Highlander's Heart: A Scottish Historical Time Travel Romance (Called by a Highlander Book 3)

by Mariah Stone

“A community-funded restaurant.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her with curiosity. “Great story. But don’t you feel like they own you?”

  Kate chuckled, her cheeks heating up. “Of course they own me. Hence burgers, ribs, and fries.”

  He tilted his head back and laughed. “This is goin’ to be a fabulous show. When they find out what I have planned—it’s goin’ to be a Boston Tea Party in New Jersey.”

  Kate hugged herself. She wanted to stand out, to be liked because she was different. Instead, she’d spent her whole life trying desperately to be liked because she fit in.

  And look where it had gotten her.

  She chuckled. “As long as Deli Luck turns out to be a new independent country afterward…”

  He tilted his head back and laughed. When he looked at her again, his eyes became intense, taking her in as though he were peeling off her clothes. Kate chided herself for imagining a star like Logan would be interested in her.

  “You’re a bonnie lass, aren’t you?” he mumbled and took a step towards her.

  Kate tensed, physically making herself stay in place and not back away from him. She opened her mouth to make a joke out of it when his phone rang.

  “I need to take this, lass.” He lifted the phone to his ear and walked to the other side of the courtyard towards the big gate.

  Kate exhaled, the tension in her muscles softening. She wasn’t used to being treated kindly. And he had no reason to be nice to her other than to make a great show.

  She looked around. What a beautiful, mysterious place this was. She agreed with Logan—if those stones could talk, they’d tell many stories. What would cooking in a medieval kitchen be like? What dishes did they make in the past? What spices and kitchenware did they use? Her stomach growled with hunger. Thank goodness she always packed food with her—the aftereffect of her childhood.

  Kate was a hoarder. Well, not literally. Mainly, she hoarded food in her stomach and fat on her thighs. She never knew if she really was hungry or if she just felt panicked to stock up while food was available. Something she’d done ever since she was little.

  Kate opened her bag and fetched one of the BLTs she’d made for her and for Logan. It was made with fresh ciabatta bread, crispy bacon she’d picked up at the local market yesterday, cherry tomatoes, and a touch of the truffle mayonnaise she’d bought in an artisan food shop in Edinburgh. Instead of simple lettuce, she used romaine salad. She settled on a rock baking in the sun, near a tower with a railing around the entrance. Turning her face to the sun, she closed her eyes and imagined sitting here many years ago when the castle wasn’t ruined yet, back when it swarmed with people.

  What sounds would there be? Would it smell like grilled meat? Like mud? Like horses?

  “The wee bread ye have, lass, it looks delicious,” a female voice said next to her.

  Kate opened her eyes. A pretty young woman in a long dark-green cape with a hood stood by her side. Her hair was red and shone in the sun. She stared at Kate’s sandwich as though it were the food of the gods.

  “Uhm,” Kate said. “Do you want some?”

  Kate cooked food for a living, but she didn’t remember anyone staring like that at what she prepared.

  “Oh, may I?” the woman said. “Ye dinna mind?”

  She had a much stronger Scottish accent than Logan, stronger than anyone Kate had ever met, in fact. Her voice sounded beautiful, melodic, almost like a song.

  Kate held the sandwich out to her. “Help yourself. You aren’t allergic to truffles, are you?”

  The woman took the sandwich with both hands, a smile full of wonder on her lips. “What are truffles?”

  “It’s a delicious mushroom, well, a fungus…”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’m nae allergic.”

  “There’s also mayonnaise, so eggs and—”

  But the woman had already bitten into the sandwich and was chewing. She rolled her eyes in ecstasy and was producing sounds that could only be associated with very good sex.

  “Oh, sky and stars,” she mumbled through a full mouth, “and kelpies unhinged, ’tis the best food I’ve ever had!”

  Kate studied her, amazed. She had to give it to the woman, Kate rarely saw people so openly enjoying their food. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her a compliment like that. Was it because she was bored cooking the same stuff over and over? Or because she was actually a bad cook?

