Page 29 of The Love Leap (Timeless Love Chronicles #1)
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The earth beneath our feet abruptly gives out, revealing a narrow ravine with dangerous, jagged edges.
Cal’s boots skid on loose gravel as he stops short, eyes wide as he takes in the obstacle in front of us.
I can see the decision forming in his mind—face the dangers behind us or leap into uncertainty?
“We have to jump,” I blurt, my voice surprisingly steady even though my legs are not.
“Together,” he agrees, reaching for my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine, and something warm and solid unfurls inside me—courage, maybe? Without wasting another second, I sprint towards the edge of the ravine.
As I jump into the void, time seems to slow down. The wind whips through my hair, and adrenaline pumps through my veins like high-octane fuel. Then it’s over as quickly as it began; my feet hit solid ground on the other side and buckle underneath me.
I whirl around to find Cal still on the other side. My heart lodges firmly in my throat as I watch him prepare for his jump. But then he’s running, leaping across with an effortless grace that leaves me breathless.
He lands next to me, chest rising and falling rapidly. Despite our dire situation, he’s still achingly gorgeous: flushed cheeks and tousled hair against the backdrop of danger.
“Not bad for a city girl,” he teases.
“Not bad for a sea-soaked barnacle.” I grin back at him.
We quickly duck behind a large boulder to catch our breaths. The cool roughness of the rock against my back contrasts with Cal’s warmth beside me, creating a comforting yet electrifying sensation.
“Quite the close call,” I pant out. “I guess we can add ‘ravine jumping’ to our list of skills.”
Cal chuckles softly. “Aye, we could totally win the Aven Valley Highland Games. No contest.”
“So what’s next?” I whisper, peeping out from behind our rocky hiding spot.
“We need a diversion,” he muses, deep in thought.
An idea hits me like a lightning bolt. A fallen tree trunk across a stream nearby could serve as a makeshift bridge and help us put some distance between us and our enemies. It’s risky, but it might work.
“Trust me?” I ask, my eyes locking with his.
“With my life.”
I draw deep breaths, bracing myself for what’s to come. “Then follow my lead. And whatever happens, don’t look back.”
My hand finds his, and we entwine our fingers in a silent pact before stepping out from our hiding place. “There,” I whisper, nodding towards the log that bridges the river. “We’ll cross there.”
He offers a small nod. “Lead the way, Mills. I’m right behind ye.”
Taking a deep breath for courage, I step onto the log, arms outstretched for balance. The wood groans under my weight but holds firm as I move towards the far bank. Cal’s presence is a comforting warmth at my back as he follows closely behind.
We’re halfway across when shouts slice through the night air—it’s them again; they’ve found us, and they’re closing in fast.
“Hurry!” I call urgently, though my voice barely rises above a whisper in the stillness of night.
The moon is full and bright above us, casting an otherworldly glow over the river and dense forest surrounding us. My mouth is dry, my breathing jagged as we traverse this precarious bridge one careful step at a time.
The log creaks under our combined weight yet remains sturdy until we reach the other side. Relief floods me as I glance back at Cal, who now stands on solid ground, too, wearing an expression of grim satisfaction.
“Well done,” he says, “but we need to make sure they cannae follow us.”
With all the strength I can muster, I lift one end of the log while Cal does the same on his side.
The log is surprisingly heavy, a testament to its age and resilience. But with our combined efforts, we dislodge it from its perch, sending it crashing into the river below. The splash echoes through the tranquil forest like an impromptu concert.
A triumphant grin spreads across Cal’s face, his fist jutting out towards me in the time-honored tradition of modern-day Brohood.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I meet his knuckles with mine in a satisfying fist-bump.
As our fists pull back, an unspoken electricity crackles between us.
Our eyes meet again—this time not fueled by mutual resolve but something far more intimate.
My heart does a little somersault as Cal and I lean into each other, our faces so close that I can count the flecks of gold in his eyes.
The world around us blurs into nothingness as I close mine, ready to give in to the magnetic pull between us.
But just then, the serenity is shattered by shouts and curses from across the river. Talk about crappy timing.
Our heads whip towards the sound, spotting Gregor and a man who could be his twin swinging across the river like they’re auditioning for a low-budget Tarzan remake.
Our almost-kiss moment? Yeah, that’s gone with the wind now. We break apart and take off running again, but we’re late to the party. With a thud that rattles my teeth, the brothers land right behind us.
And then they’re on us, their swords glinting in the moonlight like ominous disco balls. Cal pulls out his blade—Fergus’ parting gift —and steps forward to meet them head-on.
