Page 23 of Memory of a Highlander (Arch Through Time #27)

The wind whispered over the hilltop, rustling the long grass and carrying the scent of heather through the air. The windmill, newly finished, stood tall against the bright blue sky, its sails unmoving in the still afternoon air. The wooden platform before it had been decorated with wildflowers, and the gathered guests—clad in their finest tartans—watched in hushed anticipation.

Charlotte stood at the foot of the aisle. Excitement and nerves tangled in her belly. A warm hand settled over hers.

“Are ye ready, lass?” Joseph murmured, his voice gruff but kind. He looked uncharacteristically polished in his fine plaid.

She nodded. “I am.”

With that, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her forward.

Niall stood at the altar, the sun catching the copper glints in his sandy hair. His plaid was draped proudly over his shoulder, his shirt fitted to his broad frame. He looked devastatingly handsome, but that wasn’t what made her breath catch. It was the way he looked at her. Like she was the only thing in the world. Like he still couldn’t believe she was here, standing before him. Choosing him.

Next to him, Bryce stood as his best man, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the sentiment of it all. But when he caught Charlie’s eye, he gave her a small nod of approval. That, more than anything, made her smile.

As they reached the altar, Joseph placed her hand in Niall’s and stepped back. “Take care of her,” he said.

“I will,” Niall promised, his voice steady, his grip firm around her fingers.

She glanced around the gathered faces—Flora, grinning tearfully, Knox watching with arms crossed, Glennoch’s people who had come to celebrate. They had all become her family now.

She let out a breath, squeezing Niall’s hand.

The priest’s voice rang clear in the open air as he began reciting the ancient vows that would bind them together. Niall said his vows first, his voice deep and unwavering.

“I, Niall Campbell, take ye, Charlotte Douglas, to be my wife. I swear before God and these witnesses that I shall love ye, honor ye, and protect ye for all my days.”

Her throat tightened as she repeated the words in return.

“I, Charlotte Douglas, take you, Niall Campbell, to be my husband. I swear before God and these witnesses that I shall love you, honor you, and stand beside you for all my days.”

Their hands were bound together with a strip of the Campbell tartan, the symbol of their union. As the priest finished his blessing, Niall lifted her hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Ye may kiss yer bride,” the priest announced.

Niall didn’t hesitate. His hands framed her face, and then his lips claimed hers—firm, warm, reverent. The crowd erupted into cheers, letting out triumphant shouts, and Charlie melted into him, knowing in her soul that this was exactly where she belonged.

As they pulled apart, she found Bryce standing beside them, arms crossed, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, ye’ve gone and done it now.”

Niall smirked. “Aye, we really have, havenae we?”

The feast stretched long into the evening, with laughter, music, and endless toasts in their honor and Charlie was more than a little tipsy by the time she and Niall were able to make their escape. But now, at last, Charlie stood in their chambers, her breath shallow as she gazed out at the moonlit landscape beyond the window.

She heard the door close behind her.

A shiver ran through her as she turned to find Niall leaning against it, his gaze dark and heated. His linen shirt was open at the collar, his plaid still wrapped around his hips.

Neither of them spoke. The night, the vows, the journey that had brought them here settled between them.

Then Niall moved. Slowly. Deliberately. He came to stand before her, reaching out to run his fingers over the lace of her gown. “I canna believe ye’re mine,” he murmured.

Charlie smiled. “I’ve always been yours. I just didn’t realize it at first.”

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “Then let me have ye, my heart.”

He kissed her then, deep and consuming, as his hands made quick work of the laces of her gown. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and she gasped as the cool air kissed her bare skin.

Niall’s eyes darkened as he took her in. “Ye are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He scooped her up, carrying her to the bed, and as he settled above her, his body pressing into hers, Charlie’s breathing quickened, anticipation coiling tight in her belly. He braced himself on his forearms, his body warm and solid against hers, the weight of him both comforting and electrifying.

His lips brushed over her jaw, trailing soft kisses down her throat. “I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “All day I’ve dreamed of this. I’ve barely been able to hold myself back.”

Charlotte arched into him, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “Then stop dreaming.”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest, and then he was kissing her again, this time with an urgency that sent heat surging through her veins. His hands roamed over her body, calloused palms tracing every dip and curve.

She shivered as his lips moved lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over the swell of her breasts. He took his time, savoring every inch of her, teasing her with slow strokes of his tongue until she was writhing beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Niall,” she gasped, her body aching for more.

