Siena had another hour of journey in front of her, James thought as he collected his luggage and headed out of the airport terminal less than two hours after he had boarded his plane. 

He pulled the hood of his rain jacket up before he ran towards his car; the heavy rain would make the traffic towards the city slow... He sighed, the thirteen miles lying between the airport and the city of Inverness was the worst part of his journey, most tourists eager to explore Scotland by a rented car were not used to driving in such a rainfall.

He needed to stop in the office before going home, as Claire had eagerly reminded him when he had texted her that he was back. She always insisted on his coming in person even though he could easily work from home. Oh, well. It was better to pop in the office on his way, otherwise he risked her turning up at his doorstep later tonight, undeterred by having to walk up the almost three kilometres long path skirting the lake's shore which lay between the closest parking lot and his cottage.

Shaking his head, he watched the rain fall with relentless pounding on the windscreen, the heavy drops exploding on impact, the ceaseless sound cutting through the swish and whisper of the moving wipers. He had never actually realised how little he cared for Claire's presence in his life before, while he believed that he would eventually get infatuated with her on a deeper level, that their attraction would grow into love. But it hadn't happened and would never happen now.

James needed to think of a way to tell her that what was between them would have to change, that he had met someone with whom he could actually see himself falling in love... Siena would love this rain, it never rained this way in London let alone Florence, he mused, observing the yellow and red lights of the cars crawling along the road in front of him turn into glowing smeared stains and smudges, making the world outside look like an abstract painting. 

"Here you are! Where have you gone to, without saying anything!" Claire threw herself in his arms the moment he entered the office of The Ghosts of Scotland, the decently popular monthly magazine James co-owned with his best friend Angus, dealing as much with the Scottish history as its paranormal activity.

He hugged her back briefly in the most friendly fashion he could muster-- he didn't want to hurt her feelings but it had been a while since he was pondering them, him and her as a couple, thinking that it might be better for both to end the affair between them which she lured him into too many months ago, when he didn't have a real reason to refuse. But now, all thoughts of Claire were replaced by Siena... She would be home soon... Would she drive from the airport like he had? Could she even drive? He never asked her. Would someone pick her up? Maybe that Alessandro, whom she had mentioned, would be just as eager to see her as Claire was to see him... 

James shuddered mentally at the thought and pushed Claire, gently and politely, away from him as he asked, "Where's Angus? You said he wanted to see me."

"He just went to buy his cigarettes. He'll be back any minute now. But tell me, why did you leave so suddenly?"

"I just needed a break, that's all. I haven't been to London in years," James hedged. He walked to his desk placed by the window overlooking the square teeming with people despite the rainfall, hanging his damp jacket over the back of his chair, and sat down. Even if he wanted to tell her more, he couldn't. The Society had been clear about that.

"I could have come with you if you had told me. Or we could have gone somewhere more exotic," she muttered, her grey eyes observing him carefully through the chaos of her untameable black curls hovering around her face. 

She'd been proposing a holiday together for so long that James would have thought his constant refusal would have made her understand that he didn't want to take the things between them any farther. She was so persistent. The only way to end this all would apparently be to talk openly. The sooner, the better. 

"Listen, Claire, I..."

"Our impulsive traveller is back!" Angus' voice following the sound of the door opening disturbed his speech and scattered his thoughts. "Next time, tell us before you vanish; we were worried when Claire didn't find you at home."

James stood up and approached his best friend. He had genuinely missed him even though he didn't realise it until this moment. Angus was his longest and closest friend; they grew up in the same neighbourhood, shared both friends and adventures, and later chose the same schools. The Bibliophile Society was the only thing James kept secret from him.

"So, before I forget, let me tell you that I'll be gone for Christmas again."

"Back to London?" Angus probed, observing him with a mischievous, speculative smile.

"Yes," James said, not sure where Angus was aiming with that question. 

"She must be worth it; you never liked the city."

"What are you talking about?" James asked. He couldn't understand how Angus, despite being as perceptive as he was, could have gathered that he had met someone so fast.

"I'm talking about your blonde friend. I hope you'll bring her to meet us soon," he said, pointing at the single long, honey-coloured hair clinging to the fabric of James' grey hoodie. 

