Page 18 of Desiring the Highland Laird (Highland Destiny #1)

C allum left the great hall without so much as a by-your-leave and stomped to his bedchamber to be alone. When he slammed the door behind him with a satisfying thud, he leaned against it, his heart throbbing with all the fury pounding through him.

The lass was infuriating.

He was no coward simply because he didn’t believe in his da’s maddening notions of a prophecy. How could he believe in that?

Seeing the fire in his hearth was out, he set about rebuilding it with the mindset that eventually the lass would arrive, and she would want to warm herself by it. Once the fire was going, he sat in the chair and kicked off his boots and brooded, waiting for her.

Regret shifted through him, then. Regret that he told her to take the stone and be gone. He watched, his teeth on edge, as she swiped her thumb over the smooth surface and then waited.

He didn’t want to admit how relieved he was she was still there and hadn’t disappeared. Why? He didn’t know. He didn’t understand his feelings for her at all.

The fact she didn’t disappear told him all he needed to know. That her arrival from the future was a falsehood. It was true Angus Sinclair didn’t know who she was, but he was determined to find her clan and return her once and for all, whether she wanted him to or not.

He huffed out a breath as he slumped in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him.

He waited and waited but she never came.

Finally, when it was in the wee hours and exhaustion pounded through him, he stood and strode from his bedchamber back to the great hall.

His da sat alone by the hearth with his feet propped up on the table and a tankard of ale in front of him.

Callum paused there a long moment, glancing around the room and wondering where to find the lass.

Had she left of her own accord? If she had, then his problem with what to do with her was solved.

“If yer looking for the wee lassie, she’s no here,” Hamish said at last. Callum opened his mouth to reply when he cut him off. “And dinnae be thinking she’s left us for good. She hasna.”

“Where is she, then?” he demanded.

“She’s staying in guest bedchambers.” He paused, then added, “With the tapestries.”

A trickle of fear went through Callum as he stared at his da. “Did ye tell her about the prophecy?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Da—”

“Dinnae chastise me, boy. Ye werena going to tell her, so I did.”

Silence stretched between them. “Does she believe?”

Hamish met his gaze, steady and sure. “Aye.”

Callum cut a glance to the other side of the great hall that led to the guest chambers. He made no move to head that way.

“You willna be bothering the lass this night. Give her some peace for a wee bit,” his da said. He dropped his feet to the floor and rose. “Ye best start believin’ in the prophecy. ’Tis coming true.”

He sauntered away, leaving him alone in the great hall.

It occurred to him the lass may not want him anywhere near her.

Could he blame her? If what his da said was true—that she believed in the prophecy and she was from the future—then he was nothing more than a bampot for taking her to Angus Sinclair with the intent of leaving her there.

In his defense, though, he was convinced they were her clan.

Now he was not so certain.

Another sign was the fact the stone did not transport her back to her time when she tried to use it on the road back to Dundale.

Everything he thought was true wasn’t. Everything he assumed about the girl was wrong.

He reached into his sporran and pulled out the small piece of stone, examining it closely.

The arched lines were faint, but still there.

He recalled the way she had shown her palm to him while standing in the Sinclair’s great hall.

The lines were still there. He ran his thumb over the lines, recalling the fury, the indignation, in her beautiful face. A bampot, indeed.

His fingers closed around the stone as he held it, the jagged edges piercing his palm. When he opened his hand and glanced down, he saw the imprint from that but not from the symbol.

She had said the stone hummed and the lines glowed, hadn’t she?

That meant that whatever the stone was doing was activated at the time and that’s how the symbol burned into her skin.

The impulsive side of him wanted to go to the guest bedchamber and bang on the door, demanding to see her hand. But what good would that do? It would make her even more irate with him than she already was.

Callum stuck the stone back into his sporran. All that was left to do was return to his own bedchamber to try to sleep. He headed there, shoving thoughts of her out of his head. In the morn, he would decide what to do about her.

The trouble was, he was uncertain there was anything to do about her.

*

Evie awoke to a cold room, the faint morning light pressing against her closed eyes.

She forgot where she was and it took a moment to reorient herself to her surroundings.

Ah, yes. She was in what Hamish called the guest bedchambers.

She was still in Dundale Castle. She was still in the fourteenth century.

None of that had changed while she slept.

Was she going to feel out of sorts every morning she woke? Or would she eventually get used to the idea of being in the past?

Sometime during the night, the fire had gone out, but she was still snuggly and warm in the bed.

She burrowed down under the covers for a few more minutes of drowsy warmth.

She lifted her hand and studied the lines in her palm.

The faint image of the stone was still there, though somewhat faded. She wondered if it would ever go away.

Thinking of the stone made her think about the prophecy and the tapestries hanging on the wall beside the bed. Did she believe what Hamish told her? She was uncertain. All she was truly certain about was he believed every word of it. She saw the truth of it burning deep in his eyes.

She pushed away the blankets and slid to the side of the bed and stood. Pausing there, she pulled one of the heavier blankets off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. When she looked at the tapestries again that morning, she gasped.

The one of her falling through the sky showed she was closer to the ground than she was when she looked at it the night before. Next to that was the one that showed her sister’s face and someone else. Another figure behind her was merely a silhouette she could not fully see yet.

The morning light glinting through the windows illuminated the room, making the threads shimmer in the light of day. So, she hadn’t imagined that the previous night when Hamish was showing her the wall hangings.

The other curious thing she noticed were more hangings that were devoid of a design. They were nothing more than plain woven wall coverings that might be seen in any number of places. But something told her there was more to them than what she saw. There was something mystical about them.

