To Win a Highland Scot: A Time-Traveler’s Highland Love, Book 3

by Gill, Tamara

  The room was empty, the stone wall met her back, and she looked about, spying the silk tapestry that was to be hung on the wall at her back. The tables in the Great Hall, set up for display for the paying public. The room was exactly as she had left it the night she was sent back to the past.

  Maya stood, staring down at her hands, realizing they were no longer bloody, her woolen kirtle also gone, replaced by her uniform. She ran to the tapestry and touched it, ran her hands over the images, and yet nothing. No time travel, nothing but the feel of the silk against her palm.

  She wandered down into the kitchen, to the staff locker area. Her phone and bag were where she left them, and she checked the date and time. The same day she had left.

  How could that be? She slumped into a chair at the table, unable to process what had occurred. Everything that had happened. All that she lost.

  Emotion overwhelmed her, and she crumbled like a stone. Tears streamed down her face, her gasps taking her breath. She had lost him. Had left him, and no matter the reasons behind doing so, it did not change the fact that she wouldn't see Boyd again.

  How was she supposed to live without him?

  She knew that she could not. A sob wrenched from her, a sound that embodied nothing but pain.

  Whatever she had done, she knew one thing. She could not go back.

  Chapter 34

  Chapter Thirty Four

  The will to live left him at the disappearance of Maya. She was gone, thrust hundreds of years into the future. A mortal as he was now, he could not wait out his time, live the years that spanned between them so he could see her again.

  He loved her, and with that declaration, his fate had been sealed.

  Boyd heard what sounded to be thunder, and had it not been for the gasp from the Fae Queen, he would have kept his eyes closed, let death take him from his pain. But something about the queen's alarm pulled him from his imminent death.

  The queen stood beside Dougall O’Cain, or what was left of him since his severed head was now lying at the base of his feet. The mask of shock his death shroud.

  The Fae Queen, now held by two large men, told Boyd she could not escape their bonds, not even with her powers.

  "Hello, Boyd."

  If he were capable of shock, he would have gasped as the queen had. Instead, all he could muster was a small lifting of his top lip. "Sorcha," he whispered. "I canna see you very well, lass."

  She kneeled beside him, placing her hand over his wound. Heat licked at his skin, the pain of the injury dispelling, ebbing away with every shallow breath.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice stronger, even to his own ears.

  "Saving you. This is not your time to die. The queen has overstepped her bounds and will not do so again."

  Breathing became easier, and the vision of Sorcha cleared. He did gasp then, for she was beautiful. As beautiful as he remembered her. The years slipped away, and he sat up, staring at the scar on his stomach, now perfectly healed as if it never was.

  "Saving me? Is that not too against the rules?"

  "We must have balance in the world, Boyd. Your life was taken in a war that wasn't meant to be. I am giving it back to you. In time, like everyone, you will pass on. But not today. Not this fight."

  Boyd looked around. His men, many of them outnumbered, fought on. It was as if the Fae, Dougall O’Cain, and himself had been hidden by a magical veil, unseen and untouchable all this time.

  He stood, picking up his sword. "I must fight."

  Sorcha placed her hand on his shoulder, stilling him. "I have something for you, Boyd Macleod. Something that I should have given to you a long time ago. I'm sorry I did not come back to say goodbye."

  Boyd looked down at the faery who used to be his wife, a fact that was no longer true. She was different now. A powerful being, mystical and untouchable by the mortal world. The year they had together he would forever treasure, but Sorcha never belonged in the human world. It was the one thing now that he'd seen her again that he could agree with the Fae Queen.

  Regret coursed through his blood. "I spent so much time lost in hate, in my self-pity that I dinna look up to see what life could gift me. Not until Maya, that was."

  She smiled, her eyes flickering with liquid steel. "I like Maya."

  Boyd watched as Sorcha held out her hand, a yellow silk scarf-like material with the lightest red dots clasped between her fingers. She handed it to him, closing his fingers around it.

