Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
T he morning after the attack, Kate stood at the edge of the cliff behind Bronmuir Keep, the brooch clutched in her palm. The metal was warm against her skin despite the cool sea breeze that whipped her hair around her face. That was the gift he had given her. The freedom to choose.
Below, the waves crashed against the jagged rocks, sending up plumes of white spray that caught the early sunlight like scattered diamonds.
The cut on her arm throbbed beneath its bandage, a physical reminder of all she had endured, all she had done. She had killed four people. The memory of the dirk sliding into flesh made her stomach clench. Yet she had saved Connor’s life in doing so, and couldn’t bring herself to regret the choice.
“I thought I might find ye here.”
She turned to see him approaching, his movements stiff from his own injuries. The morning light caught in his brown hair, turning the edges to gold. His blue eyes were solemn as they met her own hazel eyes, though she caught a flicker of something else there. Hope, perhaps, or fear.
“I needed to think,” she said, turning back to the sea.
He came to stand beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not touching. “And have ye reached a decision?”
She opened her hand, revealing the brooch. Its intricate knotwork caught the light, the surface gleaming. “I don’t know if this will even work,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I can go back.”
“Ye dinna have to try,” Connor said softly. “Ye could stay. With me.”
She looked up at him, studying the strong line of his jaw, the way his mouth curved when he was trying not to show emotion. “So if I stay...”
Something flickered in his eyes, a spark that ignited and spread, warming his gaze. “Then ye would make me the happiest man in all of Scotland.”
Kate closed her fingers around the brooch again, feeling its weight, its history. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Of what, my fierce lass?”
“Of everything. Of loving you. Losing you. Never seeing my family again.” She swallowed hard. “The guilt I carry for the men I killed. And for Kenna and her lover.”
Connor’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his calloused palm rough against her skin. “Ye saved my life, Kate. Ye’ve nothing to feel guilty for.”
“I killed two men in the battle,” she said, voice breaking. “And Kenna... if I hadn’t pushed her lover from the battlements?—”
“Ye did what ye had to do,” Connor interrupted firmly. “Kenna took her own life. Her MacDonald lover made his own choice. Their fates were not of your making.”
Kate leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his certainty. “I still see their faces when I close my eyes.”
“Aye, and ye always will,” Connor said gently. “That’s the burden of survival. But ye dinna have to bear it alone.”
He took her hands in his, his voice dropping to a solemn murmur. “My father taught us an ancient prayer before our first battle. The old priests would say it over warriors who had taken lives in defense of their clan.”
His thumbs traced circles on her palms as he recited. “May the shield of Saint Michael be between ye and the enemy. May your hand be guided by justice, your heart by mercy. The blood on your blade is the price of our freedom, and the Almighty understands the warrior’s burden. Go forth absolved, for ye fought not with hatred, but with love for those ye protect.”
The wind gusted around them, carrying the scent of heather and salt. Below, the sea continued its eternal dance with the shore, waves retreating, only to surge forward again with renewed force. Like time itself, she thought. Always moving, always changing, yet somehow constant.
And in that moment she realized something that made her bones tremble, not that she must choose between two lives, but that one might now be impossible to leave behind.
“I may have left my time behind,” she said, the words rising from some deep place within her, “but I’ve found where I truly belong.”
Connor’s eyes widened slightly, hope blooming across his features. “Are ye saying?—”
“I’m staying,” Kate said, holding out the brooch to him, and as the words left her lips, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “If you’ll have me.”
He took the brooch, pocketing it. His smile was like the sun breaking through storm clouds. Without warning, he swept her into his arms, lifting her off her feet in a fierce embrace. Startled by the sudden movement, Kate laughed, then winced as pain shot through her injured arm.
“Careful,” she gasped. “I’m still a bit battered.”
“Forgive me,” Connor said, setting her gently back on her feet, though he kept his arms around her. “I forgot myself.”
Kate leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, strong and steady. “I never thought I’d find someone who made me feel like this,” she murmured.
“Like what, lass?”
“Like I’m home.”
His arms tightened around her. “Then let us build a future together.”
* * *
The courtyard garden was small but lush, a hidden oasis of green tucked away from the harsh Highland winds. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink, she wandered among the herbs and flowers, trailing her fingers over the rough leaves of sage and the delicate petals of wild roses enjoying the last days of summer. There was already a chill in the early August morning air and soon it would be cold.
The events of the day had left her emotionally drained, but strangely peaceful. She had made her decision, and with it had come a sense of rightness that she couldn’t explain. She belonged here, in this time, with these people. With him.
