Page 22 of Memory of a Highlander (Arch Through Time #27)

N iall exhaled sharply , rolling his shoulders as he stepped away from the insufferable old lord who had cornered him. He forced a smile onto his face, nodded politely, and turned back to the grand hall.

All around him, the ball carried on as if nothing was amiss—elegant men and women chattered behind fluttering fans, servants weaving between them carrying silver trays, and the musicians played a lively reel. But Niall wasn’t fooled.

His sharp eyes flicked through the crowd, scanning faces, movements. He spotted what he was looking for. There—they were in position. The crown agents, blended into the guests, their postures a little too stiff, their eyes too alert. Joseph was among them, lingering near the long dining table, waiting for Niall’s signal to set their plan in motion.

And yet—something was wrong.

A deep unease settled in his gut, tightening like a noose. He didn’t see MacAllister. Or Lady Murray.

Or Charlotte.

His pulse spiked. Where was she?

Niall’s gaze darted around the room. He turned, scanning the sea of faces, the glittering jewels, the rustling silk. His breath came faster. He could always find her in a crowd. He should be able to find her.

But she wasn’t here.

Panic clawed at his chest. He spun on his heel and strode out of the ballroom, and into the foyer outside. He heard nothing but the sound of his own pulse hammering in his ears. Then he spotted it—the door at the far end of the corridor, slightly ajar.

Without hesitation, he moved toward it, heart pounding. The moment he stepped through, he felt it—something in the air, thick and crackling like the moments before a storm. The hair on the back of his neck rose. A long, dimly lit corridor stretched ahead of him. He took off down it, urgency biting at his heels.

He skidded as he reached the end and saw them.

Charlotte. MacAllister. Lady Murray.

Lady Murray had Charlotte by the arm and MacAllister stood beside them, a satisfied smirk curling his lips.

And behind them—

Niall’s breath caught.

An open door stood behind them that led to...he couldn’t see where it led to. The air within it shimmered like rippling water. What, by all that’s holy, was that?

He drew the dagger at his belt, the cold steel familiar in his palm as he leveled it at Macallister and Lady Murray.

“Let her go!” he roared.

MacAllister turned his head and the bastard had the audacity to smile . “Too late, Campbell.”

And before Niall could move, he yanked Charlotte backward through the doorway followed closely by Lady Murray.

“No!”

Niall lunged as they disappeared, Charlotte’s startled cry echoing through the corridor. Then...nothing. Niall’s heart leapt into his throat. His mission, the rebellion, the conspirators—none of it mattered anymore.

Only her .

Without thinking, without hesitating, Niall did the only thing that made sense.

He threw himself after her.

***

C HARLIE HIT THE FLOOR hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. The smell of dust and old paper filled her nose. She coughed, rolling onto her side, and then she heard it—the distant hum of car engines, the occasional blare of a horn. Edinburgh. Her Edinburgh.

She was back. An instant later, she realized she hadn’t come back alone.

MacAllister groaned as he pushed himself up nearby. Lady Murray stood a few feet away, her gown askew, her perfectly arranged curls now wild. But when she lifted her head, her eyes burned with triumph.

Terror spiked through Charlie. No. No!

She scrambled to her feet and looked around wildly. There: a window. She sped over to it.

“Help!” she cried, fumbling with the window’s catch.

Lady Murray’s hand lashed out like a striking snake, sending Charlie sprawling.

“Ye think ye can call for help?” she hissed. “And what, dear girl, will ye tell them? That two people from the past have come through a portal in a bookshop? They’ll think ye are mad .”

Charlie growled and elbowed Lady Murray hard in the ribs, sending her stumbling into a bookshelf. Books rained down around them, thudding onto the wooden floor.

Charlie dived for the window—

Pain shot through her scalp as MacAllister’s fingers tangled in her hair and yanked her backward. She cried out as she was dragged off her feet, landing hard against his chest. Before she could struggle, something cold pressed against her throat.

A knife.

“Enough of that,” MacAllister growled, his voice thick with menace. “Dinna think I’m above cutting yer throat. Ye are only alive right now because we need a guide in this time. Dinna make me reassess that choice.”

