere to settle down, at least for a while.

Water splashed in the distance, catching Isabeau's attention.

She turned on the fallen tree, listening, scanning the woods. It had been a big splash, and now that she was listening for it, she could pick up the sound of moving water, the softer splashing of someone swimming.

Who else was out here before the sun?

Isabeau moved through the woods, sidestepping bright patches of wildflowers and large-fronded ferns, until the trees thinned out, and the flower-carpeted forest floor dipped down towards the misty glitter of a small lake.

A figure was swimming in the lake, steadily cutting their way through the water, as lithe and supple as any fish, the pale skin of their back rippling as muscles worked.

They turned their head out of the water, sucking in air, and Isabeau caught a glimpse of long dark hair, slicked back from a freckled female face. It didn't look as though the woman was wearing anything, but that couldn't be right. Isabeau still had a lot to learn about Scotland, but she wasn't sure it was common practice for women to swim naked here.

She should leave.

She didn't know why she didn't.

Something held her in place, standing at the edge of this mist-wreathed lake, before the rest of the world woke up, watching a strange woman swimming like a mermaid.

Then suddenly the woman was almost at the bank.

She stood up as her feet touched the shallower edges of the lake bed, sluicing water off her face with her hands and pushed her wet hair back. Her eyes were closed – she hadn't seen Isabeau.

And she was very naked.

Now Isabeau felt distinctly uncomfortable. If she moved, the woman would hear her. If she stayed, the woman would see her as soon as she opened her eyes. Either way, she would think that Isabeau had been spying on her – which she sort of had, but not intentionally. The beauty of the woods and the lake and the strangeness of this woman swimming here at this hour had captured her attention, not the fact that the woman was naked.

While she dithered, the woman opened her eyes.

Isabeau braced for anger or fear, but the woman only smiled.

She was young, barely twenty, and there was a gap between her front teeth that Isabeau found charming in a way she never had before.

"Madainn mhath," the woman said said, apparently completely unconcerned about her nudity. "De an t-ainm a tha' oirbh?"

Isabeau shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Gaelic."

Since she had mostly avoided people while living in Wales, she had only picked up a handful of Welsh Gaelic phrases, but even if she had a better grasp of the language, it wouldn't have helped her here. Welsh Gaelic and Scottish Gaelic weren't the same.

"I said good mornin'," the woman said, switching to English. "And I asked what your name was."

"You want to know my name?" Isabeau was a little taken aback.

Had this woman forgotten she was naked?

Didn't she mind being out in the woods with a complete stranger like this?

"I'm Aileana Muir," the woman. "And you are . . ." She let the sentence trail off, waiting.

"Isabeau Aguillon."

Aileana grinned, showing off that gap in her teeth again. "What kind of accent is that you've got?"

"French."

"You're a long way from home, lass," Aileana said.

"It's not home to me anymore." Isabeau stared pointedly over Aileana's head, fighting the urge to look down, because she'd already got a glimpse of Aileana's bare body when she'd stood up, and . . . she really wanted to look again. "You do know that you're naked, don't you?"

Aileana looked down and then back up, a twinkle in her eyes. "Aye. I don't make a habit of forgettin' my clothes." She turned and pointed across the lake. "I left them there."

"Why?"

Aileana tilted her head. "I can hardly go swimmin' in them, can I?"

"I mean, don't you have anything to swim in?"

Aileana chuckled, and it stirred things in Isabeau that had lain dormant for a long time.

"I do, but I'll be honest with you, lass, I like the way the water feels when I'm not wearin' anythin'."

Isabeau wished she could think of something more eloquent to say than, "Oh."

"You never tried it?"

"I can't say that I have."

Another chuckle, another flash of that tantalising tooth-gap. "Maybe you should."

Isabeau couldn't hold back a laugh of her own. "Are you asking me to swim naked with you?"

Aileana licked her lips, and heat flashed through Isabeau.

The Scottish girl wasn't exactly what anyone would describe as a great beauty, but that was something about her wide mouth and bright eyes, the scattering of freckles on her face, that made Isabeau want to admire her like a work of art.

"Aye, maybe I am," Aileana said.

"Do you do this often?"

"Swim naked? Aye, most days." Aileana took a step forward. "Find beautiful French girls waitin' on the shore for me? This is a first."

