Page 43 of Desiring the Highland Laird (Highland Destiny #1)

E vie hadn’t slept all night. Her eyes, now gritty with fatigue, refused to close.

Callum, though, had no problem falling asleep after their many sexy escapades.

The curtains were drawn around the bed, making it a cozy hideaway from the rest of the world.

She wanted it to stay that way but knew it would not.

Callum asked her how she felt to be a MacLeod. As she laid in bed thinking about that, it occurred to her she was a MacLeod and a Sinclair.

Two bloodlines. One destiny.

And thinking of that made gooseflesh erupt over her despite being burrowed under the thick blankets next to a warm man.

Next to her, Callum stirred. With his eyes still closed, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her next to him. Her head landed on his chest. Beneath her ear, she heard the soft rhythmic thump of his heart.

She was in heaven.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Ah, so, yer awake.”

“I am.” She flattened her palm on his bare chest.

“Ye ken what this means?”

The sultry tone of his voice made her stomach swoop. In that moment, she knew she would never get enough of being with him or loving him. Smiling, she lifted her head and looked up at him, their eyes meeting—his that dazzling blue.

“I’m sure I can guess.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she hoisted herself on top of him. His hands landed on her hips, urging her onward. But before they could enjoy each other again, a knock sounded on the door. He growled his annoyance.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Are they here to check on us? To see if we completed the bedding ceremony?”

He gave her a mischievous grin. “If so, they can wait.”

But the urgent knock sounded again. With a huff, she rolled to her side and landed on the mattress.

“You best answer it,” she said. “They’ll never go away if you don’t.”

Callum gave her a quick kiss before sliding out of the bed, grabbing his plaid and wrapping it around his hips as he padded to the door. He jerked it open.

“What?” he growled.

“Ah, begging yer pardon, my lord, but…I thought ye should ken…”

It was Dougal on the other side sounding as though there was dire news. She lifted up on her elbows, the blankets tucked around her and peered through the opening in the curtains on the bed. At the door, Callum stiffened, his muscles in his back going rigid.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding on edge.

“Rory MacDonald and his men approach.” His gaze flickered to the bed, making Evie shrink back. “My apologies for disturbing ye both, but—”

“Have Malcolm and Jamie returned?”

“No as yet, my lord.”

“Get to the armory. Ready the men. I dinnae want to waste time waiting for them.”

Dougal stepped back away from the door as Callum closed it.

He turned to her, one hand holding the plaid around his waist, the other scraping over his jaw as he looked at her.

She understood, then, what it meant to be the wife of the laird.

She would watch him lead his men into battle and she would hate every moment of it.

“Go,” she said. “I know you have to.”

His gaze softened as he approached her and perched on the bed to face her. He reached for one of her hands, taking it in his and holding it.

“I dinnae want to leave ye this morn.”

“But you have to,” she said, finishing for him. “I understand. The keystone will be safe with me.”

“Good. Keep it with ye at all times. I want ye safe.”

“I will be,” she said. “I love you, Callum.”

He reached for her, cupping her face in his hands, something she had come to love. “I love ye, too, lass.”

He kissed her, a long, sweet kiss that she wanted to last forever.

But it didn’t. He released her and began to dress.

When he was finished, he laid more wood and peat in the hearth and relit the fire for her.

Then he bid her farewell and was off to see to his men, leaving her alone and bereft in a sea of worry.

*

By midday, Malcolm and Jamie returned with as many men as they could convince to fight.

She didn’t know the numbers, but she understood from the tense whispers that they were still outnumbered by Rory MacDonald.

She did her best to stay out of the way, but there was an underlying feeling of chaos in the keep.

Even Roslyn was dashing about to make sure they had enough provisions to feed all the men.

As the day waned, she took to the garden to find solace.

She stuck her hand in her pocket to make sure the keystone was still safely wrapped in the cloth.

Relieved it was, she picked her herbs and flowers and returned to the kitchen to make her herbal tea in the hopes it would keep her calm.

She needed a distraction to keep from worrying about Callum.

