Page 8 of Memory of a Highlander (Arch Through Time #27)

C harlie was sure her bones were being rattled into pieces. She clung to the side of the cart and kept her mouth tight shut to keep her teeth from smashing together every time the wheels went over a pothole or a boulder, which was about every three seconds as far as Charlie could tell.

Joseph and Niall were sat on the bench up front, Joseph holding the reins of the two enormous horses who were pulling the cart, whilst she and Flora were seated in the back, amongst the belongings that Flora had packed up from the townhouse.

It was not a dignified way to travel, that’s for sure. When Niall had offered to take her to his estate, she’d expected a fancy car to pull up outside.

Which was a ridiculous thing to think, considering she was in 1699. But her brain, it seemed, had yet to process this fact.

1699.

How was this possible? It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

And yet, here she was.

As they’d trundled through the streets of Edinburgh, Flora had made her put on a patched and faded cloak and pull the hood over her head. It was best, she explained, if anyone that saw them leaving thought she was a servant rather than the fake countess who’d appeared at the ball. If she was seen leaving with ‘Lord Niall’, it would only set tongues wagging all the more.

Lord Niall? she thought as they bounced along the rutted track. What does that mean? And who owns an Edinburgh townhouse and an estate in the country?

As the cart continued its jolting journey north, the city receded behind them, replaced by rolling hills and endless fields. The sight of it was both breathtaking and terrifying. Breathtaking because she had never seen such scenery, even in pictures or movies. Terrifying because it only confirmed her reality—that she was indeed far from her home, trapped in a time that wasn’t her own.

It was surreal. How did she end up in this situation? And, more importantly, how was she going to get out of it?

Home , she told herself. Just get home, back to Cardiff. Everything will be fine then, you’ll see.

She wasn’t entirely convinced by her own logic. Who was to say that she wouldn’t just end up in seventeenth century Cardiff? But right now, it was the only thing she had to cling to and cling to it she would. If she didn’t, she would likely lose her mind.

One thing she was sure of: she could not let her hosts know she’d traveled through time. There was no telling how they might react, but she knew it wouldn’t be good. So she kept her phone, her watch, and anything else that might give her away, safely out of sight.

After what seemed like an eternity of being jostled about, Joseph finally pulled the reins and the cart slowed to a stop. Charlie peeked out from beneath her hood and gasped at the sight before her.

The sprawling manor house glowed in the late afternoon sunlight, its stone facade warm and inviting. It was nestled amidst rolling green hills dotted with small stone houses with smoke coming from the chimneys and sheep in the fields.

“Whoa...” Charlie said. “That’s...”

“My home,” Niall said, swiveling in his seat to look at her. His eyes were soft and a genuine smile curled his lips rather than the cocky grin he usually wore. “Welcome to Glennoch.”

Charlie squinted at the massive building. It looked half-castle, half country house, with imposing walls circling it and a large courtyard at the front and side. She swallowed. Oh, hell. This was a million miles away from everything she knew. How was she supposed to fit in here until she found a way home?

She climbed down from the cart after Flora and as they approached the gates set in the curtain wall, a small army of servants appeared from nowhere. They swarmed around the cart, unloading crates and bags and disappearing back into the house as quickly as they’d emerged.

“Ye must be tired, lass,” Flora said, coming to Charlie’s side and putting her arm through hers. “Come, let’s get ye freshened up before dinner.”

Charlie glanced at Niall and he gave a tiny nod. “Um...right. Sure.”

Before she could say anything else, Flora swept her into the house.

***

“Y E BETTER HOPE THE wind doesnae change, lad,” said Joseph as he unloaded a sack from the cart. “Or ye’ll stay that way.”

Niall blinked, turning to look at the old man. “What?”

Joseph hefted the sack onto his shoulder and grinned. “Ye were staring after the lass like a brainless fool.”

Niall scowled. “I was not.”