Charlie froze, fear curling in her gut. She had no doubt that MacAllister would carry out his threat. The knife’s edge felt cold and hard where it pressed against her throat.

“All right,” she whispered. “All right.”

“That’s better. Now tell me—”

Before MacAllister could finish the sentence, he gave a low grunt, his grip slackened and he suddenly went tumbling away.

Charlie stumbled back and whirled. Relief, joy, and something deeper surged through her, making her knees weak as she spotted the figure standing over MacAllister, fist still clenched from the blow. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, as he raised his head, bright green eyes locking onto her.

Niall.

***

T HE WORLD FELT WRONG .

Niall had expected—what? Fire raining from the sky? Buildings as tall as mountains? He didn’t know. But the dim glow of lanterns—no, lights —and the endless shelves of books seemed... normal. And yet, nothing was right.

The air smelled strange, too clean, lacking the familiar scents of smoke and damp earth. And beyond the room’s walls, an unnatural hum filled the silence.

The future. He was in the future.

But none of it mattered.

His gaze snapped back to Charlotte. She was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Are ye hurt?” His voice was rough, urgent.

She shook her head. “No. I’m okay.”

Relief hit him hard. He took a step toward her, wanting to reach for her, but MacAllister groaned from the floor. The bastard was stirring, rolling onto his side with a wince. Before Niall could react, he snatched his knife from the floor and lunged.

Niall barely dodged, twisting out of the way as the blade sliced through the air. He staggered back, knocking into a shelf, books crashing to the floor. MacAllister came again, swinging wildly.

Charlotte grabbed a heavy volume and hurled it at him. The book hit MacAllister’s shoulder, throwing him off balance for just a second—enough for Niall to charge.

They crashed together, grappling, fists flying. MacAllister was strong, but Niall was desperate. He slammed his knee into the man’s gut, sending him stumbling back into a table.

He spotted movement to the side. Lady Murray had snatched up a wooden chair and swung it at Charlotte. Niall didn’t think. He reacted.

He lunged between them just as the chair swung. Pain exploded through his shoulder as the chair slammed into him. He bit back a curse, his vision swimming as agony ripped through him. Charlotte screamed his name. But he didn’t stop. With sheer will, he twisted, grabbed Murray’s wrist, and yanked her off balance, sending her staggering.

MacAllister, dazed but furious, came at them again. Charlotte grabbed the nearest object—a small stool—and swung it hard, catching him in the ribs. He staggered, and Niall used the moment to shove him backward—

Straight into the portal.

“I’ll get ye, Campb—” he screamed, but his words cut off as he disappeared.

Niall staggered, his breath coming fast. MacAllister was gone—but Lady Murray was still here.

She had fallen a few feet away, panting, her fine dress torn at the hem, her hair wild. She pushed herself up with a snarl, her eyes blazing with fury.

Niall cursed under his breath and lunged for her, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her toward the portal. She fought him, digging in her heels, clawing at his injured shoulder. Pain flared hot and sharp, but he didn’t let go.

She twisted, nails raking across his skin. “I will not be sent back—”

A pair of hands joined his.

Charlotte.

She grabbed Lady Murray’s other arm, her grip firm, her expression set in fierce determination. She met Niall’s gaze, and his chest clenched painfully.

For the first time, he saw it so clearly it hurt—this world was hers . The light in her eyes, the confidence in her step, the way she understood things he never could. This was her home. She belonged here, not with him.

His heart cracked wide open at the thought.

He pushed it aside. He couldn’t think about that now. If he did, he would be lost. Together, he and Charlotte dragged the hissing, kicking Lady Murray to the portal.

“Let her go!” Niall cried to Charlotte as they reached it.

Charlotte did so and Niall threw himself and his captive towards the shimmering air. As he touched it, the world spun, and then Niall was crashing down onto cold stone. The scent of damp air and candle smoke filled his lungs.

Lady Murray tumbled onto the floor beside him, gasping as the portal’s light flared behind them. He barely spared her a glance. His attention was fixed beyond the swirling energy—fixed on her .

