Highlander's Hope: A Scottish Historical Time Travel Romance (Called by a Highlander Book 2)

by Mariah Stone

  Epilogue

  Los Angeles, October 2021

  “Oh, honey, you’re so beautiful,” Helen, Konnor’s mother said.

  Marjorie met Helen’s eyes in the mirror and bit her lip, trying not to let her tears fall. She looked back at her reflection, not quite believing that she was seeing herself in the mirror, and not someone like Sìneag, a faerie from another world.

  The dress was modest compared to what Marjorie had seen in Los Angeles and was likely old-fashioned for modern tastes. It was, in essence, the dress of a medieval lady. The neckline ended just below the neck, and draped sleeves fell down to reach her knees. The dress hugged her waist and her chest but fell in a free skirt down her legs to the floor.

  The ivory lace was as delicate as the first frost on the loch. Her previously dark-brown hair had gained golden tones under the almost-eternal Californian sun, and there were even freckles on her previously clear skin. A hair stylist had created large curls in her long hair, and a diamond circlet sparkled on her head, but even that couldn’t compare with how her eyes shone.

  Because she was marrying the love of her life.

  “Thank ye, Mother,” Marjorie said and wiped a tear that refused to obey her will.

  She’d called Helen mother almost since the day she met her. Helen surrounded her and Colin with love and care that Marjorie had never experienced even with her stepmother. Together with Mark Campbell, they’d truly made a home away from home for her and her son.

  Helen walked into the brightly lit hotel room. They had rented a small hotel situated right on cliffs of Malibu, called Glen Thistle. The building had a roof with merlons, was made of rough, dark-gray granite stones, and had a three-story, round, ivy-covered tower. It reminded Marjorie a wee castle. There were boulders on the property, and even a man-made brook that flowed into a pond in a small waterfall. There was no moss, no heather, and no lochs. But the hotel overlooked the ocean, and it was as close as they could get to the Scottish Highlands. Konnor and Marjorie had known at once they wanted to get married here.

  And the exuberant price hadn’t mattered because Mark Campbell, Helen’s beloved, had booked the location for them as his wedding present.

  “Honey, may Mark come in? He’s waiting outside. He doesn’t want to come in if you’d rather not.”

  Marjorie beamed. “Of course he can.”

  “Mark, come in,” Helen said to the door.

  Mark came in, and as with every time Marjorie saw him, a lump formed in her throat at the striking similarity to Tamhas. His hair was in a small pony tail at the back of his head, and he was cleanly shaved for the occasion. He was dressed in a kilt, something that would apparently become Scottish later in the history. As she learned, the blue, green, and black tartan would become Campbell clan colors, and the sense of unity overtook her, expanding in her chest. It meant a lot to her that he’d chosen to wear the kilt. It was for her sake, to show her his support, and though the whole clan and tartan colors weren’t something she’d experienced back in her time, she loved and understood the meaning of them, the significance, and she loved Mark for showing her they were one clan. On top, he wore a tuxedo with a crisp, white dress shirt. A large magenta thistle was in his lapel, the flower of the wedding.

  Behind Mark, Colin’s head appeared from behind the door. “A certain gentleman also can’t wait to see you,” Mark said.

  “Colin, come in, son,” Marjorie said.

  Colin ran into the room and into her open arms, kicking the air out of her as he slammed into her embrace. He wore the Campbell kilt and a thistle in his lapel.

  “Ma, ye look like a faerie queen,” he whispered.

  Marjorie pressed him closer to her chest. “Thank ye. But please, stop, or ye’ll make me cry, and I’ll ruin the makeup and will look like the queen from the vampire stories ye love so much.”

  “And Konnor would still marry ye,” he said, stepping back and looking her over.