Joseph gave a little chuckle, and then made his way into the house. Niall sighed and rubbed the side of his face. He hadn’t been staring, had he?

With a growl of irritation, he turned his attention to his surroundings, sucking in a great lungful of air. It was clean and fresh, smelling of fields and tilled earth, nothing like the cloying atmosphere of the capital.

It was good to be back here. More than good. He felt...free in a way he never could in the city.

He made his way around the side of the house to the courtyard. As he pushed open the heavy gate, something small and wriggly slammed into him with enough force to send him tumbling onto his backside with an oomph. Before he could recover, another something hit him and he was enveloped in a tide of small wriggly things that filled the air with excited whines, wagging tails, and slobbery kisses.

Niall laughed and fought his way up to seated, pushing off the excited newcomers.

“Ach! Get down ye rascals!”

But he might as well have talked to a wall as the dogs—two collies and three border terriers—continued to swarm him, leaping about with wagging tails and lolling tongues.

Eventually, he gave up trying to calm them and surrendered to their enthusiastic welcome, lying flat on his back in the middle of the courtyard, catching his breath.

“Lord Niall,” came a deep voice from somewhere above him. “Quite the welcome party, I see. Anyone would think they’ve missed ye.”

Niall turned his head to see Donald, the manor’s bald-headed, somber-faced chamberlain, standing by the gate with an amused expression on his face.

“Donald,” he replied with a grin, pushing himself up off the ground. “Good to see ye.”

Donald’s stern face broke into a rare smile. “And ye as well, my lord. It’s been too long.”

Niall brushed the dirt off his clothes as he got to his feet, the dogs still whirling around him in an excited frenzy. “Aye, it has.”

“Good hunting in Edinburgh?”

Niall grimaced. “Not as good as I would like.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Donald said, raising one eyebrow. “It seems ye caught a fish or two.”

Niall frowned at that, knowing he was referring to Charlotte. “She’s not...I mean...she’s just...” He struggled for words.

“A guest?” Donald supplied.

“Aye,” Niall replied quickly. “A guest. Just a guest.” She was far more than that, of course. She was an enigma he intended to puzzle out but Donald didn’t need to know that.

“Of course, my lord, and she will be shown the utmost hospitality. I’ve already had my orders from Flora in that regard.”

“Good. Make sure she’s comfortable. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my study. I’ve some work to finish.”

“Of course sir, I shall leave ye to it,” Donald said, nodding his approval. He turned and started barking orders at a group of stable boys lounging near the barn. Niall watched him for a few moments, amused by the flurry of activity that suddenly burst forth, before he turned and made his way towards the house, the dogs bounding along behind him.

His study was located on the top floor of the house. It was a long climb up a winding staircase, lit only by narrow slits of windows that let in thin shafts of golden sunlight. As he ascended, he could hear the distant sounds of life from outside: the clanging of metal from the blacksmith’s forge, the laughter of children playing in the fields beyond the walls, and the constant hum of life and living.

Ah, how he’d missed it.

Finally, he reached the top of the staircase and pushed open the heavy oaken door to his study.

It was a large circular room, filled with shelves upon shelves of books. Scrolls and parchments were piled high on every available surface, testament to the many years Niall had devoted to learning and understanding the world. It was an obsession his brothers and parents had never understood but one that had served him well in the years since. Without these books and scrolls, these obscure theories and outlandish ideas, he doubted he and his people would have survived the years just past.

The dogs bounded over to the fireplace and flopped into a contented heap on the rug whilst Niall made his way to his desk and dropped into his chair with a sigh.

He reached for a blank piece of parchment from the towering stack on his desk, being careful not to knock over the precariously balanced inkwell. He took a quill and sat with his hand poised over the parchment, his mind racing as he began to translate his thoughts into words.

Finally, he began writing. The marks flowed easily from his quill but to a casual observer, the coded message would make no sense. Good. That’s how he wanted it. The report to his superiors didn’t take long. Although he’d uncovered some minor players in Edinburgh, he’d still not uncovered who they were really looking for: the power behind the rebellion.

