CHAPTER 16
Chloe awoke to the pleasant sounds of a fire crackling and warmth surrounding her.
Opening her eyes, she saw she was in a large bed with a heavy wood frame and four curtained posts, across from her, the hearth with a blazing fire.
She sat up on her elbows and surveyed the room.
It was not the room she had spent the previous night in. This room was different.
Next to the bed, a small wooden table where she noticed the keystone rested along with a candelabra.
A massive chest was at the foot of the bed.
Two chairs and a table were near the hearth.
On the other side of the room, a washbasin near the one window which was shuttered against the elements.
Under the window, a long cushioned bench.
Tapestries—though certainly not the magical ones in the other room—were along the wall.
Thick rugs covered the floor. A tall candelabra stood in one corner with six candles, all blazing brightly.
Whose room was she in?
A curious swooping tugged her stomach at the thought she might be in Malcolm’s chamber. A heated flush crawled up her neck and took up residence in her cheeks. She lifted her hands to her face only to realize she had a fresh bandage. It was expertly tied as it wrapped around her wounded hand.
The door pushed open. Malcolm entered carrying a tray with two tankards, a pitcher, a wheel of cheese, bread, and dried meat.
He placed it on the table between the chairs in front of the fire.
She watched him, curious, as he poured a bit of weak ale into one of the tankards, then took a sip.
He turned toward the bed and their eyes met. Her heart leapt into her throat.
What a strange reaction she had to this man she hardly knew.
“Och, yer awake. How do ye feel?”
She felt like death, honestly. Her body ached from head to toe. She had a raging headache. Her stomach growled from not having eaten a full meal. But her hand had stopped throbbing.
“I don’t know.”
He chuckled, a rumble low and deep in his throat. It was a wonderful sound. He poured the second tankard, then picked it up and walked it to her.
“Here. This will help.”
She took the weak ale and sipped it as he moved back to the table.
“Did you bandage my hand?”
“Aye,” he said. “Whoever did it the first time did no do a good job.”
She flushed, thinking of Evie’s hastily tied bandage around her palm. She rushed to get it done before anyone, namely Callum, discovered what they had been up to.
“Well, I guess she was in a hurry,” she said.
“I cleaned it. ’Tis a shallow cut, but it was starting to fester a bit. Ye might be glad ye were out when I did that.” His mouth turned up into a smile behind his beard.
She shuddered. Yes, she was glad she had been out for that activity. He took a sip of ale, then dropped his tankard to the tray with a thump.
“Ye said something about that wee stone.”
“The keystone?”
She glanced over at it. The offending stone rested quietly on the table beside the bed. Not glowing or humming or anything of the sort. It looked like nothing more than a piece of jagged rock.
“You said it has the power of the Past.”
He paused, the silence stretching between them. His gaze flickered to the stone, then back to her again, as if searching how to ask whatever burning question was within him.
“This keystone of yer sister’s…what power does it hold?”
“You told me yourself what power it held. You saw it when she came to the battlefield. You said time slowed and light shot out from her hand.”
“Aye, I ken that. But…” He gave her a curious glance. “If ye can see the past, then what can she see?”
Ah, she understood then. Evie had told her the keystone showed her Callum would die if she hadn’t come to his aid. She saw in that moment how he would die.
“She told me she had to save Callum during the battle because she saw the possible outcomes of the present. All of them showed her he’d be killed.”
Malcolm stilled, then, slowly lowered himself into the chair by the fire.
“He never told me,” he said, as though he were hurt by the omission.
“That’s why she didn’t use the keystone to return to her future. Our future.”
Chloe pushed aside the blankets and swung her legs down. She was still fully dressed. She walked to the chair and sat across from him, still holding her tankard of ale. She eyed the dried meat, her stomach rumbling.
“And yer piece shows the past,” he said.
“Yes.”
Though it wasn’t a question, she answered as if it were. She reached for a piece of the meat and took a bite. It was a bit chewy and reminded her of jerky.
He seemed a little shaken by the idea she saw his past. It was likely a power he didn’t understand or want. Perhaps he was wondering what other past events she would be able to see, what other things he had done. Things he may not be proud of or want her to know.
“I promise I won’t do it again,” she said in jest.
His face broke into a bright smile. “Good.”
“I didn’t mean to do it in the first place,” she added. “When you came into the room, you asked if I was talking to the tapestry. Well…I was.”
His brows rose as he looked at her. She huffed out a breath.
“You must think I’m—”
“Daft? Aye. A wee bit.” He picked up the tankard and guzzled the rest of his ale.
She wanted to object and tell him she wasn’t daft, but what good would it do? His eyes glinted with humor as he looked at her over the rim of his cup.
“If I dinnae ken any better, I’d say ye’d been in the cups. But…” He paused, then shook his head. “Ye dinnae drink enough ale to be wrecked.” Then his mouth quirked into a grin and she realized he was poking fun at her.
“No, I wasn’t wrecked.” She grinned as she said it, finding the humor in it. “So, do you believe me?”
“I dinnae disbelieve ye,” he said. “I’ve seen the tapestries move myself. Tell me, lass, what ye saw there.”
“The dark-haired goddess is named Bridget. She spoke to me. In my mind.” Remembering made her shudder. She placed her tankard on the table and reached for the bread, tearing off a piece.
“What did she say?”
“She told me to guard the keystone with my life. That there are those who will try to take it by any means necessary. She said I was the guardian now and…” She paused as she thought of what she’d said to her next. She gulped in a breath. “She said I possess all the power of the stone.”
“Like yer sister possesses the power of her stone,” he said.
She nodded, her stomach fluttering and twisting into knots.
She shoved a hand through her tangled hair.
If she possessed this power, and Evie did, then…
when Brianna arrived she would possess the power of the future.
