Page 26 of Desiring the Highland Laird (Highland Destiny #1)

A fter her midnight excursion with Callum, Evie headed back to bed, climbed under the covers and pulled them to her chin.

She was cold but she was too tired and too lazy to get up and make a fire in the hearth.

Instead, she burrowed deeper under the blankets and curled into a tight ball.

She had no idea when she finally dozed off.

She awoke at the sound of a light knock on the door, followed by the scraping of it as it opened. Faint morning light pressed against the windowpanes, not yet slashing into the room. The sun wasn’t high enough.

“Och, lass, ye let yer fire go out.”

Sleepy-eyed, she yawned as she sat up, still fully buried under blankets. Roslyn set about building a fire in the hearth.

“You don’t have to do that,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

“I do if ye wish to bathe,” she said without turning around.

A hot bath did sound nice. She slid from the bed, her feet hitting the floor, as she began to unplait her messy braid. When Roslyn turned to her, she frowned and propped her hands on her hips.

“Ye slept in yer clothes, I see. I should hae woke ye last night.”

“You were in here last night?” She finished unplaiting her hair and ran her fingers through the wavy, tangled locks.

“Aye. And ye were fast asleep. I let ye go since it was a trying day for all of us.”

“Yes,” Evie agreed. Though she didn’t say anything more, she thought of Hamish. She didn’t know him well, but there was a pang of sorrow that went through her for him now that he was gone.

Roslyn spied the hangings on the wall by the bed and peered at them a long moment, her hands still on her hips.

Confusion followed by curiosity flickered over her face.

Evie was fascinated by her reaction to the tapestries and followed her gaze to them.

They hadn’t changed since the last time she looked at them.

“The tapestries,” Evie heard herself say. “Have you seen them before?”

The woman shook her head. “Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know,” Evie admitted. “Hamish brought me here and showed them to me. He was convinced they were part of the prophecy.”

The moment the words left her lips, she clamped her mouth shut and cut a glance to the woman. She wasn’t sure what Roslyn knew and didn’t know. Nor was she sure if the woman had heard of the Shattering or the keystone or even the Triple Goddess.

“The laird was convinced there was one,” she said at last. Her gaze drifted from the wall hangings to her, lingering on her face. “I ken ye aren’t from here, but I dinnae ask questions as it isna my place.”

Evie blew out a breath. “He told you about it? The prophecy, I mean.”

“Aye, he talked of it before. He said a woman would come from the future.”

Her gaze never left Evie’s face as she said it. Realization came over her as she realized the woman had not once questioned her sudden appearance or even her strange dialect, for surely, she had noticed Evie’s accent was far different from hers, from all of theirs, in the keep.

“Do you think I’m from the future?” Evie asked.

One brow lifted as a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Are you?”

“If I was, what would you think?” Sometimes, evasion was the best way to answer a question one did not want to answer.

“I would think Hamish was right about everything.” She dropped her arms and headed for the door. “I’ll be back with yer bath.”

And then she was gone, leaving Evie to wonder what she meant by that.

*

Roslyn did in fact return with the tub and pails of warmed water.

She helped her bathe and dressed her in a clean gown and then combed out her long, wet hair, getting all the snarls out.

She braided it while it was still wet. Then it was time to break her fast. Evie followed her to the great hall where Callum was already enjoying a bowl of porridge and some oat cakes.

There was a place setting waiting for her across from him.

She dropped down into the chair and did her best to avoid his gaze while she broke the oat cake in half and popped it into her mouth.

What she wouldn’t give for a strong cup of coffee and some of her favorite creamer.

Chloe always made fun of how she drank her coffee—creamer with a few drops of coffee.

There was a dull headache behind her eyes and at the base of her skull but she decided that was caffeine withdrawal and sleep deprivation.

“Good morrow,” he said, his voice deep and gruff and terribly sexy.

She told herself to stop feeling all swoony when he did the smallest things.

“Morning,” she muttered around her mouthful of oat cake.

“When yer done, grab yer cloak and we will see if we can find the stone.”

“All right,” she said.

He finished his morning meal, brushed the crumbs from his hands, and pushed back from the table. His chair scraped along the floor followed by the thump of his boots as he headed out the door.

She heaved a sigh and sat back in the chair, staring down at the porridge that was growing cold.

How was she ever going to look him in the eye after last night?

She was not a love at first sight girl. She wasn’t even a love at any sight girl.

She was picky beyond belief about the men she dated, though Callum was definitely not like any man she’d ever dated.

She didn’t want to get too attached to him because she was determined to go home.

She had to get back to Chloe. She had to get back to her life.

What was her life? She thought about that for a moment.

If she returned, she would spend a few days with Chloe in Edinburgh, then pack up her suitcase, get on a plane to go home.

A home that was empty and lonely. A job that was a dead-end with nothing but long hours and demanding bosses who wanted her to do their bidding.

Not that she had to fetch coffee, but she was responsible for making sure their days ran smoothly and their calendars were up to date and—

She shoved all those thoughts aside. All of that seemed so trivial. Life there was nothing compared to life here. Life here was fragile. Where one swing of a great axe to the gut could kill you in an instant.

Evie shoved back from the table and went back to her chamber. She snatched her cloak off the back of the chair by the hearth, which was nothing more than bright red and orange embers, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

With renewed determination, she was going to face Callum.

Hopefully, he would kiss her again.

She exited the great hall and found him in the yard holding the reins of two horses.

His and her little gray mare she had named Mist. He stood there in a slash of early morning sunshine.

Her breath caught as she looked at him. He wore his boots, his trousers, a tunic, and his plaid across his torso and tied on one shoulder.

His long hair was dark brown but, in the sunlight, she saw a few gleaming golden strands.

His eyes—so sharp and blue—were nothing short of spectacular.

