Once Upon A Highland Legend (12 page)

“Ye think too much,” he said.

Annie’s chest constricted as he stepped toward her, reaching out to gently take her chin. “If ye’re worrying over Biera’s return, dinna. I swore I’d let naught befall ye and I meant it,
mo chroí.”My heart.

Annie’s heart squeezed. She nodded, and he bent to kiss her tenderly. And then without another word, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his pallet.

Callum worried about Annie.

After their encounter in the cave when her Winter Stone had grown cold, darkening the grotto, doubts began to plague him.

She had lied to him…but about what?

Over and over, he considered each word they had spoken. There had been nothing she had said that would reveal any answers. Nothing he could point to that might give away her intentions…unless, the stone did not need words—which made sense to Callum, for what use could a stone have for words? Mayhap her intentions had changed while in that grotto? Mayhap the stone had sensed something words could not conceive?

Biera had told him once that all things were born of love or fear.

Truth and lies,
Annie had said—the Winter Stone could sense these things and by them foretell the destinies of men. But a lie could be told for the good of all, and a truth might be an evil thing. Mayhap truth and lies were simply words that did not tell the entire story? Mayhap her stone sensed paths that were either true or false? Decisions that were good and bad?

As he worked alongside his clansmen, he tried to recall each of their conversations…searching for clues while he watched her slip up the hillside yet again, toward the rocky terrain that blanketed the area around the caverns. She ventured there nearly every day, seeking something.

But what?

Dunneld was shadowing her. If she attempted to leave the vale, Callum would hear of it at once, but she never seemed to try. Each day she returned to his arms and loved him as though she never meant to leave…

Or mayhap as though each time would be their last?

Callum had made a promise to her, and he meant to keep it…so long as she didn’t betray him. Biera would return soon enough, and he knew the old priestess well enough to know that she would look for the good in Annie, though if Annie attempted to flee before Biera returned, there would be naught Callum could do to convince the rest of the clan that she meant them no harm.

There wasn’t much chance she could hie away with the Destiny Stone itself, but if she chose to leave and then lead Giric back to the vale, there was naught he could do to stop her, for that then must be their destiny, and it was his people’s belief that all things must come to pass as they should.

Which was precisely why he had been against bringing the stone here in the first place. He’d damned his father for convincing him otherwise for if that death stone—that sacred relic of those Dalriada kings—was destined now to bring war to those whose blood was not pure enough to rule two nations as one, then perhaps as Kenneth MacAilpín had begun his reign, so too would he and all his forebears live and die.

But now…now Callum had begun to believe that he had been brought here to this vale for a reason. That reason was Annie Ross. She was his mate for life, he sensed, and he would wed her now if he could…without Biera’s blessing, even. But alas, he must be certain of Annie’s intentions…for the wellbeing of his people. Now that his Da was dead, if Biera declared it must be so, then his life would no longer be his own. All he could do was wait…and watch…and hope.

Avoiding her decision was not going to work, Annie realized. Simply by
not
deciding, she
was
deciding. Clearly, though time wasn’t as linear as one might suppose, it didn’t seem willing to stop altogether. Tonight she could see no moon in the night sky.

Her memory was a bit of a trap. Everything she had ever read was rattling around in there somewhere, and she searched the stores of her brain for info on the moon. She had read somewhere that it took about 27.3 days to orbit Earth, but the lunar phase cycle was about 29.5 days. She had no idea at what point in the cycle she’d come to be here, but she did know that in as little as twenty four hours, she could see the new moon pop up in the night sky—sometimes longer when there was pollution involved, but there was no pollution here. The sky was as clear as she had ever witnessed it, with a beauty that was unsurpassed. Her eye scanned the lower heavens, knowing that’s where the moon would appear, rising parallel to the horizon. So this was it. She calculated she had about twenty-four hours left—maybe thirty-six if she was very lucky.

After searching the entire area around the caverns, she knew there was no way inside, except through the cave entrance, where at least two men guarded it at all times.

She needed a distraction.

