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

by Mariah Stone

  “The old king thought that, aye,” Dougal said through gritted teeth. “And it doesna matter what I think. It matters that we dinna let this king down. Because the freedom of our country lies with the Bruce. Everything we’ve been fighting for since William Wallace. We’ve never been so close. If the MacDougall let ye hear this information to set a trap, and the king walks right into it, he’s finished. We’re all finished. I canna take that risk, Owen. I just canna.”

  Owen shook his head, bitterness spreading painfully through his chest. All these years of trying to prove his worth to his clan, and he finally had information in his hands that could help, that could finally bring an end to the war.

  “And what if I’m right?” Owen said. “And what if the Bruce walks right into a trap and they kill him?”

  “Nae, I dinna believe that will happen.”

  “Ye dinna believe that because I brought ye this information. If Craig had said the same, ye would be on yer way to the Bruce right now.”

  Dougal paled. “I ken what ye’re thinking. Dinna dare go to the king with this. Promise me.”

  “Father—”

  “Do ye ken what happens once the Bruce wins?”

  “Peace.”

  “Aye. Peace. And we finally get our vengeance for everything they did to us. To Marjorie. Ian. Yer grandfather. We get our proper clan seat in Innis Chonnel back. Neil said the Bruce has promised him all of MacDougall lands. He’s considering marrying his sister Mary to Neil. We’d be related to the king himself. It means we’ll be rewarded with wealth and power. Something we should’ve had long ago, but the MacDougalls took it from us.”

  “Father, I want all that for our clan, too, and ’tis why the king should be warned—”

  “Nae, if ye tell him yer story, and ye’re wrong, we’ll lose everything. He’ll never trust us again.”

  Owen’s throat vibrated with a silent growl. How could his father be so stubborn? Despite all Owen’s mistakes, his father should have faith in his son.

  But he didn’t. Trying to convince Dougal Cambel of anything after he’d made up his mind was useless.

  Owen didn’t know what to do now. Should he do as his da wanted and keep the information to himself? Or should he send a messenger to the Bruce and risk the king’s favor again?

  If he chose the latter, there could be no distractions.

  There could be no Amber in his life. No matter how hard it would be, he’d need to distance himself from her. His family would not take him seriously if they thought she was distracting him. He couldn’t afford his judgment being clouded. If he let a woman distract him again, he could lose everything. Worse. His clan could.

  Scotland could.

  He sipped his uisge and considered his options. He knew as surely as the sun would rise tomorrow that he wanted responsibility. He wanted to be a leader like his brothers and his father.

  He wanted to see the respect and the admiration in his da’s hard malachite eyes. Even if the price for that was letting Amber go, stepping back and being as far away from her as possible.

  “Aye, Father.” Owen raised his cup of uisge. “Ye’re right. Let’s drink to that.”

  Chapter 19

  Owen hadn’t let Amber far from his side since they’d entered Glenkeld Castle. After embracing his father, he’d turned to her and held her hand. The touch had sent a lightning bolt right into her core and set her blood ablaze. It was as though their connected hands sent sunshine through her.

  They sat at a long table with the rest of the Cambels. Owen had let go of her hand, but their hips still touched, making Amber’s head spin like she’d had a glass of wine on an empty stomach.

  The ceiling inside the great hall was high, and the windows were small and let very little light in. Long tables and benches stood in two rows. At the other end of the hall was a great chair with a slightly smaller one by its side. The room reminded Amber of a church hall, but it smelled like beer and food.

  Owen was talking to his father quietly when something changed in him. He shifted away from her. His thigh became as hard as a rock. He avoided looking at her, and something icy coiled in the pit of her stomach.

  No, it was just her imagination, surely. She just needed to talk to him.

  Amber glanced at the great empty chair. “Is your dad like the chief or something?”

  Owen followed her gaze. “Nae. The chief of our clan is Uncle Neil, my da’s older brother. My uncle and his sons are with the Bruce. He’s the king’s right hand, so my da needs to run things here.”