Gosh, he was handsome.

“We’re going to ride?” she asked, a shiver of nerves shuddering through her.

“Aye,” was all he said as he handed her the reins to her mare.

She eyed the saddle with a sweep of apprehension. She had had one lesson and hadn’t yet built up enough confidence.

“Do ye need help?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile as he watched her, bemused.

“I can do it,” she said with more determination than she felt.

He waited patiently as she stuck her foot in the stirrup, grabbing onto the saddle and hoisting herself up.

She was proud of herself for getting it right on the first try and not falling to the other side.

With a wide grin, she took up the reins and glanced at him.

Her smile faded when she saw the smirk on his face.

“Are ye ready now, lass?”

“Stop looking at me like that and let’s go.”

He nudged his horse and started to walk toward the gate. She did the same and was relieved when her mare followed her orders. Still, she gripped the reins so tightly, her hands cramped. And then she prayed their ride would not take them far.

She managed to get her horse next to his and they rode side by side. Silence stretched between them as they put the keep behind them.

“Ye seem to be doing better,” he said, giving her a sideways glance.

Still, she had a death grip on the reins but had to admit she was more comfortable than she was when they first started out. “Do I?”

“Aye,” he said. “The mare is a gentle one. Ye named her Mist. She’s perfect for ye.”

Mist huffed as if in agreement. It made them both laugh.

Evie released her tight grip on the reins and tried to force herself to relax.

It wasn’t long after that Callum came to a halt.

He leaned on the saddle horn, his keen eyes looking out toward the horizon, as if remembering what had happened the day before.

He swung his leg over and jumped down. She watched him as he took several steps away from the horses, then kneeled down in the grass, his hand flat on the ground.

It must have been here where the three of them fought the MacDonalds. Here, where his father was mortally wounded. She thought she spied dark splotches of dried blood on the grass.

She dismounted and joined him, remaining silent.

“Here,” he said. “It would be here or nearby.”

She nodded and started to do her search. She knew it was nearly impossible to find the jagged little stone on the ground. Likely it would look like all the other stones.

Callum remained where he was, his hands on his hips as he peered down at the ground. She glanced his way to see his mind working. There was a depth of memory in his eyes. His gaze darted about, as though he were re-enacting the battle in his mind. And perhaps he was.

He squatted down, running his hand over the ground and looking around him. She continued her own search but was having no luck.

Then she thought she spotted something nestled beneath the heather. The morning sun glinted off it and she wondered if that was their missing keystone. With her heart ramming hard in her chest, she crawled on her hands toward it, daring not to hope.

She was wrong. It wasn’t the morning sun glinting off the stone. It was the stone itself. The lines on the stone were pulsing brightly.

“I found it,” she said on a gasp.

He hurried over and joined her on the ground. He peered at it, watching as the lines grew bright then faded, then grew bright, then faded.

“What’s it doing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

She reached for it, but his hand clamped around her wrist. Her head snapped up as she looked at him, confused.

“Let me,” he said, then released her wrist.

He reached for the stone, plucking it off the ground and placing it in his palm. As soon as he did, the light faded. It stopped glowing.

“That’s odd,” she said. “It’s as though it wanted us to find it. Like it was a homing beacon or something.”

He stared at it resting against his palm, as if it were a foreign object. When he continued to stare at it and not move, she placed a hand on his arm.

“Callum? What is it?”

“Something Da said to me,” he said. “The secret lies within the MacLeod bloodline.”

He whispered it when he said it and it sent a cold shiver through her. She peered down at the stone, now dormant.

“What secret?” she asked.

He shook his head as if to say he didn’t know. She certainly didn’t either.

“Two ancient bloodlines. One divine destiny,” she said, remembering what Hamish had told her. “MacLeod and Sinclair?”

He nodded. “Aye, lass. Ye have the right of it. Da said this to me, too.”

She considered this as she looked down at the stone, silent in his hand. “Well, then, what if it was a homing beacon? And the MacDonalds couldn’t see it. Or we got damn lucky.”

“Aye, lass. I think we were verra lucky.” He rose and stuck the stone into his sporran once again.

She eyed the place he kept it and wondered if she had picked it up, would she have been able to use it to return home since it was glowing?

“Ye wanted to take it, didn’t ye?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. There was no reason to lie.

“Because ye think it can send ye home,” he added.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“We tried that already.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t glowing then,” she said. She lifted her gaze to his. “But it was when we found it.”

He reached into his sporran and pulled it out once again, extending it to her. “Do ye wish to try again, then?”

Her heart throbbed at a wicked pace. She eyed the stone in his hand, but it was not glowing.

She decided this was a test of faith. He was testing her to see if she would take it once again and try to use it to return home, even though they both saw it was not glowing nor was it humming.

He was giving her the chance to leave this place. To leave him and this nightmare behind.

But was it truly a nightmare? He was nothing but kind to her. He’d even kissed her. As she chewed on her lower lip, she tapped into her gut feeling. What did her gut tell her?

Every time she hadn’t listened to her gut, she had regretted it. Now, it was telling her not to reach for the stone. Not to return home. She had to stay. There was something here she had to do before going home and it was all tied to this prophecy or her destiny or whatever. She didn’t know.

All she did know was that she had to stay. She clenched her fists at her sides, lifted her gaze to meet his dead on. She saw there the apprehension, the question, and even a bit of fear she might leave him.

“No, Callum,” she said finally. “I do not.”

He pocketed the stone once more. “Aye, then. Let’s get back to the keep.”

He took her by her elbow and led her to their waiting mounts. He even waited and helped her into her saddle. When he was settled in his saddle, they headed back to the castle.

And Evie was certain she had made the right decision, even if that meant she was still divided by centuries from her sister.