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

by Mariah Stone

  MacDougall’s resounding scream made many men turn their heads in horror, and the remaining MacDougalls quickly scattered. Only a few ran towards Ian, ready to fight for their laird who clutched the stump of his arm.

  Ian raised the ax for the final blow when one of the MacDougalls threw a hand in the air in surrender.

  “Please! Please. Mercy.”

  Ian stilled and watched the man in confusion. Then his expression flattened, and he let the ax fall. He looked at the MacDougall again. “Take him. Flee like the shite flies ye are.”

  The men grabbed John MacDougall under his arms just as Robert the Bruce came to stand next to Ian. The men tried to hurry, but it was impossible carrying an almost limp MacDougall.

  “Wait,” the king said.

  They turned, and MacDougall opened his eyes.

  “’Tis over for ye, John, ye ken?” the Bruce said. “I am the king of Scots.”

  MacDougall managed an expression of disgust. “Ye reign will never be just, the blood of thousands of yer countrymen is on yer hands.” He spat bloody saliva at the Bruce’s feet. “Ye murdered my kin.”

  “Yer whole family are treacherous bastarts. John Comyn was, and ye are, too. Now leave. Either ye die from blood loss, or ye live the rest of yer life a powerless cripple, always licking English arse and begging for protection. Both outcomes will be punishment enough for ye. Either way, I will give yer lands to yer worst enemies, the Cambels. Ye and yer clan are done.”

  John’s lips pressed in a thin line, and his beard trembled in silent rage. The Bruce gestured with his head for them to leave and the men who supported the MacDougall hurried off with him.

  Owen was sure they’d head towards the birlinns he’d seen earlier on the river.

  The Bruce looked around at the last few enemies making their escape. “Get them!” he roared. “And let’s take Dunstaffnage!”

  That was where the old MacDougall, John MacDougall’s sick father, resided. The men around the king pumped their fists in the air. Those who had horses mounted them, and those on foot gathered weapons and shields. Soon they all charged forward with victorious roars and cries. The Bruce noticed Owen on the ground and rushed over to him.

  “Owen.” He sank to his knees, worry in his eyes. “Oh Christ, man, ye’re wounded badly.”

  “Is there a medic here? A healer?” Amber said.

  “Aye. We have several. They’ll stay and help ye, aye?”

  “Thank ye, Your Grace,” Owen said.

  The Bruce took Owen’s hand between his palms. “Nae, Owen Cambel. Thank ye. If it wasna for ye, I’d likely be dead or defeated. Ye’ve done everything right, man. Ye’ve done everything right.” He looked at Amber. “And ye, too, lass.”

  “Thank you,” Amber said.

  He looked at Owen again. “I must go and deliver the last blow, but once ye get better, I promise ye an estate in the Lorne for yer service. Ye’ll be the lord of yer own house.”

  Gratitude and pride overflowed in Owen’s chest. He’d done everything right. The MacDougalls had been crushed. He hadn’t brought shame or embarrassment on his clan. On the contrary, the king was going to grant all MacDougall land to the Cambels.

  And Owen had played a part in that.

  “Godspeed, Your Grace,” Owen said, and the king smiled back at him through his beard. “Make them pay.”

  The Bruce nodded and walked away. He mounted his horse and spurred it on, heading west with his knights to the heart of Lorne.

  Owen looked at Amber. He had everything now. Tiredness was pulling him in its dark, warm embrace. He was slipping away, and he didn’t know if it was into death or an exhausted sleep. But wherever he went, he wanted to know Amber would not leave him.

  “Stay…” It was all he managed to say before he sank into complete darkness.

  Chapter 32

  The next day…

  * * *

  Amber stroked Owen’s pale cheekbone. He was as handsome as ever in the semidarkness of his bedroom. The fire crackled softly. The shutters were open and the sunlight coming through the window fell on his chest.

