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

by Mariah Stone

  Would he hear the same respect in his father’s voice once he delivered the package?

  Owen made a fire and kept a lookout for Aileene’s attacker. The man could return with another weapon or with some friends. But Owen doubted it. The man would probably assume Owen had continued on his way and so had Aileene. Owen had had his fair share of adventures with servant girls and willing farmers’ daughters, but this lass… No one had ever looked at him with such admiration and gratitude.

  He was the joker in the family, irresponsible and left to his own devices. He was surprised when the MacDougalls gave him the sack of gold he had now hidden among other pouches on his horse’s back. But he was honored. Finally, he had a chance to prove his worth to his clan.

  King John Balliol was a guest at Innes Chonnel, the Cambel clan seat. Owen couldn’t wait to see his father’s astonished face, as well as his brothers’. Craig and Domhnall would surely be surprised. Mayhap, his life had turned around today. Mayhap, his father would finally agree to take him into battle.

  Aileene sat by the fire, massaging her ankle. Owen gave her a piece of bread and cheese.

  “Thank ye,” she said as she took them from him. Their hands touched, and her eyes lingered on him. Her gaze moved down his tunic and even farther south to the front of his trousers. Was she really suggesting something? She’d just been attacked. Was she really ready?

  Aileene broke eye contact and bit into the bread and cheese.

  “I want to thank ye,” she said. “I need the silver to buy a potion for my sick father. Ye may have saved his life as well.”

  Owen shrugged. “Nae need to thank me.”

  She took out a bottle out of her basket. “I make delicious berry wine and am on my way to trade it in the neighboring village. I’d love for ye to have a bottle. Would ye like some?”

  “Aye.” Owen grinned. “I never refuse a fine wine.”

  She smiled back, dimples forming at her cheeks. She removed the cork and handed the bottle to him.

  “Sláinte,” he said and sipped. The wine was sweet and not very strong, and Owen drank more, suddenly thirsty. They shared the bottle and the food and chatted. Aileene was a lovely woman, and Owen sensed she was enjoying his company. She kept throwing those lingering glances at him, and he knew what they meant. He was all for it, but he also didn’t want to take advantage of her.

  His head was pleasantly spinning from the wine and her company. She kept rubbing her ankle, wincing from time to time.

  “Do ye ken anything about healing?” she said. “My ankle ails me.”

  Owen licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I can look at it if ye want?”

  “Would ye?”

  “Aye, but are ye certain? ‘Tis nae proper… And that man…”

  “I trust ye.”

  She leaned back and stretched her leg out to him. He sat closer, his groin already starting to warm, his cock waking as he imagined her smooth skin against his fingers. He took her foot in his hands and pushed the edge of her skirt up, revealing a white, delicate ankle. There was a scratch there, although not a deep one, and he covered it with his hand. He massaged the foot gently. Her soft skin against his rough palms set fire burning in his blood.

  He swallowed and looked up at her face. Her lips were parted, and from under her lashes, her eyes were dark with desire.

  “There’s nothing ye can do against my will, because I’m willing for anything.”

  Owen cursed under his breath. Even if there’d been an army of angry, barrel-chested men here now, he couldn’t stop.

  He put her leg back on the ground and crawled up to her. He kissed her, and she answered back, their tongues lashing in a sweet battle. He was hard. He’d never been so hard in his life. His cock as solid as a rock.

  His mind filled with fog that smelled like berry wine, sweet, female skin, and grass.

  He woke with a jolt and sat up. The woods were dark around him in, his fire already out. His head hurt, every pulsation of blood in his temples brought pain. He looked around. Where had Aileene gone? His trousers were still down, and his cock was still hard and ready to go. What sort of witchcraft was that?

  “Aileene?” Owen called, rubbing his face. Mayhap she’d gone to take care of business.

  Owen closed his trousers over the uncomfortable erection and stood up. Everything swayed and swam.

  “Aileene?” he repeated.

