Highlander's Love: A Scottish Historical Time Travel Romance (Called by a Highlander Book 4)

by Mariah Stone

  Craig frowned. “Aren’t ye two brothers?”

  Angus and Raghnall exchanged a heavy look. “Our father disinherited me,” Raghnall said. “He said I shouldna bother coming back to Mackenzie lands or consider myself part of the clan.”

  Something cold and heavy turned in Owen’s gut. Would that be his destiny if he failed this mission? What if they made their way to the Pass of Brander tomorrow, but no enemy arrived? What if there was a different trap waiting for them?

  “Father died,” Raghnall said. “Our brother is chief of the clan now. And I’ll be on my way home after this battle. He may reconsider and take me back.”

  “What did ye do that ye da disinherited ye, man?” Owen asked.

  Angus looked pointedly at the fire. The two didn’t even sit next to each other, and Owen wondered if the Mackenzies were as close as the Cambel brothers.

  “Many things I regret,” Raghnall said.

  Angus raised his eyebrows. “Ye do?” His low voice had a quality similar to thunder.

  Raghnall shrugged. “I’ve lived as a homeless rogue for years. A warm bed and a steaming stew every night is what I want. ’Tis time to live like a man again.”

  Angus’s face darkened. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, the muscles of his huge shoulders bulging under his tunic. Owen wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of this man. His gray eyes were like the black clouds of a gathering storm. For a moment, Owen saw bottomless pain there, the pain that the saddest songs sing about.

  “The warm bed is cold when ye lie there alone, and the steaming stew dinna taste good if ’tis nae the woman ye love who cooked it.” His voice cracked at the word “woman.”

  Raghnall chuckled. “I ken ye dinna want to marry, but trust me, brother, any bed and any stew is better than none.”

  Silence hung around the fire. Angus picked up a stick and stabbed at the burning logs, sending a frenzy of sparkles flying into the air.

  “Ye dinna want to marry?” Craig asked.

  “Only if I must to protect my clan,” Angus said.

  Raghnall rummaged in his sack and retrieved a lute. He brushed against the strings once, producing a beautiful, sad sound.

  “Ye’ve always been doing that, yer whole life,” he said. “Ye’re clearly lonely. Dinna ye wish to find someone ye love?”

  Angus glared at him. “Never mind about me. Why dinna ye marry if ye want a warm bed.”

  Raghnall laughed and played a cheerful tune. “A man dinna need a wife to keep his bed warm. Aye, Owen?” He winked.

  Owen looked away. He actually couldn’t think of anyone in his bed but a certain beautiful woman from the future.

  Craig arched one eyebrow. “I reckon he’d have agreed with ye before. Now, I dinna think he will.”

  “Shut yer mouth,” Owen growled.

  Raghnall’s occasional chords grew into a melody, and he began to sing.

  “Oh, road before me, bring me favorable wind,

  Oh, deep, blue sea, be gentle with me.

  Pick me up, tired, sick, and lonely,

  And take me to the lass who waits for me…”

  He had a pleasant, melodic voice, and Owen was thankful to the man for the temporary distraction. Owen didn’t know if Craig suspected he had feelings for Amber, but he didn’t need an additional reminder of her when he was doing everything in his power to keep his mind on the mission.

  “Have a cup of uisge?” a familiar voice sounded.

  Owen turned. Ian stood behind him, tall and as big as he remembered him, and whole. Both Craig and Owen stood and took Ian in a heartfelt embrace.

  “My messenger was fast,” Owen said. He’d sent a boy earlier to Dundail to ask Ian to join the fight. “I didna expect ye till the morn.”

  Ian looked at the sky. “’Tis nae long till the morn. I hurried, dinna want to miss my chance.”

  “How are yer wounds?” Craig said.

  “I’ll live. If the MacDougall is going to be there, ’tis my chance to get revenge for what he did to me.”

  The three Cambels exchanged a look. This battle meant everything to the clan. Owen could pull it off. If only he could keep his heart and cock under control, and stay away from the first woman to make him feel alive.