The thought of him brought a smile to her lips. After their conversation on the cliffs, he had been called away to deal with the aftermath of the attack. Organizing repairs, comforting the bereaved, planning for the clan’s defenses. But he had promised to find her at sunset, his eyes holding a promise that made her heart skip.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel path made her turn. Connor strode toward her, his tall figure silhouetted against the fading light. He had changed from his bloodstained plaid into fresh clothing, though his movements still betrayed his injury.
“Ye look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and warm.
She glanced down at her simple dress, patched in places and stained with dirt and blood that wouldn’t quite wash out. “I’m a mess,” she laughed.
“Nay,” Connor said, stepping closer. “Ye’re perfect.”
There was something in his tone that made her breath catch. He reached for her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. “Walk with me?”
Kate nodded, allowing him to lead her deeper into the garden, where the stone wall provided shelter from the wind. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and salt from the nearby sea. As they reached a small bench nestled beneath a small gnarled tree, Connor stopped.
“I have something for ye,” he said, reaching into his sporran.
Kate’s heart raced as he withdrew a small object and held it out to her. In the fading light, she could see it was a ring. A delicate band of silver and gold, inset with a large emerald that caught the last rays of the sun.
“It was my mother’s,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “My father gave it to her when they wed. I’ve kept it safe all these years, waiting for...” He trailed off, his blue eyes searching hers.
“For what?” Kate whispered, though she knew the answer.
“For the woman who would make my heart whole again,” he said simply.
Kate felt tears prick at her eyes. “Connor?—”
“I love ye, Kate,” he said, the words tumbling out as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I didna think it possible to feel this way again after all I’ve lost. But ye’ve brought light back into my life when I thought there was only darkness.”
He took her hand, his calloused fingers gentle against her skin. “I ken it’s soon, and I ken ye’ve much to adjust to in this time. But I canna imagine a future without ye by my side.” He paused, drawing a deep breath.
“Will ye marry me, Kate? Will ye be my wife, my partner, my heart?”
Kate stared at the ring, at the man holding it, and felt the last of her defenses crumble like ancient stone walls finally yielding to time. She had spent so long running from vulnerability, from the possibility of loss. But here, now, with Connor looking at her as if she were the sun and stars combined, his blue eyes shimmering with a devotion that stole her breath, she couldn’t run anymore.
“I’m terrified,” she admitted, her voice barely audible above the rustling of leaves and the thundering of her own heart. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together.
“I’m scared of loving you this much. Of losing you. Of failing you. I’ve never let anyone get this close before.”
His expression softened, the scar above his eyebrow crinkling slightly. The fading sunlight caught in his wild, sun-kissed brown hair, as the scent of wool and leather tickled her nose.
“Aye, love is a fearsome thing,” he said, his deep voice washing over her like warm honey. “But I’d rather face that fear with ye than live without ye. The thought of waking each day without yer smile would be a darkness I couldna bear.”
She reached up to touch his face, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, rough with stubble, the curve of his lips, warm and inviting. The contact sent electricity through her veins, a sensation both foreign and familiar.
“Yes,” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes, reflecting the golden light of sunset. “I’ll marry you.”
Connor’s smile was radiant, transforming his usually stoic features into something so beautiful it made her chest ache. His hands, calloused from years of wielding a sword yet impossibly gentle with her, slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her. Perhaps, Kate thought as she admired the way the metal caught the light, this had been her destiny all along.
He leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that began as gentle as a whisper but quickly blazed into something fierce and consuming. Kate melted into him, her arms winding around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, her body pressing against his as if she could somehow merge their souls together. She tasted the sweetness on his tongue, breathed in the scent of pine and leather and something uniquely Connor that had become as essential to her as air.
The world around them disappeared. The ancient stones, the whispering wind, the distant call of birds returning to their nests, all of it faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, suspended in a moment that felt eternal and ephemeral all at once. Heat bloomed between them, a living thing that wrapped around them like invisible flames.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Connor rested his forehead against hers. His hands cradled her face as if she were made of the most precious glass, his thumbs gently wiping away tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.
“Ye have my heart, Kate,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “From this day until my last. I will cherish ye, protect ye with my body, and love ye with everything I am.”
“And you have mine,” she replied, meaning it more than she had ever meant anything in her life. The words seemed inadequate for the tide of feeling washing through her, but she saw in his eyes that he understood.
“I never believed in fate until I found you. Until you found me.”
They stood in the hush of the garden, wrapped in each other, until Kate suddenly gasped and pulled back slightly.
Connor caught her waist. “What is it, lass? Are ye unwell?”
She shook her head, stunned. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s, it’s just something I forgot.” She looked up at him, her voice wavering. “Before I came here, I read about Bronmuir Keep in a history guidebook, right before I left for Scotland.”
He frowned slightly. “And what did it say?”