  Amber eyed Dougal as he pulled a piece of meat off the leg of a fowl. He was talking to Owen’s brother Domhnall, who sat across the table from him. His white beard moved as he chewed, his shortly cropped white hair was in a military style. She saw where Owen got his green eyes, straight jawline, and perfect nose. Strangely, he reminded her of her own father. They both had a similar military strictness about them. His face showed little emotion, and his back was as straight as a pole. He had the wary look of someone who was used to dealing with enemies.

  Would her own father have believed in her innocence if he’d been alive? Would she have gone to him for help? Probably not. He’d been part of the military system that had let her down. Would he have set that aside and trusted his daughter? Her whole life, all she’d wanted was for him to be proud of her. For her brothers to love and respect her.

  She should’ve stood up for herself. Maybe then they’d have respected her more. But she dismissed the thought. It wouldn’t have made them like her more, she argued. It would’ve only made the conflict worse.

  Her body was already buzzing from sitting so close to Owen, so she ignored the cup in front of her and focused on Owen’s tanned hand lying on the table. She could see thin blond hair on his wrist. She craved the touch of his hand, to have that jolt of electricity run through her again.

  Owen’s gaze trapped her, and suddenly, there was not enough air in the whole giant room. God, she hoped he couldn’t see how he affected her. His thigh muscles stiffened and hardened. She shifted away from him, breaking the warm contact. But Craig sat on her right side, and she had to shift back to Owen so she didn’t press herself tightly against his brother.

  “So, caliphate…” Craig said.

  His green eyes were similar to Owen’s. Both brothers were equally tall and strong, but Craig had dark hair. Where Owen was light and carefree, Craig took her in his piercing gaze and held her like in vise. He had the face of a detective.

  She was overcome by the feeling he’d already caught her in a lie. She flashed a nervous smile.

  “Yep.” She cleared her throat. “Caliphate.”

  Craig scanned the people at the table around them and leaned closer to Amber. “Do ye by any chance mean the United States of America?”

  What did he just say? “How the hell do you know?”

  Craig chuckled and looked somewhere in the direction of the entrance. A beautiful red-haired woman came in, her hand on her swollen belly. She wore typical clothing of a medieval woman. Her long dress had long sleeves and was decorated with embroidered Celtic patterns along the neckline. Her hair was done up in two ear-coiled buns tied with white ribbons. She spotted Craig, beamed, and made her way to their table.

  “My wife, Amy, will tell ye how,” Craig said.

  His face transformed as the red-haired woman approached them. The detective in him was gone, and his face was suddenly lit up with love, pride, and a hint of possessiveness. He stretched his arms out to her, and she came to him and laid her hand on his shoulder, then she took a place across the table from him. She glanced for a moment at Craig, and then her eyes returned to Amber.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Was Amber hallucinating, or did she have an American accent?

  “H-hi,” Amber said.

  Owen had mentioned there were more time travelers…

  Amber and Amy kept staring at each other, neither daring to say a word. There were too many people around who could overhear.<
br />
  Craig leaned closer with a mischievous glance. “United States of America. Discuss.”

  Amber blinked. “Are you from…”

  Amy exchanged a careful glance with Craig, and he nodded. “Yeah,” Amy said quietly. “North Carolina. You?”

  Amber exhaled and looked heavenward. She was a time traveler, too! “Chicago.”

  A slow smile spread on Amy’s lips. “Oh my gosh!”

  She reached out across the table, and Amber grasped her hands.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Amy said. “Not that I’m lonely here”—she winked at Craig—“but no one understands what it’s like to live in the past, you know, for people like you and me. But how did you? Why?”

  Amber tensed and removed her hands. No matter how glad she was to see a woman from her time, she couldn’t tell a complete stranger that the government wanted her for murder.

  “Long story,” Amber said. “And you’re married to Craig and have a baby on the way? You decided to stay?”