  Seeing him now in a tuxedo jacket and the kilt, Marjorie realized how much he’d grown in the last year, ever since they arrived in the twenty-first century. He’d started going to school in August and was still adjusting. The new school wasn’t without challenges. He spoke differently and thought differently from most of the children his age. Aye, some kids had tried to bully him, but he’d stood his ground and hadn’t let anyone treat him with disrespect. He’d spent the first year learning reading and writing in modern English, as well as math and other modern school subjects he was supposed to know by his age. Konnor had hired a private tutor who taught Colin every day, and the woman was amazed at how quickly Colin was learning math and physics. English and the arts were the most challenging subjects for him, and only Konnor’s love for stories and reading the Lord of the Rings and other fantasy and sci-fi stories made Colin make an effort to learn to read faster.

  Colin absorbed everything like a sponge, and Marjorie was sure it was because of Konnor, Helen, and Mark’s care and warm welcome. However, in the last couple of months, ever since starting school, he hadn’t been as happy. Marjorie wanted to pull him out of school and continue with the private tutoring, but Konnor had suggested they try to help him adjust with lots of emotional support. He suggested they find Colin friends who loved the same things he did: history, and fantasy, and sci-fi. He’d already found a couple of friends who Konnor lovingly called “nerds”, and they came to the house from time to time to play Dungeons and Dragons and study together.

  Thanks to Konnor’s daily exercise with Colin, the lad was succeeding at soccer. She thought that Colin was happiest when he kicked the ball around, and so was Konnor.

  Well…except when he was with her.

  Colin had been accepted onto the school’s soccer team as a striker, and after the school won their first game thanks to his goal, he’d quickly gained more friends on his soccer team. That had made him happier, of course, and Marjorie, too.

  Colin looked back at Mark. “Now, Uncle?”

  Mark nodded to him and winked conspiratorially. Colin came to him, and Mark handed him something. When Colin turned back to her, a white bouquet with a tartan ribbon stole her breath away.

  “Something blue,” Mark said. “And new.”

  Colin brought her the bouquet, and when Marjorie took it in her hands, she felt something else there: a box attached to a string that held the bouquet together. She opened it and gasped. An elegant diamond necklace sparkled there.

  “No, Mark!” she said. “’Tis too much.”

  “It’s actually not from me,” he said.

  Helen clasped her hands. “It’s only borrowed, Marjie. And it’s old, I bought it at an auction. I have more money from my paintings than I can ever need, and I want to spoil you. I’m so lucky I have Konnor, but I’ve always wished for a daughter.”

  Marjorie shook her head. “Nae, I canna.”

  “You’ll give it back afterwards. Let me do this for you. Please?”

  Marjorie sighed. Her clan had never been rich, and no one had ever spoiled her with anything, not because her father didn’t love her, but simply because they hadn’t been wealthy. Everything in the twenty-first century seemed luxurious to her. Miraculous machines that washed dishes and laundry, audio systems that played music, cars—the iron carriages that drove themselves, the vacuum cleaner that swiped and cleaned… Not to mention airplanes. Everything was cleaner than anything she’d been used to, except the air. It had taken her a while to get used to the constant scent of burned metal that hung in the air in Los Angeles. Konnor told her it was the air pollution.

  “Thank ye, Helen.” She took it out. “I dinna want to offend ye, but ye dinna need to do this to care for me. Yer love and acceptance is everything I’ve ever wanted in a mother-in-law.”

  Helen wiped a tear and came to her. “Here, let me help you, honey.” She took out the necklace and put it on Marjorie’s neck. It sparkled like stardust on her dress.

  “’Tis wonderful. Thank ye.”

  “You’re so welcome, sweetheart.
”

  A knock sounded at the door, and Gina, the wedding organizer looked into the room. “We’re ready for you, Marjorie. The groom is awfully handsome and waiting for you.”

  Finally, she could go and marry Konnor.

  When she and Colin had traveled in time and met with Konnor, he’d taken them to a hotel in Edinburgh. Both Marjorie and Colin had been completely overwhelmed by the future. The train, the houses, the car, the noise of the city, the amount of people, the scents, the lights, the buildings with huge windows.

