Soul of a Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Arch Through Time Book 13)

by Katy Baker

  He laid his head back against the rock and closed his eyes, his arms wrapped protectively around Sophie. He fought against sleep but exhaustion washed through him, filling his limbs with a heavy lassitude. With a sigh, his eyes slid closed and he fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  Sophie had never felt so cold or so tired in her life. Some deep part of her knew that she was sleeping and that she needed to wake. If she didn’t wake soon, she never would. But the cold was burrowing deeper, seeping into every crack in her being and threatening to shatter her like veins of ice in stone. She had to fight it. But it was hard. So hard. Easier to let go...

  Wait. There was something else.

  A faint heat flickered in the depths of the blackness. It was dim, like a candle flame held in a storm, but it slowly began to grow, morphing from a candle flame to a torch and then finally to a bonfire. The heat spread through her, chasing away the darkness, devouring the bone-numbing cold. Her hardened muscles began to relax. Her lungs began to breathe a little easier, her eyelids began to flutter.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was seated on a carpet of soft grass. Several feet ahead the branches of a willow tree formed a screen she could not see through and above her head they knotted into a roof, keeping out the rain which still drummed outside.

  She blinked. Where was she? Her last memory was of falling, her stomach rising into her throat as she plummeted through empty space. Then darkness and cold. So cold.

  A pair of arms were wrapped around her. They were well muscled and deliciously warm. Something hard and reassuring supported her back. Turning her head, she realized she was leaning against Callum, who in turn was leaning against a large rock that reared out of the earth. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed in sleep.

  He was stripped to the waist and his naked torso was pressed against her, the source of the warmth. She blinked rapidly, trying to piece everything together. What had happened? How did she end up here with Callum? And what was this place?

  Her eyes strayed along his arm to his wrist and the tattoo that had been imprinted there. At the sight of it, jagged pieces of memory floated to the surface. Freezing water. Darkness. Then something grabbing her arm. A voice—Callum’s voice—in her ear. Then warmth surging through her, strength pouring into her from Callum’s grip on her wrist.

  She shifted her weight and he snapped awake in an instant, hazel eyes fixing on her in surprise.

  “Sophie?” he murmured. “Am I dreaming?”

  “You’re not dreaming,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

  She was so warm and comfortable that she didn’t want to move but she forced herself to shift position so she could turn and look at him. “Where are we, Callum? What happened?”

  He studied her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “I was hoping ye could tell me what happened. I was walking back to the castle when I spotted ye in the river. Lord help me, lass, what were ye doing? Ye were supposed to wait for me in Dun Saith. How did ye end up in the river?”

  Sophie stared at the ground, trying to piece together the fragments of her memories. Walking up to Barric’s farm. Talking to Magda. Examining the southwest field. A voice, a push, a fall...

  She gasped. “Somebody pushed me!”

  Callum’s expression turned dangerous but she held out a hand to halt his questions.

  “Wait. It’s coming back to me. After you left, I went up to Barric and Magda’s farm. I spoke to Magda and then wanted to investigate the fields. I thought something in my botanist’s training might help me discover what was causing the blight. I was looking out over the river when somebody pushed me.”

  A low growl rumbled in Callum’s chest. “Did ye see who it was?”

  “No, but the voice sounded familiar. It was male and I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before.” She shook her head in frustration. “But I can’t place it.”

  Callum’s face was dark with anger. “I’ll find whoever did this to ye,” he said. “And they will pay. Only a coward would attack a defenseless woman. Whoever did this has no honor at all.”

  “No,” Sophie replied. “That’s not it. It’s nothing to do with honor. It’s because I’d figured out what they are doing.” Her gaze met Callum’s. “Callum somebody is poisoning the water. That’s why the crops are failing. That’s why Magda is so ill.”

  He said nothing, his expression grim. She could almost see his thoughts turning. “Poison,” he said at last, his voice low and barely audible. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, I just know what I saw. There were dead fish in the river and I think whatever is poisoning the crops has gone into the river too. Magda fell ill after eating strawberries she found on the river bank.”

  Callum said nothing. He was considering all he’d told her. “Is this how they plan to wage their war?” he muttered under his breath.

  “War? What war?”

  He shook his head. “It’s naught ye need to concern yerself with—”

  “Damn you, Callum!” she snapped. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “It’s safer for ye not to know.”

  “I’ll make the decisions about what’s safe for me!” she exploded. “Answer my questions! What is that tattoo on your wrist? Who was Alfred to you? And who are the Disinherited?” She was so tired of being kept in the dark. It was like being asked to complete a puzzle without all the pieces. “You’d better tell me or I swear I’m going to walk out of here and keep going!”

  Callum did not respond. A vein throbbed in his temple, betraying his tension, and his hand curled into a fist where it rested on his thigh. To her surprise, he turned to look at the rock behind him.

  “Is this what ye demand of me?” he grated. “Would ye ask me to lie to her as well?”

  Sophie blinked in surprise. This was not the reaction she’d expected. Was Callum really talking to a rock?