She didn’t want to get in his way, and she didn’t want to hide out in their bedchamber, either.

As she cut her flowers, though, she heard a distant rumble. Glancing up at the early evening sky, she saw it was clear. It wasn’t thunder but sounded strangely like it.

Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum.

Snatching the basket, she shot to her feet and hurried inside the kitchen. It was a bustle of activity, as if no one had heard the sound.

“Did you hear that?” she blurted.

Roslyn paused her chopping to look up at her. “What’s that, lass?”

“It sounded like…” She paused to think. “Like drums.”

The woman dropped her knife and hurried toward the open kitchen door. Evie followed, clutching the handle of the basket as they stood in the garden and listened. She held her breath, as if that would make the sound clearer.

Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum.

There it was again.

Roslyn’s gaze flickered to her, worry creasing her face. “Ye best get inside, lass. I’ll find Callum.”

“What is it?” She followed the woman, still holding on to the basket with her cut flowers as if it were a life preserver.

“War drums,” she said, her voice low. Likely so she wouldn’t frighten the others working in the kitchen. She reached for the basket and took it from her, placing it on the nearest counter. “We must find Callum. He’ll want to see ye to safety.”

Roslyn took her by the hand and led her out of the kitchen. Evie didn’t have a chance to protest. Her mind whirled with fear of what was to come. All she could think about was Callum going into battle. Callum fighting. She didn’t want to think about what would happen to her if he didn’t survive.

As they exited the kitchen and entered the great hall, she saw him. He was headed across the great hall, a look of determination creasing his face.

“They’re here, aren’t they?” she asked as they came to a halt in the center of the large room.

Roslyn released her and headed back to the kitchen, leaving her alone with Callum.

“Aye.” He gave one nod of his head. “Do ye still have the keystone?”

Bewildered, she nodded. “Yes.”

He held out his hand. “Let me have it.”

A trickle of unease went through her as she reached into her pocket and handed it to him.

He glanced down at it briefly when he took it.

The lines still pulsed a pale light through the cloth.

He tucked it into his sporran. Taking her by the hand, he led her out of the keep and into the bailey.

Malcolm saw them from across the frenzy of activity and headed for them.

The distant drumbeat pulsed a rhythmic thump under the thunderous vibration of horses’ hooves. It was a harbinger of what was to come. Evie clutched Callum’s hand, dread shuddering through her.

“I will see my wife safe,” Callum said to his brother. “And then I’ll join ye.”

“Ye cannae mean to—” Malcolm began. His gaze flickered to her and then back again.

But Callum cut him off as he turned to him. “I can and I will.”

Confusion slipped through her at his meaning. What did he mean, he intended to see her safe? Was he going to take her away from the keep? She glanced back at the imposing structure of Dundale and wondered if Roslyn and the scullery maids were hiding in the larder.

She looked up at him. Panic skittered through her at what he meant to do.

She shouldn’t have given him the keystone.

There was fire in his eyes as he looked at his brother.

Evie trembled. He was determined to make sure she was safe despite Clan MacDonald coming for them.

He squeezed her hand, never lifting his gaze from his brother’s face.

Malcolm glanced from Callum to her, his gaze lingering on hers. For a moment, his stern expression seemed to soften. His lips thinned as he nodded.

“Aye, go then, brother.” He gripped the hilt of his claymore, pulling it from its sheath. “And dinnae tarry for the MacDonalds willna wait for ye to return before they attack.”

Then he flashed a smile and went to join Jamie, their clansmen and their bannermen.

“Callum—”

He turned to her. “We dinnae have the numbers to beat Rory MacDonald and his men. I dinnae want to scare ye, lass, but I dinnae want to lie to ye, either.”

Hot fear pumped through her as she stared at him. “What are you saying, Callum?”

“I’m saying we are outnumbered. Come.” His voice was gruff as he led her through the bailey.

Evie had no choice but to stumble along after him, her breath pluming in the air around her as she struggled to keep up.

She didn’t have her cloak. They headed toward the outer wall.

There was nothing on the other side but rocky cliffs leading down to the craggy shoreline of the loch.