Charlotte stood just on the other side, still in the place filled with books, still in the future. She was breathing hard, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

Niall’s heart felt like it was being torn in two.

She was home .

She had fought so hard for this. It was what she had wanted from the moment she had arrived in his world. He had known, deep down, that she would leave—that she had to leave.

But now the moment had come, he felt like he was dying.

His hands clenched at his sides as his body screamed at him to do something—to beg, to plead, to drag her through before the portal closed. Because the thought of living without her—of waking up tomorrow and knowing she was gone forever—

It was unbearable.

Charlotte swallowed hard. For the first time since he’d known her, she looked uncertain.

And that was what made his decision for him.

He straightened, forcing his voice to be steady. “Ye’re home now, my love.”

She bit her lip, her eyes shining. The portal flickered. It wouldn’t stay open much longer.

Niall’s chest ached as he looked at her, committing every detail to memory—the way her hair fell down her back, the stubborn tilt of her chin, the softness in her gaze.

He had no right to ask her to stay.

So he wouldn’t.

Instead, he let out a slow breath and said the only thing that mattered.

“I love ye, Charlotte.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching.

“I love ye,” he said again, his voice rougher, full of every ounce of pain and longing in his soul. “I always will.”

The portal pulsed, its edges crackling. He forced himself to step back. Forced himself to let her go.

“Goodbye, lass.”

***

C HARLIE STOOD FROZEN , Niall’s words ringing in her ears. I love ye, Charlotte. I always will.

And then— Goodbye, lass.

Her heart clenched so painfully she could barely breathe. She had been so desperate to return to this world, to the life she had left behind. But as she stood in the dimly lit bookshop, hearing the hum of traffic, the distant blare of a car horn, the chatter of people on the street outside...

She felt...nothing.

This place—her own time—felt wrong . Like a pair of shoes that no longer fit.

Irene MacAskill’s words echoed in her mind. Write yer own story, lass. Not someone else’s that ye read about in a book.

She had been so blind. Because her home wasn’t a place. Or even a time. It was him . He was her story and the one they would write together was her future.

The portal flickered again, the edges beginning to curl inward.

No. No, no, no—

Her gaze locked onto Niall standing just beyond the edge of the swirling light—

And she ran.

Her boots pounded against the wooden floor as she backed up, then sprinted forward. The portal was closing fast, but she didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t look back.

At the last second, she leapt . The world twisted around her, and then—

She crashed into something solid and warm, sending them both sprawling onto the stone floor.

A grunt sounded beneath her, and she looked down, dazed. Niall was lying flat on his back, his strong arms instinctively wrapped around her. His face was a mixture of shock, relief, and something so fierce it stole her breath.

Around them, voices shouted, boots scuffled. She barely registered the fact that the corridor was filled with people. MacAllister was being hauled to his feet, Lady Murray hissing something furious as she was dragged away.

None of that mattered. Because she was here.

With him .

Charlotte pressed her hands to Niall’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. His hands clenched around her waist, as if afraid she might disappear.

His green eyes searched hers, disbelieving. “Charlotte?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “What—?”

She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t do it.”

His brows drew together.

“I couldn’t leave you,” she whispered. “Because I love you, Niall. I love you .”

A shuddering breath left him, his hands tightening on her as if anchoring himself. His expression was raw, his eyes blazing with emotion. Then, before she could say another word, he shifted beneath her, one arm curling around her back while his other hand found her face, fingers sliding into her hair.

“Marry me.” The words were rough, urgent.

“What?”

“Marry me,” he repeated, his voice steadier this time, but no less desperate. “Be my wife. I canna—” His throat bobbed. “I canna let ye go. Not again.”

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she gave a soft laugh. “You absolute idiot,” she whispered, tracing her fingers along his jaw. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

A grin split his face, half disbelieving, half triumphant, and then he was kissing her, hard and fierce and full of everything he couldn’t say.

Somewhere beyond them, someone cleared their throat. Joseph?

“Well, that’s finally settled, then. About bloody time.”