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The Hideaway.

As Isabel stood before the cottage door, she suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The air was thick with a scent that she hadn't experienced in years, a smell that brought her back to her childhood spent baking with her grandmother. She closed her eyes, breathing in the fragrance and trying to hold onto every nuance of it. The aroma was warm and comforting, yet also held a hint of melancholy that she couldn't quite place.

The scent transported her back to her grandmother's kitchen, where they would spend hours baking and chatting about everything under the sun. Isabel could almost hear her grandmother's voice and feel her gentle touch on her arm. She missed her terribly and longed for one more day with her.

It was then that Isabel realized why the path leading to the door had felt so familiar. The image of the cottage was exactly what she had imagined as a child while listening to her grandmother's stories about her childhood home in Scotland during the war. Unlike the history books she had read, her grandmother had never made war seem terrifying. Instead, she described it in a completely magical way that made Isabel long to experience it for herself. As she stood before the door of the cottage, she realized that the vision she had imagined as a child was exactly what she was seeing right in front of her.

Isabel's heart swelled with a mix of emotions as she stood there, lost in thought. The smell of something baking grew stronger, and it was then that she realized it was the aroma of Scottish shortbread, her grandmother's favorite treat. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about her grandmother and the memories they had shared in the kitchen. She knew in her heart that this was a sign, a symbol that her grandmother was with her, watching over her on this life-changing journey.

Isabel took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A few moments passed before the door creaked open. Isabel was so taken aback by the beauty of the place that she almost didn't notice the woman standing in front of her. The woman was small and frail, with silver hair pulled back in a loose bun. She wore a faded floral dress and a kind smile.

"Hello dear, how can I help you?" the woman asked in a soft Scottish accent.

Isabel found herself tongue-tied for a moment, still taking in the sights around her. Finally, she managed to stammer out an apology for disturbing the woman and explain that she had been drawn to the cottage by some inexplicable force.

The woman's smile widened. "Ah, I see. It's not often that we get visitors out here. Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea with me?"

Isabel felt a warmth spreading through her chest. She had been driving for hours, with no real destination in mind, and the thought of having a cup of tea in such a beautiful place with such a kind woman was too tempting to resist.

"Yes, please," she said, and stepped into the cottage. The smell of Scottish shortbread filled her nostrils once more, and she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her once again.

As they walked into the cozy kitchen, the woman introduced herself as Mrs. MacKenzie. Isabel took a seat at the table while Mrs. MacKenzie served her a warm slice of shortbread and poured her a cup of tea.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Mrs. MacKenzie spoke up. "You seem like you're in need of some company, dearie. Is everything alright?"

Isabel couldn't help but let out a sigh. "Honestly, I've been feeling a bit lost lately. I've been on the road for days, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. And then I stumbled upon this cottage and it just feels like a sign."

Mrs. MacKenzie listened intently, her kind eyes never leaving Isabel's face. "You know, sometimes when we're feeling lost, it helps to go back to where we come from. To remember the things that made us happy as children. What were the things that made you happiest when you were young?"

Isabel thought for a moment before replying, "Baking with my grandmother. Listening to her stories about her childhood in Scotland. That's what memories the smell brought me.”

Mrs. MacKenzie nodded knowingly. "It's a wee bit funny how the things that bring us the most joy are oftentimes the things we forget aboot as we get auld. Maybe it's high time tae rediscover those things, lassie. Life is ower short tae waste it doin' things that dinnae bring us joy."

Isabel felt tears welling up in her eyes as she realized how true those words were. She had been so focused on trying to find her purpose that she had forgotten what truly made her happy.

"Thank you," Isabel whispered, "I needed to hear that."

As Isabel's eyes wandered around the snug abode, she couldn't help but fixate on the shelf that was adorned with an assortment of leather-bound books, each one varying in size and color. The thought of the stories that lay dormant within their pages ignited a fire within her that she couldn't ignore. She could almost taste the adventure and magic that was bound to be contained within each one of them. However, as a lady of impeccable manners, she resisted the temptation to pick one up and lose herself in its contents.