  They’d stayed in Edinburgh for a few weeks, and Konnor had helped Marjorie and Colin to slowly adjust to their new lives. One of the challenges had been creating documents for Marjorie and Colin. Konnor had taken care of that. She didn’t really know how exactly he’d done it, but it had involved a lot of coin, hiring someone called a “hacker”, something called “the dark net”, and waiting for passports to arrive. The most difficult thing, apparently, had been to keep their real names and make it so that Colin was still Marjorie’s son even in the twenty-first century.

  The flight to Los Angeles had been the scariest thing she’d ever done in her life. Konnor had held Marjorie’s cold, sweaty left hand, and she’d poured one whiskey after another down her throat, murmuring about why was it worth it to cross hundreds of years only to die in a giant iron dragon-like carriage that could fly. Colin had had the best time of his life, watching the crystal-blue sky and snow-white clouds passing by in the window with huge, excited eyes.

  But they’d made it, and Marjorie had no intention to sit on a plane ever again.

  All she needed now was to walk outside together with her son to find everything she ever wanted in her future—Konnor Mitchell.

  Marjorie nodded to Gina. “Aye. I’m coming.” She bit her lip, containing the burst of excitement in her heart. She looked around at her new family, thinking of her old one—her father, Craig, Owen, Domhnall, and Ian, and of her friend Tamhas, and Malcolm, and Muir, and Isbeil, and everyone she knew from Glenkeld. She knew even if they weren’t here physically, they were with her in spirit.

  “Let’s go,” she said and hooked her hand through Colin’s arm.

  He was walking her down the aisle.

  They descended the beautiful stairs down to the ground floor and went through a grand foyer with wooden paneling and paintings of the Highlands. They walked out into the open air and the green meadow facing the ocean. Bagpipes started playing “Highland Wedding” when she appeared, and the guests stood from the rows of chairs and faced her. There were friends of the Mitchell family, including Konnor’s best friend, Andy, with his wife and daughter. Konnor’s Aunt Tabitha was there with her family. Mark’s three children were also there, as well as other more distant relatives Marjorie hadn’t meet yet. Then there were her own friends.

  Six months ago, she opened a sword-fighting school. Her students were kind and interested in her. They could probably also be what Konnor called nerds, and though Marjorie knew some people considered nerds boring, she loved them. They were the ones she could talk to the most. People who loved history and sword-fighting and medieval culture. Many of her students had become her friends, and she loved spending time with them.

  Then she saw the man she loved at the end of the aisle. He was wearing a Campbell kilt and a tuxedo jacket, and the happiness in her chest truly bloomed, swirling inside of her in a tornado of bubbles. He stood watching her with such a glowing expression, as though everything he’d ever wanted had come true. As though he finally understood the meaning of life. As though he was finally happy.

  Colin walked her down the aisle towards an arch made of white roses. When they reached the small white platform, Marjorie gave Colin her bouquet, kissed him on the cheek, and joined Konnor on the platform. His blue eyes shone brighter than the sky under his long eyelashes. Her heart squeezed in her chest at how handsome he was, and how solemn at the same time. He was so tall and broad shouldered, and something about him wearing the kilt made her stomach flip in the most delicious way. There was a sprig of white heather in his buttonhole, a Scottish tradition for good luck.

  He took her hands in his, and a jolt of a lightning went through her, as well as a shock of pleasure.

  “Marjorie…” he whispered. “God, you’re so beautiful, it hurts to look at you.”

  Marjorie squeezed his large, warm hands that felt like home. The hands that had taught her body to sing, and love, and live. “Ye look like the man of my dreams, Konnor.”

  The bagpipe music finished, and the reverend, a beautiful Black woman with a short haircut, looked around. “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to join this woman and this man in holy matrimony. I believe the bride has something to say?”

  Marjorie smiled to Konnor. “I will say a Highland blessing for us.” She cleared her throat. “Let morning dew wash away any quarrel we may have with each other. Let the Rowan tree keep away any people thinking harm. May white heather bring good luck to us. On this blessed day, let the boundaries of time dissolve, and the strength of destiny bring our family a long and happy life.”

