Highlander's Desire: A Scottish Historical Time Travel Romance (Called by a Highlander Book 5)

by Mariah Stone

“What?” David said.

  “Nothing,” Sìneag said. “Yer sister does oppose ye going.”

  Then David’s face fell. “Wait. I had thought it was that Angus guy who abused Rory and lured her back here, but are you involved in that plan, too?”

  Sìneag blinked. “Forgive me, but what plan, lad?”

  “To rape her and abuse her and keep her captive.”

  “Nae, lad, I dinna do anything like that. I send people through time so that they can meet their soul mate, the person they’re supposed to be with. Like yer sister and Angus Mackenzie.”

  David shook his head. “Unbelievable. It’s like you both are brainwashed.”

  “So, lass,” Sìneag said. “Ye want to go back, aye?”

  Rogene nodded. “Yeah. It’s still possible, isn’t it?”

  Sìneag nodded. “Aye. For the last time. Only three times per couple.”

  Her back sweating, Rogene nodded and glanced at David, who was scowling down at them. “Good. I’m ready.”

  He stepped forward. “No, you’re not.”

  “Mayhap ye are, lass,” Sìneag said. “But there’s still the question of payment.”

  “Payment?” Rogene frowned.

  “Well, ’tisna payment in the sense of yer human money. But I do like to treat myself to yer delicious human foods. Do ye happen to have something?”

  Rogene gave out a soft chuckle. “You’re sweet. Of course I have something for you… Um. I think I had a chocolate bar. Does that work?”

  “Oh aye, I like the sound of that.”

  “I ate it last night,” David said.

  Rogene’s face fell. “That’s okay. Do you have something else?”

  “I have gum.”

  Rogene lifted her brows at Sìneag.

  “What’s that?” Sìneag asked.

  “You don’t know what gum is?” David said.

  “It’s not food,” Rogene said. “It’s just…to chew…for taste.”

  Sìneag pinched her lips in consideration. “That doesna sound very appetizing.”

  “I think I have soda…” Rogene said and peeked inside the messenger bag that hung over her shoulder. There it was, the smooth metal surface. She grabbed the can and showed it to Sìneag. Thank goodness she didn’t pack any food in her backpack, which she wore on her back.

  “It’s a drink,” Rogene said.

  Sìneag’s eyes sparkled. “Aye, I’d like to try.”

  She took the can and turned it around, puzzled. Rogene realized Sìneag didn’t know how to open it.

  “Let me.” The can opened with a small hiss, and Rogene handed it to the faerie.

  After one small sip Sìneag giggled and touched her lips. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “What is this? It tickles…”

  David shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, lady, it’s nice acting you’ve got going on, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit too far?”

  But Sìneag offered him a wise smile. “Ah, lad. So young. So clever. So mistrustful and so…lonely.”

  Stunned, David blinked, looking like a young boy again—open, and vulnerable, and sweet. The boy she’d known all her life. The boy who had grown into a young man but still was only her little brother. Rogene wanted to take him into her arms and shield him and keep protecting him. Was she right to leave him here by himself? Was she right to leave him period? He was such a big guy, but he was still so young.

  She had to, she told herself. She had to.

  And he’d be all right. He must be. He had his whole life to live.

  “So,” Rogene said. “Is this enough, Sìneag? I have a wedding to crash.”

  “Aye,” Sìneag said. “But are ye sure? Ye wilna get another chance to return to yer time.”

  The carving on the rock began glowing, and David stared at it, narrowing his eyes with a WTF expression.

  This was it. She fingered the straps of her backpack on her shoulders. Was she really ready? Had she really thought everything through? If it wasn’t for David, she’d already be on the other side of that rock.

  “Rory…” he said in a warning.

  She reached out to him for the last time and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, David. I have to.” He grasped her palm and didn’t let go.

  “Rory, this looks fishy as hell.”

  “Bye, David.” She kissed him on the cheek and with an effort, freed her hand.