  The woman continued her feast of one. Kate would have taken Logan’s sandwich, but if he came back now, she wouldn’t have anything for him. So better she was hungry than offend him and make him change his mind about the TV show. Deli Luck really needed this.

  “Are ye a cook?” The woman sat down right on the grass and continued chewing.

  “Yes. From the United States.”

  “Oh. Aye. I’ve met someone from there. Verra nice people. What is yer name, dearie?” She bit into the sandwich again.

  “Kate. Yours?”

  “Sìneag.”

  She said it as Sheen-ak.

  “What a pretty name. I’ve never heard it before.”

  “That’s because ’tis ancient. Like me.” She giggled. “Is that man yer husband?”

  “What? No! I just met him three days ago. He’s a colleague, I suppose. Or a boss, rather.”

  “A boss? Like a master?”

  Kate laughed. “Yes, in a very innocent way, I suppose he is.”

  Sìneag stared at Logan who was still speaking on the phone, his back turned to them.

  “He likes ye, I can tell.”

  “I’m sure you’re wrong. It’s Logan Robertson.”

  “Ye’re saying it like I should ken who that is?”

  “You don’t?”

  “Nae, I dinna. But I can tell ye this. He isna the man for ye.”

  “Well, duh. I could have told you that. He’d never go for someone like me.”

  “Someone like ye? He’d be lucky to have someone like ye, lass. But dinna fash, I ken a man just for ye.”

  Kate shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not looking for a relationship. I need to get my restaurant back on its feet, and Logan is helping me. I have no room for men in my life. All spaces are occupied by my sister and my nephew back in Jersey.”

  “Oh, ye poor lass. I understand. Sìneag will help. Look, it was the year 1308 when Ian Cambel, a warrior long thought dead came back home. He’d been imprisoned and enslaved in Baghdad for several years with nae hope for freedom. But luck turned around and gave him a second chance. He became free and returned to the Highlands. But he was broken. Slavery made him believe he doesna deserve to be happy, to be loved. He was forever lonely after that.”

  Kate nodded, thoughtful. The story resonated somewhere deep in her heart. “Yes, some things break us and we can never heal.”

  “Aye, well. If two broken souls can connect through time, that might bring them both happiness, aye?”

  “Through time?” Kate laughed. “That’s romantic, I suppose. And impossible.”

  Sìneag pushed the last bite of the sandwich into her mouth and moaned. “What’s impossible is that I havna tried this bread before. And traveling through the river of time is verra real. In fact, there’s the rock this castle has been built upon, that is saturated with the powerful magic of time travel.” She gestured behind them, where the ruined tower stood. “Mmmmm. Thank ye kindly for this treat, lass. Ye truly made my day.”

  The tower looked absolutely normal, just a crumbled circular wall of old stones and mortar. And it was supposed to contain a time traveling rock? What a weird story.

  “And what about that rock…” She turned to Sìneag.

  The woman had disappeared. Kate stood and looked around. Birds chirped, and wind rustled the leaves of the tree growing outside the perimeter of the castle.

  “Sìneag?” she said.

  The courtyard was empty except for her and Logan, who’d finished talking and was walking towards her, his eyes fixed on her. He looked like a blond wolf who�
��d seen a chicken and were about to devour it. Men normally weren’t interested in her, and this attention made her throat clench. She rubbed her forearm, and took a step back. What was he going to do? Either devour her or kiss her?

  Her life consisted of spending long hours at Deli Luck, then returning to the apartment above the restaurant and collapsing on her bed. Mandy and Jax would be long asleep by then. The next morning, Kate would wake up early and go down to make sure coffee was ready, pancake batter was prepared, and eggs and bacon were available for the early birds. Usually her first customers were Hank, their police officer, and George and Luke, who were both mechanics at the local tire factory and had the first shift.

  There was no space in her life for romance. She’d only dated three guys in the last ten years, and she’d had sex just a handful of times. She had no idea how to flirt, or what to expect from a guy who was coming at her with wolf eyes like Logan was.