  Amy chuckled. “It’s a long story, too. I went back at first, but I realized I couldn’t live without this man.”

  “And you don’t regret it?”

  “No. Best decision of my life.”

  Amber looked around again, just to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

  “I might want to stay, too.”

  “Oh.” Amy smiled and raised her eyebrows. “For Owen?”

  Owen’s jaw worked, and a hot flush hit Amber’s face. Craig guffawed, and many heads turned in his direction.

  “No,” Amber said. “Not for Owen. For me. It’s better for me here.”

  Amy frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean, for you? Who in their right mind would voluntarily stay in the Middle Ages when there’s medicine and toilets and showers and microwaves in the twenty-first century?”

  Amber clenched her teeth. “Then I guess I’m not in my right mind.”

  Amy shook her head and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. But what will you do here?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I can’t go back.”

  Amy frowned, grimaced, and sucked in a breath.

  Craig straightened up. “What is it?”

  Amy shook her head. “Nothing. Just some Braxton-Hicks contractions… I think.”

  “What?” Craig said.

  “Practice contractions. It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt, just feels weird.”

  Craig stood up. “Ye need to go and lie down. I’ll come with ye.”

  “No, I’m fine. Seriously.”

  “Woman, dinna argue with me. Either ye go, or I pick ye up and carry ye. Yer choice.”

  Amy rolled her eyes and met Amber’s. “Do you know that he kept me captive for weeks when we met? I suppose some habits never change.”

  “Amy Cambel!” Craig said, a warning in his voice.

  “All right, all right. I’m going.” She stood up. “Amber, please come and talk to me later? Please? I won’t ask any questions you don’t want to answer. I just want to talk to you.”

  Amber smiled. “Of course. I will.”

  Amy made a small movement as though to kiss Craig, but stopped herself and threw a quick glance around.

  “We’re not supposed to show physical affection in public,” she explained. “I know, what’s a big deal, right? You get used to it.”

  After she left, Amber looked at Owen. “No one else knows about her?” she asked quietly.

  “Only Craig, our cousin Ian, and me—and a few other trusted men who’d rather die than betray her secret.”

  Rather die than betray her secret…

  And they weren’t even Amy’s family. Were the clan ties so strong even when people weren’t directly related? If that was true, she really liked medieval times. Loyalty and belonging to a community above all. She could sign up for that. That was one of the things she’d been looking for when she joined the army.

  But what about Owen? How could his family not believe him? They should. How was it possible they would protect Amy no matter what but wouldn’t give Owen the benefit of the doubt? Surely, if he explained it better, they would see it differently.

  Amber turned to Owen. Even if he was currently an icy sculpture and clearly not eager to talk to her, she had to make him see.

  “You should talk to them again,” she said quietly. “If you just trust them to believe you, they will.”

  Owen’s face was a cold mask. He stared at the table and the corners of his mouth turned downward. “Ye have nae business talking about it. Ye dinna ken.”

  “I do, actually. I see so much more trust in your family than in mine.”

  “Lass, dinna make me—”

  “Owen, please, if you’d just get over yourself—”

  “Get over myself?” he shouted, and faces turned. His father glared at him.

  “Owen—” Craig said, warning in his voice.

  Owen looked around, his chest rising and falling quickly, his hands shaking. He got up from the bench. “Stay out of this, Amber. Ye’ve done enough harm already.” He marched through the great hall and outside, and Amber felt Dougal’s eyes on her.

  Maybe she’d kick herself for this later, maybe Owen will never speak to her again, but she raised her chin and met his father’s gaze.

  “You should trust him, you know,” she said. “You’re his family. Open your eyes. Your son is so much more than you give him credit for.”

  Dougal’s jaw opened, and he stared at her in disbelief, but before he could answer, she stood and walked out.

  Chapter 20

  Owen shoved a piece of parchment rolled in leather into Malcolm’s hand.