  Moving her heavy feet, she walked to the pile of rubble and sank to her knees before the stone, her backpack heavy. She threw a last glance at Sìneag and David, and her brother’s eyes were huge and fixed on her face. He breathed heavily, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  She smiled at him and put her hand into the cool surface of the handprint. There it was, the familiar vibration, the sense of falling and of water, and darkness started consuming her—

  “Rory!” came a distant cry, as if from another world.

  Someone grabbed her by the elbow of her other arm, the sensation foreign and strange.

  And she was falling and falling through the darkness until she blacked out.

  Chapter 36

  She jerked upright. Inky darkness surrounded her. And that smell—the mold, the water, the wet dust… It smelled differently from where she’d been a moment ago—or, rather, hundreds of years ago.

  In 2021, electrical lamps had illuminated the cave-like room. The time-travel rock must have worked and she was back in 1310. Of course, she couldn’t be sure until she asked someone who knew what date it was.

  But this time she was prepared. She had a flashlight in her messenger bag. Her backpack was still on her shoulders and she let it slide to the ground. Searching around herself for the bag, she touched something warm covered with some sort of fabric…

  A body?

  Gasping, she drew her hand back and covered her mouth with her hand. Who was that? She needed her light.

  With her heart racing, and her pulse loud in her ears, she kept searching around herself and finally got a hold of her messenger bag. Her mind raced as she went through the contents.

  Clothes, medicine, a book, silver coins… Her hand wrapped around a plastic cylinder. The light!

  With a shaking hand, she found the button and pressed it. Momentarily blinded, she blinked. The round, white circle of light danced against the rough walls of the space, the vaulted ceiling, the rock with the Pictish carving…

  There.

  She stopped the light on a figure lying on the floor.

  Her heart stopped. His eyes were closed, he was pale and looked like he was sleeping or unconscious.

  David.

  She rushed to him with her stomach sinking. Two fingers on his neck—he had pulse, thank God! She shook his shoulder gently.

  “David. David!” she called.

  He moaned and winced. Reaching to his head with his hand, he opened his eyes and blinked blindly into the light.

  “Thank God, you’re alive!” Rogene said.

  Then she slapped him on the chest. “What the hell were you thinking? Why did you come after me?”

  “What?” he croaked. “Rory, is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me, you idiot.” She shone the light at her face. “I said, what were you thinking coming after me?”

  “Coming where? What happened?”

  She sighed. “What happened is that you traveled back into 1310 with me when you were not supposed to.” She stood and held out her hand to him. “Stand up. You have to go back to the 2021. Quick.”

  He slowly rose. “My head is killing me. How are you so full of energy?”

  “I don’t know. Go on. There’s the rock. Put your hand into the print.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Okay, smart-ass. What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked around. “That crazy woman drugged us and kidnapped us?”

  “Is that your explanation for everything?” She sighed and grabbed his hand. “Come on. Time to go back. I need to find Angus and stop the weddin
g.”

  He followed her slowly, still looking around and peering into the darkness. When Rogene focused the flashlight beam on the rock, it didn’t glow. With her pulse pounding, she pulled David to the rock and put his hand in the print.

  Nothing happened.

  “Oh no,” she muttered and pressed his hand harder into the print. “No, no, no! Sìneag! Sìneag!”

  She looked around.

  “He needs to go back to 2021!” she called.

  Her voice echoed against the walls, then silence.

  “Rory—”

  “Damn it!” she cried, tears springing from her eyes. “She said this would be the last time. Didn’t she? She said that, right?”

  “Yeah, she did, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Oh, no, no, no!” She hid her face in her palms.

  What should she do? How could she call Sìneag to take him home? And what about the wedding? She had no idea how to make Sìneag appear or how to make the rock work without her.

  Looking up at David, she sighed. “It looks like you’re stuck here, buddy,” she said. “At least for now.”

  “Yeah. No shit.”