  No. She was about to make a huge fool of herself or, even worse, of him. She needed to do something. To distract him. To reject him without rejecting him.

  She backed away, hands shaking, until her back touched something hard. Metal rattled, and she turned around. The grating across the opening to the tower. The tower that had allegedly been built upon a time traveling rock. Yes, she could talk about that.

  She went behind the grating and walked towards the gaping entrance to the tower.

  “Do you want to take a tour of the dungeons, darlin’?” Logan pushed past the grating.

  A crooked smiled played on his lips.

  “Uhm, no.” Kate smiled nervously. “I just had an interesting talk with someone who I assume can only be a local.”

  Logan came and stood by her.

  Too close.

  So close, it felt like he was looming over her, and she could smell his expensive body wash. Kate blinked rapidly and rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Oh, aye?” he said. “What did they tell you, beautiful?”

  He raised one hand and stroked her cheek. Kate suppressed an urge to jerk back. Instead, she laughed nervously and took a couple of steps to stand next to the tower entrance. Cold air wafted up at her. It smelled like wet earth, dust, and rocks. It was so dark, the only thing she could see was the round stairs that began a step or two below the entrance. The ruined steps led down—and she had no idea how anyone could even attempt to walk them because they were crumbled. Some of the steps were almost worn away. Others looked like free lying rocks.

  “She said somewhere there is a rock that allows people to cross time. Have you heard a local legend like that?”

  Logan chuckled softly. His eyes half closed, he walked to stand by her side, with the same proximity as before.

  “Nae,” he said. “Havna heard anything like that. But sounds intriguing. Would you like to travel in time, darlin’?”

  He reached out and cupped her jaw. Only with an effort did Kate manage to stand in place and not run from him.

  “Dinna be afraid, darlin’,” he said. “You’re a bonnie woman despite your weight. You’re just like your restaurant. Need a makeover to make you really shine.”

  A sharp pain pierced Kate’s stomach. So he did think she was fat and ugly. Like most people. What did he want from her?

  He leaned down, clearly for a kiss.

  And the thought of him on her, thinking her a charity case, thinking she needed a makeover and he was the magician who’d turn an ugly toad like her into a princess, it was too much. Bile rose in her throat. She pushed him off, but he was much sturdier than he looked. She staggered and stepped back.

  Her foot caught on something and she lost her balance.

  The next thing she knew, she was flying backward into the cold, ancient darkness that smelled like a tomb.

  She screamed, but the air was kicked out of her lungs as she tumbled down the stairs. She hit her head, her ribs, her arms and legs. When she finally lay still, her head felt as if it would burst from pain.

  “Kate! Kate!” someone cried as though from another world.

  As though from behind a grave.

  She didn’t know why, but she needed to get away from the voice.

  Her head was killing her. It felt like a giant hammer pounded against an anvil, and the anvil was her head. The blackness surrounding her spun. She moaned and tried to stand. Nausea rose in her stomach, and she vomited violently.

  “Kate!” someone called louder and closer.

  No. She had no idea who called or who Kate was, but she knew she couldn’t let him get closer. She wanted to get away from both the name and the caller.

  She crawled away from the voice, away from the vomit, away from the pain. But her head was about to burst like a ripe watermelon.

  “Kate!”

  There might have been some light behind her, she wasn’t sure because spots flashed before her eyes. She crawled ahead, having no idea where she went. She felt like a blind person in a malfunctioning helicopter, spinning out of control. She sank deeper into a reeling darkness and flashing spots and pain.

  After a while, she saw something glowing blue and brown in the distance. A rock. She slowly advanced there—somewhere in the back of her psyche she knew that rock was hope. A direction. An answer.

  She came to the rock and pushed herself up, wincing from the glow of a circle of blue waves with a straight brown line through it. Was there just one, or were there two or three of them? Her vision floated, doubling and tripling everything around her.

  There was a handprint in the stone. As if someone reached out to her. As if someone wanted to help her. She needed help to get out of this dark, mindless world.

