Page 21 of Memory of a Highlander (Arch Through Time #27)

C harlie sat at the kitchen table, her hands around a ceramic mug of Flora’s chamomile tea that had long since gone tepid.

They had arrived back at Niall’s Edinburgh townhouse that morning after leaving Bryce’s estate at first light. Bryce had sent some of his people to fetch Joseph and Flora and when they’d arrived at Dun Haymore, they revealed that MacAllister had indeed tried to have Niall and Charlie arrested. Sheriffs had arrived at Glennoch late last night and turned the place over searching for them. They’d only left when neither could be found.

Charlie swallowed thickly. If they failed tonight, there was no doubt what would happen to them. She took another sip of the tepid tea, trying to calm her nerves.

The hum of Edinburgh’s streets echoed faintly in the background, so different to the quietness of Glennoch. She glanced at Niall, who was talking to Joseph near the hearth, their conversation low and serious.

She knew what they were discussing—the infiltration of Lady Murray’s ball tonight. The thought of it made her stomach twist in knots. They were going to walk straight into the heart of the conspiracy, and she’d be right there with them.

“Are ye alright, lass?” Flora’s voice broke through her thoughts, and Charlie turned to find the older woman standing before her wearing a concerned frown.

Charlie managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just... thinking about tonight.”

Flora studied her before nodding slowly. “Aye. There’s a lot at stake.” She gave a soft sigh. “For all of us.”

Flora’s words did nothing to quiet the churn of anxiety in Charlie’s stomach. What if everything went wrong? What if MacAllister was already a step ahead of them? He’d promised dire retribution against her and Niall. The thought made her insides clench with dread. If anything should happen to Niall...

She glanced over at where the two men were talking. Niall’s expression was focused, determined, but she could see the strain in the set of his shoulders, the tightness around his jaw. He was worried too, and she knew it.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. She couldn’t help it. Whenever he was near he burned against her senses like a bonfire. She loved him. The admission came easier now. She had always been so cynical about people who claimed they couldn’t live without someone—but now she knew how they felt.

She shifted in her seat, the muscles in her body twinging. She ached all over—and not from the wagon ride here. Last night they’d made full use of the bed that Bryce had given them and she’d spent most of the night exploring Niall’s body in every way possible. Oh yes, she ached today, but it was a warm, delicious ache and just the thought of Niall’s body twined with hers made her hot all over again.

“Ye are staring at him,” Flora teased quietly.

Charlie flushed. “Am I?”

Flora chuckled softly. “Aye, I’ve seen many a woman look at Niall that way before.”

Charlie looked at her sharply. “You have?”

“Aye. But ye have nothing to fear. Of all the women who’ve looked at Niall that way, ye are the only one he’s ever looked back at in the same way. I’ve known that lad since he was a bairn and I’ve never seen him like this over anyone. He loves ye, lass, and I’m mighty happy for the pair of ye.”

A warm feeling lit in Charlie’s chest. He loves ye, lass . How had this happened? How had she fallen in love with a man from the seventeenth century? And how had he fallen in love with her in return? It was crazy. Utterly crazy.

Niall looked over at her, catching her eye across the room. His gaze softened for a split second before he turned back to Joseph, but it was enough to make her heart skip a beat. For all the danger they were about to face, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more alive.

Finally, Joseph and Flora left, leaving her alone with Niall.

He came over and crouched in front of her, brushing his knuckles gently against her cheek. “Ye’ve been quiet,” he murmured.

Charlie shrugged. “Just thinking.”

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face so she had to meet his eyes. “About what?”

She hesitated before admitting, “I’m frightened, Niall. Tonight could go horribly wrong. MacAllister—he won’t just let this slide. And Lady Murray—if she recognizes me...”

He shifted closer, his warmth wrapping around her like a shield. “I willnae let anything happen to ye, lass.” His voice was low and certain. “I swear it.”

She wanted to believe him, and maybe she did. Maybe she always had. But there were too many unknowns, too many ways their plan could unravel.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking over her skin. “I’ve never known ye to back down from a fight.”

Charlie huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “That doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”

He smiled slightly, his own rough edges softening. “Fear’s not a weakness, lass. It means ye understand the stakes. It means ye care.”

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “I care too much,” she admitted. “About you. About something happening to you.”

Niall exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against hers. “Then we’ll just have to make sure we come out of this alive, aye?”

Charlie let herself lean into him before finally drawing back. “We should go over the plan again.”

