Page 14 of Memory of a Highlander (Arch Through Time #27)

“C areful, it’s hot,” Charlie said as her two helpers slid the tray of bricks out of the kiln with the wooden spatulas made for that purpose.

Once it was clear, Charlie slid two wooden poles through the slots underneath, and the lads Joseph had enlisted to help her carried the tray over to the bench.

Charlie leaned over and examined her handiwork. The bricks were still too hot to touch but from a cursory inspection, she could see no cracks or other imperfections that might compromise their strength.

She grinned suddenly. “A perfect batch! I reckon that deserves a high five!”

She held up her hand but the two lads—Samuel and Albie—stared at her without comprehension.

“Just hold your palms up,” she told them.

When they did, she slapped each one in turn. “Good job!”

They grinned, pleased with the praise. Albie leaned close and examined the bricks. “So ye think we’ll be able to use these to build houses?”

“That’s the plan.”

Charlie knew there was more to Albie’s question than idle curiosity. They were brothers and their family was one that had been displaced when MacAllister threw them off his land. Those families were currently living in the barn but they couldn’t stay there indefinitely. These bricks offered hope that those families might soon have homes of their own.

She’d managed to increase her capacity to make twenty-five bricks in one firing. It was a start, but she knew they would have to make many, many more if they were to have anywhere near enough.

Her thoughts were stilled by the sound of the door opening. She turned to see Niall standing in the doorway. Her heart did a little flip at the sight of him, even if he did look a little worse for wear. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked a little rumpled. Perhaps he’d slept as badly as she had.

Stay.

The memory of that single word he’d spoken to her yesterday sent a tingle down her spine.

Samuel and Albie went rigid at the sudden appearance of the laird and then gave awkward bows.

Niall waved away their obeisance. “Easy, lads. Can I have a word with Lady Charlotte?”

Charlie brushed her clay-stained hands on her apron as the boys slipped out of the room, leaving her alone with Niall. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“What is it?” she asked.

Niall took a step closer, his expression serious. “We need to talk.”

Something about his tone made her uneasy. She motioned for him to follow her over to a small stool in the corner of the room.

Once they were seated, Niall reached into his plaid and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. He held it out to her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Read this.”

Charlie took it from him, smoothing it out on her lap. Her eyes scanned the headline and then the text below it.

“This is...this is...” Her gaze flew to his. “Is this what everyone is saying about me?”

Niall nodded grimly. “Aye, it seems so.”

“But it’s not true!” Charlie exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch.

“I know that, Charlotte.” Niall’s voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. “I wouldnae mind the gossip so much if it was.”

He said it flippantly, jokingly, as he often did when trying to hide what he really felt. But as she met his gaze, Charlie saw something entirely different. His eyes were dark and deep as he stared at her, something flickering in them that made her heart race a little faster.

Stay.

I wouldn’t mind the gossip so much if it was true.

That warmth in her chest spread down into her belly and her pulse went up a notch. She’d been attracted to Niall from the start. How could she not be? He was sexy as hell, quick-witted, and charming. That was the Niall Campbell he let most people see. But there was another Niall Campbell, one that she was beginning to realize was the real one, and this one was warm, kind-hearted and caring.

The kind of man she could fall in love with.

Charlie froze. Wait. What?

She most definitely was not going to follow that thought any further. She glanced at the pamphlet in her hand, the gossip that labeled her as Niall’s mistress. What if it was true? What harm could it do?

Don’t be an idiot , she told herself. Do not go there.

She crumpled the pamphlet in her hand and shrugged. “The day I worry what a bunch of overstuffed, snot-nosed rich people say about me will be the day hell freezes over.”

Niall chuckled at that. “That’s the spirit, lass,” he said, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. His gaze lingered on her face, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. “Ye dinna worry about yer reputation?”

Charlie snorted. “Hardly. People don’t care about that kind of thing where I come from.”

“They dinna? Is Cardiff society so very different then?”

Charlie cursed inwardly. Damn. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she was in a different time and that Niall knew nothing about it.

“Just a bit more...enlightened,” she said. “But what about you? This will affect you too.”

He shrugged, a casual lift of his broad shoulders. “I’ve never cared much for society’s opinions. They are quick to judge and slow to forgive, and think they are so far above the rest of us. They can go hang for all I care.”

Charlie laughed. “That’s the spirit!” she said, echoing his words. “Although I’d like to get my hands on the smarmy little bastard who wrote those things about me.”

“I dinna know who wrote it but we know who’s behind it. I would bet my last penny that this is Boyd MacAllister’s work.”

“Him again. I’m really starting to dislike that guy.”

Niall arched an eyebrow. “Lass, ye have no idea. He’s been the bane of my life since we were children. He and Bryce are of an age and when we were children Bryce used to step in to stop MacAllister from bullying me. That all changed when our father died. Then he joined in the bullying.”

Charlie stayed quiet, letting him talk.

“We should have stood together. But instead, Bryce aligned himself with MacAllister. Became cruel and self-serving, just like him. Said I was too soft, too sentimental. He thought I was weak for caring about the people who worked our land, for seeing them as more than just tenants.” Niall gave a humorless chuckle. “He said I’d end up losing everything if I didn’t learn to put myself first. Maybe he was right.”