And Charlotte? He paused, quill hovering above the parchment. He was duty bound to report everything, and that included her. And yet, he hesitated. For a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he found himself reluctant to mention her.

Someone will come who will help ye find the path ye were meant to tread. One who will see ye, Niall Campbell.

He signed off the report without adding anything else then sealed it with a blob of melted wax before adding it to the pile of dispatches ready to go out by courier this evening.

With a sigh, he rose from the desk and walked to one of the narrow windows. Outside, he could see Joseph in conversation with Knox, Niall’s master builder, and a group of clansmen who were stripped to the waist and covered in dust.

A flush of eagerness went through him. He’d received regular reports on the progress of his building project while he’d been in Edinburgh, of course, but it wasn’t like seeing the real thing.

Whistling to the dogs, he left his study and took the stairs down to the courtyard two at a time. There was work to be done and it wouldn’t do itself.

***

C HARLIE PULLED THE brush through her hair, combing out the last of the tangles that the journey here had put in it and doing her best to calm her worry.

The room Flora had delivered her to was comfortable but in no way as opulent as the Edinburgh townhouse. A narrow bed, a fireplace against one wall, and a large rug over the floorboards, were the only decoration. In fact, she couldn’t decide whether Niall’s country house was actually a house or a castle. It seemed caught between the two as though the builder hadn’t been quite sure.

She put down the hairbrush and walked to the window. Instead of Edinburgh’s skyline, this time her gaze was met by an undulating landscape of hills with rocky summits, fields of crops waving in the breeze, and little crofts dotted about, with lines of smoke rising from the chimneys to join the clouds scudding across the sky.

It was a bucolic scene but all it did was remind her how far away from home she really was. There was nothing mechanized in sight and the people working the fields were doing so with hand tools and the occasional draft horse pulling a plow.

That panic started to flutter in her belly again and she gripped the window ledge hard.

Keep it together, she told herself. You won’t be here long. Niall will arrange for you to go back to Cardiff and everything will be fine.

And if it isn’t? a traitorous little voice whispered in the back of her head. If you go all the way back to Cardiff and find yourself still in the seventeenth century? What then?

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She couldn’t think about that.

Her stomach began to churn and she felt a headache building behind her eyes. She couldn’t just sit here alone with her thoughts going round and round. She had to do something. Anything. She strode to the door, pulled it open, and hurried downstairs to the main room of the house.

Although, ‘room’ was a loose term for the place she found herself in. It was huge, with a high, beamed ceiling, leaded windows high up on the walls, and a fireplace along one wall that was big enough to stand up in. Long tables filled the space, making it look more like a dining hall than any kind of living room, and she guessed that Niall and his staff ate here communally.

Flora, Joseph, and another man whom she’d been introduced to as Donald, were the only occupants, seated at a long table by the fireplace and poring over some documents. They looked up as she burst in.

“Lady Charlotte!” Donald said, rising from his seat. “Is there aught ye need?”

“I...um...I was hoping to have a word with Niall.”

“Ye’ll find him in the eastern pasture,” Donald said. “Through the main doors, across the courtyard, through the gate and ye’ll be there. Would ye like me to escort ye?”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “You all look busy. I’ll find my way.”

She turned on her heel and hurried outside into the courtyard. The cobblestones were slick beneath her feet, worn smooth by centuries of use. She could see the gate Donald had mentioned at the far end, a heavy wooden thing reinforced with iron bands. The courtyard itself was a bustling hub of activity, teeming with people tending to chores and craftsmen busily engaged in their trades. A blacksmith hammered away at a glowing piece of iron, its rhythmic clinks echoing off the stone walls of the manor. Women filled buckets at the well and children ran underfoot, their laughter piercing the busy hum of work.