She and Niall would attend the ball as Bryce’s guests. It would cause enough of a stir to ensure every eye in the room would be on them. Everyone knew Bryce and Niall’s relationship was fraught with tension, so their sudden arrival together would set tongues wagging. MacAllister wouldn’t like it, of course, and would be immediately suspicious, but keeping him off balance was another reason they’d decided on this course of action.

And then there were the rumors about her and Niall. A notorious rogue bringing his mistress to a noble gathering—it was scandalous. It was exactly the kind of thing that would ensure no one was paying attention to the real danger creeping into the ball—Joseph and the crown agents who would slip in unnoticed and move to arrest the conspirators.

Charlie straightened in her chair, squaring her shoulders. “It’ll work,” she said, as much to convince herself as Niall.

He studied her for several heartbeats, then nodded. “Aye. It will.”

***

T HE EVENING AIR WAS crisp as Niall stepped into the waiting carriage, the faint scent of damp stone and burning hearth fires drifting in from the city streets. Bryce sat opposite him, his face impassive, while Charlotte settled beside Niall, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her gown in a nervous gesture. Joseph had already slipped away on foot with his men, moving like shadows through the Edinburgh night.

Inside the carriage, the flickering lantern cast long, shifting shadows as they went over the plan one last time.

“Everything is in place?” Niall asked, his voice low.

Bryce nodded. “Aye. The men will be in position before we arrive. Once the signal is given, they’ll move in. Until then, we do nothing but play our part.”

Charlie took a breath. “And our part is to be a spectacle.”

Bryce smirked slightly. “That shouldnae be difficult. Edinburgh has been buzzing with gossip about the two of ye. Ye do realize half the room will think ye’ve brought a harlot to the ball?”

Niall chuckled softly, though he could feel Charlotte stiffen beside him. He turned to her, his voice softer. “Let them think what they will. If it keeps their eyes on us and off the real threat, all the better.”

Charlie exhaled, nodding. “Right. Distraction.”

The carriage rolled to a smooth stop outside Lady Murray’s townhouse, the golden glow from the candle-filled chandeliers spilling from the tall windows. Footmen hurried to open the doors, and as Niall stepped out, the familiar hum of aristocratic chatter filled the air.

The moment they were announced, conversation faltered. Heads turned. Fans twitched in the hands of women eager for gossip. The Campbell brothers, together at a social event? And Niall Campbell escorting the woman who had impersonated Countess Argyle? The speculation would be rampant before the first course was served.

Good. That was exactly what he wanted.

He let a slow, roguish smile spread across his face, affecting the easy arrogance that had become second nature to him as, with deliberate leisure, he guided Charlotte forward, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. He could feel the tension in her posture, but she lifted her chin and moved with confidence.

Scanning the room, his gaze swept across the gathered nobles, searching for the one man he wanted to see more than any other.

Boyd MacAllister.

But he wasn’t in the room. Niall’s jaw tightened. That was unexpected.

Bryce, at his side, caught the shift in his expression. “Trouble?”

“Could be,” Niall muttered. “MacAllister’s not here.”

Charlotte looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

Niall didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t sure yet. But a deep, uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

Something was wrong.

Niall and Charlotte split from Bryce and began moving through the crowd, weaving between clusters of elegantly dressed guests. The heat of so many bodies, the cloying perfume, and the murmur of gossiping voices pressed in on him. He focused on the room, his instincts sharp, his body tense and ready.

His hand brushed against the knife he had hidden beneath his plaid—a small comfort. He had no intention of letting Charlotte out of his sight, not with danger lurking so close. He could already feel too many eyes on them, guests pausing in their conversations to whisper behind gloved hands, eyes darting toward him and Charlotte before quickly looking away.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Niall turned sharply, already irritated, only to find himself face to face with Lord Buchanan, an aging noble with a fondness for drink and an even greater fondness for reliving the past.

“Campbell! There ye are!” Buchanan boomed, his ruddy face lighting up. “I wondered when we’d have the delight of yer company again! Still getting yerself into trouble, I see?”

Niall forced a tight smile, unwilling to waste time but knowing it would look suspicious to brush him off too quickly. “Aye, my lord, trouble does have a way of finding me.”

Before he could find a polite way to extricate himself, Buchanan’s wife appeared at his side, a thin, sharp-featured woman draped in a gown of heavy brocade. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as they landed on Charlotte.

