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

by Mariah Stone

  Where de Bourgh was short and bald, Jackson was tall and had a full head of dark hair. He talked loudly and had a wide, charming smile. But underneath that, she’d seen unmistakable cruelty. People were terrified of him, and his willingness to put the lives of local civilians at risk made her ill.

  “Strangely, he was the one who allowed me to stay home for a couple of months when my dad died. I didn’t expect him to be so compassionate.”

  “Yer da died?”

  “Yeah. Heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, lass.”

  He didn’t look confused. “Do you know what a heart attack is?”

  “Nae. But I can get the idea from the name.”

  “The funeral two years ago was the last time I saw my brothers. We used to see each other on Christmas and Thanksgiving every year, at our parents’ house. My mom died several years ago, and to be honest, I think my dad gave up on life then. After both our parents were gone, it was as though we didn’t have a reason to come together anymore. So I spent the last two years in Afghanistan. That was when I got together with Bryan.”

  Owen’s face tensed.

  “What exactly do ye mean by ‘got together’? Doesna sound like he marrit ye.”

  “In the future, we’re much more liberal about relationships. He was my boyfriend.”

  “Yer lover?”

  “Yes, but more than that. We spent time together, went on dates, and so on.” She chuckled. “As much as you can go on dates in the middle of a desert.”

  “What are dates?”

  “Meeting and spending a nice time together. Going to a restaurant—an inn, I mean, with good food—drinking wine, talking. In your time, I suppose you’d go for a ride with a lady, or for a walk… Bryan and I were together, you know. He was my man, and I was his woman—without being married. That’s normal in the future. People don’t have to get married to have children and build a life together.”

  “Sounds like I’d enjoy the future.” Owen chuckled.

  “Don’t you want to get married?”

  “Nae.” There was something sad and almost bitter flicking on his face. “Marriage isna for me.”

  Long ago, Amber had assumed she’d get married one day. She’d wanted a family. She’d always thought after the wedding she’d retire from the army and do something else until she got pregnant.

  “I don’t think marriage is for me, either,” she said. “I wanted it before, but not anymore. I’m a fugitive. A criminal. I can’t bring children into a world where their mother could be taken away from them at any moment.”

  “So what happened to that boyfriend of yers?” He said the word “boyfriend” through gritted teeth.

  “Bryan. We were together for a year, and then we split up. It didn’t work out.”

  Amber chose not to reveal that he’d became a bit too rough with her. She wasn’t proud of it and often wondered if it was something in her that had made him be like that.

  “We were on the same base, and he wanted to resume the relationship, but I just couldn’t. One night, about two weeks ago, we were both at a bar and he came at me hard. He was drunk, and everyone witnessed how I pushed him away.”

  “A bar?”

  “Yeah, like an inn. Where people drink beer and whiskey and wine.”

  “Uisge?”

  He pronounced the word differently from “whiskey,” although both words were clearly related. It was still amazing to think she could suddenly understand and speak Gaelic. She wished it had been as easy with Dari, the language spoken in Afghanistan.

  “Later, I passed by the barracks and heard something… I went inside to check on Bryan and he was—”

  Her voice broke and she tensed as she remembered the pool of blood, and the giant red flower that boomed on Bryan’s white T-shirt around the bullet in his stomach.

  “He was so pale, like a bedsheet. My hands shook so bad, I dropped my phone in the blood. Then I saw the gun lying on the floor.” She shook her head. “I was such an idiot. I picked it up. Just like that, my fingerprints were all over it.”

  Owen didn’t interrupt, although he wouldn’t know what a gun was, or a phone, or fingerprints. She was thankful he let her talk it out without interrupting. Telling her story was like letting go of a terrible pain she’d been holding on to.

  “He was dying. I wanted to call the medics, but he stopped me, told me Major Jackson had shot him because he was going to expose Jackson for smuggling drugs from Afghanistan to the United States. And then—”

  Her chest spasmed, and she sobbed uncontrollably. The sound was girly and weak, and yet so freeing.