Her heart began to pound in her chest, her panic growing. She put a hand to her head, suddenly dizzy, when a cacophony of excited barking caught her ears. She looked around to see two border terriers racing across the courtyard, their rough coats sandy and bristling in the sunlight.

One of them skidded to a halt at her feet, panting heavily and looking up at her, whilst the other jumped onto its back legs, placing front paws on Charlie’s knees and grinning up at her with tongue lolling out.

She felt a smile creep across her face and reached down to scratch the dog’s ears. “Hello there. And who might you be?”

As she petted the dogs, her panic receded a little so she pushed herself to her feet, squared her shoulders, and set off across the courtyard, the two little dogs gamboling around her like spring lambs.

As she reached the gate on the far side, the cool wind whipped her hair about her face, carrying with it the rich scent of earth and growing things. She pulled open the gate and stepped through onto the path beyond. The wind was stronger here, unbroken by any buildings, but also warmer, carrying with it the heat of the sun.

The path itself was not paved, but rather a well-trodden dirt track that wound its way through the pasture beyond. Tall grasses brushed against her skirts as she walked, their seed heads bobbing in the breeze like a sea of tiny ships. The dogs kept her company, their little paws scrabbling on the pebbles as they worked to keep up with her long strides. They occasionally darted off into the fields, chasing after butterflies or their own shadows before bounding back to her side.

Ahead of her, a group of men came into view, hunched over as they labored. They worked methodically, their movements synchronized as they moved to haul stones into a wooden cart.

In the middle of them, working along with the others, she spotted a familiar figure. He had his back to her, and his hair tied at the nape of his neck.

Niall.

He was stripped to the waist, revealing a muscular torso and arms glistening with sweat. Charlie felt a blush creep across her cheeks as she approached. Oh yes, trust him to have a body to die for.

As if sensing her presence behind him, he turned and met her gaze.

“Charlotte,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow with one arm and then giving her a lazy grin. “What are ye doing out here?”

What was she doing out here? What was he doing out here stripped and sweating, hauling rocks and dirt like a common laborer? Was this really the same suave, self-assured lady’s man she’d met in Edinburgh?

“Could I have a word?” she replied, swallowing hard. The way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths and the way the thin layer of sweat made his skin glisten was very distracting.

Niall nodded and gestured to the others to continue without him. He picked up his shirt and slipped it on as he walked over to her. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she reassured him quickly, folding her arms across her chest in an attempt to put some barrier between them. “I just...” She frowned at the building site behind them. “What are you all doing?”

“Right now? Quarrying stone. We’re going to need it.”

“Need it? For what?”

Niall’s eyes flashed and a boyish grin spread across his face. “Come with me, lass, and I’ll show ye.”

He held out a hand to her, palm up, his fingers grimy from the work. Hesitant, she placed her own within it.

Niall’s smile deepened, his eyes flashing with amusement, and he led her uphill, the dogs scampering behind them. The wind grew stronger as they climbed, carrying with it the faint scent of heather and wild thyme from the moors beyond the manor’s boundaries.

The hill was steep and she had to work to keep up with Niall’s long strides. He did not seem to notice or slow down for her, his eyes focused ahead. She noticed how his shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat from his earlier work, and forced herself to focus on their destination.

Near the top of the hill, they reached a plateau that had been turned into a construction site. Men were working diligently under the watchful eye of an older man with wild red hair who stood with his hands on his hips, bellowing instructions and swearing crudely enough to turn the air aflame.

“Watch where ye are going with that beam, ye bloody idiot! Ye nearly took Emery’s flaming eye out! No, not there! There! God save me, my old ma could do better than ye useless lot of sheep turds!”

Niall winced at the older man’s colorful language. “That,” he said, gesturing towards the fiery-haired man, “is Knox.”

He whistled sharply, cutting through the cacophony of work noise. At the sound, Knox spun around, huffing and puffing like a riled bull, eyes narrowed. His expression softened when he spotted Niall and he straightened up, brushing off his hands on his britches.