  Amber sat on his bed. She hadn’t left him for a minute since yesterday on the battlefield. A healer had treated the wound as best he could, and Amber had taken Owen back to Glenkeld together with several other wounded on a cart as soon as they could.

  Back in Glenkeld, Amy treated his wound again with fresh cloth she boiled. She’d also disinfected the wound with alcohol, an even stronger version of moonshine that was poisonous to drink. Amy had stitched the gash in his thigh, and now, thankfully, the bleeding had stopped completely. Owen got the best medical care given the medieval circumstances.

  His lids fluttered, and he opened his eyes. Amber’s heart burst with joy seeing him awake. He’d slept most of the night after Amy had stitched him up, during which he’d been awake and wheezing loudly through the pain.

  “Amber,” he whispered.

  His eyes were still clouded from the potion that Amy had given him for pain so he could sleep through the night.

  She cupped his jaw, tears of joy prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Hey. How are you feeling? Do you want some water?”

  He smacked his lips tiredly. “Aye. My damn arms feel like they weigh ten stone each.”

  “Yeah, it’s the blood loss, buddy.” She helped him drink. “Are you in pain?” she asked when he finished.

  “Aye. My leg feels like ’tis on fire.”

  “You’ll be okay. We got the bleeding to stop, which is the most important thing. He got you good.”

  “He paid for it.”

  “Yeah. He did.”

  “Any news of my father and my brothers? Ian?”

  “They all went to Lorne with the Bruce. No news from there, yet, but I saw all of them alive before they left.”

  Owen sighed, relieved. “Thank God. And thank God ye’re alive. But how stupid of ye to show up at the battlefield.” He paused. “Ye shouldna have come.”

  Amber swallowed. “Do you want me to leave now?”

  He inhaled sharply and held her gaze.

  Say no. Please, say no.

  “Nae,” he said, and she was suddenly light as a feather, like she could fly up into the air.

  “I want ye to never leave. I want ye to be mine. Forever.”

  Her heart burst with love and gratitude. Every cell of her body lighting up like Times Square.

  “Do ye want to stay with me?”

  Her mouth opened to say, yes of course, there was nothing she wanted more than that.

  And yet…

  There was this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t. That she still had a job to do in her time. That she’d never be happy and complete if she didn’t take care of that last thing.

  She’d stood up for herself in front of a king. She’d endured torture and imprisonment in the fourteenth century. She damn well could clear her name and stand up to a bully back in her time. She needed to stop the drug smuggler from hurting others. Or she’d always be running away. And she couldn’t live that life.

  “I can’t.” Her voice dropped.

  Owen stilled, and it seemed he stopped breathing. His eyebrows furrowed. And if it was at all possible, he seemed to pale even more.

  “Why?” His voice was so low, it sounded like a raspy whisper.

  Amber licked her lips. How she hated to hurt him like this. She could only hope he’d understand.

  “I’ve been a coward, Owen. Back in my time, I ran away. I’ve learned so much about bravery and strength from you and because of what I’ve been through, but I’m still running.”

  Amber’s throat clenched, and she swallowed a hard, painful knot. “I was terrified to stay and fight to clear my name. To fight a drug smuggler and murderer. To get justice for those he harmed.”

  Owen’s mouth curved downward in a pained grimace. “Ye dinna have to worry about that, lass. Ye life can be here, with me. Can ye nae forget all that?”

  She shook her
head.

  “I thought that was exactly what I could do. But seeing how bravely you fought for what’s right for you, risking everything to save your king and your country… I should be like that. I’m a soldier, too. It’s my job to risk my life for my people. And yet I cowered instead of rising to the challenge.”

  “Lass, no one would blame ye—”

  “No, Owen. I love you, and I want to be with you. But if we want a chance of a happily ever after, I cannot let myself be a coward. You don’t deserve that.” She let out a quick breath and looked straight into his eyes. “I need to be my own goddamn hero.”