She had been watching the men work, and she had an idea though she hated to do it—really hated to do it. But she had to create a big enough distraction that everyone would rush to see it at once—including the men up on the hill—
especially
the men on the hill. And she thought she knew how…and if it worked, she would be on her way home soon. Why that thought made her feel so glum, she suspected she knew, but she couldn’t allow it stop her.

After a bit of a cold snap, the following day brought a bit of late summer warmth.

The sun shining down on the loch gave it a beautiful jewel-like appearance. Annie decided to freshen up. Keeping Dunneld at bay, she spent far too long swimming in the loch, and didn’t come out until her fingers were pruned. But she was thankful for his show of trust. She shimmied back into her skirt, smiling over the reaction Callum had had to something so simple as a zipper. There was so much she had taken for granted…and hardly any of those things seemed important here. Televisions, who cared? All that was on anyway was news about war, politicians sleeping with porn stars and senators sending penis pictures to their interns. Here, there was the ring of children’s laughter in the air, men shouted jests at each other over their labor, and the women worked side by side with the men. At night, they sat about the bonfire, telling stories, laughing and sharing whisky.

After nearly two weeks, everyone’s hard work was coming together—buildings taking shape, and gardens being planned for the coming spring. A young lass by the name of Fiona showed her the seeds they would sow to plant their woad. Once harvested they would create their dye from it, as well as soap and a medicinal tincture.

In return, Annie gave Morag a tip about refrigeration. As she recalled, even the outer cave was freezing and filled with mist, especially where the cooler stream met warmer air. She explained the concept of refrigeration—obviously not in the context of electrical power, because that, she sensed, was more than these people could process. But she suggested they might want to use the cave to keep their cheese and other perishables stored. It was far colder in there than it was in a butcher’s freezer. And the prospect of having old Morag’s cheese stored for far longer than they were capable of doing now excited them. She was happy. At least she would have done
some
good here, considering the destruction she was about to create. All their hard work was about to come undone, but it couldn’t be helped.

She had a very devious plan, and she had an unsuspecting helper in Dunneld, so she sent him to work, promising to give him her socks. He’d seemed enthralled by them as he watched her wash them in the loch. Of course, he accepted…because, indeed, winter was coming and thank God for one-size-fits-all.

Callum had a bad feeling settling in his bones.

He hadn’t set eyes on Annie all day. Neither had he spied Dunneld’s brilliant red head lumbering about. It was growing late now, and he was sweaty and tired and ready to sup and then to lock himself away with his wicked little faerie with the magic tongue and hands.

“Ha’ ye seen Annie?” he asked Morag as he passed her near the pier.

“Storehouse,” she grumbled, despite that she seemed to have softened toward Annie since Annie had discovered a way to keep Morag’s cheese fresh.

On the way he asked Brude.

His uncle stopped and scratched his head. “I saw her last going into the crannog,” he swore. “Though I canna be certain. Ask Dunneld.”

“I would if I knew where the bastard be,” Callum muttered, more to himself. And then recalled that Dunneld had agreed to take the evening shift at the cavern’s entrance this evening and he hoped to hell the man knew enough not to allow Annie into that grotto. She was a persistent little imp, and she knew precisely how to get her way. It had taken all his willpower to resist returning her crystal, for fear that it might be the only thing keeping her in the vale.

Mo chreach.

He craved the woman…like a drunkard craved whisky—which, by the by, he had a taste for at the instant and since he was near there already, he kept moving in the direction of the storehouse, fully intending to procure a dram and then to locate Annie.

Tonight he wanted to show her the sack he’d fashioned for her out of his share of the leather from their most recent hunt. She had been so disappointed by the disappearance of her dry blue sack, so he dyed this one blue, using the last of his woad paint. No more could be made until the spring, when the dye plants could be grown again and then picked. He’d pissed in the vat for three days in a row, until he was certain the stain was good and strong, and then he had immersed the leather sack into the dye bath and the color had set very well. The bright blue sack was drying now in the sun, and the thought of showing it to her pleased him immensely.

“Ach, Annie Ross, ye’re my wee fae, indeed,” he said to himself and shook his head, wondering if his Da was smiling in his grave at the thought of Callum’s restless arse settling down at last with a bonny lass.