Charlie frowned. “You don’t believe that.”

Niall exhaled, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”

Charlie hesitated, then reached out, covering his hand with hers. His skin was warm, rough with calluses, and for a second, neither of them moved.

“You’re not weak, Niall,” she said softly. “You care about people. That’s not a flaw—it’s what makes you worth following.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at her. “Ye dinna know that,” he said in a whisper. “Ye dinna know what I’ve had to do, who I’ve had to become to survive.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied softly. “I know you , Niall Campbell.”

He stared at her, unblinking. “Ye’ve got a way of getting under my skin, Charlotte.”

Her pulse jumped at the way he said her name, like it was something precious. His gaze dropped to her lips.

Charlie swallowed hard. Oh God. She was falling again. She had to get some semblance of control back. She affected a cocky grin, like the one Niall so often used. “You’re staring, Campbell.”

Niall smirked. “And?”

Charlie arched a brow. “And if you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you actually like me.”

His smile faded, replaced by something softer. Something real. “And what if I do?”

Her breath caught. She should look away, should shut this down before she did something reckless—like close the tiny distance between them.

Do not kiss him. Do not—

Niall leaned in slightly, and for one terrifying, exhilarating moment, Charlie thought she might actually let him.

Then her survival instincts kicked in. She placed a finger against his chest, gently but firmly stopping him in his tracks. “You know, Campbell, I think I’d rather focus on brick-making right now.”

Niall blinked, then let out a startled laugh. “My company comes secondary to brick-making now?”

Charlie grinned. “Yep. Very important work. Can’t be getting distracted by handsome, brooding lairds with tragic backstories, can I?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Ye’re a menace, lass.”

Charlie winked. “You love it.”

Still smiling, Niall lifted her hand and pressed a quick, surprising kiss to her knuckles before letting go. “Aye. Maybe I do.”

Charlie’s stomach did an entirely unhelpful flip.

She ignored it. Absolutely ignored it.

Instead, she stood, dusting off her apron. “Right, then. Less flirting, more brick-making.”

Niall sighed. “If ye say so, lass.”

But as she turned back to the kiln, she could still feel his eyes on her. And damn it, she liked it.

She heard the door open and close behind her and only then did she trust herself to turn around. She was alone in the workshop and she knew it was for the best. She knew Niall had done the right thing in leaving.

But she still wished he’d stayed.

***

N IALL STARED INTO THE candle flame as it wavered in a draft coming beneath the door, then picked up his goblet and took another swig of ale. Somewhere outside an owl hooted and through the window, he could see the moon beginning to rise, coating the manor with silver.

He had no idea what time it was. Late. So late that the rest of the house was abed with only those that kept watch from the gates still awake. Except for Niall, of course.

He’d not even tried to sleep, knowing full well it would elude him.

His mind was too full, his thoughts too chaotic. The sabotage of the mill. His confrontation with MacAllister and his brother, Bryce. The pamphlet about him and Charlotte...

No, he doubted he would get much sleep this night.

The crumpled gossip pamphlet lay discarded on the table. It infuriated him that Charlotte had been dragged into this, into the intrigue and shadows that had become his life. She was just an innocent bystander. Would his darkness swallow her as well?

He remembered the look in her eyes when he had admitted he wouldn’t mind if the gossip were true. He pushed a hand through his hair and tried to clear his mind, but the image of her kept coming back.

He’d said it flippantly but he’d meant every word. Oh, he most definitely would not mind if the gossip was true. If Charlotte was his...

Niall rubbed at his temples, annoyed with himself for thinking such things.

He stood and walked over to the window, gazing out into the night. The moonlight cast long shadows over the grounds and illuminated the path leading up to the mill. From here all he could see of it was a darker shadow against the sky. He’d had such hopes. It was to be their future, security against the turbulent years they’d all just survived. But now?

A movement outside caught his attention. He squinted, trying to make out what it was. A shadow, moving furtively through the estate grounds and slipping over an outer wall. The shadow crossed the courtyard, keeping out of sight of the guards, and headed towards the house.

So. It was time.

Niall straightened, his thoughts suddenly turning clear and sharp. He blew out the candle, plunging his study into darkness, and drew a dagger. Positioning himself behind the door, he pressed his back against the smooth plaster and waited.

He was barely breathing, his heart rate slow and steady as he listened. Most people would miss the tiny, almost imperceptible click of a lock, the soft whisper of footsteps coming closer. But Niall had been trained by the best and to him the sounds were as obvious as a thunderclap.

He waited as the footsteps approached his door. He tightened his grip on the dagger. The door handle turned and the door swung open on silent hinges. A shadow slipped into the room.

Niall waited until the door closed before he sprang into motion. He moved silently up behind the shadow, his dagger flashing. At the last second, the shadow turned and Niall’s blade caught on the shadow’s own, with a clink of metal.

The stranger lunged at Niall, their blade slicing through the air with a deadly precision. Niall blocked the attack expertly, his own dagger clashing against the stranger’s.