  She put her hand in the handprint. It was icy cold and wet against her palm. Surprisingly, it calmed her, soothed her.

  Help, she thought. Hope. I need hope. And she knew that it was on the other side of that handprint.

  A vibration went through the rock, and a buzz went through her.

  It was as though the rock lost all hardness and became something else. Like water, then thin air. She fell. Right through the stone. Tumbling down…

  The impact of hitting something hard again slammed through her, and everything went black.

  Chapter 2

  Inverlochy Castle, July 1308

  “Who goes there?” cried the guard from the wall.

  Ian patted the neck of his horse. A bridge across the moat separated him from his clan. They were all there, behind those walls, or at least, that’s what his cousin Marjorie had told him when he’d gone to Glenkeld, their current clan seat.

  Even his father was supposed to be in Inverlochy.

  And no one knew that Ian was still alive.

  “Ian Cambel,” he cried.

  He hadn’t called himself that in years. The words sounded strange. They sent a tremor through his core, but his voice didn’t give it out. It was as though he were an imposter about to take the place of a dead man.

  Where was the feeling of coming home to freedom and peace? Where was the man he’d thought he would become once he returned to the Highlands?

  Instead, he was ashamed of who he was. And dreaded his family’s reaction to seeing what had become of him.

  He was a monster who’d killed people for the pleasure of his masters. What would his father say if he learned that?

  The guard turned to another man on the wall, and they talked briefly.

  “Prove ye’re a Cambel,” one of them said.

  Ian closed his eyes briefly and lowered his head. “I havna anything with me that can prove that. I’ve been on the road for months. If ye call my father or my uncles Dougal or Neil… Or any of my cousins—Craig, Owen, or Domhnall—they’ll recognize me.”

  “Aye,” the guard said and left the wall.

  Ian patted his black horse, Thor, again—more to calm himself than the horse. Ian had named him after a warrior in Baghdad. The man had been from Norway, a giant with shoulders as broad as a ship. When the slave masters had tried to force Thor to kill a wounded I
an, the man had refused and was put to death for it. That was a lesson Ian had never forgotten.

  So much had changed in the clan, he’d learned in Glenkeld. Craig had marrit. Lena, Craig’s sister and Ian’s cousin, was marrit, as well, and Domhnall. Owen had grown up a strong warrior. Ian’s father was weak and stayed in bed in Inverlochy, which was the reason Ian had come here rather than returning to his family home. Life had gone on without him. Everyone had evolved and grown.

  He was the only one who’d taken a step back in development, lowered himself to a primitive state of survival. Life against death.

  “Who calls himself Ian?” someone cried.

  Ian looked up at the wall, but there was just that guard.

  “Come closer!” the voice said.

  Someone stood at the gates which were open just enough to let a man through.

  Ian’s heart thumped in his ears. Was it Craig? He jumped down from the horse and walked towards the gate, the ground shifting under his feet. Yes—dark hair, tall, broad frame…

  He crossed the bridge without looking away from the man.

  “Craig,” Ian mumbled.

  His cousin’s eyes widened, his face blank. “’Tis truly ye?” Craig said.

  Ian stood before him now, studying the face he’d known since he was born—older now, not a young lad anymore but a man, a proud warrior. A commander and a leader.

  Would Craig understand?

  Craig gathered Ian in a bone-crushing hug. Ian’s eyes burned from tears. Craig slapped him on the back.

  “Come in, come in.” Craig ushered him through the gate. “How are ye alive? God, I canna believe my eyes. I ken ye’re standing before me and ’tis ye, but I canna… All these years we believed ye were dead. We had a funeral. There wasna a day I didna think of ye, wishing ye were with us.”

  They went through the gates into the courtyard, where life was in full swing. Servants carried buckets with water from the well, baskets with food, hay, and wood. Chickens squawked and pecked at the grass. Warriors walked somewhere, played cards in the corner, talked. It smelled like stew, and oatcakes, and woodsmoke. Ian let a servant take the horse to the stables.