  Her basket was gone. Should he feel hurt she left without saying goodbye? How had he fallen asleep like that? How had it gotten so dark so quickly?

  He looked at his horse, and his back chilled.

  The purse with the gold was gone. She’d taken it. And she’d left. How would he find her in this darkness, with his head swaying like a banner on the wind?

  This was bad. This was worse than anything he’d ever done. Worse than stealing his brother’s clothes when they were bathing. Worse than drinking half a cask of uisge and accidentally hitting the estate’s best-producing ram while shooting arrows at the targets in the darkness. Worse than taking the virginity of the Mackintosh’s daughter. He might still need to marry the lass if the truth ever came out.

  What a fool he was. What a fool! And why the hell had his cock not calmed down yet? That had never happened before. He didn’t feel excited at the slightest.

  He should never trust himself to take good decisions. He should have known she’d steal from him. Mayhap, the entire attack had been a plot?

  He’d never find her now. Too much time must have passed.

  He’d best make his way back home and accept the shame he knew awaited him…and his family.

  Chapter 1.

  Mallyne Farm near Inverlochy village, 2020

  Amber heard steps outside the front door and raised her head to listen.

  “Amber Ryan, stop worrying.” Her aunt shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. “It’s only Rob. He went to feed the cows.”

  Amber sighed and poked her porridge with a spoon. She’d been here for a week. She should’ve gotten used to Rob, Aunt Christel’s son, feeding the cows and sheep first thing in the morning. And she should start liking porridge. Where was peanut butter and jelly sandwich when she needed it?

  At least Scotland had good coffee. Her mug stood on the checkered tablecloth steaming with a comforting aroma. The rustic kitchen was bathed in sunlight, but it was still cool, even in summer. Old Scottish farmhouses were probably never warm.

  Or maybe Amber was just too used to the summer heat in Afghanistan. The thought sent a shiver through her, and she glanced at the door. She was safe for now. No one was coming for her.

  Yet.

  “I should leave you guys soon,” Amber said. “I need to keep moving. Sooner or later, the police or someone will come here with questions.”

  “Aye. Well—” Aunt Christel shook her curly, red hair, “—you know that neither Rob nor I will say a word.”

  Amber reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, it means so much that you believe me.”

  Aunt Christel squeezed her hand back. “I knew your father, lass. He was my cousin, and I spent every summer with him for eighteen years. And I know he didn’t raise a murderer. People easily use a gentle soul like you. So, aye, I believe you were set up.”

  Amber released a shaky breath. It felt good to know that even though the government thought she was a murderer, she had people in her life who were on her side. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t keep her from a death sentence or from a life in prison.

  Aunt Christel took another sip and studied Amber with her soft, brown eyes. “But, sweetheart, what do you want to do in the future? You can’t hide forever. You’re innocent. Why don’t you stand up and prove it?”

  A chill snaked down Amber’s spine at the thought. Helplessness weighed down her arms and legs.

  “I don’t think there’s any point, Auntie. Powerful men can crush normal people like me. Especially when money and drugs are involved. And murder.”

  “Aye, dearie, but you must s
eek justice at some point. You’re not a coward. How can you live on the run your whole life? What’s the point? You can’t have any friends. Can’t marry. Can’t have children. Always looking over your shoulder, seeing shadows.”

  Amber fingered a white china flower at the base of the cup handle. She knew her aunt was right. Amber had joined the army because she wanted to see the world, fight for her country, and protect innocent people from the terrorists.

  So why was she behaving like a coward now? She wasn’t the type to cower from a fight. Growing up, she hadn’t been afraid to take the blame for her three older brothers’ small sins, such as broken vases or scratches on the car. That had been her way of protecting them. But instead of appreciating her sacrifice, they’d treated her like a doormat.

  “I know, Aunt Christel, you’re right. My mom raised me to be a good girl. To go to church. To live an honest life. Dad is probably turning in his grave watching me hide like this and not seek justice. Everything inside of me is screaming at me to stand up and fight and prove I didn’t commit that murder.”