  "Magic falls upon Druiminn walls. With this flag, no harm shall come to Clan Macleod and all. Use it wisely, three times only or not at all. I gift thee to you, Boyd Macleod, and all those who sire from your loins. Forever and more."

  He stared at Sorcha, unable to comprehend the gift she'd given. "How does it work?" he asked. The idea of such a magical piece of cloth did not make sense, but even so, he would not thrust it aside, not if it meant to give him protection, his clan safety. Only a fool would do such a thing.

  "When the Faery Flag is raised, and your command is called, your gift will be given." She looked out over the men battling around them, his men beyond exhausted, along with the O’Cains.

  Boyd raised the flag high above his head. "A wish for an army of men within this glen to win this war against the O’Cain clan."

  Just as Sorcha had said, the men battling the O’Cains multiplied, increased by hundreds if not thousands within moments. Boyd could not move, could not say a word as the O’Cains were beaten back and killed. Those who saw there was no use to continue running off as quickly as their weary feet would carry them.

  Sorcha turned to him, taking his hands and squeezing them a little. "This is my thank-you, for loving me as you did, for being a tender husband all those years ago. I shall never forget you, Boyd Macleod."

  Boyd pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, unable to voice how thankful he was to the woman in his arms. Maybe this magic flag may also bring his Maya back. She rubbed his back in soothing strokes.

  "I can read your mind, Boyd, and I understand, but also know, the flag does not work that way. It will not bring your Maya back." She leaned back, gifting him a sad smile. "Now I must go. The queen faces the consequences of her actions. You will not be disturbed by her again. I promise you as the new Queen of the Fae."

  And then they were gone. Boyd stood on the grassy field at Glendale, the war over, his men victorious. Dougall O’Cain lay dead at his feet, and clan Macleod was secure once more. Safe from his enemy and protected from the Fae.

  Boyd sheathed his sword behind his back, walking over to where Donald Mor lay dead. They would bury their dead before they started back to Druiminn. He was in no rush to return home. As much as he cherished his land, Druiminn, and the people who made up his clan, there was one person who wouldn't be waiting for him at the castle. Nor would she ever again.

  Boyd pushed down the knowledge, the truth that Maya was gone, that the few months he had with her was all he was going to receive. There was no way in which he could see her again. He would cherish what time they had, live with his memories until his time came to an end.

  As for the future of Clan Macleod that Maya had told him survived to her time, well, he would gift any male child Jeane birthed his birthright. Clan Macleod would continue, not with his seed, but his cousin's. There was peace in that knowledge, which may be the only peace he'd ever have again.

  Maya spent the next several days at her small flat in Druiminn. She couldn't bear going back to the castle to see the reminders of Boyd, the tapestry, safely behind the Perspex covering, had been too much, and she'd complained of not feeling well and went home sick.

  Her excuse would not hold for much longer, and eventually she would have to return to the castle, go back to cleaning up after the many tourists and get on with her life.

  She lifted her knees to her chest, curling herself into a fetal position. But not yet. She wasn't ready to come to grips with that truth. If Boyd could see her now, he would scoop her off her bed and make her b
usy. Get her moving again, but her self-will just wasn't there.

  Her heart felt as though it were breaking into a million pieces, and there was nothing she could do to glue it back together.

  Yesterday she had gained a burst of energy and had jumped online, needing to find out all she could of the battle of Glendale. There was very little written about it, and vague accounts of who won, who was injured or killed, nothing concrete. It was said that both the Macleod clan and O’Cain suffered great losses, but also that the Fae had given Clan Macleod some magical flag, and they had won.

  No matter the truth, she hoped that the bastard O’Cain laird got what he had coming for him. Had died an awful death after leading his men into a battle that wasn't necessary.

  Not in Maya's mind in any case. Just a waste of good lives, like most wars in history.

  She cringed, swiping at the tears that wouldn't abate. Well, she supposed that wasn't quite true. Wars were important, especially when people were persecuted because of their religious beliefs or their race.