  “Which means you have to come with me. We don’t have time to look for period clothes for you, but at least you’re not showing cleavage or a lot of skin like I did.” She looked skeptically at his simple gray hoodie and black jeans with ripped knees. “Your military boots will come in handy.” She nodded. “Hold on to them. Medieval footwear is pretty horrible.”

  He looked at her as if she were crazy. But what else was new?

  “Hold on to this, I need to change.” She gave him the flashlight and retrieved the medieval costume she’d bought online. David turned around, and she quickly changed, shivering of cold. She’d tried to find something as historically accurate as she could, but the costume was made of cotton and had a zipper, about which she may have some explaining to do.

  When she was ready, she gave him the backpack and put the bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go. And please, don’t freak out too much, okay? Remember, we traveled back in time. This is all real.”

  He blinked and shook his head, not saying anything.

  Following the light, they walked out of the room and down the corridor. Opening the heavy door, they entered a long space with a curved rock ceiling. A few torches were lit in the sconces on the walls. Just like she remembered this long storeroom, there were still sacks, barrels, crates, swords, shields, and firewood.

  David stared at the space with a deep, puzzled frown, no doubt wondering where electrical light had gone, along with the cabinets and boxes, and tables and chairs with protective covers.

  “Where are we?” he asked as they walked down the hall.

  “It’s still Eilean Donan,” she said. “But fourteenth century.”

  When they reached the curved stairs, she stopped him and turned to him. “Now listen. You will see men with swords and weapons, and women in medieval clothes similar to mine. The castle will look different. All I’m saying is, be ready and don’t freak out. We don’t need any additional attention, because in the Middle Ages, attention may mean death. They may think us witches, they may think us spies, they may think other crazy things. Just…keep your cool.”

  “You’re already freaking me out.”

  They climbed the stairs and entered the square room. There were torches on the walls, and casks, barrels, and sacks filled it.

  “Uhm. Where’s the hall with the paintings and so on?” he asked. “You must be mistaken. We can’t be in the same castle. What kind of trick—”

  She opened the entrance door and he stopped talking. Through the arched door, they could see the inner bailey of the castle with its small household buildings, and the dirt-packed ground, and the well, and the post where Rogene had almost been whipped. The bailey was uncharacteristically empty.

  With her heart thumping, Rogene walked out of the tower and tugged her brother after her. The air was full of the smells of grilled meat, ale, and cooked vegetables. A feast? Well, of course, if the wedding was today, there had to be a feast.

  A servant walked out of the kitchen building carrying a giant tray on which laid a grilled boar. Rogene hurried towards him.

  “Good day,” she said. “Is the wedding today?”

  He frowned at her, pearls of sweat glistening on his forehead. “Aye.”

  “Where? Where are they?”

  “At the church, I suppose.”

  “Thanks!”

  She hurried back to David, who looked around with an open mouth. “What the hell is all this, Rory?”

  “We have to run. They’re getting married now!”

  Chapter 37

  Angus barely heard Father Nicholas’s prayer for the wedded. Euphemia stood in front of him, her eyes silky and wet, her face glowing with joy. She wore a beautiful pale-blue dress with doves and flowers embroidered in silver thread. With her shiny golden hair done in a thick braid that lay on her shoulder and white heather woven into a crown on her head, she could be a queen. Her posture was straight and her head high, her beauty shining.

  But she wasn’t the bride he wished to see before him.

  The door to the church was decorated with white heather, too, and he had a sprig attached to his tunic—it was the symbol of luck and happiness. Around Angus and Euphemia was clan Mackenzie, including Raghnall and Catrìona, as well as Laomann and Mairead, who was holding Ualan. A few people of clan Ross were there, too, including William himself. Several allies of clan Mackenzie were there: Craig and Amy Cambel with their daughter, Craig’s cousin Ian and his wife, Kate, and Craig’s father, Dougal. There were also other clans as well as villagers of Dornie.