  “Aye. So why don’t you?”

  Amber brought the cup to her mouth with a shaking hand, coffee threatening to spill on the tablecloth. She took a sip, her favorite drink tasteless against her tongue.

  “I’d be a naive little girl if I trusted the system. Major Jackson is using me as a scapegoat to cover for his crimes. He managed to get the drugs from Afghanistan to America for years. So imagine how many people he must have in his pocket in the military. And now that he murdered a US officer, he’ll be even more ruthless.” She shook her head. “No. I cannot take him on alone.”

  “Perhaps nae. But why don’t you ask your brothers to help? Jonathan was in the military, too. He knows people, doesn’t he?”

  “Right.” Amber snorted. “Jonathan doesn’t want anything to do with me. He sold our house after Dad died, and everyone lives their own lives.”

  Amber was still a teenager when their mom died, and the family had started to fall apart. After their dad’s death two years ago, they’d stopped meeting for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Kyle was a kick-ass lawyer in New York. Daniel was in San Francisco last time Amber had heard, still trying to sell his sculptures.

  “But still,” Aunt Cristel said, “if you ask for help… Kin is kin.”

  “Maybe that’s how it is in Scotland. And I can’t thank you enough for helping me. But if I went to Jonathan for help, he’d be the first to rat me out to the authorities.”

  Aunt Christel covered Amber’s hand with her own, and Amber squeezed it back, her caramel skin looking even darker compared to her aunt’s pasty complexion.

  “Surely, nae, dear?” Aunt Christal said.

  Amber sighed. “He wouldn’t risk his ass for me. He has the right connections in the military, I’m sure, but he also has two kids and a wife and a beautiful house.”

  “But—”

  “Police! Police!” Rob cried.

  Everything moved in slow motion. There was the distant rustle of car tires and engines. The front door swung wide, and Rob stood in the doorway, his silhouette black against the sun. “Police!” he shouted.

  Amber jumped to her feet, jostling the table, and the coffee mugs and porridge flew off from the impact.

  Aunt Christel cried, “Back door!”

  Amber ran, her feet heavy, as though she were moving through a swamp. It was like she was trapped in one of those nightmares where she couldn’t get away from a killer.

  The hallway flashed by, and she reached the old, mahogany door. Unlocked, thank God! She raced out past the barn, into a field of oats. Her ragged breathing was louder than anything in her ears. Where was she running? Where should she go?

  Away. She’d wait for a while and then come back to Aunt Christel’s to get her things. Then she’d leave. Go to the woods. Somewhere. Anywhere.

  She wouldn’t be punished for something she hadn’t done.

  Behind her, cars revved. She glanced back. They were coming right through the field after her. Amber gasped, adrenalin spiking.

  Before her was a grove. They wouldn’t be able to get through in their vehicles. She sped up. Thank God, she jogged every day and did combat training, but she still couldn’t win a footrace against cars.

  She flew into the grove. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the shade of the tress after being in the sunny field. She ran through the trees before she had to stop and catch her breath, her lungs desperately expanding to get more air in. She looked around. Thirty feet or so in front of her, an asphalt road ran from the left to the right, and across it, further away in the distance, something like a castle standing between trees. Right, the ruined castle her aunt had told her about. Behind it, was River Lochy.

  The cars behind her turned. They’d need to take quite a detour to get on the road.

  She ran again, across the empty road, then down the ditch on its other side, almost twisting her ankle.

  Not today.

  She made it past the trees and the bushes to an almost-ruined wall of the castle that had two round towers on each side. There was an arched gate in the middle, and through the courtyard was another small gate. If she could just get there, maybe she could hide in the bushes behind it. The river was on the other side of the far gate. Although it was very broad, maybe she could cross it swimming, couldn’t she? She was a good swimmer…

  She ran inside the square courtyard. On every corner was a round tower. A red-haired woman stood in the middle, and the scent of lavender and freshly cut grass hit Amber. The woman wore a long, green cloak and a medieval-looking, dark-green dress.