Mystical .

“Mystic Treasures.”

The words burst out of her as her gaze moved back to the first hanging of the woman with the silvery hair billowing in the wind, the light moving around her in a way that indicated there was an object in her hand that glowed.

Evie reached out and ran the tips of her fingers over the threads and watched them glisten.

“I bet your name is Moira,” she said, tracing the line of the woman’s hair. “And I bet you are the one who gave me that jagged piece of stone.”

Hamish mentioned the women were the Triple Goddess. That they were the ones who were the protectors of the keystone.

As she stared at the design, something in the bottom righthand corner caught her eye.

It was the tip of a sword emerging, ever so slowly as if in slow motion.

She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at it without blinking, but her eyes had gone dry.

Finally, she shook herself from the hypnotic, trancelike state.

When she shook her head to clear it and looked back at the hanging, she saw something that wasn’t there before.

Shadowy figures.

An army.

A knock on the door startled her, making her jump. She turned toward the door, her hand at the base of her throat where her pulse was rapidly beating.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened. She expected to see Roslyn coming to help her dress for the day.

But no. It was Callum. He paused in the doorway, his big body filling up most of the empty space as he stood there staring at her from the threshold.

He wore his breeches, boots, tunic, and the plaid draping over one shoulder.

She stiffened at the sight of him, then clutched the blanket around her shoulders. “What do you want?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so abrasive, but she hadn’t forgiven him for taking her off to Clan Sinclair.

“Good morrow, lass,” he said, his deep timbred voice rumbling in his chest. “Did ye sleep well?”

He ignored her jab and remained in the doorway. She peered at him with some curiosity, wondering why he was here.

“Well enough.” After she paused a moment, she asked, “Did you?”

“No. I dinnae sleep a wink.”

That got her attention. “No?”

“Can I come in?”

“Oh,” she breathed as she moved to sit on the bed. “I suppose.”

He came into the room, closing the door behind him, but remained where he was. His gaze drifted from her to the tapestries on the wall. Surprise flickered across his handsome features as he looked at them.

“The…pictures…” he started.

“They’ve changed,” she said, following his gaze. “As though they’re moving.”

He walked into the room and stood in front of the one she decided was Moira, peering at it intently with his hands clasped behind his back.

She stepped next to him, still clutching the blanket around her shoulders.

She wished she had thought of grabbing her robe instead of standing there in a blanket, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

“This wasna here before.” He pointed to the one with Moira and the images emerging of an army in the corner.

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed.

He turned his head and met her gaze, confusion etched in them. “I dinnae understand.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “My guess is they’re enchanted.”

“Enchanted?” he repeated.

“Yes, you know. Magicked. This woman here…” She pointed to the first tapestry. “That’s Moira, the shopkeeper. I’m sure of it.”

Surprise flickered through his blue depths. He glanced back at the image. “The one who gave ye the stone.”

“Yes,” she said. “She had silvery hair like that.” She pointed to the wall hanging.

As she did, he caught her hand in his, holding it and turning toward her. Her first instinct was to pull away, but something made her stop. She liked his large hand wrapped around hers, holding her. Gently.

But then he turned her hand, pushing her fingers open to expose her palm and the lines burned into her flesh. She tried to tug her hand away, but he held onto her with a firm grip.

“The stone?” he asked, his gaze flickering back to hers.

“Yes,” was all she managed.

He traced the lines with the tip of his finger. It sent delicious swirls of desire through her. Then he closed both hands on hers, clutching her hand between his.

“Lassie,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I came to tell ye how sorry I am.”

“Sorry?” she repeated, stunned to the soles of her bare feet. “About what?”

“About taking ye to Angus Sinclair. I no should have done that.”

“Oh.” The word came out on a breath. She couldn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t.

“I should have listened to ye,” he said.

His thumb traced the back of her hand in a way that made her knees turn to water. He should stop that at once, but she didn’t want to tell him to stop because it felt too nice. And…sensual. Oh, God, yes, it was sensual the way his thumb moved over her skin in a slow, sweeping, delicate motion.

“Listened to me?” She sounded dumbfounded as she repeated his words. “About?”

“My da thinks yer from the future,” he said. Then he looked at the wall hanging that depicted her falling through the sky. “Ye told me ye were from the future.”

Hope filled her as she continued to stand there, watching him look at the wall hangings. Understanding came into his eyes and though he said nothing, she saw his mind working.

“He told me I best start believing in the prophecy,” he said.

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “And do you?”

“I dinnae ken.” He turned to look at her then and his eyes met hers. “But I want to. It seems to be coming true.”

She reached up with her free hand and clutched his other one, squeezing it.

“I want you to believe, too. But, like you, I’m not sure I believe in prophesies or destinies or anything like that.

However, here I am standing with you, holding your hand.

I thought this was a dream at first but now I know it’s not. ”

He released her hand and reached up, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. The sensation of his cool skin sent a wicked shiver through her. Then he dropped his hand to his side. He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then expelled it.

“Give me some time, lass, to get used to the idea.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“All right,” she said at last.

He released her other hand and walked toward the door. He paused there and turned to look at her once more over his shoulder.

“Would ye like to break yer fast with me?”

Her stomach rumbled as if on cue. She pressed a hand against it, hoping to silence it. “Yes, please.”

“Good, then. I’ll send Roslyn to help ye dress. Join me in the great hall when yer ready.”

She nodded. He pulled open the door and was gone.

Her anger with him dissipated. Even she could accept an olive branch when she saw one. With her heart pattering hard in her chest, she found she was looking forward to breaking her fast with Callum.