“Niall,” he called in a gruff voice. “Ye brought the lady to our little project?”

“Aye,” Niall replied, releasing Charlie’s hand and stepping forward to clap the older man on the shoulder. “Charlotte, this is Knox MacGregor. He’s an old friend and our site supervisor.”

Knox grunted and extended a gnarled hand, which she shook. There was a curious glint in his eyes as they met hers, but she saw no unkindness there. A rough exterior hiding a kind heart, perhaps.

In contrast to Niall’s lithe strength, Knox was a mountain of a man, with muscles honed from decades of hard labor and weathered skin the color of old leather.

“How’s it coming along?” Niall asked, nodding at the flat ground behind Knox.

A structure was being built on the plateau and now that they were closer, Charlie could make out more details—massive stone blocks forming a circular base and wooden beams erected around it like skeletal fingers reaching towards the sky. It looked like a half-finished, conical tower. Charlie had no idea what it might be.

“We’ve got the scaffold up so we can lay the upper courses,” Knox replied, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “As soon as those lazy bastards get those stones hauled from the bottom of the hill, we can get to work on laying them.”

Excitement danced in Niall’s eyes. “So we’re on schedule then?”

“Lad,” Knox growled. “We’re ahead of schedule, just like I said we’d be. We’ll be ready in plenty of time for yer merchant arriving with the finishing touches.”

Niall clapped Knox on the shoulder again. “I never doubted it.” He turned to Charlie. “Come, I want to show ye something.”

He took her hand once more and led her into the chaos of the construction site, weaving through workers and around piles of stone and wood. The workmen paused to nod at Niall as he passed, their faces smeared with dust and sweat.

As they moved closer to the center of the construction, Charlie could see the details: the precision-cut stones carefully laid one upon another, the intricate network of wooden beams that crisscrossed overhead, and a towering wooden frame that stood at its heart.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to make sense of the strange structure. “A tower of some sort?”

Niall’s laughter echoed across the plateau, making the workers pause and look up from their tasks. “Progress. The future. The key to improving all our lives.”

Charlie looked up at the structure. The wooden beams of the interior skeleton sloped gradually inwards until the beams met at the top and crisscrossed like the spokes of a...

“A windmill!” she said. “It’s going to be a windmill!”

Niall nodded, his face bright with excitement. “Aye, a grain mill to be exact. It will grind the corn and wheat for the entire estate and the surrounding villages. Think of the time saved. No more grueling hours of manual labor. No more back-breaking grindstone work by hand, no more waste from inefficient methods.” He glanced at her, his eyes alight. “We’ll have enough flour for our people and plenty left over to trade.”

Charlie absorbed this information, struck by the transformation that had come over him. Here, surrounded by stone and timber, sweat and dust, he was not the carefree rogue she had first met. Instead, he radiated authority and purpose.

His green eyes fixed on her. “Ye said ye wanted to speak to me about something?”

“I...yes...I was wondering when your contact will arrive? The one who can arrange for me to return to Cardiff?”

Niall rubbed his chin, managing to smear the grime a little more. “Antonio will be coming over from the low countries. His timing will depend on the weather and the tides, but we’re hoping he’ll be here within the month.”

Charlie stared. A month? A whole month? She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. How could she survive for a whole month? She forced a weak smile, nodding as if this news was perfectly fine rather than utterly devastating.

But even so, Niall seemed to sense her turmoil. His expression softened. “Is there a problem, lass?”

“No, no problem,” she said hastily, forcing herself to meet his gaze.” I was just...hoping it would be sooner.”

The wind tousled Niall’s hair. “I’m sorry, lass,” he said softly. He reached out and squeezed her hand.

Charlie stared at him and felt her stomach flutter. Memories of their kiss flashed through her mind. The warm feel of his lips on hers, the strength in his arms as he’d held her close, the earthy scent of him all around her...

Damn it! She most definitely should not be thinking about that!

