Page 77 of Desiring the Highland Laird
He nodded. “We leave at first light.”
“Good night, Callum.”
“G’night, lass.”
She left him in the stable. As she did, it was impossible to shake the incredible feeling that things were different between them. She had a whole lot of unanswered questions. Questions she didn’t know how or when or if she would be able to answer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Callum watched herwalk away, leaving him alone in the stable. His stomach was in a knot. Much as he wanted to resist, he was unable to stop himself from kissing her. That first brush of their lips in the kitchen nearly did him in and all he could think about from that moment was how she would feel in his arms.
Now he knew.
He would never be the same.
When Evie started to leave, he had to stop her. He had to touch her. He had to hold her soft hand in his. He had to trace the lines of the keystone still branded in her palm. As he did, his da’s words came rushing back to him.
One divine destiny.
It was impossible to deny that she was from the future, that she had come to help him protect the keystone. Hell, she’d brought it with her.
But what he had trouble puzzling out was how she had gotten it in the first place. Oh, she said she got it from the woman named Moira. The woman—the goddess—in the tapestries hanging in her bedchamber.
If that were true—and he suspected it was—where, then, did Moira get it?
“It was created to protect all of Time.”
The lilting female voice startled him. He spun to see the woman standing in the doorway of the stable, her silvery hair hanging in long waves over her shoulders. She had brightblue eyes—eyes that sparkled with starlight—and wore a silvery gown that shimmered in the half-light of the stable. He glanced around but no one else was about. The stable boys had retired for the night.
“Who are ye? Where did ye come from?”
Though she seemed to pose no threat, he still planted his feet shoulder-width apart as he stared her down. She gave him a pleasant smile.
“Ye know who I am, Callum of Clan MacLeod.”
He clenched his fists.
It couldn’t be her.
“Aye, it is.”
“Do ye read minds now, then?” he demanded.
“No.” She continued to smile. “I see the emotions on your face. The confusion and the disbelief. You look much like your father. He had a similar reaction when I came to him. Now, you are laird.”
“Moira?” he whispered.
“Aye.” She moved into the stable, the shimmering of her gown glinting in the candlelight.
“So, ’tis true then. The Night of Shadows and the Shattering.”
“It is.” She gave one nod of her head as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m sure your father, may God rest and keep him, told you the story.”
She knew his da was dead. Was that why she had appeared to him, then?
“He told me.”
“He told you, but you did not believe.” It was not a question, merely a statement of fact. When she said nothing, she continued. “Even when the Sinclair lass arrived, you still did not believe. Will no amount of proof make you trust what your eyes see? That is why I’m here.”