  “Aye. Be yer own hero, lass. Ye’re verra much mine,” he said with pride in his voice. Then he sighed, and his eyes clouded with sadness. “’Tis goodbye, isna it?”

  “I hope you understand.”

  He gave several small nods, thoughtful. “I do. Course I do.” He covered her hand with his. “I’m proud of ye, lass. Though I wouldna think any less of ye if ye just let all that go.”

  “Thank you.”

  He pushed himself up and sat straighter. He looked at one of the chests by the wall.

  “Can ye do something for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “In that chest, can ye find a small brown leather pouch and bring it here?”

  “Okay.”

  She stood and went to look in the chest he’d pointed at. Sure enough, she found the leather pouch and brought it to him. He opened it and took out a ring.

  Amber’s stomach dropped, and her head spun like she was falling into the center of the earth. A ring…

  “My mother gave it to me before she died, and I never thought I’d need it. Mayhap in yer time, people are happy to be dating their whole lives, or however ye call it. But we’re in my time. And in my time, I’d need to marry ye to make ye mine. I’ll never want a wife who is nae ye.”

  He held out the ring to her.

  “I want to marry ye.”

  Amber took the ring, and it burned her fingertips. It was a simple silver band with two curls coming together in front with a beautiful Celtic finishing.

  Her eyes blurred, tears stinging them. “I want nothing more than to put it on my finger and say yes.”

  He swallowed hard. “But ye dinna plan to return.” There was a finality in his voice.

  “I want to return.” Amber climbed on the bed and shifted closer to him, trying not to touch his thigh. “But in all honesty, I have no idea if I can. No matter how much I try, they still may put me in prison or…”

  Or sentence her to death.

  Owen’s face fell.

  Amber took his hand in hers. “Bottom line, I may not be able to come back.” She put the ring in his palm and closed his fingers over it. “So I can’t promise to marry you. I’m not selfish enough to make you wait your whole life if I can’t.”

  “But ye want to marry me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  He put the ring back in her palm. “Then I’ll wait for ye forever.”

  “Owen—”

  “Nae. Shush. If I can’t marry ye, I’ll never marry. And I’d rather spend the rest of my life hoping every day that ye come back than spend it with a woman I dinna love.”

  She let the joy of hearing those words seep into every cell of her being and shake up the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. She cupped his bristled jaw. “Then whatever happens, I won’t stop until I can find a way to get back to you. I’ll turn the world upside down if I have to.”

  She leaned down and kissed him, setting the butterflies in an erratic dance.

  And as his arms wrapped around her, she begged time to stop so she could drink in every moment with Owen since they might very well be the last.

  Chapter 33

  Two weeks later, 2020

  * * *

  Jonathan’s house looked just like Amber remembered from when she’d visited five years ago. It was a light-green, two-story building with a big porch. Trees with Spanish moss grew around the house, its long silver streams hanging from the trees, creating an idyllic picture of a southern family house.

  Her heart squeezed in a dull ache. She’d missed her family. Her mother, father, and her three brothers. The house reminded her of where she’d grown up, and she wondered if Jonathan had chosen it for that reason.

  She couldn’t win this battle alone. She needed Jonathan. He had connections in the military and in the police. He could help her.

  She had traveled back to the twenty-first century two weeks ago. She had no money, no passport, no phone, nothing but her clothes. Owen had given her his dagger, and Amy had suggested she take some pieces of jewelry to sell to an antiques dealer. That way, she’d have money to travel to the States.

  Amber didn’t want to ask for more help from Auntie Christel. She didn’t want to put her in more danger than she already was.

  She’d gone through the stone and walked on foot to Fort William, where she’d sold the jewelry and the dagger. With his eyes shining, he’d paid her 25,000 pounds. He’d agreed on the price too quickly, which made her think she could have probably gotten a better price.

  Still, the money was enough to buy a fake driver’s license and passport off the dark net that were good enough to pass through border control. It took a week for it to arrive, and she was suddenly Susan Francis, born in New Hampshire and residing in Inverness.

