Page 110 of Desiring the Highland Laird
Clutching the stone in her hand, she looked toward the battle, listening to it rage on the other side of the castle.
“This is wrong,” she whispered.
“Aye, you have the right of it.”
The woman’s voice made her nearly jump out of her skin. She spun around to see a woman with long silver hair and eyes like starlight standing on the edge of the loch, the water lapping behind her onto the shore. Her white gown billowed around her in the breeze.
“Moira?”
She nodded, a smile playing on her lips, pleased Evie recognized her.
“I can’t return to the future,” she said. “I won’t use the stone to go home. I can’t leave him.”
“No, you cannae use the stone to return. For if you do, you will reset Time. Your memories will be erased and all will be for naught. He will not survive this night. Your path is a different one than returning to the future.”
Evie’s brows drew together in question. “What do you mean?”
“There is another way to use the stone if you intend to save your love,” she said.
Evie stared at her in disbelief with hope rising in her breast. She clutched the stone so hard, the jagged edges bit into her palm.
“Tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me how to save him.”
Moira grinned. “Aye, then, lass. Here’s what you do.”
Chapter Forty
It was ahellish battle. As soon as they charged, Callum lost sight of Malcolm, though he suspected he was heading straight for Rory. Jamie would be fighting next to him no doubt.
He didn’t have time to think about his brothers as he was trying to stay alive. With every swing of his claymore, he cut down man after man, killing those who tried to kill him. He found no sign of Rory.
Silvery light from the full moon shone down. That, coupled with the few torches burning in the hands of the few who had not yet joined the fray, cast the men’s bloody faces in ghastly expressions, their eyes wild as they charged and fought one another.
Callum knew it was hopeless. They could not hope to win against MacDonald and his men. They were outnumbered. They were outmatched. With every swing of his claymore, he cut down one man only to have him immediately replaced by another. And another. And on and on.
All around him was the din of battle. The screams of pain. The clashing of steel against steel. The metallic tang of blood permeating the air. His hands covered in it.
But he could not allow them to breach the walls of the castle and invade his home. He would do everything in his power to keep that from happening.
Near him, a shout rose up. One that sounded like his brother. He spun in time to see Rory swing his great axe at Malcolm.His brother jumped out of the way, narrowly missing the blade. Callum hacked and slashed his way to his brother’s side, ignoring the fatigue pounding through him.
MacDonald swung his great axe again, this time connecting with Malcolm. His brother cried out as he hit the ground. Fueled by the fire of anger, Callum cut down the last man standing in his way. MacDonald gave him a wicked smile, a wild look in his eyes as he charged forward.
Callum didn’t have time to see if his brother was all right when his sword clashed against MacDonald’s great axe.
“How will it feel to die in the shadow of yer keep?” MacDonald spat.
Callum ignored him, swinging his sword again. MacDonald was a skilled warrior and evaded him.
“And then the lass and the keystone will be mine,” he added.
Callum said nothing as he attacked again. As he charged, something strange began to happen. As if the world around him slowed. As though they were underwater. Something was not right. Something was strange. An incessant buzzing sounded.
The swing of his claymore was in a slow, wide arc. He missed his intended target. Even MacDonald’s motions slowed down. His eyes went wide as he looked at him, the great axe hanging in the air as though stuck.
It seemed to take eons for Callum to turn his head, his arm falling to his side.
Then he saw her, standing with her fiery hair unbound and whipping around her face. One hand was clutched into a tight fist, light seeping from around her fingers. She held both arms aloft, creating a shimmering bubble around her, him, and Rory MacDonald. The men on the battlefield were still as if frozen in time.