  “Be careful,” Owen said. “I dinna trust no one with this but ye.”

  Malcolm gave a solemn nod and hid the parchment in the inner folds of his coat. Malcolm was one of the most loyal and dependable men of the clan. He was also someone who’d managed to see through Owen’s shite and see him for who he was—a lad with bad luck and big brothers to look up to.

  Malcolm placed his gloved fist against his heart. “I’ll rather die than let anyone get this.”

  Owen looked at Malcolm’s claymore with the small Cambel clan arms on the hilt. “’Tis better ye take this sword.” He handed him the English sword he’d taken from the guard in Stirling. “Ye better have nae other sign ye belong to our clan on ye. If anyone stops ye, ye’re just a traveler.”

  Malcolm took the sword. “Look after my claymore.”

  “Aye.” Owen took the man’s sword, and Malcolm nodded and mounted his horse.

  “Godspeed,” Owen said and clapped the horse’s side. He exhaled a long breath as Malcolm galloped out of the castle. It was done. Now he could only pray to God that Malcolm would get to Inverlochy safely. Owen would go himself, but he knew his father would never allow him to leave the castle. He might even disown Owen and ban him from the clan if he tried.

  Owen looked around the courtyard. Most of the clan was still eating inside the great hall. Malcolm had no idea Dougal didn’t want the Bruce to get the message. If he did, would he still believe Owen and take the message to the Bruce?

  There was one person who stood by the great hall and watched him, her dark eyes piercing. Owen’s breath caught at the sight of Amber.

  He was still furious with her. Mostly because she might be right. He did need to talk to his father again. Sending a message behind his father’s back was not only wrong, it was treachery to go against his chief. Well, his father wasn’t chief, but he was in charge while Uncle Neil was away.

  Amber marched towards him.

  “What did you do?” She propped her hands against her hips and glared at him like an angry cat. She stood close enough for him to reach down and kiss her.

  But he couldn’t.

  “Ye should go and rest after the long journey,” Owen said.

  “Did you just send that man with a message to the Bruce?”

  He put Malcom’s claymore in its scabbard and walked towards the big
tower. “Dinna fash about that, Amber.”

  She followed him. “You did, didn’t you? What about talking to your father again? I heard he forbade you from sending the message. He’ll be furious.”

  “Aye. But he wilna find out until the Bruce arrives here.”

  “You invited him here?”

  Owen entered the tower and climbed the stairs. His bedchamber was on the top floor. “Aye. We must come up with a plan for the ambush at the Pass of Brander.”

  Her face darkened with worry. “Owen, you really might have put yourself in a big mess.”

  He shook his head. “It dinna matter. I ken I’m right. I also ken the Pass of Brander well, and what John MacDougall described in his plan, it matches perfectly.”

  “I believe you. I just wish your stubborn father would, too.”

  “Ye’re from the future. Dinna ye ken what happens?”

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t study history in much detail. But I remember Robert the Bruce is supposed to be a great warrior and a great military leader. I think he’s successful.”

  Owen sighed with relief. “Good.” They’d reached the door to his room, and he pushed it open and went inside. Amber followed.

  “But I also have no idea if you can change the future with your actions,” she said. “Amy and I being here could change the course of history.”

  That thought chilled Owen’s bones. “Aye, I wilna treat this as a certain future. I need to make sure it happens, nae matter what.”

  Amber looked around his room, her eyes lingering on the swords, shields, and bows hanging on the walls.

  “If I stay longer with your clan, I want to earn my keep.”

  “Nae need, lass. Ye’re my guest, under my protection.”

  She didn’t respond, just gave him a frown. “Look. You don’t need to feel responsible for me, okay? You got us out of that mess in Stirling. You saved my life, and I’ll forever be grateful. But that doesn’t mean you owe me your protection or whatever.”

  She was right, of course. But she didn’t know he’d lose his ability to breathe if anything happened to her. Knowing she was alive and well was more important than food and water.