He stared at her without blinking and there was an intensity in his gaze that made the flutter in her belly worse. Was he remembering the kiss as well?

“Would ye like a tour of the estate?”

The change in topic caught her off guard. “You what?”

Niall waved expansively. “The estate. There’s more to this place than just the construction site. Ye’ve already met Knox so ye should meet the rest of the folk who make this place run.”

A tour could be a good distraction, a chance to explore and maybe find something—anything—that could help her situation. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

“This way then.”

Niall began the tour with the stables. The scent of hay and horse was comforting, familiar, and Charlie found herself relaxing a bit as she patted the nose of a large bay mare. Niall introduced her to the stable master, a grizzled old man named Rory who had a kind smile and a weathered face that spoke of decades spent outdoors.

From there, they moved on to the fields where men and women were bent double, working with their hands to cultivate the rich soil. They were growing vegetables and barley for the upcoming winter months.

Then there was the smithy where iron was heated and fashioned into practical items for daily use, and the granary where harvested grains were stored. She met dozens of people—and too many names to ever hope to remember.

Throughout it all, she was impressed by how well Niall seemed to know his people. He greeted everyone by name and had a pleasant word to spare for each of them. They responded in kind, bantering and chatting in a way that spoke of deep affection. She was struck again by the two different sides of him: charming society rogue and hard-working landowner. Which was the real Niall Campbell?

Finally, the land began to change. It became sparse country, devoid of any human settlements and inhabited only by wandering sheep.

Niall came to a halt. “Ah, the border where my rule ceases,” he said with a wry smile, looking out over the landscape.

“So if that’s not your land,” she asked. “Who does it belong to?”

He pointed to the right. “Everything in that direction belongs to Boyd MacAllister.”

From the dark tone of Niall’s voice, it was clear that he held little love for the man. “And in the other direction?” she asked, pointing to the left.

If anything, Niall’s expression grew even darker. “My brother.”

Charlie blinked, taken aback. “Your...brother?”

“Aye. We should be going. There’s plenty more to see.”

But Charlie didn’t move. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

He paused, reluctance showing in every line of his posture. “Brothers,” he corrected, glancing at her. “I have four of them. Bryce is the eldest and holds all the lands east of here.” He breathed out slowly, turning to look out at the lands beyond his borders. “Surrounded by enemies,” he said softly.

Before she could ask any more questions, he strode away and Charlie was forced to trot to catch up. As they walked, she mulled over Niall’s revelation. Brothers. Four of them. That meant he was part of a rather large family—unlike Charlie. There was just herself, her cousin, and her aunt and uncle.

What were her own family doing right now? she wondered. Her cousin Ruby was as close as a sister and her aunt and uncle had raised her. Were they missing her? Had they called the police when she didn’t turn up for the dress fitting? Or did time travel not work that way and in fact she’d only been gone for an instant?

It made her head hurt to think about it.

As they came out from a copse of Scot’s Pine, a cluster of stone buildings came into view. Some were half-collapsed, their roofs sunken in and walls crumbling. Others stood surprisingly intact, their stonework darkened by centuries of weather. A large stone chimney towered over it all.

“What are those?” Charlie asked, pointing at the dilapidated structures.

A wistful expression crossed his handsome features. “My mother’s old pottery workshop. It’s been abandoned for years.”

Charlie’s heartbeat quickened. A pottery? “Can I take a look?”

Niall hesitated, his gaze flickering over the ruined buildings. “Alright, but be careful. It hasnae been maintained.”

As they approached the structures, Charlie felt a strange sense of anticipation. The idea of getting her hands on clay again, of losing herself in the familiar motions of shaping and molding, was very appealing.

The first building they entered was obviously once used as a kiln room. The large hearth was cold and empty, the ashes long since cleaned away. Despite its ruined state, Charlie could see how it would have functioned in its prime.

“Your mother is a potter?” she asked Niall as she walked around the room, trying to piece together how it must have looked when operational.

