Chapter Eight
Callum did feel angry but his rage was not aimed at Kerry. It was aimed at the so called man, Edward, the imbecile who could take someone as delicate as her and crush her in his fist. The thought made him furious.
He knew he would never see the man. If the doorway to the future did miraculously turn out to be true, there was no way he could accompany her to her own time. He had an entire clan to look after and if he were to die there would be no heir to take over. The MacCleod name might vanish with him.
That knowledge didn’t stop him wanting to go with her, track down Edward and run him through for his crimes against such a perfect woman as her.
For she was perfect. He had known that since he had set eyes on her though he had attempted to convince himself it was not the case. He had tried to pretend he did not want her, that he could survive perfectly well once she returned to her own time.
It was not true.
It had already been too long. The chance for her to go and him to forget her, if it ever existed, was gone. He would never forget her. For the rest of his life he would retain her image in his heart, taking a place that could belong to no other even if he lived to be a hundred.
When she told him her story, he felt closer bonded to her than he ever had to anyone. He could tell she was sharing secrets she had told no one before. He felt honored.
Why had she chosen him? That he could not say. He was just glad she had at least unburdened herself of some of the mental anguish she carried.
What could he do about it though? She was going back to her own time and leaving him behind.
He thought hard.
They sat together by the fireside in the inn, waiting for the innkeeper to bring their food out to them. The fire was alive with light, the glow illuminating the smoky interior of the tavern. There were many shades of tartan on display and more accents than he could count. French, Norse, even English. No doubt every person there had a story to tell from the one eyed Saracen in the corner to the English white beard holding court with his pack of tarot cards over by the beer barrel.
Callum was only interested in one story and she was sitting opposite him and staring into the fire.
“Does the MacCleod name still live in your time?” he asked, drawing her from her reverie.
“It does,” she said, turning to look at him.
He was glad. Once again he was struck by her beauty. Every time she glanced at him he was surprised, as if he had never seen her before. His desire for her grew with every passing minute. He yearned to plant a kiss on those soft lips of hers, to hold her in his arms and protect her for the rest of their lives.
He found himself hoping that perhaps the doorway was a fable, that she would have no choice but to stay with him. He could bring her back and introduce her to his parents as the only bride he would have. They would either accept that or he would ride to the ends of the earth with her and settle on a farm somewhere where no harm would come to either of them. If the Saracen could travel thousands of miles then so could they.
She smiled as he continued to look at her. “There is even a book about you.”
“About me?” He couldn’t hide the surprise from his voice. “Och, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“I’m not. There’s an entire series called The Saga of Callum MacCleod.”
“And what does it say of me?”
Her brow wrinkled momentarily and he was again struck by the desire to kiss her. “I can’t remember.”
“But the name still lives. Do MacCleods still live in our castle?”
She shook her head. “That is a ruin apart from the east tower.”
“The castle is a ruin?” He tried to picture it. The enormous walls that looked like they could last forever gone, the stone in moldering piles, the place empty of life. He could not do it.
“It might not be.”
“What?” He looked at her closely. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure exactly but I think maybe I came back here to change something. I mean, what’s the alternative? That a person can randomly go back through the centuries? If that were true it would be enough to drive a person insane. I get the feeling I’m here to do something and if I manage it, maybe things will be different in my time. Maybe MacCleod castle will still be standing.”
“And what is it you think you have to do?”
A shadow fell over them both. Callum looked up in time to see the innkeeper carrying two wooden bowls, steam rising from the contents.