He lifted his head, his eyes burning with intensity. “Aye, my heart?”

She couldn’t find the words, so instead, she reached for him, her hands tugging at the folds of his plaid. Understanding flared in his gaze, and with one swift movement, he shrugged off the remaining barriers between them.

She smiled wickedly as she took him in—the strength of him, the raw masculinity of his body. But what undid her was the way he looked at her, as though she were his whole world.

He nudged her thighs apart, settling between them, his heat pressing intimately against her. “I love ye,” he whispered, his voice thick with restraint.

Charlie cupped his face, brushing her lips against his. “Likewise. Now give me what I want.”

With a groan, he entered her, slow and deliberate, giving her time to adjust. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity. She gasped, clutching at his back, pulling him deeper.

Niall stilled, his breath ragged. “God above, lass... ye feel like heaven.”

He began to move, each thrust slow and deep, as if memorizing every reaction, every shiver of pleasure that coursed through her. Charlie met him stroke for stroke, their bodies in perfect rhythm.

His name spilled from her lips as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, tightening and coiling until it finally shattered over her in waves. Niall followed moments later, his body shuddering as he found his own release, his grip tightening around her as if he never wanted to let go.

For a long while, they simply lay there, tangled together in the moonlight, their bodies still thrumming with the aftershocks.

Niall pressed a lazy kiss to her forehead, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her spine. “Mine,” he murmured fiercely. “Ye are mine.”

Charlotte smiled, pressing closer to him. “And you, Niall Campbell, are mine.”

“Yers,” he agreed, his voice already heavy with sleep. “Always yers.”

The night had settled into a hush, the only sounds the distant rustling of the wind through the trees and the slow, steady rhythm of Niall’s breathing beside her when Charlie jolted suddenly awake.

She opened her eyes, staring up at the wooden beams above their bed, her heart suddenly racing. She was sure somebody had been calling her name.

She blinked, trying to clear her foggy thoughts. A dream, she told herself. Just a dream.

Charlotte, a voice called almost beyond hearing.

Wait. That was no dream.

She shifted carefully, slipping out from beneath Niall’s embrace, pressing a kiss to his shoulder when he stirred but did not wake. The air was cool against her skin as she pulled on a robe and padded barefoot to the door.

The house was quiet and still as she made her way downstairs and through the door. As soon as she stepped outside, the night wrapped around her, vast and endless. The moon cast a silvery glow over the courtyard, illuminating the figure seated on the steps. Small, rotund, with a gray bun pinned to the back of her head.

Irene MacAskill.

Charlie’s pulse quickened as she approached. Irene turned to look at her, dark eyes unreadable yet knowing, as if she had been expecting her.

“I was wondering when ye’d hear me,” Irene said, a faint smile playing at her lips. “I dinna have all night ye know.”

Charlie crossed her arms, suppressing the shiver that ran down her spine. “What...what are you doing here?”

Irene tilted her head, considering her. “I came to speak to ye, of course. I would have thought that was obvious.”

“Speak to me? Why?”

Irene watched her steadily and Charlie got the feeling she was being weighed on some sort of scale. “Ye made a choice when ye came back here and that choice has helped to right the balance. Ye made another choice when ye decided to stay with young Campbell. I came to ask if ye are happy with that choice.”

Charlie didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said firmly. But even as she spoke the word, something in her expression must have betrayed her, because Irene’s sharp gaze intensified.

“And yet,” Irene mused. “Ye look as though a shadow hangs over ye.”

Charlie swallowed thickly, glancing away. “It’s nothing.”

Irene laughed softly, shaking her head. “Dinna lie to an old woman, lass. I’m too old and too practiced to fall for them. Tell me.”

Charlie hesitated, then sighed. “I just... I wish I could have explained things to my family. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. They must be worried sick.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t regret staying here. I love Niall. He’s my home now. But I hate that I left them without a word. That they’ll never know what happened to me.”

Irene studied her for a long moment, then nodded as if she had been expecting that answer. “Would ye fix it, if ye had the chance?”

Charlie blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Irene said, “that I can send ye back. Back to yer time, just for a short while. Long enough to see yer family, to tell them what ye need to say. And then,” she gestured expansively, “I’ll bring ye back here. To this very moment. As if ye never left.”

Charlie’s heart stuttered in her chest. A way to go back. To explain. To give her family closure.

To say goodbye.

She glanced back at the door, at the window of their room above. She could still feel Niall’s touch on her skin, still hear the way he had whispered her name as he held her.