“Aye,” Niall said curtly. “She was.

Charlie glanced at him. “Was?”

“Aye. She died a few years ago.”

“Oh,” she said, hands flying to her mouth. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.” Harder than it had been for her. Her own parents had died when she was too young to remember them.

He shrugged, clearly indicating that he didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he shouldered open a rickety door on the far side of the room and disappeared inside.

She trailed after him into the adjoining room, and gasped in wonderment. It was a pottery workshop, complete with a disused wheel. The room, though dust-ridden and forgotten, still retained an aura of creative energy. The wooden shelves lining one wall bore the remnants of clay pots and vases, some fully formed and others still in their fledgling stages. Dusty parchments lay scattered on a worn-out table, their faded lines hinting at unfinished designs.

Charlie ran her fingers along the dusty wheel. She could almost hear the whirring hum of the wheel spinning, feel the wet clay slipping between her fingers as she shaped it with practised ease.

She wondered about Niall’s mother. What kind of woman was she? Did she find solace in crafting beautiful pieces from lumps of clay like she herself did? The thought made her heart ache with a strange sort of kinship.

Niall watched her from the doorway. “Ye seem familiar with this,” he observed.

Charlie nodded without looking at him. “You could say that.”

Familiar? It was more than familiar. It was like coming home. The smell of the place. The feel of the place. It sent a calmness through her that had been missing these last few days.

“I’m a potter too. I studied ceramics—much to my uncle’s disgust,” she said with a soft laugh. “I’ve spent the last couple of years setting up my own business. I’ve been selling my work at craft fairs and the like.”

After the rent on her workshop and kiln and the money needed for supplies, the little she brought in from sales meant she barely broke even but Charlie still wouldn’t have it any other way. The thought of working nine to five for somebody else made her shiver. No way, thank you very much.

Niall said nothing, so she turned to look at him and found him leaning against the doorframe with a bemused little smile on his face.

“What?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Have I got something on my face? I have, haven’t I?” She began rubbing her face with the sleeve of her dress.

Niall laughed, a low rumbling sound that sent a delicious shiver right through her. “Nay, lass, ye dinna have aught on yer face. It’s just that...well, ye say some strange things. What are craft fairs? And, forgive me, but are women normally allowed to study such things in Cardiff?”

“Allowed?” Charlie replied indignantly. “We’re not allowed to do anything! We choose what we want to do!”

Niall held up his hands in surrender. “My apologies. I didnae mean to offend. Cardiff sounds like an...enlightened place.” He cocked his head as he watched her. “Ye look at home here in the workshop. Dare I say it, but ye almost look...content.”

Did she? Charlie stopped and took a moment to really feel the sensation. She inhaled deeply, soaking in the smell of the earthy clay. He was right. She did feel a strange sense of... something—something other than the disorientation and worry she’d felt since her arrival.

“Perhaps I am.”

Niall’s smile broadened and it was a genuine one rather than the knowing smirk he often wore. This smile reached his eyes and lit them up in a way that made Charlie’s heart lift. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’ve not seen ye smile much since ye’ve been here. Well, not when ye’ve been sober at least.”

Charlie pressed her lips into a line and gave him a flat look. “Funny.”

Niall grinned, and that mischievous, smug look was back. “I’m just teasing ye lass. Would ye like to use this?”

Charlie blinked in surprise. “Use it? But this is your mother’s workshop. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Ye could. It has been dormant for a long time and I think my mother would like for it to be brought back to life again. If ye want it, it is yers.”

Charlie said nothing, unsure how to respond to this unexpected and generous offer. She looked around the room again, at the dust-covered shelves and the crumbling pots.

She turned back to Niall, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I would love that,” she said sincerely. “Thank you.”

Without thinking, she walked over and pulled him into a grateful hug. He stiffened momentarily in surprise, then his arms wrapped around her, returning the embrace. She could feel the solid planes of his chest pressed against her and the scent of him filled her senses—a mix of fresh breeze and tilled earth.