  Chapter 27

  The next day…

  * * *

  Amber watched the courtyard where Owen barked instructions at the men training. His affable expression and easy half smile were gone, replaced by the determined frown of a man who knew what he wanted and was going for it. He walked straighter, and he seemed bigger, as though he’d gained muscle since she’d seen him yesterday at the Bruce’s council.

  The gracefulness of his body was the same—the way he swung the sword, the way he ducked and lurched and evaded blows like a predator on a hunt. Collected. In control. Deadly.

  She was relieved that the Bruce had let her go after yesterday. The fact she’d stood up for herself and defended her position in front of the most powerful man in Scotland showed she’d changed, too. Owen still had her back and was ready to vouch for her and potentially lose everything he’d been fighting for, and that was life changing for her.

  It was magical.

  And it had hit her right in the heart.

  The world had stopped. The universe consisted of him alone. That handsome, strong, and brave Highlander with the kindest heart and the most beautiful body she’d ever seen. The man who’d stood by her side more times than anyone in her life back in the twenty-first century.

  Electricity crackled over her skin just from looking at him. This man had more courage in one drop of his blood than she did in her whole body, despite fighting in a war for years.

  The man she loved.

  Yes, she loved him. The thought hit her, and she went still as she struggled to take it in. It was like a small, personal sun had been born in her chest and radiated warmth and light into every cell of her body. Like she’d lived in darkness her whole life, and for the first time she’d came out into the light.

  She’d finally found what was missing in her life.

  Him.

  Everything she was screamed that she loved him.

  She wanted to tell him. He should know. She wanted him to know.

  For the first time in her life, she wanted to be vulnerable and open and tell him. Even if he might not want to hear it. Amber marched towards him, determined. She wouldn’t be stopped.

  She’d make him listen to her.

  “Owen!” she said as she walked through the muddy courtyard. Men glanced at her. Servants stared. Only Owen didn’t react. “Owen!”

  She came to stand by him and took him by the biceps, making him turn to her. His mouth tight, he glared at her, making her stomach drop. Was she completely wrong about him? Wrong about the fact he might have some feelings for her, too?

  No, she reminded herself. Don’t be discouraged. Just tell him how you feel.

  “What is it, lass?” he said with annoyance in his tone. The man he was training threw a curious glance at her.

  Mind your own goddamn business, she thought.

  “Can I talk to you, please?” she said.

  Owen looked back at his student, clearly irritated. “Can it wait, Amber?”

  She was digging her own grave. But she couldn’t stop. “No.”

  Her hand was still on his arm, the touch so pleasant, like licking a spoonful of warm chocolate.

  Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The sky darkened. A cold gush of wind played with Owen’s hair. It was wet from exercise, but not in a yucky way. In a sexy, masculine, please-take-a-shower-with-me way. She itched to tuck the strand behind his ear and reveal his handsome eyes the color of spring moss.

  “Aye.” He turned to the training men. “Lads, continue till the rain starts.”

  He reached out and gently removed Amber’s hand from his biceps, making her gut churn.

  Not good. Oh man. She was doomed, wasn’t she?

  He gestured towards the donjon. H
e was so cold, so distant, as though they hadn’t lived through life-and-death situations together, hadn’t kissed and told each other about the worst things that had ever happened to them.

  She had a really bad feeling about this.

  They walked through the courtyard into the tower. There was a storage room on the ground floor, with crates and sacks and barrels. The only light came from three torches on the walls. They stood facing each other.

  Two strangers.

  A maid came down the stairs. Oh God. Was Amber really going to pour her heart out to him while people were walking around?

  “Can we talk somewhere private, please? In your room?”

  “’Tis nae proper, Amber. We’re nae marrit. Ye canna be with me alone in a bedchamber.”

  Amber snickered. “First of all, you and I have been in much more compromising situations alone. There’s not much you haven’t seen, or that I haven’t.”

  Owen’s eyes burned, and his jaw muscle flexed. Finally, some sort of reaction.