“Oh, what a lovely young lady,” she said brightly, seizing Charlotte’s arm. “My dear, ye must come and meet Lady Anstruther. She’s been simply dying to meet the woman who has caused such a stir in Edinburgh.”

Charlotte threw a quick glance at Niall, but before he could step in, Lady Buchanan was leading her away, her voice an endless stream of chatter. Niall stiffened, his gut twisting as he watched Charlotte disappear into the shifting crowd of silk and lace.

Damn it.

His hand twitched toward his knife, but he kept still. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t in danger—yet. But he had a bad feeling about this.

Gritting his teeth, he turned back to Buchanan, knowing he needed to get rid of him quickly.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I must—”

“Ye must have a drink with me,” Buchanan insisted, signaling for a servant. “Tell me, do ye still ride that hell-beast of a stallion? What was his name? Ah, yes—”

Niall barely heard him. His attention was locked on the last place he had seen Charlotte, her figure swallowed by the shifting, whispering crowd.

And MacAllister was still nowhere to be seen.

***

C HARLIE TRIED TO HIDE her alarm as the woman led her away from Niall. She glanced over her shoulder to see him watching after her, stopped from following by the lord’s hand on his shoulder. She gave him the slightest nod, telling him she was fine, then turned her attention to her escort.

The woman kept up a stream of chatter as they moved through the crowd, pointing out various guests and throwing an endless list of names at her that Charlie had no chance of remembering. Finally, they reached a space at the side of the room where several richly-dressed women were standing. Lady Buchanan quickly introduced her and the women’s eyes widened as they realized who she was.

“Ye must tell us, dear,” one of them said, her fan fluttering. “What is it like, living under the same roof as the notorious Mr. Campbell?”

Charlie had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. They wanted scandal? She’d give them scandal. If it meant keeping all eyes on her and giving Joseph and the others time to do their work, then she was happy to fan the flames of gossip.

Charlie tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Oh, it’s terribly improper,” she said with a sigh. “And thrilling, of course. The man has absolutely no shame. Why, just last night, he—” She let her voice drop to a whisper and watched their eager faces lean closer. “—read poetry to me by candlelight. Shirtless.”

The ladies gasped, their hands flying to their mouths. One of them giggled behind her fan. Another fanned herself rapidly, as if the mere thought of Niall without a shirt might send her into a swoon.

“And this morning?” another dared to ask.

Charlie lowered her lashes demurely. “This morning, he insisted on helping me with my laces.”

The gasps were even louder this time. A few of the women cast glances over their shoulders, checking for eavesdroppers, but none of them moved away. They were too enthralled.

“Mr. Campbell is... quite attentive, isnae he?” one murmured.

“Oh, yes, that’s one word for it.”

As she laughed along with them, Charlie let her gaze drift over the room. She was searching for MacAllister, or for any of Joseph or Bryce’s men that were supposed to be infiltrating the gathering. She saw neither. That unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Something wasn’t right.

And then, as if fate had decided to make her evening even worse, Lady Murray suddenly appeared at her side.

The ladies around her fell silent, stepping back to allow the older woman room. Lady Murray’s expression was all cool politeness, but her eyes were sharp.

“Miss Douglas,” she said smoothly. “I dare say none of us expected to see ye again.”

Charlie swallowed down the sudden spike of nerves. “Lady Murray,” she said, curtsying slightly. “What a pleasure.”

Lady Murray did not return the courtesy. Instead, she tilted her head, regarding Charlie as one might a particularly interesting puzzle. “Tell me, my dear,” she continued, her voice light and laced with steel. “Why exactly did ye see fit to impersonate the Countess of Argyll at my last gathering?”

The moment Lady Murray stepped closer, a weight settled on Charlie’s shoulders, and she felt that familiar flutter of nerves. The sharpness in the older woman’s gaze didn’t make it any easier, but Charlie straightened her back, forcing a confident smirk onto her lips. She wasn’t going to let Lady Murray intimidate her.

She met Lady Murray’s piercing eyes and shrugged casually. “Well, it seemed the best way to get Niall Campbell’s attention. Besides, I rather enjoy a bit of mischief.”

Lady Murray’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t immediately reply, clearly considering Charlie’s words. The older woman looked her over like a hawk sizing up its prey. But then her gaze lifted to look beyond Charlie, towards the doors that opened out into the foyer.