Kate swallowed hard. “It said the ruins of Bronmuir Keep stood as a testament to one of the most tragic tales on Skye. That in 1689, the laird of the clan was betrayed... and murdered... by his bride. A MacDonald. That it was part of a plot to end the MacLeod line.”
Connor blinked. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“They said the laird’s ghost, your ghost, still walks the ruins, looking for justice. For the love that was denied him.”
There was a beat of silence, a small wind curling through the garden as though marking the gravity of the moment.
Then Connor laughed, a deep chuckle that rumbled from his chest. “Me? Marry a MacDonald? The lass would gut me in my sleep just to claim the larder and the cattle.”
Kate didn’t smile. Not at first. Her heart pounded, and strange understanding flushed through her like fire in her blood. “Connor...” she whispered, her fingers tightening around his.
He sobered at once. “What is it?”
“Don’t you see?” she said. “You never did marry that girl. Because I came here. Because of me. History changed.”
A slow smile curved his lips, one that curled around her heart like a ribbon. “Aye, I believe ye did change fate, Kate. At great cost. But saints, I canna regret a single heartbeat of it.”
She laid her hand over his heart, then brushed her lips over the scar above his brow.
“If fate gave me the chance,” she said, voice low and sure, “I’d choose you again.”
“And I you,” he said, voice rough. “In every time, in every life.”
They stood together in the gathering dusk, the world around them fading into shadow, the garden a silent witness to their vow. A cool breeze swept across the keep, carrying the scent of heather and salt from the sea, but Kate felt only warmth. This was where she belonged. This was home. Not a place, but a person. This man, with his strength and his gentleness, his honor and his passion, had become her anchor in a world where everything else was uncertain.
* * *
The moon rose full and bright, casting long shadows across the garden where Kate walked alone. She couldn’t sleep, her head too full of the day’s events, her heart too full of emotion. The ring on her finger caught the moonlight, the emerald glowing like a tiny star.
She had left Connor sleeping, his face peaceful in repose, his breathing deep and even. She had needed a moment to herself, to process everything that had happened, everything she had chosen.
The garden was different at night, mysterious, almost otherworldly. The herbs released their scents more strongly in the cool air, creating a heady perfume that mingled with the salt of the sea. Somewhere in the distance, an gull called, the sound echoing across the silent landscape.
Kate made her way to the small bench where Connor had proposed, settling herself on the weathered wood. Above her, the stars were impossibly bright, more numerous than she had ever seen in the light-polluted skies of Atlanta. She tried to imagine never seeing electric lights again, never driving a car, never using a smartphone. The thought was both terrifying and strangely liberating.
“You have chosen well.”
The voice, soft and ancient as the hills themselves, made Kate jump to her feet. Standing at the edge of the garden was a figure she had seen only twice before, the old woman from the cemetery. The Cailleach.
In the moonlight, she seemed to shimmer, as if not quite solid. Her silver hair flowed around her like water, and her dark eyes held the wisdom of centuries. She wore a cloak of midnight blue, embroidered with symbols that seemed to move when she wasn’t looking directly at them.
“You,” Kate breathed. “You brought me here.”
The Cailleach inclined her head slightly. “I merely opened the door. You walked through it of your own free will.”
“Why?” Kate asked, the question that had haunted her for months finally finding voice. “Why me? Why now?”
The old woman’s lips curved in a smile that was both ancient and knowing. “Some souls are born out of their time, child. Yours was always meant for this place, this moment.”
“But my family, my friends?—”
“Will live their lives, as you will live yours,” the Cailleach said gently. “The threads of fate weave a complex tapestry. Your thread has found its proper place.”
Kate heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Connor approaching, his expression alert despite having been woken from sleep. He wore only his plaid, hastily wrapped around his waist, his chest bare in the moonlight. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the Cailleach.
“What—” He began, then stopped abruptly as the old woman stepped forward.
As she moved, the air around her seemed to shimmer and change. For a moment, she was no longer an old woman, but something else entirely. A being of light and power, ancient as the land itself. Her cloak billowed around her though there was no wind, and the symbols embroidered upon it glowed with an inner fire.
Connor dropped to his knees, his face a mask of awe and terror. “Saints preserve us,” he whispered, reaching blindly for Kate’s hand.
The Cailleach looked at him, her eyes now glowing like twin stars in the darkness. “You have doubted,” she said, her voice echoing strangely in the still night air. “You have questioned. But now you see.”
“Aye,” Connor breathed, his fingers tightening around Kate’s. “I believe. I believe all of it.”
The Cailleach nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“Will I ever go back?” Kate asked, though she already knew the answer in her heart.
“Your path lies here now,” the Cailleach said simply. “The future is not when you are, but who you’re with.”
