by Mariah Stone
Her belly was full from the fish he’d caught in the nearby loch and roasted over the fire.
As she looked into the flames, she remembered she had most likely killed a man back in Delny Castle. Even though freeing Angus from Euphemia’s claws felt right, she wondered if she’d interfered too much with history. Angus was supposed to have married Euphemia, who was supposed to give birth to his child, no matter how much Rogene wished it wasn’t true.
And as soon as she returned to Eilean Donan, she needed to go back to her own time.
No matter how much she wanted to stay.
“What are ye thinking of, lass?” he said.
“You don’t want to know.” She turned her face to him and looked into his eyes.
During their journey, they’d been mostly silent, listening for pursuers. Rogene didn’t mind. She had so much to think about. She needed to tell him the truth about his son. She should have told him a long time ago.
“I do,” he said softly. His eyes darkened and saddened. “Whatever it is, tell me.”
She wanted to, she really did. The knowledge weighed at the pit of her stomach like a rock. But looking at him, so relaxed, so handsome, she didn’t want to break his whole world apart.
Because he’d need to go back to Euphemia and marry her. Because he’d need to choose someone else.
Not his own happiness.
So she didn’t tell him. Instead, she leaned closer and kissed him.
He responded, kissing her back with his impossibly tender and yet demanding lips. His tongue brushed against her lower lip. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, and wildfire seethed through her veins.
His strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her against him with a groan. She turned to him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He was already hard, and she was already shamelessly rubbing herself against him. He cupped her breasts through the tunic and massaged them, rolling her hardening nipples around his thumbs. Liquid pleasure shot through her, and she was already melting under his touch.
Suddenly, they weren’t in a forest anymore, they were in a bubble of pleasure, of love, of desire.
He kissed her with such hunger, with such need, that she sagged against him. His arm was an iron bar around her waist. He was so big, and hot—as always, like a furnace—and his kisses impaired her thoughts. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him closer.
She was already making desperate noises. Her breasts tingling and swollen from his caresses, her sex hot and wet and needy. She felt drunk and disoriented, her blood like fire.
They were covered with her cloak, which was wide enough for both of them. But it fell from the intense movements of her body. They were both breathing heavily, and she was like human ivy wrapped around him in a desperate attempt to become his second skin.
He went under her tunic and cupped her breast with his bare hand, and she moaned. Bolts of pleasure went right through her sex, and her inner muscles clenched.
“Lass,” he growled against her neck. “If ye keep making sounds like this, I wilna last long.”
“I don’t care,” she echoed his growl. “I want you.” She began fiddling with the thin leather belt at his waist.
“What are ye doing to me…?” he said as he pulled down his pants. “Ye need to be cherished.” She pulled her own pants down. “And cared for.” He took his erection into his fist and directed into her entrance. “And loved…”
They both froze at the word as he slid effortlessly into her slick core. She gasped slightly, still looking into his eyes as she took him into the very depths of her, stretching, filling, making her whole.
And when he was buried in her completely, she tightened around him automatically, and he groaned.
“I love ye,” he said. “I love ye, lass. I desire ye like ye’re my last breath of air. Ye’re everything.”
She blinked slowly as the meaning of his words seeped into her lust-filled brain. The man a Highland faerie had said was destined for her loved her… He loved her! And she…
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
There wasn’t anything else she could say, really. Despite the centuries separating their births, despite the fact that they could never be together, despite the fact that she couldn’t possibly stay, she loved him.
Happiness flashed through his eyes and he took her mouth like he wanted her to be the last thing he remembered before he died. He started moving within her, slowly, rousing bliss within every cell of her being.
She hid her face in the crease of his neck as he intensified the rhythm and was pounding into her. His thrusts grew faster, harder. He breathed erratically, echoing the beats of her heart.
She whimpered, taking him all in, the pleasure so intense she was falling apart, unraveling, opening up her heart.
And then he was there with her, over the edge. He stiffened, cried out, bucked, and pounded into her with wild, mindless thrusts, losing himself in her body. She came violently with a gasp, and Angus cried out her name.
They sagged against each other, like one tired, satisfied being. Without pulling out of her, he covered them both with her cloak and took her into his big arms. They breathed one breath in unison, wrapped in each other, and Rogene refused to think of anything that lay beyond the here and now.
It was as though they were lost in time and space, in a capsule of happiness, and she wanted this to last for eternity.
Because it was more than just love and more than just sex. For the first time, she understood what the word “soul mate” meant. It was what she felt now. The absolute and full completeness. The satisfaction that went into every fiber of her being. The feeling that she was home and everything was right with the world. Every. Single. Thing.
She breathed, inhaling his masculine scent. Yes. Everything was right with the world.
Except one thing that kept nagging at her somewhere deep within. She had to come clean. They had to talk about what would happen next for them. They’d just said they loved each other. In her time, it meant they were very serious.
But no matter how right they were for each other, they had an expiration date. She knew that.
Did he?