  “Then he died,” she managed before grief and regret overtook her. She curled into a shaking, weeping ball, and Owen wrapped strong arms around her. She pressed her cheek against his hard chest and wailed. She wailed for Bryan, and for her broken life that would never be the same, and for how helpless she’d been against a powerful man.

  Owen stroked her and whispered something to her in Gaelic that she couldn’t hear over the sound of her weeping. Soon, her sobs subsided and her body went limp. Owen only held her tighter.

  “It’s the first time I’ve cried since it happened,” she said.

  She felt calmer, the pressure had eased from her now.

  “’Tis all right, sweetheart,” he whispered against her hair.

  Sweetheart… Something in her chest melted. She wiped the tears and looked up at him.

  “Jackson came into the barracks and found me holding Bryan, the gun in my hand. He managed to take a picture and said I’ll pay for what I’d done. He was about to call the authorities when I realized just how screwed I was. I panicked. I knew I couldn’t win against him. So I held the gun on him and tied him to one of the beds. Then I ran. I’ve been running ever since.”

  “So much so that ye ran back in time,” he murmured.

  Amber swallowed hard. She needed to ask him the question that tightened her stomach and made her clench her fists until her fingernails dug into her flesh.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “Aye,” he said without a second of hesitation. “I believe ye, lass. I ken what it is to be wrongly accused of something.”

  Relief flooded her system like sunlight. And at the same time, something tightened in her chest to the point of ache.

  He got her. He’d protected her. He cared for her.

  And she cared for him—more than she wanted to, more than she could afford to.

  More than she should.

  And the more she cared for him, the more she was going to hurt. Because no matter how wonderful he’d been to her, he was a man. And sooner or later, something would go wrong, and he would end up blaming her and dragging her down.

  Chapter 16

  Owen held Amber in his arms as she fell asleep. Limp and warm against him, she breathed evenly, her eyelashes fluttering as if she was dreaming about something…something good, Owen hoped.

  He was not as lucky. Amber’s confession had woken old demons inside him, the demons he was trying to forget.

  He needed to keep his head cool to deliver the news of the Pass of Brander to his family and to the Bruce. The outcome of the war could depend on it.

  And yet, just like before, when he was given an important task, he had a beautiful woman in trouble who needed him. He just didn’t trust his own judgment. Amber stirred more feelings than he’d ever felt for anyone. He’d cared about the women he’d bedded, of course. But it had never gone further than a night or a sennight. Then he bid them farewell and hoped they had a long and healthy life.

  With Amber, he wanted to put a smile on her face every day. He wanted to kill that bastart, Major Jackson. He shared her anger at being treated so unfairly. He knew the burden of a false accusation all too well. As a result, his father had picked him last for battle and hesitated to give him any responsibility. And not just his father—his brothers, too.

  Lachlan’s death, the feud between the MacDogualls and the Cambels, as wel
l as King John Balliol’s lost favor would forever be on Owen’s hands and conscience.

  All because he was distracted by women.

  He studied Amber’s peaceful face, her lips, so full, so kissable. Her hair was still wet and lay in small curls around her shoulders. He admired her spirit, her bravery, her fighting skills. She was a warrior. He’d never met a female warrior before.

  And that she was a fugitive—

  He believed she was innocent. Like he wished his clan had believed him with the gold.

  She was too kind, and she’d let people use her. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was her only fault. He was furious that men like Jackson had used her. Men like John MacDougall and de Bourgh.

  He was furious for her and for his own sake. The time would come when he’d use the knowledge he’d gained against them and have his revenge.

  But for that to happen, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. For the first time in his life, he vowed he wasn’t going to give in to lust. He wouldn’t bed Amber. He wouldn’t allow his cock to ruin the most important mission of his life.

  He woke Amber up when the wood in the fireplace turned into dying coals and the sky behind the shutters began to lighten. The sun would soon rise, and they needed to go.