  But O’Cain merely wanted the land, the wealth, to raid another clan to gain what he did not have. Those sorts of wars, well, she hoped Dougall O’Cain was burning in hell right now and regretting his choice.

  Her stomach lurched, and she ran to the toilet. She needed to stop this never-ending round of pity party she was living in. To be so depressed was making her ill, quite literally, and she needed to stop.

  Boyd wouldn't want her to be like that. To live that way.

  She would stop. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Today she would finish crying. Punish herself for her many regrets and choices she made on the field beside Boyd. Of all the things she had said, that wasn't enough. Of not being strong enough, getting up to fight instead of doing what the queen wanted her to. Even if she had died, at least she would have done something!

  Maya cringed. "Enough," she said to herself. "That is enough." She needed to move on, to love and remember her time with Boyd and be happy that she'd been given such a gift.

  Not everyone was so fortunate to have found their soul mate, the love of their life. Maya slumped against the bathroom wall, wiping her mouth. "If only..." she sighed, "it had lasted forever."

  Chapter 35

  Chapter Thirty Five

  They had lost more than half their men on the battlefield at Glendale. Thankfully, the O’Cains suffered more losses since a Fae army, gifted by Sorcha, arrived and saved them from being eradicated from Scotland.

  He hoped that Sorcha could deal with the previous Fae Queen once and for all and that she would never trouble him or his clansmen ever again. He slumped down on his chair in the solar, cringing at the aches his body suffered since the war.

  It would take some time before he was healed, back to his previous strength, but there was one part of him that would never be the same. His heart. Although it beat, his body aging like the rest of his clansmen, it was all pointless. Nothing was enough, not anymore. The food was tasteless, the music dull and lifeless. The sun no longer warm on his skin, the sky as blue. Life was dead to him, for he had lost what gave him joy.

  Maya.

  He could not even soothe his mind with the knowledge that he would wait for the centuries and see her again. Mortal once more, even that option was gone.

  Boyd ran his finger over the fine silk of the flag the Fae had given him. An odd, yellow color with the tiniest red dots didn't seem like the kind of flag the Fae would have, yet it was what was gifted. He would keep it safe, and hopefully, within his lifetime, he would not need to use it again.

  "Boyd?" Jeane said, pulling his attention to her. She stood at the threshold of the door, wringing her hands at her waist.

  "What is it, lass?" he asked, not in the mood for conversation but also not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. His mind was too busy as it was with wallowing. Jeane would be a good distraction.

  "You returned so late last evening, but then I dinna see you at breakfast." She came into the room, seating herself across from him on a chair. "You know that Maya has gone, but no one seems to know where. What has happened to her?"

  Boyd leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple with one hand. He supposed he would have to tell his cousin the truth. Not that she would like what she heard. The truth would hurt her because she would think they did not trust her enough to tell her the lay of it when Maya was here.

  "’Tis a long story, Jeane. Are you sure you wish to hear it?"

  "Aye, of course, I do. Maya was my friend. I need to know if harm came to her or if she is well. Please tell me."

  Boyd met Jeane's eyes, read the pleading within them. "Maya wasn't from our time, Jeane. Just like I was immortal, somehow magic brought her back from the twenty-first century. Mrs. Fletcher is the only other person to know the truth. The only servant trusted with such a secret since her family has worked for mine for a century and because she found Maya the day she stumbled into our time."

  Jeane's mouth gaped, worked as if to spill words, but none were forthcoming. It may have been the first time he'd ever seen his cousin lost of speech.

  "The Fae Queen, the very one who cursed me, offered Maya a deal. My life, for Maya to return to her time."

  "Oh, the poor lass." Jeane sniffed, scrambling in her dress for a handkerchief. "Of course, she would have picked your life. She loved you so vera much."

  Boyd stared at the desk, the flag, his sword that lay over it too, still grimy with blood and flesh. "Aye, she chose my life, just as I would have chosen hers. Doona make it any easier to accept, though, does it?"