She leaned back and looked at him.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
He frowned. Oh damn. She hated herself. She was about to destroy everything. How she wished this wasn’t true. She sat up, put on her breeches, and pulled her tunic back down over her breasts. He rose on one elbow.
“What is it, lass?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. “I’m a historian, right? So I know a lot of things that happened in the past…well, that happen now.”
“Aye.”
She fiddled with the edge of her tunic. “One of those things is about you and Euphemia.”
He rose and sat up straight. “What about me and Euphemia?”
Wringing her hands, she sighed out sharply. “I wish this wasn’t true. But there is a real, historical document that proves that you married her.”
Angus went completely still, his jaw ticked under his beard.
“And more than that, you and she will have a son.” Every word tore at her throat as she said them. “Paul Mackenzie. One day, in 1346, at the battle of Neville’s Cross, your son will save the life of Robert Stuart, the grandson of Robert the Bruce. That will have dramatic consequences for the history of Scotland because when he becomes King of Scotland in 1371, he will start a whole dynasty of Stuart Kings and Queens of Scotland. Your and Euphemia’s son will save a future king’s life.”
Angus closed his eyes as though she’d just slapped him. “Nae.”
She felt as though a knife stabbed her in the heart. “I’m sorry, Angus.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “So if I dinna marry her and she doesna have my son”—he met her gaze, and there was so much pain in his eyes—“Scotland will lose its future king.”
She nodded. “Without Paul, everything might change. If Robert III dies at that batt
le, there won’t be a clear heir to the throne. There may be more bloodshed. England might interfere. Who knows what could happen. Such things might have consequences for the course of world history. Like the butterfly effect.”
He frowned. “The butterfly effect?”
“Yes, it means that even the slightest change in history can have major consequences. It’s like a butterfly flaps its wings and causes a huge storm. Of course, in reality, it doesn’t work like that. But it’s a metaphor to imagine the idea.”
He growled out a sigh. “I understand the idea, lass. What I dinna understand is why did ye save me from Euphemia if ye still think I should marry her.”
As though sharing Angus’s outrage, a bird somewhere in the darkness screeched. Rogene winced and looked up into the bottomless night sky, stars like diamond dust against the inky space.
They were still under the same sky, even if she would be born hundreds of years in the future. They were still walking the same earth. Only time was different. Nothing else.
When she looked at him, the knife in her heart was turning. “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting you.” She put her hand on top of his. The touch sent a wave of tingles through her. “Because I wanted to be your shield.”
He withdrew his hand and lay on his back, staring into the stars. “But I dinna have a choice, do I, lass?” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his dark eyes met hers. “After all, nae matter how much I want to choose ye, I still have a duty much bigger than I’ve ever imagined.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “My duty is nae to protect my siblings against my father nae more. ’Tis to protect Scotland’s future, generations of people, thousands of lives. Including yers. Ye may never be born, is that true?”
She nodded. “It’s a possibility, yes. I’m afraid so.” Her voice cracked.
“And ye’re sure ’tis what has to happen?” he said.
“Yes. I’ve seen the documents myself.”
He shook his head. “By God’s blood, lass. Why did ye have to come and stir up everything? I would have marrit Euphemia. I would have fathered Paul. I wouldna have kent love. I wouldna have hurt like I’m hurting now.”
Her eyes watered, and he became a blurry, orange, glowing fleck. “I’m sorry, Angus.”
They were silent. He stared at the sky and she stared at him. Emptiness and coldness filled the space between them. The bubble had burst, and she was the one holding the needle.
Wiping her tears, she said, “What happens now?”
He chuckled. “I had hoped to convince ye to stay with me. To marry me. But I see that ’tis nae possible, is it?”
She shook her head, her chest tearing at the seductiveness of that thought. “It was never an option, Angus. No matter how much I would have wanted to stay. I have David to think of. You have Euphemia, and you’ll have a son you can teach how to be a good man…”
“As though I want a son from that woman.” He met her eyes, and his were burning like coals. “I want a son from ye.”
She felt a tear roll down her cheek. “That damn faerie. Why send me all the way here, give us love and hope, only to crush everything when nothing is possible, anyway.”
His eyes softened. “At least I have ye with me for now.”
He opened his arms and she fell into his hug as if into a soft cloud. As he wrapped his huge arms around her, she laid her head on his chest and heard the erratic thumping of his heart.
“I’ll deliver ye to Eilean Donan,” he said. “Once ye’ve gone through the rock, I’ll return to Euphemia. Yer history will be safe, Lady Rogene, from the future. I’ll choose duty yet again. It seems my father was right, after all, and I canna escape my fate.”
Chapter 30
Four days later…
The sight of Eilean Donan didn’t bring Angus joy.
It brought sadness. It meant losing the woman he loved forever.
As they rode down the streets of Dornie towards the small port, he was aware of her gentle frame pressed against his back, her arms wrapped around his waist as she hugged him tightly. God Almighty, what he wouldn’t give to have her wrapped around him like that for an eternity…
The village wasn’t as busy as usual, with most people gone to plant the fields of barley and oats around the village. People carried baskets and firewood, pushed barrels on wheels, swept their houses. A blacksmith was banging against his anvil somewhere, and a carpenter hammered against wood. The scent of baked bread and brewed ale hung in the air, mixed with the scent of sheep dung that was being spread on the fields. People greeted him as some recognized him.