  Konnor nodded and grinned, the special meaning of her last sentence apparent only to the three time travelers.

  The reverend continued, “Do you, Marjorie, take Konnor to be your husband, in sickness and in health”—she cleared her throat— “in this century or another, as long as ye both shall live?”

  Marjorie looked into Konnor’s eyes, and there was everything she’d ever wanted. Her prince who’d woken her up so that she could fight her own battle. The man who’d helped her be whole and herself again. The man who’d given her the life she’d never thought she’d have.

  “Aye,” she said, and a smile so huge that it hurt spread on her face. “I do.”

  He let out a small, happy exhale and smiled. God, he had a beautiful smile. Her stern, brooding man became happy and carefree, and he looked young and gorgeous with those dimples under his well-groomed scruff.

  “Do you, Konnor, take Marjorie to be your wife, in sickness and in health, in this century, or another, as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” he said, and these two words caressed her and planted the most delicious feeling in her stomach, as though her blood had turned to honey wine.

  The reverend looked at Colin, who stood with a bright smile on his face. “I believe there’s one more person who the couple wanted to ask. Do you, Colin, take Konnor as your father?”

  Colin raised his chin and straightened his shoulders, his face serious and solemn. He met Konnor’s eyes, and there was light in them. “Aye. I do, Da.”

  Konnor’s blue eyes watered, and he blinked to hold off tears. Konnor was the first and only father that Colin knew. And Marjorie couldn’t imagine a better one.

  The reverend clapped her hands. “Ye may kiss the bride!”

  Konnor took one step forward, took her into her arms, and kissed her. The guests around them erupted in cheers, but Marjorie didn’t hear them. His mouth was hot, plush, and delicious. His lips caressed and worshiped her, and she forgot everything and everyone else but her husband as she swam in an ocean of happiness.

  Her blood boiled, her breasts aching as his hands went up and down her body, and when he stopped the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, he whispered, “That’s it, my Highland queen. Our happily ever after is only beginning. You made me the happiest man in the world, and our family of three is all I want.”

  She smiled. “We won’t be three for much longer. We’ll be a family of four. And ye miraculous modern medicine has already told me ‘tis a lass.”

  He stilled and blinked and planted the most delicious kiss on her lips. He walked with her down the aisle as the guests showered them with white rose petals, and Marjorie thought of the moment he’d appeared in her life and given her hope. Hope for happiness. Hope she’d be able to come back to her true self. Hope that all the horrors in her life were behind her.

  She knew just what their daughter’s name would be.
>
  Conceived by time travelers. Blessed by Highland magic. Born in a different time.

  Hope.

  THE END

  Loved Marjorie and Konnor’s story? Read Ian’s story in Highlander’s Heart!

  Also by Mariah Stone

  Called by a Highlander series (time travel):

  Sìneag

  Highlander’s Captive

  Highlander’s Hope

  Highlander’s Heart

  Highlander’s Love

  Highlander’s Christmas (novella)

  Called by a Viking series (time travel):

  One Night with a Viking (prequel)—grab for free!

  The Fortress of Time

  The Jewel of Time

  The Marriage of Time

  The Surf of Time

  The Tree of Time

  Called by a Pirate series (time travel):

  Pirate’s Treasure

  Pirate’s Pleasure

  A Christmas regency romance:

  The Russian Prince’s Bride

  Scottish slang

  aye – yes

  bairn - baby

  bastart - bastard

  bonnie - pretty, beautiful.

  canna- can not

  couldna – couldn’t

  didna- didn't ("Ah didna do that!")

  dinna- don't ("Dinna do that!")

  doesna – doesn’t

  fash - fuss, worry ("Dinna fash yerself.")

  feck - fuck

  hasna – has not

  havna - have not

  hadna – had not

  innit? - Isn't it?

  isna- Is not

  ken - to know

  kent - knew

  lad - boy

  lass - girl

  marrit – married

  nae – no or not

  shite - faeces

  the morn - tomorrow