“Ye’re welcome,” he murmured into her ear, his breath fanning against her skin and sending tingles down her spine.

Charlie pulled away after a moment, flustered at what she’d just done. What was wrong with her? Why did Niall Campbell’s presence make her do stupid, impulsive things?

“Well,” Niall said, raising an eyebrow. “If that’s the reaction I get, I should give potteries to beautiful women more often.”

He was back again, the smooth charmer. Charlie frowned. Well, two could play at that game.

“Oh, so you think I’m beautiful do you?” she asked in a teasing voice.

But Niall did not play along. There was no humor in his voice, only a strange intensity as he replied. “Aye, I do.”

Heat flushed down Charlie’s neck and she realized that Niall was far better at this game than she. If she wasn’t careful she’d end up kissing him again and where would that leave them? He was exactly the kind of man she did not want to get involved with.

She cleared her throat and looked around. “I...um...I’ll have to clean it up a bit.”

Niall laughed softly at her understatement. “Aye. Just a bit.” He picked up a broom leaning against the wall. “No time like the present.”

And so they set to work, dusting off shelves and sweeping up the remnants of clay that littered the floor. As they worked, Charlie found herself stealing glances at Niall. Only moments ago he’d become the suave charmer she’d met in Edinburgh but in the blink of an eye he’d become the down-to-earth laird again, happy to muck in and sweep up the mess in his mother’s old workshop.

She watched as he bent over to pick up a broken piece of pottery from the floor, his muscles straining under his shirt. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes of the man he was. It made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Damn, damn, damn. She knew better than to let Niall’s obvious charms affect her. No doubt he knew exactly what he was doing and put on this little performance with all the women.

Cynical again, Charlie , she asked herself. Not cynical , she thought. Just careful.

They worked together in companionable silence until finally, panting slightly from the exertion, Charlie paused to admire their work. It wasn’t perfect; there was still a lot that needed doing for it to function as a proper workshop, but it was a start.

She gestured at the room with a sweeping motion of her dusty hand. “I think your mother would be pleased.”

“Aye,” Niall said softly, his gaze lingering on her face. “She’d be happy to see someone breathe life back into this place.”

“Let’s get out of these dusty clothes,” Charlie suggested, glancing at her dirty dress.

Niall curled an eyebrow and smirked. “Why, Mistress Charlotte, is that an invitation?”

She scowled at him. “You know what I mean. And I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I reckon we’ve earned our supper today.”

They left the workshop, the door creaking shut behind them, and made their way towards Glennoch. As they walked, Charlie found her mind whirring with everything she’d need to get the pottery workshop up and running. Clay, of course, would be the first thing, although the fact that Niall’s mother had set up a workshop in the first place suggested there must be a ready supply somewhere nearby. She could do with some brushes and she’d need to source materials for glazes. Wood to fire the kiln. A water supply. Molds of different sizes and designs—

“There ye are!”

She looked up to see Flora emerging from the house. The housekeeper held something in her hand as she hurried towards them, her worn boots crunching on the gravel. It was a scroll sealed with a blob of red wax.

“I’ve been looking for ye,” she announced, glancing between her and Niall. “The two of ye have been gone a long time.”

There was a slightly disapproving tone to Flora’s voice as if she was wondering exactly what the two of them had been doing alone together all afternoon.

Niall didn’t bother to explain. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the scroll in her hand.

Flora thrust it towards Niall. “That’s why I was looking for ye. Courier just brought this. He was in an awful hurry and didnae even want to wait for ye.”

Niall took the scroll and glanced at the wax seal. There was an impression stamped into the wax that looked to Charlie like a thistle and a lion. Niall’s expression hardened as he saw it. His hand tightened around the scroll, crushing it slightly.

“I have to go,” Niall muttered. “Flora, send the word out that I’m not to be disturbed.”

Then, without another word, he strode into the house, leaving Charlie staring after.