Charlie glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught. Boyd MacAllister stood in the doorway, his cold gaze raking over the gathering. Charlie fought the instinct to duck away from his gaze but MacAllister didn’t seem to notice her.

Lady Murray cleared her throat and turned to the ladies. “Ye will excuse me.”

She hurried off, weaving through the crowd. She made straight for MacAllister. When she reached him, the two of them put their heads together and conferred, then, instead of coming into the hall, walked off across the foyer, disappearing from Charlie’s view.

Damn. Where were they going?

She gave the ladies a polite nod, murmuring something about needing to freshen up, before making her way through the crowd. She looked around for Niall but couldn’t see him.

She didn’t have time to look for him as she hurried out of the hall and into the foyer. She glanced hurriedly around, trying to catch sight of MacAllister and Lady Murray. There was no sign of them, but far in the corner, so unobtrusive as to be virtually invisible, she caught sight of a plain door swinging closed.

Ice slid down Charlie’s spine. She recognized that door. It was the one she’d come through after she’d stepped through the portal in the bookshop. Somewhere through there, was the spot where she’d traveled through time.

Taking a deep breath and looking around to check she wasn’t followed, Charlie stepped over to the door, pulled it open, and slid through with as much stealth as she could manage.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the faintest echoes from the ballroom in the darkened hallway in which she found herself. Her heart began to thump. What was she doing? This wasn’t part of the plan! But she had to know what MacAllister and Lady Murray were up to. Why had they come this way?

Charlie’s footsteps were light but hurried, as she carefully walked down the dim, narrow corridor. It was strange how familiar everything felt—the creaky floorboards, the cool draft that passed through, and the dim lighting from the few candle sconces that lined the walls. It was like she had been here a hundred times before, though in truth, she had only been once. Now though, she felt a tug in her stomach, as if something was pulling her back to the place where it had all begun.

She saw no sign of her quarry. She was alone, her breath and her footsteps the only sound as she inched her way along the corridor. With each step, her pulse rate increased. Terror and anticipation warred within her. What would she find at the end of this corridor?

Her breath caught as she reached the end. The corridor ended in an old wooden door—completely unremarkable.

Except that it wasn’t. Except that this door had brought her through time.

On the other side, the Edinburgh bookshop where this had all begun waited. All she had to do was open the door and step through and she would be gone. She would be home.

Niall’s face flashed through her mind. She had thought she wanted to go home more than anything. But now? Now all she could think about was him.

But she had to know if it was possible. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the door handle, the metal cold under her fingers. It turned slowly and she pushed the door. It swung open with a creak.

Charlie stared. A strange feeling swirled in her chest at what she saw. Disappointment? Or relief?

Instead of the passage back to her time, she was met with the stale, musty air of a small, cluttered store cupboard. There were shelves stacked with old linens, jars of unmarked spices, and boxes that looked as though they hadn’t been opened in years.

“Finally! Ye took yer time,” a voice suddenly said from the shadows.

Charlie spun with a cry. Boyd MacAllister stood behind her.Her stomach twisted into knots. “What are you doing here?”

MacAllister stepped closer, his cold gaze never leaving her face. “So that’s it then?” he asked. “The portal that brought ye here? Lady Murray was right after all.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Did ye hear that? Ye were right, my dear.”

The shadows moved and Lady Murray stepped into the candlelight. Her eyes shone with a savageness she had hidden well at the ball.

“I usually am,” she said airily.

Charlie’s pulse hammered in her ears as she tried to assess her situation. They had her trapped. There was nowhere to go, and the look in both of their eyes told her that they weren’t here for a friendly conversation.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice rising just slightly.

Lady Murray’s eyes gleamed with an eerie, almost otherworldly light as she spoke. “Ye dinna understand, do ye?” Her voice was almost too calm, too assured, as though she had been waiting for this moment for years. “The night ye arrived here, I felt it. A disturbance in the balance. A ripple in time that should not have been. I knew, the moment I sensed it, that someone had crossed through.”

Charlie stepped back, her breath quickening. “A disturbance?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

Lady Murray nodded, her lips curling into a slight, calculating smile. “Ye know exactly what I mean. I’m talking about the night ye arrived here from the future.”

“You mean you knew ?” Charlie asked incredulously. “You knew I’d come through time?”

Lady Murray waved a hand. “Of course I knew! That’s the whole reason I bought this townhouse in the first place. It sits on a nexus of ley lines that make it easier to step between worlds. But I’ve never been able to do so, no matter the spells and rituals I tried.”