  Jeane shook her head, her eyes full of pity and despair. All the things that Boyd felt culminating in his soul. How would he ever move on? Step into his future without her?

  "I doona know what I'm going to do, Jeane," he said, unable to stop the cracking of his voice. His eyes felt hot, and his nose stung. He rubbed his hands over his face, ripping himself from his chair and going to the door. "Bring ale. Lots of it," he said to a maid standing to attend outside.

  "Well, ’tis not good enough. We have to get Maya back. She came here once. We have to make her come back again."

  Boyd walked over to where a narrow window overlooked the rocky outcrop the castle had been built upon, in the distance the trees and path that led to the heated pools.

  "I doona know how we shall get her back, but she belongs here, with us, with you. You married her, and she loves you so vera much. We cannot allow this to stand."

  Boyd could not have loved his cousin more at that moment. Her determined tone, her steadfast belief that Maya would one day return, making his heartache a little less. "I saw Sorcha again at the battle. No doubt you have heard that she gifted the Macleods the Faery Flag."

  "I heard from Douglas as much." Jeane frowned in thought. "Do you think Sorcha could help you? Perhaps if you call her. Beg her to grant one more gift?"

  Boyd had thought of doing such a thing. He had little doubt that Sorcha knew what had happened at Castle Druiminn the past hundred years, had been keeping track in the shadows without showing herself. She would hear him if he asked.

  Somehow it seemed wrong to ask the woman who was once his wife to bring his new wife back. Even so, he doubted that uncomfortable fear would stop him from doing as Jeane suggested.

  All that mattered was Maya. Her happiness, which he was certain coincided with his. He loved her as she loved him. He hated to imagine what she was going through right now, five hundred years into the future, alone and heartbroken.

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her and kiss away her fears, her pain. That he could not made him want to roar until the walls crumbled about him.

  "I will try," he said to Jeane, willing to do anything to get the love of his life back. His soul mate. "I think after everything the Fae and their queen has put the clan through, ’tis the least they could do. Doona you agree?"

  Jeane nodded, hope lighting her eyes. "Aye, I do." A maid bustled in with a tankard of ale and two glasses. "Now, let us drin
k to winning the war against Dougall O’Cain and to getting your Maya lass back."

  Boyd went over to Jeane and gave her a quick hug. His cousin's optimism gave him hope. All he needed now was for Sorcha to hear his pleas and do one last miracle before letting him be forever. His stomach knotted with the unknown, with fear that she would ignore his plea and Maya would never come back.

  Maya found herself at what was left of the heated pools near Castle Druiminn the following day. The slow-flowing river still ran not far from the heated pools, that had not changed much over the years, but the pools were no longer there. All that was left was an overgrown rockery. Maya studied it, knowing that it would be deep enough to hold water once again if it was cleared of shrubbery and fallen tree limbs.

  She wrapped her arms about her, staring at the place she had swum with Boyd. Heat prickled her skin, as she thought of how that wasn't all they had done in the warm waters.

  So much time. Five hundred years ago. It was impossible to fathom.

  Earlier that day, she had quit her job and packed up the few small things she had kept in her locker at the castle. Each time she looked up at the building, she was reminded of everything she had lost.

  Of everything she would never see again, never love and cherish.

  "Maya, isn't it?"

  That voice... She turned, gasped when she spied the laird of the Macleods, not the sixteenth-century one, but the twenty-first. Although she'd seen him from afar before, he'd never spoken to her. Gosh, he wouldn't have known she existed, even if she had thought him handsome. Well, handsome enough, but nothing compared to Boyd. A potential distant relative, maybe.

  The shape of his jaw, the arch of his brow—she was no expert in genealogy or traits that people passed down through their bloodlines—this man certainly held features of Boyd.

  She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Had Boyd remarried after she left? Had he found love? She had been so caught up in her own heartbreak that today had been the first time she'd stepped outside. Why didn't she go to the library? Or heavens above just looked the Macleods history up on the internet, not just the battle as she had done.