  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the rock’s rough surface. “I canna do it anymore,” he whispered. “I canna carry this alone. I willnae. She deserves to know the truth.”

  He opened his eyes and turned to face her. “Ye asked what this place is,” he said, gesturing at the space around them. “It is a shrine. A place where, long ago, my ancestors came to speak with the Fae.”

  “But it looks Christian to me. There’s a cross on top.”

  “A later addition. Here, give me yer hand.”

  Tentatively, Sophie shuffled closer. Callum took her wrist, his tattoo brushing her skin, and pressed her palm against the rough surface of the rock.

  Sophie gasped. “It’s warm.”

  “Aye. Its power remains for those who can touch it.”

  “People like you, you mean?”

  He met her gaze. “Aye, people like me,” he said softly. “People bound in service to the Fae.”

  He bowed his head and she could see the struggle going on inside him. Part of him wanted to tell her, but part of him believed he shouldn’t.

  “Callum,” she said softly, laying a hand on his arm. “You can trust me.”

  A faint smile played across his lips “Aye,” he breathed. “I’m beginning to realize that.”

  He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. “Long ago, when the Fae still walked the Highlands, my ancestors vowed to serve them, and in return Clan Sutherland prospered. That vow still holds. It has been passed down unbroken through the generations. I am not just the laird of Clan Sutherland. I am also head of the Order of the Osprey. We are a brotherhood sworn to protect Alba. We have an alliance with the Seelie Fae and have vowed to stop their power falling into enemy hands.”

  “Like the Disinherited?”

  He nodded. “Aye, like the Disinherited.”

  Sophie blew out her cheeks. This was a lot to take in. If she’d heard such an outlandish story only a few short weeks ago, she would have laughed. Fairy creatures and secret societies? What baloney! Except, of course, that it wasn’t. She’d learned that the hard w
ay.

  Callum sat cross-legged, his back resting against the stone, watching her in silence. He looked every inch the fierce Scottish warrior, every inch the leader, every inch the head of an order sworn to the Fae.

  She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Your tattoo,” she said at last. “It’s something to do with this?”

  “Aye,” he replied. “It is the mark of my Order.”

  “Murdoch MacKay had the same one.”

  “He is also a member of the Order.”

  “Sheesh. Any other little secrets you’d like to share with me?”

  “Nay, lass. That’s it. What I’ve told ye today I’ve never told anyone.”

  The way he was watching her made her heart pound. She was suddenly very aware of how he was half naked and she was only dressed in her thin under shift. She itched to run her fingers over his smooth skin.

  Flustered, she forced her thoughts back to the matter in hand. “You’ve still not explained who the Disinherited are.”

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Nobody knows who they are. They appeared after the Wars of Independence and named themselves the Disinherited because they claimed to have been wrongly deprived of their lands during the wars. Their ultimate goal is to win those lands back but to do that they have allied with dark forces. Not all Fae are benevolent. There are others – the Unseelie – who most definitely are not and these are the Disinherited’s allies. Should the Disinherited achieve their goal, war and darkness will envelop my land once more.”

  Sophie shivered, suddenly cold. “So Alfred was a member of your Order?” she asked. “That’s why you seemed so shocked when his body washed up.”

  “Aye. He must have discovered the enemy’s plans. That’s why he was killed.” He fell silent, a mask of guilt and pain twisting his features.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Sophie said softly.

  “Wasnae it?” he replied bitterly. “I am the head of the Order. Where does responsibility lie if not with me? Alfred died because I failed to recognize the threat. And now ye tell me that my clan is at risk as well? Curse those bastards! Why will they not face me in battle?” The veins stood out in his arms as his hands curled into tight fists.

  “There’s something you’re overlooking,” Sophie said. “They didn’t know that you would save me from the river. But you did. And as a result, you know what their plan is. And it means we can act.”

  Callum glanced at her. “We?”

  She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to leave you to face this alone do you? We are in this together now.”

  He climbed to his feet. “Together,” he breathed. “I like the sound of that.”

  He was standing incredibly close and Sophie suddenly remembered the sensation of his arms wrapped around her, of his chest pressing against her back. She wanted to feel it again.

  Callum was a laird, a powerful man. Add to this the fact that he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous and Sophie had no doubt that he would have many women falling at his feet. But Callum didn’t seem to realize any of this. He was singular, focused on his goal, oblivious to the effect his charisma had on people.

  Oblivious to how he affected Sophie.

  Why did he have to stare at her like that? Her lips parted as a slow breath escaped her. “Well, I...um...maybe we should—”

  Before she finished the sentence, he bent his head and kissed her.

  The touch of his lips was electric. She felt a rush of...something...go right through her. For a heartbeat she stood rigid, shocked by the power of her reaction. Then instinct took over.

  She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck as Callum gripped her waist and tugged her hard against him. His lips were warm and insistent as they moved on hers, attesting to his own desire. A heady sweep of dizziness took her as she realized that Callum wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  She found herself melting into him, giving in to the flood of desire, opening her lips to invite Callum’s tongue inside. His hair tickled her face, his hands pressed insistently against the small of her back and his chest was hard and unyielding as he crushed her to him. His musky, masculine scent surrounded her: damp hair, sweat and earth. It was enough to make her knees weak.