The room filled with the sounds of their battle—the scrape of boots against stone floors, heavy breathing and the razor-sharp ring of steel on steel.

Niall kicked out with his foot, catching his attacker squarely in the stomach. They grunted and staggered back but quickly regained their footing.

Niall lunged, his dagger aimed at the intruder’s heart. But the intruder was fast too—they ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding Niall’s blade, and quickly retaliated with a flurry of attacks. In a swift movement, the shadow disarmed Niall, his dagger skittering across the cold stone floor.

The shadow pressed the tip of their blade against Niall’s chest and tilted their head slightly to one side. There was a moment of silence before they spoke in a male voice.

“Checkmate.”

“Are ye sure of that?” Niall replied.

The shadow looked down to see Niall’s second dagger pressed against his crotch, ready to slice his balls off if he made a wrong move.

“I’d call that stalemate.”

The shadow began to laugh and stepped back, shaking his head in amusement. “Glad to see ye’ve not lost any of yer edge, Campbell. Damn it. That’s three silvers I owe Padraig.”

He lowered his blade and then took down his hood to reveal a man with a shaved head and neatly trimmed beard.

Niall scowled and resheathed his dagger. “God’s breath, Sorley!” he growled. “One of these days ye will learn to knock!”

Sorley MacCreath grinned and sheathed his dagger. He chuckled as he casually crossed the room to retrieve a chair. With an easy grace, he turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms on the backrest.

“Where would be the challenge in that? And besides, ye know its best if I’m not seen.”

Still scowling, Niall crossed to the candle and relit it with his flint and tinder, then slumped into the chair behind his desk.

“And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he asked.

“I would have thought that was obvious with all the shite ye’ve been pulling lately,” Sorley replied. “The high-ups are getting nervous. They’re close to securing a debate in parliament to begin formal negotiations of the Articles of Union and their best agent gets himself embroiled in a scandal which makes him top billing amongst all the gossips of Edinburgh.” Sorley leaned forward, the candlelight glinting in his icy blue eyes. “They canna risk ye blowing yer cover and ruining everything.”

“So they’ve sent ye to check up on me? It’s under control, Sorley. I dinna need a nursemaid.”

Sorley shrugged. “Perhaps not. But ye do need a friend, Niall. And right now, ye dinna seem to have many of those left.” His voice was softer now, the jesting tone replaced with concern.

Niall studied the man across from him. Sorley had been his ally and confidant for years, one of the few who knew about his clandestine activities and the true motives behind them. He trusted Sorley, as much as he could trust anyone in his line of work.

“So what are our employer’s instructions?” he asked.

“Ye need to get rid of the woman. She’s too much of a distraction.”

Niall’s heart clenched. “No. There’s no need for that. I can handle it.”

The icy blue of Sorley’s eyes seemed to darken. “It isnae about what ye can handle, it’s about what’s best for the mission, and she is not. Having her here draws too much attention and ye already have more than enough of that from Boyd MacAllister. If he should discover yer true mission...”

He left the words hanging. Niall knew what he was getting at. It was clear that MacAllister suspected Niall of being more than just a society rake or a country laird, but he didn’t have any proof. If he found that proof, he would be swift to move against him and anyone that got in his way would just be collateral damage. Charlotte, for example.

The thought of her getting hurt was like a knife to the gut. Yet the thought of her leaving was like one too.

He breathed evenly, keeping his expression neutral, refusing to let Sorley see how much this affected him. “It’s already in hand,” he said softly. “She’ll soon be leaving with a merchant caravan bound for the border.”

“When?”

“A week.”

Sorley shook his head. “Too long. Things are coming to a head. She needs to be gone before that. If she’s here when the keg goes up...”

Niall gritted his teeth. He wanted to tell Sorley to mind his own damned business, that he could keep Charlotte safe and complete his mission. But he knew Sorley was right.

“Fine,” he growled. “I will see to it that she leaves sooner.” He said the words casually, as if they meant nothing, but they scraped his throat raw as he said them and made his gut ache with pain.

Sorley studied him, his gaze serious. “Good. And for the love of God Almighty, find these rebels before all hell breaks loose. We’ve discovered Lady Murray is going to be hosting another of her balls in Edinburgh in a few days’ time. That might be a place to start.”

“Aye.”

Sorley nodded then put his arm across his chest. “For Alba.”

Niall copied his gesture. “For Alba.”

Sorley turned, his plaid swishing around him as he strode towards the door. He paused at the threshold and looked back at Niall. “And Niall,” he said in a softer voice, “I hope, for yer sake, ye find what ye are looking for once this is all over.” With that, he disappeared into the night.

Niall was left alone in the silence of his study. He sat in his chair, staring at the dancing candle flame.

For Alba. For Scotland.

Why did he have to choose between his vow to his country and Charlotte?

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he thought about the woman he had come to care for more than he’d ever imagined possible. He had known from the start that getting close to her was a dangerous path to tread. He’d known that in his world, there was no place for love and attachments. And yet Charlotte had slipped past all his guards.

He closed his eyes. She will be gone by the end of the week . The thought left him reeling.

What was he supposed to do without her?