Her eyes then drifted to the knick-knacks and curios that were placed around the room. A collection of peculiar objects that each held their own story. From antique candlesticks to a brass telescope and tarnished silver spoons, all of them seemed to be placed with a sense of purpose. But the one that caught her eye the most was the hand-carved wooden box with intricate designs. She couldn't help but wonder about the tales that lay dormant inside it.

She was captivated by the alluring and romantic feel of the space. Despite its classic and timeless appearance, there was something undeniably enticing and seductive about the space. Isabel found herself imagining the passionate affairs that might have taken place within these walls, the stories of love and heartbreak that it held.

The room was dimly lit, with flickering candles casting an amber glow that made the air thick with desire. Isabel couldn't help but feel a stirring within her, a desire for something more, something intense and intimate. She wondered if the old woman had experienced the same kind of passion that she was feeling at that moment.

Isabel's gaze drifted to the antique furniture, imagining the intimate moments that might have taken place upon the soft cushions and plush rugs. The thought of lovers entwined in each other's arms, lost in a sea of passion and desire, sent shivers down Isabel's spine. She yearned for that kind of connection, that kind of intensity.

As she sat in the room, lost in thought, Isabel couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. The cottage held secrets that she could only imagine, stories of love and lust that made her heart race with desire. She could only hope she would ever experience the kind of passion that the old woman had surely known.

She felt alive with an energy that was palpable, a raw and untamed power that Isabel had never felt before. She was swept up in the moment, her thoughts consumed by the possibilities that lay before her. Something had awakened within her, a desire for something more, something that she couldn't quite put into words.

She looked back at the old woman, she couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. Her warm smile and welcoming demeanor felt almost too good to be true. Isabel couldn't help but let her mind wander, imagining the kind of life that the old woman had led. Perhaps she was a traveler, who had journeyed to far-off lands and encountered enchanted creatures or even witches and wizards. Isabel felt certain that the old woman was not just any ordinary human but someone with a magical past. The conversation flowed, and Isabel had lost track of time, only realizing how late it was when Mrs. MacKenzie mentioned that she must be tired. Isabel agreed, feeling the exhaustion of the long drive catching up to her.

“Mrs. MacKenzie, I was actually hoping to rent a room for the night," Isabel said tentatively, not wanting to offend the kindly woman.

“I don't believe we've discussed how much the room would be for the night or how I could pay you. Could you tell me?"

earlier.

Mrs. MacKenzie raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "Ach, lass, dinna fash yerself. Ye can stay here for the night, nae bother. I'm no' in the habit of chargin' folks for a roof over their heads and a warm bed to sleep in."

Isabel was taken aback. "Are you sure? I don't want to take advantage of your kindness."

Mrs. MacKenzie waved her hand dismissively.

"Nay, lassie, I'm sure. Ye remind me of my own granddaughter, and I couldnae bear to take yer money. Now, go and get yer things from the car. I'll have a bath run for ye by the time ye get back. It's no' often I get visitors out here, and I could use the company. You can pay me back by keepin' me company tonight and tellin' me all about your travels over breakkie in the morning.”

Isabel couldn't believe her luck. She quickly retrieved her suitcase from the car and made her way back to the cottage. As she entered the cozy room, she was hit by the smell of lavender and jasmine. Mrs. MacKenzie had lit candles and placed them around the room, giving it a warm and inviting glow.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. MacKenzie. This is really kind of you," Isabel said gratefully.

"Nonsense, lassie. I'm just happy to help. Now, go on and have a wee soak. Ye look like ye could use some rest."

Isabel smiled and made her way to the bathroom. As she sank into the warm, scented bath, she let out a contented sigh. This unexpected detour had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. She knew that she would sleep soundly that night, safe and comfortable in her new hideaway.

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