  “Lass,” he whispered.

  She stirred, and her breasts brushed against his chest, only a thin layer of linen separating them. Under the powerful spell of her body, his cock woke up and hardened. She opened her eyes and looked at him, sleep fogging her eyes.

  “We must go,” he said.

  “What? Why?”

  “So that we dinna attract attention. The English might look for us here today, and if nae today, then on the morrow. We’re nae that far from Stirling.”

  “Right.”

  She stretched, arching herself into his body. He clenched his jaw and begged God and the faeries to give him strength not to get any harder than he was. She melted into his arms again, and their eyes locked. For the first time since he’d met her, hers were unguarded. There was an openness in her gaze he’d not seen before. She wasn’t pretending to be someone from his time. She wasn’t hiding. And she wasn’t running.

  He looked into her soul, and he knew then that he was lost in her. Forever. From this moment, his heart beat for her. He breathed for her. He was in love with her.

  For the first time in his life, he was in love.

  The feeling sparked a lightness in his chest that expanded in all directions around him. It was like the sun resided right in his heart.

  She was the sun.

  He lowered his head and kissed her. She didn’t fight it, didn’t turn away. She kissed him back like it was the most natural thing in the world. The kiss was gentle and soft, loving. There was not a trace of hunger or passion, and yet it spurred the need in his already throbbing erection.

  It took all his willpower not to deepen the kiss, not to throw the sheet to the side and cover her mouthwatering body with his kisses.

  Ye canna fail, he reminded himself. Ye canna let yerself fail this time.

  He pulled back. “We must go,” he repeated, his voice coarse.

  She nodded. Disappointment flickered across her face and disappeared. They dressed, ate the remnants of their midnight dinner, put some coins on the table, and left. It was chilly outside after the warmth of the room. The edge of the indigo sky glowed golden in the east, and the village had started to wake up. Roosters crowed. A woman left one of the houses and went to a cowshed with an empty bucket. Owen took a lungful of fresh air rich with the scent of grass and morning dew.

  “Can ye ride?” Owen said to Amber.

  “Yeah. I think so. If I survived yesterday, I think I’ll be all right.”

  He helped her mount, and they rode out of the village speeding up to a trot once they were out. They continued like that for a while, and when the horses got tired, they slowed to a walk. Owen used the time to help Amber get comfortable on the horse. She learned much yesterday by doing, and now he explained to her what they didn’t have time for yesterday.

  They rode through the woods, staying away from the road that went north. Amber seemed calmer, more relaxed and collected.

  “I meant to ask you a question last night,” she said. “What did you mean when you said you knew what it’s like to be falsely accused of something?”

  Owen looked sharply at her. Ah, he shouldn’t have said anything last night. If he told her, she’d know what a failure he really was. Would she be disappointed in him?

  She’d shared with him, and he wanted to do the same. He was in love with her, and he craved a connection.

  His horse swayed rhythmically as it walked. The woods smelled earthy, like wildflowers and moss, and wind rustled the branches and trees. The sun was high in the sky, its golden strays of light streaming between the branches.

  “It happened on a day like this,” he said, his gut tightening. “A sunny, warm summer day. I was a lad of sixteen on my way home from Dunollie, the MacDougall stronghold. Our clans used to be allies, and my brothers and I were each fostered by the MacDougalls for a few months. Their children were fostered with us at Innis Chonnel, our clan seat back then, from time to time, too.”

  Amber looked confused for a moment, so he explained, “’Tis a Highland thing to do. To tighten the ties between clans, we foster one another’s children. Alasdair, John MacDougall’s son, was with my family at the time.”

  Owen’s fists clenched around the reins at the thought of what Alasdair had done later to Marjorie. John MacDougall had allowed his son to kidnap, rape, and abuse her. She’d been a changed woman since then. Owen and his brothers had trained her in sword-fighting, and she’d become a skilled warrior. But she’d vowed she’d never get marrit.