She looked back at Irene. “Can ye really do that?”

Irene smiled. “Aye, lass. But the question is—do ye want to?”

Irene lifted a hand and gestured toward the stable door across the courtyard. The wood shimmered in the moonlight, but it wasn’t the glow of the night reflecting off it—it was something else. The air around it rippled like heat haze, swirling with energy.

Just like the portal that had brought her here.

Charlie turned back to Irene, her stomach twisting with uncertainty. “And you promise... I’ll come back?”

Irene gave her a small, knowing smile. “Ye have my word, lass. When ye step back through, it will be as though ye never left.”

Charlie glanced once more toward the door of the house, where Niall slept, unaware. I’ll be back before he even knows I’m gone. Then, steeling herself, she turned and stepped toward the stable door.

The moment she touched the swirling energy, everything lurched. The wind howled in her ears, her stomach flipped, and the world around her blurred into nothingness.

Then, suddenly, she was standing beneath a doorway in a bustling street in Edinburgh.

Her Edinburgh.

The sharp scent of diesel filled her nose. Cars rumbled past. People walked by, their faces illuminated by the glow of their phones. Neon shop signs buzzed overhead, and the sound of distant music mixed with the hum of voices and city life.

The sheer noise of it all hit her like a slap.

She gasped, stumbling slightly, and wrapped her arms around herself, her mind reeling. It was all so... loud. So overwhelming. How had she ever lived with this constant assault on the senses?

Then, she looked up and gasped. Right in front of her, across the road, was a bridal shop. The bridal shop. The one where she was supposed to meet her cousin.

And standing inside, visible through the wide front window, was Ruby.

Charlie’s heart clenched. She barely registered the traffic as she hurried across the street, yanking open the shop door.

A bell chimed overhead as she stepped inside. Within, everything was warm and bright, racks of pristine wedding dresses lining the space.

Ruby turned at the sound of the door and frowned. “Charlie? Where the hell have you been? You’re fifteen minutes late!”

Charlie stared at her cousin as if seeing her for the first time in years. The familiar tilt of her nose, the way she raised an eyebrow in exasperation—it was all so heartbreakingly normal.

And then Ruby’s frown deepened as she took in Charlie’s appearance. “Wait... what are you wearing ?”

Charlotte blinked down at herself. Her robe.

Oh, hell.

A choked laugh bubbled up in her throat, half-hysterical, half-disbelieving. She lifted her gaze back to Ruby, and suddenly, all the emotions she’d been holding back hit her at once. She threw her arms around her cousin and hugged her tight.

“Charlie?” Ruby said, stiff with confusion. “What’s going on?”

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in the familiar scent of Ruby’s shampoo, of home, of everything she thought she had lost. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Ruby pulled back, giving her a skeptical look. “Missed me? You saw me last week.”

Charlie gave a shaky laugh. “For you, maybe.”

Ruby’s frown deepened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Charlie took a deep breath, stepping back and gripping Ruby’s hands. “Sit down,” she said. “Because I have a lot to tell you.”

***

T HE WORLD TILTED AS Charlie stepped back through the shimmering heat haze. The air thickened, and then...stillness.

Cool night air touched her skin, rich with the scent of earth and wood smoke. The stars overhead were clear and sharp, undimmed by modern light. And standing there, on the steps of the manor house, stood Niall. His shoulders sagged in relief the moment he saw her.

“I woke and found ye gone,” he said, his voice quiet but thick with emotion. “Irene MacAskill was here. She told me where ye’d gone. I feared... I feared ye might not come back.”

Charlie rushed up to him and threw herself into his arms. She pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes, her hand curling at his cheek. “I will always come back. But I did what I needed to do. I told my family I was okay. That I found where I belong.”

Emotion flickered across his face—relief, joy, wonder. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Ye’ve no idea how long these minutes felt.”

He kissed her then—slow and deep, like a promise. Like a homecoming. Behind them, the manor glowed with candlelight, the front door open wide, inviting.

“Come,” Niall said, taking her hand in his and giving her a wicked smile. “Ye might have been gone for only moments but I’ve a mind to show my wife just how much I missed her.”

“Oh?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. “By making ye scream my name.”

A shiver of heat coiled in Charlie’s stomach. “Then what are we waiting for?”

As they stepped through the door together, Charlie glanced back once—just once—at the starry night behind her.

Then she turned her face forward, toward love and laughter and forever.

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THE END

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