And what did that mean? Would Brianna, her wayward, free-spirited beachy sister, understand the power?
Hell, neither she nor Evie understood the power of the stones they possessed. How could she expect Brianna to? Now that she thought about this prophecy that was thrust upon her, forever altering her life and her destiny, she was angry. She frowned, her brow furrowing with her displeasure.
“What is it, lass? Ye look a wee bit scunnered.”
She shoved up from the chair and spun away, the frustration edging through her. “I don’t want this power. I never asked for it.”
“Well, ye have it now. There’s no going back.”
She looked down at her bandaged hand. Evie was right.
It was blood magic, though it hadn’t worked right away.
At least, not until she had been drawn to the room with the enchanted tapestries.
When the stone had decided to come alive and hum.
She didn’t recall when it had stopped. Was it after her memory walk inside Malcolm’s head?
Perhaps that was what had made Bridget come alive.
Maybe even have given her the power. She didn’t understand how it worked. She would never understand.
But Malcolm was right. She had it and there was no going back.
She heaved a sigh. “What do I do now?”
“Och, lass, I dinnae think there is anything to do but accept it.”
She frowned again, thinking of everything she had left in her future. Her job, her flat, her very existence. But thinking of that made her think of Bruce. He was still out there, somewhere. Was he looking for her? Would he find her? Would he come after her again for the stone?
Bridget’s words haunted her.
There are those who will try to take it from you. They will use any means necessary to get it.
She sucked in a breath.
“Bruce,” she said, his name a whisper on her lips. She turned to face Malcolm who still sat in the chair watching her with interest in his keen eyes. “He’s going to come for it, isn’t he?”
“He may try,” he replied, a fiery light of defiance flickering in his eyes.
She didn’t have to explain to him who she meant. He knew. And for that she was grateful.
“But what if he—”
“I will protect ye.” He unfolded his tall frame from the chair and moved toward her. “I swear that to ye. I will protect ye with my sword or my own body if necessary.”
He said it with such conviction, heat swarmed over her. Though, she decided, it was because he stood so close to her and the fire blazed hot in the hearth. In fact, a cold sweat broke out along her spine as she tilted her head back to look up at him.
He was tall, she realized. She hadn’t noticed how tall. And he was broad. Muscular, with large biceps and a wide chest she had been cradled against more than once. A wayward lock of hair fell over his shoulder. She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she reached up and pushed it away.
He stilled. The only sound in the room was that of her shallow breathing and the crackling fire.
And the drumming of her heart. Could he hear that, too?
“You would protect me like that?”
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“Ye ken why.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Because ye are under my brother’s roof. Ye are part of the family.”
“Is that the only reason?”
What was she doing? Why was she asking him this? Of course, it was the only reason. Perhaps the power of the stone had gone to her head and she was—what did he call it?—wrecked. There was no other explanation.
He tipped his head to one side as he peered at her with a look that made her heart ache. “Nay.”
He said it so softly, she wasn’t sure she heard him.
“No?”
The world seemed to tip on its axis as he brought his hand up and brushed the back of it over her cheek. Then he slipped his hand along the side of her neck.
“Nay,” he repeated.
He leaned down, the movement swift enough to dull her senses.
Before she processed what was happening, his lips met hers.
It stole her breath in the most delightful way imaginable.
The coarse hairs of his beard bristled against her skin, a surprising contrast to the softness of his gentle yet demanding mouth.
The world fell away and all that mattered was yielding to him in that moment.
And in that moment, the flutter of emotion unfurled deep in her chest.
She focused on how his large hand fit against the side of her neck, the way his coarse palm brushed against her skin.
Her traitorous mind wondered then how his hands would feel on other parts of her body.
How her skin would feel against his. But she shoved those thoughts away.
Now was not the time for that. Now would never be the time. He wasn’t the one for her.
Was he?
He stepped back to look down at her. A sensuous light flickered through those sea-green eyes. Eyes like summer lightning on a humid spring day before the thunderstorms came.
Oh, God. He liked her, didn’t he?
But did she like him? Enough to want to kiss him again? She needed to test that theory.
Without thinking and before second-guessing herself, she stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again.
The boldness of her actions surprised both of them.
A rush of heat pounded through her, making her heart thud in loud, untamed beats.
For a moment, he froze, taken aback by her audacity.
Then his hesitation melted away. His arms slid around her, strong and sure and steady, as he pulled her close into his embrace.
Oh, yes. She liked him enough to do this—more than enough. And the way he held her told her he might feel the same.
The thought of their mutual kissing enjoyment knocked her off kilter. She didn’t need to get caught up in a romance with him. They were from two different worlds. He was a medieval man. She was a modern woman. Eventually, she and Evie would return to their own time.
Well, perhaps not Evie since she was head over heels for Callum. But she would return. She had a career waiting for her in Edinburgh.
She shoved away from him, ripping them apart and turned away, trying to quell the rising desire and need pounding through her. She pressed her fingertips against her still damp, still tingling lips.
“Was that no pleasant for ye?” He sounded wounded.
“Oh, it’s not that.” She took a deep breath, released it. “It’s that I don’t think we should be doing that.”
“Why not?” he asked, perplexed.
“Because I can’t stay here, Malcolm.” When he didn’t answer, she turned to face him. “Don’t you see? I belong in the future. So does Evie, but I doubt I’ll ever get her to return.”
His face was devoid of emotion as he looked at her. She had seen that look before. It was when he was experiencing a range of emotions and he didn’t know how to handle them.
“And,” she added, “I don’t like kissing men with beards.”
She hurried past him, unsure why she had flung that last bit at him. Her emotions ran high and hot. She couldn’t deal with that now. He didn’t make a move to stop her as she burst out the door, hurrying back to her own room.