Since only one horse had been left in the grove when they’d arrived upon fleeing Delny Castle, Angus had assumed Raghnall, Catrìona, and the rest of the band had taken the horses and made their escape, as well. He hoped they had made it home safe already or would soon arrive.
As Angus and Rogene arrived at the small port, he descended and helped Rogene to get down from the horse. Their eyes locked, and hers were wide and sad. They both knew what this meant. As soon as they arrived at Eilean Donan, he’d accompany her into the underground and she’d be gone forever. Part of him still hoped the rock wouldn’t work. Or that all she’d said about time travel wasn’t true.
Then he wouldn’t lose the woman he loved. He also wouldn’t need to marry Euphemia. He wouldn’t need to produce a son who’d save the future king.
Silent, they walked down the wooden jetty towards the boat. The loch was still today, with no wind. The sun shone brightly and a thin, misty fog hung over the surface of the loch. It made the castle look like it was in the realm of faeries, not of this world.
Nature was waking up before the summer. Young leaves on trees and bushes were green, shiny, and tender. Fresh, shy grass was growing. He could smell the delicate scent of flowers—must be the apple trees down by the shore, he thought. They were shedding small, white petals onto the ground and the surface of the loch.
All that peace and beauty around him made the turmoil inside of him spin faster. As he helped Rogene get into the boat, it careened from side to side, just as his heart was lurching.
His heart was full of the dread of voluntarily going into a prison. Of losing something so precious, so valuable that one found it only once in a lifetime.
He got into the boat and told the man to row to the castle. As the boat began moving, he met Rogene’s eyes. She stared at him like she wanted to remember his every detail, and his heart gave another violent lurch.
They’d made love every night for the past four days after she’d told him about his son. Their lovemaking had been sad and desperate, and they’d known it would hurt them both later when they’d lose each other forever and would have only memories.
But he couldn’t stay away from her. He’d take her in any way he could have her. And if he’d have only memories of her, well…so be it. He’d cherish and treasure them his whole life. He’d take them out in his mind and relive them when he was lying with Euphemia, when he needed to bed her, when he was old, and gray, and most of his days had gone.
After a short while, the boat arrived at the jetty of Eilean Donan, and the man tied it to a pole. As they went down the wooden surface towards the castle, Rogene took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, locking their hands together. Her palm was cool and small and tender. Every step he took felt heavy, as if he were dragging boulders after his feet.
The closer they came to their love’s inevitable doom, the faster his mind raced, searching for ways to avoid it. Searching for ways to keep Rogene here. Wondering, again, was the destiny of Scotland more important than his personal happiness? Could he find another way to resolve this, have the child that would protect the future king and still have the woman he loved by his side?
They walked through the sea gate and into the greater bailey where houses and workshops stood, then through a palisade and into the second bailey. There, he turned to Rogene to suggest that they think again about her returning to her time, when he noticed
a woman running towards them at full speed.
Trying to see who it was, he squinted, and a huge smile spread on his lips.
“Catrìona!” Rogene exclaimed and waved her hand.
They walked closer to the keep, and Catrìona didn’t stop but slammed into Angus, knocking the air out of him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“Ye’re alive,” she whispered. “Ye’re here!”
He let go of Rogene and hugged his sister back. Catrìona’s tears wet his cheek. Lord, it was like when they were kids. She’d seemed so fragile and so sweet, and when she’d had a scare, she’d come to him and he’d tell her it was all right and as long as he was by her side, he wouldn’t let anything get to her.
Catrìona let go of him and hugged Rogene. “I’m so glad to see ye.”
When they broke the hug, Angus said, “What happened to ye? Is Raghnall all right?”
“We lost ye. We all got lost, but thankfully, Raghnall found me and two others, and we made our way here as soon as we could. Raghnall said he saw ye by the gate, but they began shooting arrows again, and we had to run. We only arrived yesterday. Raghnall has small wounds on his ribs and shoulders, a scratch on his thigh, but he’s all right otherwise. He’s with Father Nicholas, who’s now well and tending to him. The rest of the men are here in the castle, and I’m healing their wounds.”
“How many came back?” Angus said.
Catrìona’s eyes saddened. “Twelve.”
“Only a dozen?” Angus said. His life was not worth the lives of twelve honorable warriors, especially given that he’d need to marry Euphemia, anyway.
“I’m afraid so. But they’ll be so happy to see ye’re alive, both of ye.”
She grasped Rogene’s hands and squeezed them. “Thank ye for freeing him.”
Rogene smiled. “Don’t thank me. I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t.”
Catrìona’s gaze saddened. “Neither could I, but—”
She glanced at Angus and he frowned. Did she seem different to him? Sadder? Turned inward in a way? It was as if she wore something heavy on her shoulders. Her skin seemed a little gray and her eyes tired. Even her golden hair seemed to shine less.