With those words, she began to fade, her form becoming translucent, then transparent, until only a faint shimmer remained in the air where she had stood. A breeze whispered through the garden, carrying the scent of heather and something older, wilder, the essence of the Highlands themselves.
For a long moment, neither Kate nor Connor moved, both too stunned by what they had witnessed. Then Connor rose slowly to his feet, his eyes never leaving the spot where the Cailleach had been.
“Was that—” He began, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” Kate said softly. “That was her. The one who brought me here.”
Connor turned to her, his face pale in the moonlight. “I saw her change. She wasna human.”
“No,” Kate agreed. “I don’t think she is. Not entirely.”
His hand found hers again, his grip firm and reassuring. “I believed ye before, Kate. But now...” He shook his head, as if words were inadequate. “There are more things in heaven and earth than I ever dreamed possible.”
She smiled, recognizing the echo of Shakespeare. “The world is full of wonders,” she said. “Some we understand, some we don’t.”
He drew her close, his arms encircling her waist. “The greatest wonder is that ye’re here with me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever magic brought ye to me, I’ll be grateful for it all my days.”
They stood together in the moonlit garden, surrounded by the ancient magic of the Highlands, their hearts beating in time with each other. And Kate knew, with a certainty that went bone deep, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.
* * *
The great hall of Bronmuir Keep buzzed with activity as the clan prepared for the evening meal. A fortnight had passed since the MacDonald attack, and life was slowly returning to normal. The dead had been honored and buried, the wounded were healing, and the damage to the keep was being repaired.
Kate moved among the tables, helping to set out trenchers and cups. Her ring caught the light from the hearth, sending small flashes of green across the wooden surfaces. Several of the women had noticed it and offered their congratulations, their initial wariness of the strange outlander giving way to genuine warmth. They had forgiven her because their laird had and because she had risked all during the battle to save them and their laird.
Moira approached, her sharp eyes taking in Kate’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Ye look happy, lass,” she observed, a smile softening her weathered features.
Before she could respond, the doors to the hall burst open, and a young man staggered in, his clothing stained with travel dust, his face haggard with exhaustion. “I seek the laird!” he called, voice cracking.
Connor emerged from a side chamber, his expression alert. “Aye, I’m here. What news?”
The messenger straightened, drawing a deep breath. “I’ve come from Edinburgh, my laird. I’ve seen him. I’ve seen your youngest brother, Brodie!”
A hush fell over the hall, all activity ceasing as everyone turned to stare at the messenger. Connor went very still, his face draining of color. “Ye’re certain?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Aye, my laird,” Thomas said eagerly. “As certain as I stand before ye. He was at the harbor, working on one of the merchant ships. I called out to him, but the crowd separated us before I could reach him.”
Connor’s hand went to the hilt of his dirk, a gesture Kate had come to recognize as his way of grounding himself when emotional. “Was he well? Did he appear injured or ill-treated?”
“Nay, my laird. He looked hale enough, if a bit thin. And his hair was cropped short, but ’twas him, I swear it.”
A murmur ran through the gathered clan members. Surprise, hope, joy. Brodie, the youngest MacLeod brother, lost over six months ago, was alive.
Connor turned to Kate, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “My brother lives,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
She crossed the hall to him, taking his hands in hers. “Then we’ll find him,” she said firmly. “We’ll bring him home.”
Connor nodded, squeezing her hands. “I’ve lost too many,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “I willna let another slip through my fingers.”
“Then let’s bring him home,” Kate repeated, her voice strong and sure.
Around them, the clan erupted in cheers and excited chatter. Plans were already being made. Who would go to Edinburgh, what supplies would be needed, how soon they could depart? The hall, which had been so recently filled with grief, now vibrated with hope and purpose.
Kate looked around at these people who had become her family, at the man who would soon be her husband, and felt a deep sense of rightness settle in her soul.
She had left behind a world of convenience and technology, of fast food and smartphones, of dating apps and predictable heartbreak. But what she had found was so much more valuable. A place where she was needed, where she belonged, where she was loved, not for who she could pretend to be, but for who she truly was.
The future stretched before her, unknown but full of promise. There would be challenges, of course. Adjusting to life in the seventeenth century, learning the ways of the clan, becoming the wife of a Highland chieftain. But Kate was no longer afraid. With Connor by her side, with the strength she had discovered within herself, she was ready to face whatever came next.
As if reading her thoughts, Connor turned to her, his expression solemn but his eyes alight with love. “Together,” he said softly, a promise and a vow.
Kate nodded, her heart full to bursting. “Together.”
In the warmth of the great hall, surrounded by the people who had become her clan, Kate knew that she had finally found what she had been searching for all her life. Not just love, but belonging. Not just passion, but purpose.
She was home.