  “Here, lass,” the woman gestured towards the black entrance at one of the towers. “They’ll have a hard time finding ye here.”

  Amber stopped and bent forward. She put her hands on her knees and panted. Her lungs ached and burned, and a piercing pain pulsated in her side.

  “Who are you?” she said.

  “I’m Sìneag. I ken ye’re in trouble. Trust me. Ye dinna have much time. They’re coming.”

  Tires screeched against the asphalt. Voices.

  “Arghhh!!” Amber cried. She must be insane to trust a complete stranger, but there was no way she’d make it to the river in time. They could easily catch up to her on the other side anyway. “Come on! Show me.”

  Sìneag nodded and ran first, showing the way. They raced through a doorway and into the tomb-like darkness of the tower. Sìneag went quickly down the crumbling stairs into a complete darkness. Amber clutched at the wall, barely seeing anything. Rocks rolled from under her feet. Her shoes slipped, and she almost fell several times. Finally, she slid to a stop when the stairs reached the uneven ground. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Sìneag stood there, waiting for her.

  “Come, lass, a little farther,” she said.

  A heavy feeling settled in Amber’s stomach. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood being called deeper into the woods by the wolf. She looked up. Somewhere up there, people were looking for her, people who wanted her to be punished for a crime she didn’t commit. She supposed going farther under a ruined castle to save herself didn’t sound like such a bad idea compared to being caught by them.

  She kept following Sìneag, and it got darker and darker. The scent of wet stone, earth, and mold enveloped her. Water dripped from somewhere.

  Sìneag took Amber by the hand. The woman’s palm was cool and soft.

  “Come here. I ken this place. We’ll sit here and wait. Sooner or later, they’ll be gone. Then ye go out. Aye?”

  She tugged Amber a few steps to her left and down. Amber put out her hand and found a cold, rough stone wall. She slid her hand down as she sat on the ground. Her breath rushed in and out quickly, and she made an effort to slow it down.

  “How do you know this place?” Amber whispered.

  “Ah, I ken it well. Have been here many times. There’s a rock that interests me in the foundation.”

  Amber almost asked about the rock, but adrenalin was pumpin
g through her blood. Any minute, they could find her. She listened for the sound of any steps or voices, but so far, everything was quiet.

  “Why did you help me?” Amber asked softly. “How do you know I didn’t escape from prison or haven’t stolen something? Are you not worried about why the police are after me? Did you see in my eyes that I have a heart of gold or something?”

  Sìneag laughed a little. “Aye. Something like that. I supposed ye canna tell me what ye’re really running from?”

  Amber sighed. “It’s probably in your best interest not to know. You may be an accomplice by hiding a criminal.”

  “Oh, aye?” Sìneag sounded strangely excited.

  “I’m not. But the government and the army think I am.”

  “Poor lass. I may have an escape for ye, somewhere yer government will never reach ye.”

  Amber grimaced, and she was glad that Sìneag couldn’t see her. This was getting weird. Who was this woman, and why was she trying to save a complete stranger from the police?

  “I’m sorry, Sìneag, I’m grateful you’re helping me now, but don’t worry about my future. I’ll find a way.”

  Sìneag was quiet for a moment. “Ye will.”

  Amber didn’t answer. Water dripped from somewhere and the sound echoed off the rocky walls. Other than that, complete silence reigned here. Was this what it sounded like in a grave or a crypt?

  No sounds came from outside, either. That meant the police weren’t looking for her in the ruins. Yet. They must think she was making a run for it.

  “Do ye want to hear a story while we wait?” Sìneag said.

  A story? It was an odd thing to do while waiting to be captured by the police, but maybe it would keep Sìneag from asking any personal questions. And it might help Amber relax a little.

  “Yes, please,” Amber said.

  “Well, ye canna see it, but we’re sitting right by that ancient rock I mentioned.”