“Stay behind me; we’re almost at River Ness,” he orders in a voice that’s all grit and gravel.
But there’s no way I’m sitting this one out. After everything we’ve been through, there’s no chance I’m letting him face this danger solo. Pulling out my rolling pin, I line up next to him, ready to kick some Campbell butt.
The battle starts with a roar that seems to shake the earth beneath us. Cal lunges at Gregor, his sword slicing through the air towards the older man’s broad chest. Gregor blocks him just in time, their swords colliding with a sound that echoes across Loch Ness.
The air practically crackles with danger, every clang of steel against steel or wood echoing ominously through the night.
Cal and I move together like we’ve been practicing for some Early Modern dance-off championship.
His sword gleams under the moonlight while his eyes stay locked on Gregor, Clan Enemy Number One, with a beard sharp enough to match his cruel intentions.
Meanwhile, I square off against Malcolm, who looks like he could benchpress a small car without breaking a sweat.
He quirks a brow and laughs when he sees my kitchen utensil-turned-weapon and doesn’t bother to wield his sword.
Instead, he swings one fist at me, but I duck and swing my pin upwards with all the strength my adrenaline-fuelled body can muster.
I may be small and swordless, but I have a head full of moves from modern dance and kickboxing classes.
Our fight’s a complex choreography; every jab of mine is met with a counter, and every swing I make is returned in kind.
Come to think of it, it must look like we’re performing a strange, violent ballet.
I’m bobbing and weaving around Malcom’s awkward lunges as if I’ve suddenly transformed into Muhammad Ali wearing boots, my fist landing quick jabs and hooks with pinpoint accuracy while avoiding his lumbering attempts to hit me.
My rolling pin feels like an extension of my arm as I twirl it around, whipping up mini tornadoes of leaves and dust.
Cal holds his own against Gregor, their swords clashing under the moon’s ethereal glow. I can hear the raw power behind each strike, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. From the corner of my eye, I watch Cal move with an almost deadly grace.
The battle intensifies with every second; my muscles scream in protest, and sweat trickles down my back, but there’s no way I’m giving in.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I lunge at Malcom, and he grabs my rolling pin.
But I don’t back down. I lift my right leg as high as possible so my boot connects forcefully with his midsection, and he flies backward.
He trips over an exposed tree root and tumbles clumsily off the cliff—my rolling pin in hand—like he’s been sacked in a football game.
Seconds later, Cal seizes his chance when Gregor idiotically leans over the cliff edge to see what happened to his brother.
With one swift shove from his strong arms, Gregor topples over the precipice.
His surprised yelp echoes around us before being swallowed by the crashing waves of River Ness below.
We peer over the edge just in time to see Gregor’s head break the river’s surface, his arms flailing as he sputters in the cold depths. The wind carries away his shouts of frustration.
“Well done, Kitchen Crusader!” Cal winks at me, a hint of satisfaction on his lips. “That should buy us some time.” He grabs my hand, and we sprint away from the cliff’s edge.
“Almost there,” Cal pants, his breath warm against my ear. “Just a bit farther.”
I nod, too out of breath to form words, and keep my eyes trained on the path ahead. The loch is within reach now, its ancient magic practically tingling on my tongue.
Something else feels within reach now, too. Lasting love was never something I believed in—not after witnessing the destruction of my parents’ marriage or experiencing Brady’s deceitful betrayal. But with Cal... it’s different. It feels right.
We break through the tree line, our feet sinking into the soft sand of the loch’s shore. Stretching out before us like a mirror reflecting the star-speckled sky above is the Loch Ness.
“We made it,” I whisper, exhaustion and awe making my voice tremble.
Cal turns to me, wearing an emotion I can’t quite put a finger on.
“Aye, we did. Together.”
As if on cue, clouds part, and the moon emerges, casting a silver glow over everything. Loch Ness shimmers and dances as if alive, and whispers of the Portal Legend echo in my mind.
As I roll up my trousers and we slip off our boots and stand, toes dipped in the loch, there’s an electric charge between us that has nothing to do with tonight’s mythical magic.
“You know,” I tease, “For a man who’s been challenging me since we first met, you aren’t half bad.”
A chuckle rumbles from deep within Cal’s chest. “ Aye, and for a wee lass who’s been driving me mad with her stubborn ways, you’re not so terrible yourself.”
“Watch it, Captain. I may have fallen for you, but I can still kick your ass.”
His eyes soften as he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I dinnae doubt that for a second. Come on. Time to leap.”