  Father Nicholas, solemn and wearing his best robe, made the sign of the cross over the couple. He was squinting from the sun that shone right into his eyes. The air was full of the scent of incense and flowers.

  “Do ye, Euphemia of Ross,” Father Nicholas said, “take Angus Mackenzie as yer husband, willingly and of yer own agreement?”

  Her smile broadened and suddenly she looked so young, and so fragile, and hopeful. God, he wished he could love her. He wished he could scrape his heart empty and allow it to be filled with a new beginning, with his new wife.

  But that was impossible. His heart didn’t even belong to him anymore. He didn’t desire this woman. He desired one that could never be his.

  “Aye,” Euphemia said.

  “And no one is forcing ye to enter this marriage?” Father Nicholas said.

  “Nae. I am taking Angus willingly.” She leaned a little closer to Angus and whispered, “Very willingly.”

  He returned a smile that felt polite and strained on his face.

  “And are ye of age?” Father Nicholas asked.

  “I am,” she said.

  He turned to Angus. “Do ye, Angus Mackenzie, take Euphemia of Ross willingly and by yer own accord?”

  Angus’s throat tightened before he could answer. Was he? Was it all his own accord? Yes, he’d come to her. Yes, he’d proposed. But he was—again—following his duty. Not his heart.

  Not his desire.

  “Wait!” someone cried from the distance.

  Father Nicholas narrowed his eyes at the marketplace. With the smile washed off her face completely, Euphemia turned her head, her eyebrows snapped together, her eyes wide. Everyone else was looking, too.

  And that voice… He went as stiff as a statue. By God’s blood, the voice sounded like it belonged to Rogene… He turned and looked.

  “Wait! Please!” A woman was running towards them, navigating through the small crowd of people. Behind her, a tall, broad-shouldered young man hurried, with a huge sack on his back that swayed as he ran.

  As she came closer, the raven hair flapped on the wind, the red skirt of her dress was bright and rich, and she had a bag over her shoulder that he’d never seen before…

  “Wait!” Her hand was up in the air as though she were carrying something towards them.


  Towards him, as her eyes were on him. And then she was close enough that he could see.

  His heart must have stopped. He blinked to make sure this was real, that she was real.

  Euphemia turned to him, an expression of sheer panic on her white face. “Lord Angus, ye were about to say aye, I believe?”

  “Uhm…” Angus couldn’t look away from Rogene, taking in every movement, every detail that he could see from this distance.

  “Lord Angus!” Euphemia cried.

  And then, an eternity later, Rogene stood before him, panting.

  “Wait…” she said as she doubled up and breathed, holding her knees. A murmur went through the crowd of wedding guests.

  “Lady Rogene?” he said quietly.

  “Ye said she was gone!” Euphemia gritted through her teeth.

  He didn’t reply to her. The woman of his heart stood before him, and his whole being was focused on her. Nothing else existed. No one else mattered but her.

  “Lady Rogene?” Father Nicholas said. “I am glad to see ye’re well, but why should we wait with the wedding? Is anything the matter?”

  She straightened up and looked at Angus. “You’re not supposed to marry her, Angus,” she said. “You’re supposed to marry me.”

  Euphemia grabbed Angus by the upper arm and turned him to her. The expression on her face was terrifying. Nostrils flared, glaring at him from under her eyebrows, her teeth bared, she looked like a wolf ready to tear his throat out.

  “Angus,” she growled. “Did ye lie to me?”

  “I didna,” he said, returning her stare. Without saying another word, he freed his arm of her and slowly walked to Rogene. It felt like a storm was cooking somewhere nearby, so charged was the air between them, so slowly went the time.

  When he stood before her, and she straightened and breathed easier, their eyes locked. And he was lost. All the reasons to stay away from her—Scotland, Euphemia’s threat, his son—all that didn’t matter anymore. Because only now that she was by his side did he feel like everything was right in the world.

  Like life was better. Fuller. Like his heart could beat again inside his chest, instead of aching like an open wound.

  “Why are ye here, lass?” he said.