An underlying sense of fear erupted through her as a sudden question burned through her mind.

“Where are you taking me?” she panted.

He halted abruptly and turned to face her, taking her by the upper arms and holding her. His sharp blue eyes met hers.

“It will be a bit of a climb, but ye can do it.”

She shook her head, panic welling deep inside her. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean to see ye to safety, lass.”

“I understand that, but—”

“There isna much time.”

He took her hand again and headed for the wall where he rounded a corner. There were several steps leading down to a gate. A gate she hadn’t noticed before, made of iron with heavy hinges and, beyond that, the craggy shore and the dark waters of the loch.

Her heart throbbed a mad beat as he led her down the slippery steps toward the gate. Her throat constricted as the threat of tears burned her eyes. At the bottom of the steps, he reached for the gate, then stopped. He turned to her once again, holding her gaze as he gave her hands a squeeze.

Then he reached inside his sporran and brought out the cloth-wrapped stone. She sucked in a sharp breath and shook her head, understanding of what he meant to do dawning. He unwrapped it and discarded the handkerchief.

“No, Callum.” Panic clawed at her throat.

“Ye must take this, lass.”

He pressed the keystone into her scarred palm, closing her fingers around it. As he did so, she caught a glimpse of the glowing lines etched in the stone.

“I can’t!”

“Ye must . ’Tis the only way to keep ye both safe and out of the hands of Rory MacDonald.” He brushed his hand over her cheek, the tender look in his eyes nearly making her come undone. “I cannae allow ye or the keystone to fall into enemy hands.”

Hot tears clouded her eyes. “But if I take it, then I lose you.”

“Nay.” A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “Ye can come back to me.” He clutched her hands in his. “Come back to me, lass. Promise me.”

But what if he died in battle? What if she returned to her future only to have the past reset? What if she forgot her love for him? What if he forgot her? There were so many unknowns.

Her heart thudded as her stomach twisted into a tight knot. The stern look in his eyes told her she had no argument to give him. No way to convince him she should stay in Dundale.

“I promise.”

He kissed her, then, his lips warm and sweet against hers.

She savored it, knowing it was the last time she’d kiss him.

Every moment they had spent together flashed through her mind starting with waking up in his bed wrapped in his warmth.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him.

In fact, she hadn’t meant to return home. Now, she had no choice.

She vowed to find out the outcome of the battle when she returned home. So many questions swirled through her mind. Questions she didn’t have time to ask.

“The shore is a bit rocky, but ye can do it. Get as far from here as ye can. Then use the stone to return to yer time.”

“What happens when I do? Will I remember? How will I find you again?”

“I dinnae ken,” he said, still clutching her hands in his. “The keystone brought ye to me once. It can bring ye to me again. And keep it out of the hands of the MacDonalds.”

She understood, of course, and though she hated the idea, she nodded.

Her stomach was coiled into a hot, tight knot.

She pulled her hands from his and flung her arms around his neck.

He held her tight, so tight, while she memorized every hard angle.

They stood there for a moment like that as she fought back tears.

“Ye must go, lass,” he whispered against her hair. “Come back to me.”

When she left, he would go face the MacDonalds.

He would go to war. Her chest tightened as she thought of losing him.

That when she returned to her time, he would be dead.

Either by old age or by the sword of his sworn enemy.

She despised the thought of either one. But he was not immortal, and neither was she.

When she pulled away, she placed one palm on the side of his scruffy cheek, holding his gaze and committing to memory every line of his chiseled, handsome face.

“I will find you again.”

He smiled, then, his eyes lit with hope and desire. “I ken ye will, lass.”

Then he pushed open the gate. The hinges groaned as it swung wide. She clutched the keystone in her hand as she turned to the opening and peered down at the rocky shoreline, the loch lapping against the edges. She gulped in a deep breath, emotions clotting her throat.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said without turning around.

She sensed his presence behind her, though he didn’t touch her. “I’ll wait for ye, my bonnie lassie from the future.”

And then he was gone. When she turned, he had disappeared into the deepening twilight, leaving her there to do what she had to do.