Page 19 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)

Chapter 19

A fter discussing their plans and testing their skills, the natural next step was to inspect the terrain. Not that Norah didn’t trust Matthew—he seemed to have been very thorough in his observations of the sacred area where the stones were kept. But she preferred to scout places out for herself and be as prepared as possible.

That was how she and Matthew came to be creeping through the woods together in the pale blue hush of early morning—alone. A fine mist clung to the undergrowth, curling low around their boots, and the cool dampness of dew-soaked leaves brushed against Norah’s arms as they passed. The only sounds were the rustle of foliage, the occasional snap of a twig beneath their feet, and the distant call of a wood pigeon still sleepy in its nest.

Just as Matthew had suggested the day before, Jack had stayed behind to keep watch, making sure no one followed when they slipped away from the crannog at first light. The causeway was too exposed for stealth, but Matthew had discovered a row of neglected boats lashed to a small dock on the far side of the platform. The one they chose creaked ominously but held together, and they paddled through the still water with slow, careful strokes, the oars barely rippling the surface.

Now, deep in the heart of the forest, the trees rose tall around them like sentinels, and the earthy scent of moss and decaying bark filled the air. The canopy filtered the morning sun into mottled green light, casting shifting shadows over Norah’s face. Her breath caught in her throat more than once—not from fear of discovery, but from the way the silence between them crackled with something unspoken.

Alone . She tried very hard not to think about the alone part.

"Only a few minutes," Matthew said softly. "Have you remembered the route so far?"

Norah nodded. Remembering this one route wasn’t necessarily helpful, of course. If she were chased off course, she’d quickly become lost in this dense, knotty forest. Still, at least she now had a rough grasp of the terrain between the druid settlement and the lakeshore. She’d just have to hope she never found herself alone out here.

"This is the riskiest part," Matthew said. "The road cuts through the forest here, leading to the nemeton. There’s no option except to cross it. We just have to be very careful."

Norah frowned but nodded. Matthew couldn’t magic a road out of existence. And besides, how much traffic could there be, this deep in the forest?

They edged through the last few trees, branches clawing softly at their clothes, before reaching the road—a narrow, rutted track that wound like a lazy snake between the towering trunks. The packed earth was mottled with old hoof-prints and flattened leaves, but no fresh tracks marked the surface. The scent of damp soil and crushed fern rose up around them, mingling with the cooler tang of distant pine. A squirrel darted across the path and vanished up a tree, its small feet whispering through the underbrush. As Norah paused, scanning both directions, the oppressive stillness of the forest pressed in close, and she felt each breath come just a little tighter in her chest. As she’d suspected, the druids probably didn’t receive many visitors—but that didn’t mean no one was watching.

She took a cautious step over the final layer of undergrowth. Should she aim for speed or for stealth?

"Watch out!" Matthew whisper-shouted.

Before Norah knew what was happening, she was flat on her back, Matthew’s bulk over the top of her, brambles tangled in her hair and skirts.

"What—" she began, but Matthew placed his fingers over her lips. She trembled at the feel of them, rough and warm.

Then she heard it—hoofbeats, faint but drawing closer. A warning, not a moment too soon.

It was almost a disappointment. Matthew hadn’t tackled her out of desire, just out of necessity. But it didn’t stop her body from reacting. The press of his weight against hers felt too real, too solid, each breath drawing in the sharp-green scent of crushed bracken, pine sap, and the faint salt of his skin. His thigh pressed along hers, heat bleeding through layers of fabric. Her heartbeat thudded erratically as she fought the pull of those bright blue eyes—eyes she definitely shouldn’t look at.

But she looked all the same.

He was staring down at her, face inches away, and the moment stretched out, suspended and breathless. He shifted his weight slightly, and Norah became agonisingly aware of the pressure where their bodies touched. Her heartbeat quickened. She gasped.

The hoofbeats stopped.

Matthew's eyes widened. Norah froze. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the rustle of leaves and distant birdsong. Stupid, stupid, stupid . The silence stretched out. If she got herself caught because of a foolish, weak moment of lust, she would never forgive herself. Idiot .

The silence stretched long and taut. Then, at last, the hoofbeats resumed, fading into the distance.

Norah let her breath out in a slow, shuddering exhale. Her lungs burned. What was wrong with her?

They lay there a second longer. When she glanced at Matthew again, he wasn’t looking at her anymore. His gaze was fixed on the surrounding woods, listening hard.

"It’s safe," he said at last. "Let’s go."

The rest of the walk to the druid settlement passed without incident. Norah tried desperately to memorise the landmarks—twisted trees, streams that looped like silver threads through the forest floor—but her mind kept drifting. It was very, very hard to stay focused when she had such a distraction walking beside her. Why couldn’t Matthew have grown up to be ugly? Or cruel? Anything to make this easier.

“This would be the best way to sneak in to the enclosure,” Matthew said.

Oh, no. She’d somehow managed to miss the last few moments. How had they reached this place already? It didn’t look familiar, though, and she said as much to Matthew.

“This is the far side,” he explained. “The stones take up quite a lot of space, given how much room has to be left between them.”

Norah nodded, but her mouth had gone dry. She barely registered Matthew’s words—his nearness still fizzed along her skin, her nerves strung taut with lingering panic and something darker, hotter, underneath. The air tasted like damp bark and tension, and she forced her eyes forward, willing herself back to the mission. She had to. If she let herself think about the way his voice wrapped around her or the heat of his body pressed over hers, she’d lose her edge—and maybe her life.

“So this is the way we’ll come,” she said. “And what sort of guards or watchers are between us and the stones?”

“A magical net,” Matthew said grimly, pointing ahead of them.

At first, Norah saw nothing. But, as she squinted, she made out the faint shimmer of magic, almost invisible among the many shifting greens of the leaves.

“You can deal with that?” she asked Matthew.

He nodded.

“The magic feels familiar enough. I don’t think it will be a problem. What is a problem, though, is that the caster will probably feel the moment it breaks.”

“And come rushing right out here,” Norah said. “So, we’ll have moments at best before a whole load of druids descend on us.”

Matthew nodded mournfully. Norah took a deep breath. Now, this was the kind of challenge that she could focus on. Get in, achieve a goal, get out.

“Could you draw Jack a map of the area?” she asked, “He’ll have ideas for how best to handle the druids.”

Matthew nodded.

“By now, I could draw this area in my sleep. Have you seen enough?”

The journey back was far less eventful - almost surprisingly uneventful, in fact. They even managed to row back to the crannog without attracting attention, at least as far as Norah could tell.

Jack met them near the causeway, where he’d been keeping watch, although they strolled back as far as the guesthouse before any of them spoke.

“Is it doable?” Jack asked.

Norah nodded.

“We’ll need your input, but I think this will work well,” she said, feeling more optimistic than she had in a long time. “There’s no reason to change any of our plans.”

She’d expected Jack to share her enthusiasm, but instead he frowned.

“If you say so, Norah. If you say so.”