  “Second of all, I don’t care about my reputation. I’m no virgin, and I have no intention of getting married or whatever it is you guys save your women’s reputations for.”

  Owen’s face gained an intensity she hadn’t seen before.

  “I just can’t talk to you while people are walking around like this. Please.”

  “Aye.”

  They climbed up the stairs to Owen’s room, where Amber had been sleeping since they’d arrived at the castle. When they came in, the wind howled and sent a cold rush of air through the single window. It slammed the shutters closed. Another roll of thunder passed through the sky, and the lightning flashed through the slits in the shutters.

  Owen looked around. “’Tis dark. I’ll build up the fire.”

  He came to the fireplace and put wood in it, blowing on the dying embers. Amber’s hands shook. How could she tell him? Did it even matter? God, was there a way to tell him that wouldn’t result in him rejecting her?

  “Owen?” she said.

  “Hmm?” He took a poker and stirred the wood. Sparkles flew from the embers. The fire kindled and began burning brightly.

  Be brave. Be strong.

  “Please, look at me,” Amber said.

  Owen sighed and stood to face her, but he didn’t come closer.

  Could she say it? Just blurt it out.

  Her heart beat against her ribs like a fist, and she rubbed her sweaty and shaky palms against her dress. She was drenched in sweat.

  “I…” She took a step towards him and locked eyes with him. His were so indifferent, as if he were looking at a tree instead of her.

  “I’m thinking I’d like to build clocks. I repaired one with my mom when I was a teenager, and I enjoy engineering. And it drives me nuts that I don’t know what time it is. So as soon as I know you’re safe after the battle, I’ll leave. Get hired somewhere as apprentice. Go from there.”

  He nodded, his face still a stone mask. Only the shadows of sadness appeared in his eyes. “Good. ’Tis a useful craft, Amber. I understand for a woman from the future it might seem normal, but I dinna ken if a man will agree to hire a woman as an apprentice. Besides, ye’ll need to go to a big city for that, or a monastery. Clocks are a rare treasure.”

  It would be a profession, something to do in the Middle Ages, and yet she was still running away from the shadows in her past. She’d confronted the Bruce yesterday, and she starting to go through different options of how she could potentially confront the monster in the twenty-first century.

  “When is the battle?” she said.

  “We leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” Her throat clenched. Lightning flashed again, wind rattled the shutters, and thunder exploded somewhere above their heads.

  He might die tomorrow…

  She took another step towards him and noticed with a painful realization that he tensed. He might have stepped back, too, if the fireplace wasn’t right behind him.

  “Owen, I—”

  Looking into the abyss, wind flapping her skirt, death everywhere in the waters rocking against black cliffs sharp as razors, there was only one place in that sea where she could land and be safe.

  Her stomach flipped, her breath caught and disappeared, and she jumped.

  “I love you,” she said.

  His eyes widened, and his face distorted in a grimace of longing combined with physical pain, as though she’d just stabbed him in the gut.

  “You—” he said.

  “I love you. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  He inhaled sharply, shakily, closed his eyes for a long moment, then swallowed, his Adam’s apple working.

  “Jesu, Mary, and Joseph…” he muttered and looked at her. “Amber, I dinna ken what to say.”

  “You go to battle tomorrow, and I just couldn’t let you go without you knowing. I suppose, I want to know how you feel about me.”

  Oh God, this confession was like pulling teeth out of a healthy mouth. Was a love confession supposed to feel this way? Wasn’t it supposed to be all passion, tears of happiness, and hot kisses that promised a lifetime together?

  He kept silent, only breathed heavily and eyed her as though he were a lion and she an antelope.

  “Because if you feel the same about me, I won’t leave. I’d like to stay.” She paused. Was he really not going to say anything? His chest rose and fell quickly, his mouth pressed tightly in a thin line, and the sinews on his neck bulged. He looked as if he were having a stroke.

  “Stay with you, that is. If you want me to.” She inhaled and exhaled audibly. “Say something. I’m dying here.”

