Page 108 of Desiring the Highland Laird
“I dinnae ken,” he said, still clutching her hands in his. “The keystone brought ye to me once. It can bring ye to me again. And keep it out of the hands of the MacDonalds.”
She understood, of course, and though she hated the idea, she nodded. Her stomach was coiled into a hot, tight knot. She pulled her hands from his and flung her arms around his neck. He held her tight, so tight, while she memorized every hard angle. They stood there for a moment like that as she fought back tears.
“Ye must go, lass,” he whispered against her hair. “Come back to me.”
When she left, he would go face the MacDonalds. He would go to war. Her chest tightened as she thought of losing him.That when she returned to her time, he would be dead. Either by old age or by the sword of his sworn enemy. She despised the thought of either one. But he was not immortal, and neither was she. When she pulled away, she placed one palm on the side of his scruffy cheek, holding his gaze and committing to memory every line of his chiseled, handsome face.
“I will find you again.”
He smiled, then, his eyes lit with hope and desire. “I ken ye will, lass.”
Then he pushed open the gate. The hinges groaned as it swung wide. She clutched the keystone in her hand as she turned to the opening and peered down at the rocky shoreline, the loch lapping against the edges. She gulped in a deep breath, emotions clotting her throat.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said without turning around.
She sensed his presence behind her, though he didn’t touch her. “I’ll wait for ye, my bonnie lassie from the future.”
And then he was gone. When she turned, he had disappeared into the deepening twilight, leaving her there to do what she had to do.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Callum rode outto the field on his warhorse, his claymore strapped to his side and his gut twisted into a knot. He did not want to send Evie home, but he needed her safe and the keystone safe and out of the hands of Rory MacDonald.
The rival clan laird knew what he was doing when he arrived at dusk. He intended to attack during the night in the hopes they were unaware of his arrival. The opposing forces sat their horses with their torches blazing like a beacon of death in the night. His one-thousand-strong force was behind him. A few on horseback, but most of them infantry.
Malcolm and Jamie brought a mere three hundred with them. With Angus Sinclair and their men, that brought their numbers to five hundred. Not enough to defeat Rory MacDonald’s army.
Callum pulled his horse to a stop between his brothers in front of their line of men.
“Well, brother, I hope tonight isna a good night to die,” Malcolm said. His gaze was on the other side of the field, staring at the flicking torches.
Staring at their doom.
“Aye,” Callum agreed. He kicked his horse into a trot.
“Where are ye going?” Jamie called.
Callum paused a moment and looked over his shoulder at his brothers. “Let’s see how much Rory MacDonald is spoiling for a fight, eh?” He flashed a wicked grin.
“Do ye want to tempt fate, brother?” Malcolm called as he joined him.
Jamie was on his other side. The three of them headed toward the middle of the field. As they did, three on the opposing side headed for them. Callum recognized Rory MacDonald in the center flanked by two of his family members holding aloft blazing torches.
They paused across from each other, sizing each other up. Rory held the great axe that had killed their father. The same one in the mystical tapestries hanging in Evie’s old bedchamber.
Rory MacDonald was a brute of a man with broad shoulders and an aged face that was nothing more than a map of wrinkles. His sharp-eyed gaze flicked to Jamie and he scowled, clearly unhappy to see the lad back on MacLeod land.
“Ye dare show yer face here, laddie?” he said to Jamie.
“My brother is my business,” Callum snapped, his voice dark and dangerous.
“Och, but my daughter is my business,” Rory replied, giving him a wicked grin and showing off blackened teeth. “Did ye think we wouldna retaliate after all ye did to us?”
“Did ye think to attack us in the dead of night?” Callum countered.
“Aye. I hoped to kill ye in yer beds!” Rory snapped.
Fury burned through Callum at his callous reply. He gripped the reins tight until his hand cramped.