  Then he suddenly broke the kiss and stood staring down at her. Raw, naked desire burned in the hazel depths of his eyes, shocking in its intensity. Then he blinked and it abated a little. He released her, stepping back.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldnae have done that.”

  I’m not sorry, Sophie wanted to say. That was amazing. Do it again, please.

  But she didn’t speak. Instead, she took a few deep breaths to steady her thumping heart. Only when she’d gained control of herself did she manage to croak, “Sorry for what?”

  “I canna do this,” he said, the words sounding forced. “I willnae. It’s enough that I’ve told ye my secret. That alone puts ye in danger. If they find out what ye are to me, it will make ye even more of a target.”

  And what am I to you? she thought. Dear God, what are we becoming to each other?

  She turned away, stalked to the screen of branches, willing her thumping heart to slow.

  “You’re right,” she said, forcing the words past a tightness in her throat. “We need to concentrate on stopping the Disinherited.”

  “Aye. When they discover ye are still alive, they may make another attempt against ye,” he replied. He walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him. “I willnae let harm come to ye, Sophie,” he said, determination on his face. “From now on ye must do exactly as I say—and that means no more excursions outside the castle without me, ye hear?”

  His tone was that of the laird, someone used to being obeyed. Sophie opened her mouth to argue but then sighed.

  “Fine. But we work together on this, okay?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I wouldnae dare to suggest otherwise.”

  “Good. Just so we’re clear.”

  Was that a smile trying to tug at the corner of his lips?

  “We should be getting back,” he said and she thought she detected an undercurrent of reluctance in his voice. “Although the rain hasnae let up. It willnae be a pleasant trek back.”

  Sophie glanced at the ceiling of woven branches and then listened to the rain drumming outside. The thought of leaving this sanctuary was not a pleasant one.

  “You can say that again.”

  Chapter 12

  Callum led the way as he and Sophie followed the river bank in the direction of the castle. He scrutinized every shadow, alert for hidden enemies. But, he thought ruefully, only an utter fool would be abroad in this.

  He glanced at Sophie. She was tramping along behind him, swearing under her breath at every branch that snagged her dress, at every clump of marsh grass that threatened to trip her, and uttering a hundred different scathing remarks about the Scottish weather.

  He stifled a grin. Even bedraggled and wearing a scowl that would curdle milk, he found her utterly enchanting. Did she have any idea how she made him feel? Alive? Whole? Full of hope?

  She knew his secret now and he realized how dangerous that was, the risk he was taking. But he could not regret it. He felt lighter, as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Their predicament was more dire than ever, the Disinherited a greater threat than they had ever been, and yet for the first time in a long time, he felt a surge of hope. With Sophie MacCullough by his side, he felt like he could do anything.

  “I don’t know what you’re smiling about,” she grumbled, ripping her dress from the grasping grip of a bramble. “Anyone would think you like being soaked to the skin and covered in mud.”

  “Ye mean to say ye aren’t enjoying yerself?” he said, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. “In the Highlands this is what we call a light country stroll.”

  She glared at him, but after a moment the glare melted and she laughed. “Is that right? Where I’m from we would ca
ll it two idiots in a storm.”

  “Aye, that has more of a ring to it.”

  Finally, the trees began to thin and he saw the wall of Dun Saith rising ahead. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, looking around warily. The Disinherited had attacked Sophie within sight of the castle walls. There was no telling what they would risk.

  They left the cover of the woods, skirted along the wall, and came round to the gates. The guards gave a start of surprise at the sight of him but he waved away their greetings and hurried into the bailey. He was grateful to be inside the castle once more, its strong walls between them and any Disinherited.

  The doors to the keep banged open and Agatha came hurrying out, holding her hooded cloak closed beneath her neck to keep out the rain.

  “My lord!” she cried. “My lady! Where have ye been? Baldir was just about to send out a search party!”

  “All is well, Agatha,” Callum soothed his housekeeper. “We merely got caught in the rain. Escort Lady Sophie to her chamber and see that she’s taken care of.” He turned to Sophie. “We’ll talk later.”

  She nodded, seemed as if she wanted to say more, but then followed Agatha inside. Callum took a look around the bailey. It was almost deserted and the only people visible were the unfortunates who had pulled guard duty. He took a deep breath then hurried up the stairs into the keep.

  James accosted him as soon as he stepped inside.

  “My laird,” the old steward said, hurrying down the corridor towards him. “There’s something I must talk to ye about. An urgent matter.”

  “Canna it wait?” Callum asked, bounding up the stairs towards his room with the steward hurrying along in his wake. “As ye can see, I need a bath and a change of clothes.”

  “My apologies, my lord,” James replied. “But no, I dinna think it can wait.”

  Something in his tone caused Callum to stop and look at him. “What is it, man? Spit it out!”

  “Something arrived this morning, my lord. For ye.”