  A decision he understood.

  “King John Balliol was a guest at our house back then, and I was due to come back home. John MacDougall asked me to take a pouch with gold coins as MacDougall’s present to the king.”

  “You were sixteen years old, and he entrusted you to take gold?”

  Owen chuckled bitterly. “Aye. It seemed strange to me, too. But I’m my father’s youngest son, and one of the youngest of all cousins. Craig and Domhnall always got all the attention. Even Ian, my cousin, who was fostered with us for years. My da took him more seriously than me. I was often left to my own devices, so I roamed with the village children and did whatever I wanted to do.”

  He didn’t add that his father had never punished him for neglecting his duties because he’d never even noticed. That’s when Owen had started to act out. When he was old enough to start sword-fighting lessons, he’d refused and wanted to learn archery first. He’d scared the washerwomen with pranks and hidden spices and expensive salt from the cook.

  Owen had craved for his da to value him as much as he valued Craig and Domhnall, and to give him responsibility. He’d tried to distinguish himself from his brothers, but by age sixteen, he’d gained a reputation as a young man who liked to have a good time, chase after milkmaids, and make jests. His da simply hadn’t trusted him, and it was Owen’s own fault.

  So when the MacDougall asked him to take the gold, no matter how much his gut had told him something didn’t seem right, he’d ignored his instinct and agreed.

  “I imagined how proud my da would be once I came in and gave that gold to the king. How my brothers would look at me differently. How my father would start taking me with him to battles and give more responsibility.”

  His nails bit into his palm as he gripped the reins tightly. “I declared I’d guard that gold with my life if need be, but I didna expect any trouble. A young lad like me wouldna attract much attention. I was so terribly wrong.”

  Amber eyed him with sympathy. “What happened?”

  “On my way, I encountered a bonnie lass being attacked. I fought the man and forced him to leave. The lass was shaken, and I stayed to make sure she was all right. We drank wine and, well, let’s say she became affectionate
. I was a horny lad and her attention drew me in like honey draws a bear. I couldna resist.”

  Amber pressed her lips flat and shoved a strand of hair out of her eyes.

  “But I fell asleep before anything happened, and when I woke up, she was gone. So was the gold.”

  “Hell…”

  “Aye. I didna even think there was a point to go looking for her. But what was strange… ’Tis embarrassing to admit, so please dinna laugh.”

  “Okay.”

  He sighed. His cheeks warmed a little. “My cock wouldna go down.”

  “What?”

  “My cock was as hard as a rock, nae matter what I did.”

  Amber’s lips curved in a smile. She pursed them to stop it from spreading, but a small laugh soon burst out.

  “So she gave you Viagra?”

  “Uhm…”

  “In my time, Viagra is a medicine that allows men to have an erection for a long time. Usually older men or those with problems. You didn’t have problems in that area, I take it?”

  Owen suppressed a growl. “Nae. I didna.”

  And he would verra much like to show her that he’d never had any problems in that area, especially not in her presence. In fact, she had a Viagra effect on him.

  Their eyes locked, and her lips parted a little, so full and so kissable. He started growing hard again.

  Damnation. He was still like an adolescent with her, and not a man of twenty-nine.

  He shook his head and looked straight ahead. “So I arrived home with a stiff cock and nae gold. I passed by the great hall, didna even greet the king or my da. I went directly to my bedchamber. I didna know it at the time, but Alasdair must have known about the plan all along. ’Twas his job to point out that I didna have the gold and blame me. Aileene and the man who’d ‘attacked’ her brought the gold to Innis Chonnel secretly, and Alasdair hid it in my bedchamber. ’Twas all planned beforehand. He came into my room with my grandfather Colin, the chief of our clan back then. My da and my brothers and cousin all came in as well. And the king. They all saw my humiliation.

  “And when I told them about the stolen gold, Alasdair pointed at a sack under my bed. ’Twas the same sack that had been stolen from me in the woods.”