Charlie stared at her. Spells? Rituals? “You’re...you’re a witch?”

Lady Murray’s sharp bark of laughter held no mirth. “Such a coarse word. I’m a scholar. A scholar of the old ways. Ways that have been handed down to me from my grandmother who had Fae blood in her veins. Ways that in yer time, I’m sure are already forgotten. Aye, I knew what this place was but I couldnae open the portals myself. For that I needed a catalyst. I’ve been waiting years for one to come.”

She leaned forward and her eyes glinted with eagerness. “I’ve been waiting years for ye . I didnae recognize ye for what ye were at first, of course. When ye first showed up, I thought ye were the Countess of Argyle like ye claimed. It was only after, when yer subterfuge had been discovered, that I began to put the pieces together. So imagine my annoyance when ye seemingly disappeared from Edinburgh before I could question ye.”

“And imagine our delight,” MacAllister added, “when I discovered it was my old nemesis, Niall Campbell, who had spirited ye away. After that it wasnae that difficult to plant the crumbs ye would both follow back here.”

Charlie stared at him. “You mean...you mean this is all a set up? You wanted Niall and me to come here tonight?”

MacAllister grinned and for the first time, Charlie saw genuine mirth in his eyes. “Of course. Ye are the key, Miss Douglas. Ye always have been. Yer arrival was no accident. Ye opened the door. And now we need ye to open it again.”

Charlie shook her head, the confusion turning to something darker. “You want me to open the portal...so you can travel to the future?”

Lady Murray stepped closer, her smile sharp and predatory. “My grandmother taught me all about the wonders that can be found in the future. This is what I’ve been working towards for years.”

Charlie’s pulse roared in her ears. “You’re insane,” she growled. “I can’t open any portals. I already tried—the door just leads to a bloody store cupboard!”

Lady Murray only smiled, slow and knowing. “Oh, my dear,” she murmured, grabbing Charlie’s wrist in a grip like an iron shackle. “Ye know nothing .”

Suddenly, Lady Murray yanked her toward the cupboard door. The sudden force sent her stumbling, and before she could brace herself, her outstretched hands crossed the door’s threshold.

The moment that happened, the air shifted.

A shudder ran through the room, deep and low, as though the very bones of the house were groaning in protest. The candle flames guttered violently, casting wild, jagged shadows against the stone walls.

Charlie gasped as a strange pressure built around her outstretched hands as they came down on the floor beyond the threshold, like she had plunged it into something thick and shifting. The air itself twisted, swirling in unnatural currents. A low, echoing hum filled her ears, growing louder, rising in pitch until it was a shrieking, keening wail.

Then the darkness in front of her moved.

Not just darkness—a tear . A rip in the air, in time itself, jagged and shifting like the edge of broken glass. The air beneath the arch of the doorway began to shimmer like heat haze.

A portal.

A real, impossible, terrifying portal.

Charlie tried to pull back, but Lady Murray held her fast, her fingers digging into Charlie’s skin.

“See?” Lady Murray breathed, her eyes alight with triumph. “It was always ye .”

MacAllister let out a low, awed chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “She’s actually done it.”

Charlie swallowed hard, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as she wrenched her arm away from Lady Murray’s grasp. The portal rippled and shimmered beside her. Would it really take her back to the twenty-first century?

She forced herself to focus. “Why?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. “Why do you want to go to the future? What do you think you’ll find there?”

Lady Murray tilted her head, amusement glinting in her cold, dark eyes. “Oh, my dear, ye already know the answer.”

MacAllister stepped forward. “The future holds power. Machines, weapons—things beyond anything we currently have. The English crown has ruled over us for too long, dictated our fate, crushed our people under their boots. If the Articles of Union go ahead, we will lose even more! But we will change that.” His words shook with conviction. “With the right tools, we can take back our land, overthrow the government, make Scotland great again!”

Charlie felt cold all over. She could practically see it—the destruction, the bloodshed, history being twisted into something it was never meant to be.

“You’re talking about war,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

MacAllister’s lip curled. “Aye, war if need be. A war we can win .”

Charlie’s stomach clenched. She had read enough history to know what men like this would do with power. The idea of them getting their hands on modern technology—guns, explosives, even something as simple as a rifle—was horrifying.

She turned her gaze to the swirling portal, the impossible door she had just opened.

She couldn’t let them through. But how could she stop them?