  “Lass…” his voice rasped like sandpaper. He shook his head. “I canna. I need to focus on the battle. I lead those men tomorrow. Their lives are my responsibility. I canna fail.”

  Amber frowned, confused. “What does that have to do with anything? I’m just asking how you feel—”

  He crossed the distance between them in three broad strides and loomed over her. Lightning lit up the room and half his face. His eyes burned, devouring her, dark with a mixture of desire and pain and longing.

  He took her face in his hands, the touch charging her skin like lighting had struck her.

  “If ye want to leave and make clocks, ye should pack yer things and go.”

  The words lashed her worse than Jerold Baker’s whip.

  “There’s nae future for us,” he said.

  Thunder rolled again, deafening her. Or did her ears refused to work so that they wouldn’t hear him?

  “I canna be with ye.”

  She stopped breathing, heartache suffocating her. But why was he still holding her face in his hands, why was he looking at her like he wanted to kiss her? Why was he torturing her?

  A battle was fought behind his eyes, desire and restraint. And then, surprising her, he leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. It was one full of despair and softness. There was no tongue, but their lips melded together. Then he stopped, fell to his knees and hugged her waist. He pressed his forehead to her stomach and stayed there, frozen. She couldn’t move, was afraid to spook him, afraid to lose this strange, unexplainable moment of tenderness.

  Rain hit the shutters hard. Lighting blinded Amber, and thunder shook the world.

  Owen stood up and looked at her. “The kiss was a goodbye.” He gave her a curt nod. “Godspeed, Amber.”

  And then he left, taking her broken heart with him.

  Chapter 28

  She loved him?

  She loved him…

  She loved him!

  The words drummed in Owen’s ears, louder than the storm thundering outside the great hall. The room was packed with warriors, Owen didn’t remember it ever being so full. The king, his knights, and some of his Highlanders who could fit, were seeking refuge from the downpour. The rest of the army were camped in the tents by the castle walls, provided with as much food the castle cooks could serve.

  Owen stared at the bowl of stew
in front of him. He stirred it mindlessly with his spoon. He had no appetite whatsoever. The room around him was loud with dozens of voices talking, laughing, singing.

  He’d be leading these men tomorrow. But all he could think about was Amber.

  Amber who loved him.

  Owen had hurried out of his chamber as fast as his feet could carry him.

  He’d run away. Run away from happiness. From the woman he loved—the most perfect, beautiful, and strong woman in the world.

  Owen reached for the cup of uisge with his head hung between his shoulders.

  He’d run away so that he could stay focused and win the battle tomorrow.

  Because he’d been an idiot in the past. Infatuated by beautiful women. Led by his horny cock. Taken the easy way.

  He’d not taken anything seriously.

  Finally, he’d gotten what he wanted. He was leading the men into battle against his clan’s archenemies, the MacDougalls, in a battle that might decide the destiny of Scotland.

  A battle where he might die.

  He didn’t mind dying for his family and for what he believed in. But could he die without telling Amber how he really felt?

  Could he die peacefully after he’d hurt her so much? He’d seen the pain he inflicted on her by saying nae. He’d hurt her so much he wanted to punch himself in the face.

  But it was better this way, wasn’t it? He’d promised he wouldn’t get distracted, and this was him keeping his promise.

  What he wanted most was to take her in his arms, lay her on his bed, and show her exactly how much he loved her. He wanted to scream, “Stay with me. Marry me. Be with me. Be mine. Forever.”

  Instead, he sat in the great hall, holding himself back with all the willpower he had. He hated himself for hurting her. She didn’t deserve the pain he’d inflicted on her.

  He needed to tell her. He needed to explain. If she was leaving soon, and he never saw her again, he needed to tell her he couldn’t be with anyone.

  Not just her.

  Owen climbed off the bench and rushed out of the great hall into the stormy, flashing darkness outside. The wind hit him hard with a freezing wave of heavy rain. Thunder rolled over his head as he ran through the muddy courtyard into the donjon. He climbed up the stairs, jumping over two at a time. He opened the door without bothering to knock and stood still, rooted to the spot.