Page 9 of The Scot Who Loved Me (A Scots Through Time #3)

Too late, she realized her mistake. A widow from Boston wouldn’t have intimate knowledge of underwater formations off the coast of a small Scottish island.

“I... my husband charted it,” she improvised. “It’s marked on my map.”

William’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Show me again.”

Harper retrieved the map case, conscious of four pairs of eyes watching her every move. She unrolled her map beside William’s, their shoulders nearly touching as they leaned over the documents.

“Here,” she said, indicating a series of small markings she’d recorded. “These indicate underwater hazards.”

William studied the markings intently, then looked up at Ian. “Have ye heard of such a reef?”

The guide nodded slowly. “Aye. Lost my cousin’s boat there three summers past. The locals know to avoid it, but it’s not marked on any chart I’ve ever seen.”

“The bathymetry in this area is particularly treacherous,” Harper added, warming to the subject as she often did when discussing geology. “You can see how the reef formation follows the ancient fault line that—” She stopped abruptly, noticing their blank stares.

“Bath-ee-what?” Callum asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Heat bloomed across her face. This was exactly how conversations had gone in graduate school when she’d get excited about rock formations while her classmates’ eyes glazed over. Only now, the stakes were considerably higher than social awkwardness.

“I—I mean the depth measurements,” she stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and staring at the floor. “The way the sea bottom... changes shape.” Her hands moved involuntarily, fingers tracing invisible contours in the air before she forced them back into her lap.

“Strange words from a cartographer’s wife,” Angus muttered darkly.

William’s gaze hadn’t left her face. “Indeed,” he said quietly. “Most unusual.”

Harper shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, mentally kicking herself. She always did this, got too enthusiastic about her subject and forgot to consider her audience. Only this time, instead of merely boring people, she might have just convinced them she was practicing witchcraft.

A heavy silence fell over the group. Angus’s expression darkened further, while Callum and Ian exchanged meaningful glances.

“A fortunate coincidence,” William said at last, his tone carefully neutral. “That your husband happened to chart this particular hazard.”

“James was thorough,” Harper replied, meeting his gaze steadily despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.

“Or perhaps,” Angus suggested, his voice dangerously soft, “she’s no widow at all, but something far worse. A witch, maybe, or a selkie come to lead men to their doom.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, though her heart raced at the accusation. In this day and age, such allegations could be deadly.

“Is it now?” Angus challenged, rising to his feet. “Ye appear from nowhere, dressed like no proper woman, speaking of things women shouldna know, carrying a map and case identical to ours...”

“Enough,” William commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Whatever she may be, she’s under my protection for now.”

“Your protection?” Angus repeated incredulously. “William, ye canna?—”

“I can and I have,” William interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “We’ll make better use of this time resting than flinging accusations.”

Angus subsided, muttering something under his breath that made Ian cross himself. The atmosphere in the small croft remained tense as they laid out their damp plaids to serve as bedding.

Harper retreated to the farthest corner, painfully aware of her outsider status.

The reality of her situation pressed down on her with a crushing weight.

She was trapped in the past with no way home, dependent on the protection of men who might decide she was a witch if she revealed too much of the future.

The storm raged on outside, a fitting backdrop to the turmoil within. Sleep seemed impossible as she huddled against the cold stone wall, her modern sensibilities clashing violently with the harsh reality of 18th-century life.

Sometime later, as the fire burned low, she became aware of a presence beside her. William settled against the wall nearby, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not so close as to be improper.

“Ye should sleep,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow will be no easier.”

“I can’t,” Harper admitted. “Everything is so...”

“Different?” he supplied when she trailed off.

“Dangerous,” she corrected.

William was silent for a moment. “Aye, the world is full of dangers. More so for a woman alone.”

“Is that why you’re protecting me? Pity for a helpless female?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, surprising her. “I’ve known ye but a short time, and ‘helpless’ is not a word I would ever use to describe ye, Harper.”

Despite everything, Harper felt her lips curve into a small smile. “Then why?”

William turned to look at her, his blue eyes reflecting the dying firelight. “Because something tells me ye may be useful. And because...” he hesitated, then continued more softly, “because I believe there’s a bit o’truth mixed with the lies ye tell.”

The blunt assessment startled her. “I’m not lying,” she protested automatically.

“Aye, ye are,” he contradicted gently. “But I think ye have your reasons. And until I know what they are, I’ll keep ye close.”

The implication was clear. His protection came with conditions. He would watch her, and if he deemed her a threat, that protection would vanish.

“I accept your protection,” Harper said finally, making her decision. “And in return, I’ll help you map the coastline. My knowledge of tides and geological formations may be valuable.”

“And why would ye offer this?” William asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

“Because I have nowhere else to go,” she answered honestly. “And because I need to feel safe until I can find my way back home.”

William considered her words, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Finally, he nodded. “Very well.”

“What about Angus?”

“Angus will come around,” William assured her, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Or he won’t. Either way, he’ll follow my lead.”

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it.

William rose to his feet in one fluid motion. “Get what rest ye can. Dawn comes early, and we have much ground to cover.”

As he moved to speak with the men, relief and loss mingled together within her. She settled back against the wall, listening to the rhythm of the rain on the roof, punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder. The storm was beginning to abate, its fury spent.

Harper closed her eyes, exhaustion finally overcoming anxiety. Her last conscious thought was a question that had no answer. Of all the times and places she could have been sent, why here? Why now, on the eve of a doomed uprising that would forever change the Highlands?