James only smiled in reply before Angus changed the subject to work, and cast a surreptitious glance at Claire who pretended to be reading something on the screen of her computer, hoping that if Angus could have understood so fast, she would too.

Half an hour later, James was out again in the pouring rain, directing his steps through the spiderweb of narrow, cobbled lanes towards his grandmother's house, which sat in the heart of the old town. 

The eighty-six years old Grandma Eilidh was the best piece of his family, James mused as he finally drove out of the city and towards his house two hours later, the back seat of his Range Rover full of pots and trays of food she had obliged him to take, gathered in a large shopping bag for easier transport on foot along the lake on the last part of his journey home. She was still perfectly and proudly independent, only allowing him and his aunt's family to visit her when it didn't inconvenience them, never asking anyone to interrupt their own lives for her.  But James went to see her at least a couple of times a week, each time he drove to Inverness, and she was the only person who knew why he had gone to London. Grandma Eilidh treated him like her favourite grandson, especially since his mum had moved to Spain with her second husband and visited only once a year.

The moment he left the outskirts of the town, the road became surrounded by trees deleting the city from his sight and memory. James loved this place; it was at its most beautiful this time of the day, when dusk began to suffuse the twilight. It didn't take long before he spotted the blue-gray water of the huge lake shimmering in the distance, guiding him home.

Leaving the car at the usual spot, a little gravel parking lot not far from the shore and the ruin of Urquhart Castle, he collected his luggage quickly and locked it. James didn't have time to waste if he wanted to reach his cottage before the nightfall; as much as he enjoyed walking along the loch after dark, it wouldn't be fun with all the bags he had to carry now.

At last, after many twists and turns of the narrow path running in some places along the smooth, grassy shore, or across fragments of rocky beaches, in others through thickly grown trees or among clumps of tall rocks, he spotted the slate roof of his ancient cottage partly covered in moss. James loved the feeling that flooded his heart and mind each time he returned here from a trip. The place had become a part of him; he missed it when he was gone for too long. Would... Siena ever get used to living in a place like this, so silent and solitary, so removed from the world that it sometimes felt as if it existed in its own universe...? 

He turned around slowly on the spot, observing the languid waters glimmer like fused silver in the light of the rising moon that surprisingly scattered the water infused clouds for a moment. James let his eyes caress the faintly illuminated distant ruin of the castle, the dark trees of the encroaching forest trembling in the cool wind, then the silhouette of the stone cottage so ancient that it looked a part of the landscape itself, as he inhaled the wonderful scent of the lush vegetation and lake water, and listened to the sounds of nature preparing for the night. 

Shaking his head, he banished his musings about Siena and ran the last few metres towards the house, searched his pockets for keys, and unlocked the door. He dropped the bags inside, then directed his steps towards the loch-- he needed to check the instruments that monitored Nessie in his absence before he did anything else.

Was it all right to text her? James mused hours later. He had tried everything to stop thinking about his fair partner-- he unpacked his luggage, went for a run along the moonlit loch, showered and ate his supper, even sat at his typewriter for an hour without having written a line-- but the only thing he could focus on was Siena. What was she doing? It was almost midnight, would she be sleeping? He knew that she would have to get up early in the morning to go to work.

James let his eyes fall on his ring-- the crimson stone looked dull, ordinary, lifeless, apparently suffering from Siena's absence as much as he did. He reached out, yet again, for the fragment of the same red stone Albert had given him, now lying on his writing desk next to his phone. He held it in his hand for a long while, feeling it soaking up his heat, as if his touch could... activate it in some way. He had had a crazy notion before, while the stones transported him and Siena into the book worlds, that maybe it could, somehow, transport them into a place where they could reach each other despite their distance in the real world. He had no idea how, but he felt that the notion wasn't entirely wrong or impossible... Each time he held the piece of the red stone in his ring hand, making the rough fragment and the smooth gem of his ring touch, he could... almost perceive her scent in the air surrounding him, like now, he could almost... feel the heat of her body, the softness of her long hair touching him as she moved around him...

Goodness, he missed her. He had never felt like this before; the months separating him from Christmas would be the longest three months of his life.