Page 26 of Desiring the Highland Laird
Callum made his way through the keep to the armory in the south tower which was situated close to the front of the castle to allow quick access to the weapons. The thick door was open as he approached, indicating his da was indeed there. He heard him humming an old Gaelic tune.
Weapons lined one wall, a gleaming arsenal of death and power—swords, battle axes, spears, and dirks. Each one with a whisper of battle long past or yet to come. Opposite that, armor stood proud and imposing—helms, gauntlets, vambraces, and hauberks. Even the padded shirts stacked neatly along the wall held the promise of preparation. Every inch of space exuded readiness, a testament to their resiliency and pursuit of survival. They were well stocked and prepared for anything.
The room stretched wide and long, the flagstone floor beneath his boots cold. The solid stone walls rose up to the soaring ceiling, at the top of the walls, narrow slit windowshinting at the outside world. The air was thick, heavy, trapped behind a thick, reinforced door. Flickering light from the candelabras did their best to chase away the shadows of the imposing room. A massive wooden table dominated the center with chairs scattered around it, one in which his da sat holding his sword in his steady grip as the whetstone scraped along the blade’s edge.
“Da,” Callum called. “A word?”
“O’course, lad.” He waved him over as he finished with one last swipe down the shiny steel.
“We have an apprentice for that, Da.”
Hamish replaced his favorite claymore in the holder as he turned to his son. “Aye, but ye ken I like to take care of me own steel.”
“I do,” he said.
He eyed the weapons lined up along the wall. Though they had never been to battle, Hamish insisted they remain ready in case the MacDonalds or any other warring clan wanted to try to sack the castle. They were lucky to have one of the finest blacksmiths to forge their weapons and armor.
“Ye wanted a word?” Hamish asked, peering up at him. Curiosity lined his face.
Callum pressed his lips together in a thin line. He hated asking him about the Shattering or the Night of Shadows or even the Triple Goddess, for he knew Hamish would be all too happy to regale him once again with the tale and remind him of the prophecy. A tale he had heard his entire life growing up. A tale he refused to believe. A prophecy he never thought would come to fruition.
“Well?” he pressed.
“’Tis about the Shattering,” Callum began.
“Och, ye’ve heard that tale, laddie.”
“I have,” he said. “But how do we ken the tale is true? And this prophecy—”
“’Tis true,” Hamish said as he slowly got to his feet. “Warrior’s heart and maiden’s grace will unite to shield All Time.”
Callum stared at him. His da had mentioned the prophecy and the woman from the future arriving with a keystone before, but never those words. When she arrived, they would be bound to her to keep the piece of the stone safe.
“’Tis true, laddie,” Hamish said. “The maiden arrived as was foretold.”
As he looked at his da, it occurred to him he didn’t know where this prophecy or tale had originated. For all he knew, his da made it up.
“It isna a fiction,” his da said, as though he’d read his thoughts.
Mayhap he’d read his expression, for he was never one to keep his emotions in check. “Where did ye learn of this prophecy, Da?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Even through his thick beard, he could see it. “Come with me and I’ll show ye.”
Chapter Nine
Evie paced thelength of the bedchamber with a pent-up nervous energy. When she slammed the door behind her, she hoped Callum would follow her, offer his apologies and give her the stone. Then she’d return home and find Chloe.
He, however, did no such thing.
She took to looking through every nook and cranny in the bedchamber in the hopes he had hidden the stone somewhere within the room. She ran her hands under the feather mattress but found nothing. She looked under the bed. She looked under the pillows. She threw all the blankets off the bed.
When all that failed to produce the stone, she turned her attention to the chest at the foot of the bed. Opening it, she pawed through the linens, tossing them out as she searched. She found nothing. She left a mess of cloth in her wake.
Standing, she bit her thumbnail as she paced the length of the room. She came up empty-handed, which meant Callum must have kept the stone. He had it on his person. She had to figure out a way to get that stone from him to return home and make sure Chloe was all right. She didn’t trust Bruce one iota.
A light knock sounded on the door.
She halted her rabid pacing and stared at it, her heart leaping to her throat. She doubted Callum would knock on his own door. Likely he would barge in.