  She knew she wouldn’t win this game without the help of her older brother and his connections. She’d considered contacting Jonathan to let him know she was coming, but in the end, she’d decided not to in case his phone was bugged. One heart-stopping flight and two security checks later, and she was in New Orleans.

  From there, she’d used a rental car to get to Nicholson, and now she stood in front of Jonathan’s house wearing a wig of short black hair in a bob cut. She’d gone for a suburban mom-look of checkered shirt, mom jeans, and comfortable but stylish sneakers. Just in case, she put on a baseball hat to hide a bit of her face.

  She waited in the car parked across the street from the house. When she saw Jonathan leave, her heart thumped. Her brother was older, and gray hair touched his temples. With age, he looked more and more like their dad. He was the same height, had the same build. His broad shoulders even slouched in a similar way, and something in her chest moved at the thought.

  He got into his car and drove away, and like in a thriller movie, she followed him. As far as she could tell, they had no tail. He arrived at the parking lot of a Costco, and when he got out of the car, so did she. With her pulse racing a hundred miles per hour, she jogged to him before he reached the entrance.

  “Jonathan,” she said, and he turned to her. His eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced around.

  “What the hell, Amber? What are you doing here?”

  Her back tensed and her gut tightened. Was this a mistake? Would he betray her like he had when they were young?

  “Can we please talk?” she said. “Somewhere private?”

  He muttered something, took her by the elbow and lead her across the road into a small park. The air was rich with the scent of flowers and humidity. They sat on a bench looking out over a small pond. Strands of Spanish moss hung from the trees surrounding the water. Mothers pushed strollers, elderly women power walked, and teenagers rode bikes and skateboards along the path.

  “Talk,” Jonathan said. “You were all over the news a month ago. We went out of our minds searching for you.”

  The accusation in his voice surprised her. Had he been worried about her?

  “So? Did you murder him?” he said.

  Amber’s nails bit into her palm. Did he even have to ask? Of course he wouldn’t believe her. How had she ever thought he would.

  “What do you think?”

  “I didn’t think you could, but you running and hiding didn’t look very good.”

  A slow smile bloomed on her face. Her brother was on her side. “I was set up. That’s why I’m here. I need your help to prove I’m innocent.”
<
br />   He sighed. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

  “Because…” She fingered the nail of her thumb. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You know why. We haven’t been exactly close. We never really were. I didn’t think you’d want to risk anything to help me.”

  Jonathan sighed and massaged his face with his hands. “Yeah. Well, you’re wrong. I have your back. Do you hear me?”

  She finally found the strength to look at him. Her brother had always been intimidating. Their father had treated him as his heir, the perfect son. The image Amber had helped him maintain when she’d taken on various little sins that he’d committed.

  But now, looking him in the eye, she didn’t see annoyance and arrogance like before. She saw guilt.

  And love.

  He covered her hand with his.

  “I’m sorry for what we did when we were kids. I know it was wrong, but I was young and stupid. And cowardly. Dad loved you so much, I didn’t think anything could change that.”

  She snorted. “What? Me?”

  “You never stood up for yourself. You never said anything.”

  “I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d despise me even more if I did. All I was trying to do was get on your good side. For you to see we were on the same side.”

  He sighed. “But we never were, were we?” He shook his head. “You know, after Dad died, I realized how many mistakes I’d made. How precious the time we had together was. I’d give anything to have him and Mom back.”

  “Yeah. Dad was the rock. Without him, the family fell apart. There was no one to protect us.”

  “Yes. There is.” He squeezed her hand. “Me. I’ll help you.”

  Hope and love bloomed in her chest. She understood now how Owen must have felt when his father supported him in front of the king. Her brother had her back now.

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand, and tears welled in her eyes. “You have no idea what it means to me.”

  He smiled warmly, his eyes watery. He pinched the bridge of his nose and wiped the tears in the corners of his eyes.