Lake-water swirled around her calves, but there wasn't much space left between them, and this time Isabeau couldn't help looking down, catching quick glimpses of full breasts and wide hips and strong legs. She dragged her gaze back up to Aileana's face and the knowing twinkle in Aileana's eyes. Aileana knew she had been looking.

Isabeau searched for words but couldn't find any.

Was this real, or had she strayed into a beautiful dream?

Aileana's smiled faded. "Am I makin' you uncomfortable, lass?"

"No, not at all. This is just . . . unexpected," Isabeau blurted out.

"Can't say I was expectin' it either," Aileana said, the smile coming back.

Isabeau wanted to kiss her.

She wanted to kiss this strange woman in a way she hadn't wanted to kiss anyone in a long time, but it had been years since she'd been intimate with anyone. Her body felt like it had been asleep for so long and now Aileana was waking it up.

But the mist over the lake was starting to disappear, and the grey predawn light was brightening to pink as the sun stirred. Isabeau had been a vampire for seventy-one years now, and she didn't have to hide from the sun like she had when she was a younger vampire. But she was still a long way from developing the sort of resistance that someone as old as Celeste had had, and she didn't know the land well enough to risk staying out too long. There were plenty of places in this rugged, magnificent landscape that a vampire could shelter in, but only if she knew where they were first.

"I have to go," she said.

Disappointment flashed across Aileana's face. "So soon?"

"I'm sorry."

"D'you think you'll be back?"

"Do you want me to come back?"

Aileana's gaze drifted down Isabeau's body in a way that made Isabeau feel like she was the naked one.

"Aye, I'd like that," she said.

"Do you live around here?" Isabeau asked.

Aileana pointed across the lake. "I live there, in Duggan House."

For the first time, Isabeau realised there was a house across the lake, standing at the top of a sweeping slope of land. It was a beautiful building, a great Palladian mansion of pale stone and countless windows, its roof topped by rows of chimneys.

Isabeau reassessed Aileana. If she lived there, then clearly she came from money, which made her nude swims in the lake even more surprising. In Isabeau's experience, wealthy families fought hard to maintain their reputations. Maybe things were different in Scotland.

"It's a lovely house. You're very lucky," she said.

Aileana laughed, which did interesting things to her bare breasts. Isabeau tried not to look, she really did, but she couldn't help herself.

"Duggan House isn't mine. I'm just a kitchen girl, but it's easier for the Duggan family to let me and the other workin' girls live there. It's not like they don't have room to spare."

"So they don't know about . . . this," Isabeau said, vaguely gesturing to the loveliness of Aileana's naked body and the lake behind her. The surface of the water was starting to gleam gold as the first rays of sun warmed the sky.

"I come down early, before any of the family is up. They've got no idea – no one does."

"Except me," Isabeau pointed out.

"Aye," Aileana said, taking another step closer. "Except you."

Her pale skin was goose-pimpled from the cold water, and Isabeau couldn't help imagining how she would warm Aileana up, how she would run her hands over that skin, chasing drops of lake-water over her body until she reached those secret places.

But . . .

"I really do have to go," she said.

"I'm not keepin' you," Aileana said.

She was, though not through any fault of her own. Isabeau almost considered risking the sun for the chance to stay here, but common sense cut through the fog of lust in her head.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.

"Aye. Will you?"

Isabeau actually couldn't remember the last time she had kissed a woman. There had been a handful of brief dalliances when she was making her way across Europe, but they'd been few and far between, and none of them had led to any meaningful connection.

This felt different.

Aileana was different.

Isabeau wanted to know more.

"I'll be here tomorrow," she said.

Aileana treated her to one more glorious grin, then she turned and dove back into the water, her strong arms slicing through that flat surface, her strong legs propelling her back across the lake towards Duggan House.

Isabeau watched her until she reached the other side and climbed out, then hurried over to a knot of bushes close to the lake's edge where her clothes must be hidden. She watched Aileana pull on a tartan skirt and white blouse, watched her twist her wet hair into a knot at the nape of her neck, and then watched her making her way up to the house itself.

She turned before she reached the top of the slope, and Isabeau was sure that Aileana's human eyesight wasn't good enough to see her from here, but Aileana waved anyway.

Isabeau waved back, just in case.

"Until tomorrow," she murmured.

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