Highlander's Charm (Highlander Heat #3)

“That might no’ be for the best.” Arthur clasped his shoulder. “John MacIan has issued a call-to-arms.”


Damn. It seemed every clan surrounding them wished a fight. It’d been a year since John MacIan’s release from Lachlan’s dungeons, and if John wished to retaliate, now was the perfect time. As Lachlan’s second, Calum would have to remain here in his chief’s stead. “Aye, you’re right.”

“Brother, I can travel to Islay if you wish.” Colin shook his dark head, splattering drops over the tapestry covered wall. “I’ll ensure Lachlan does no’ act too rashly.”

“Nay, if MacIan is making his move, ’twould be best for you to travel to Tobermory and join the watchman there. Bring me word of any changes.”

Colin wouldn’t fail him, as he wouldn’t fail Lachlan in his duty to protect their clan.

“Are ye Calum MacLean?” An old woman staggered to her feet from a wooden bench before the blazing hearth. She tapped her walking stick on the floor and jingled the multitude of silver bangles adorning her wrists.

“I am. Who are you?” He crossed and offered her a steadying hand.

“I’ve been waiting for ye. The past must be set to rights. A woman will come. Ye must keep her safe from the sea, and never let her go.”

“What ramblings are these? Again, who are you?”

“Ye are the enemy, yet your heart is pure. She will aid ye, as ye will aid her.” She pressed a brass charm into his hand. “Ye were but a lad when she left. I have another charm to gift her, and I shall see it done. Ye are both bound and must embrace your coming visions. Ye will have them because of her, until all things are set right. Allow them to guide ye.” She tottered past Colin and Arthur and out the door.

Never had he had a more confusing conversation. The woman should take care she wasn’t called out as a witch for her words of foretelling. ’Twas dangerous days for such. “Who is she, Arthur?”

“A fortuneteller, though she didnae admit such. She’s been waiting for your return and wouldnae speak of her concerns with any other.”

He faced his brother. “Halt her. She cannae leave in this weather. At least offer her a pallet for the night. Tell her no harm shall come to her if she remains here.”

Colin marched out the door.

The charm in his palm heated. Ye were but a lad when she left. He traced the inscription lit by the golden glow of the fire’s flames.



Lila.

My charm.

Calum.



Lila. Her name resonated inside him. When he’d been just a lad, he’d been hunting in the forest with his father and seen a falling star. Grief had overwhelmed him, so swift and unexplainable.

Needing an answer for what he’d been told, he strode out the door.

Colin stood in the inner courtyard glancing in all directions.

“Where is the woman?”

“Gone, Calum. She disappeared with nary a trace.”

“’Tis impossible. She must be somewhere.” He trotted up the stairs to the battlements and gripped the thick stone crenellation. Beyond, the moors were clear. No fortuneteller.



For three nights, he’d been drawn to the eerie silence of the battlements, his soul restless and needy. This eve, the moon shimmered over the still loch, with not the slightest breeze to draw a ripple. The earth shook, and he clutched the charm he’d been unable to release.

Thrice this day the ground had moved so.

Possibly a bad omen. This morn, their warriors had returned from Islay, though missing their chief and a score of men. Lachlan had been captured and taken to Edinburgh, and their casualties had been great.

Duart was now his to protect from the enemy’s hands.

He wouldn’t fail his chief, nor his clan.

Pressing the charm to his chest, he closed his eyes.

Solace came when he did.





Chapter 1


On the way to the ruins of Mingary Castle, the seat of the MacIans of Ardnamurchan, Scotland, 2014.



Riding a mountain bike, Lila MacIan negotiated the stony downward trail near Mingary Castle. Birds chirped from the odd pine tree clinging to the craggy hillside, and salty sea spray drifted in the breeze and tickled her nose. This was the way to enjoy nature at its very finest. “How much farther, Zayn?”

“We’re close. Mingary’s around the tip.” Zayn MacKeane skidded his bike to a stop. Gravel thunked the rocks scattered along the grassy verge.

“Thank you for bringing me.” She pulled in beside the energetic eighteen-year-old. The sound’s blue-green waters glistened under the midday sun. The Isle of Mull, with its grassy moors and forested hills, appeared a lush jewel across the waterway. In times of old, Mull had been the land of her clan’s enemy, though that could never take away from the isle’s sheer beauty now. If only Nanna was here to see this with her, not missing somewhere in Scotland with the police and her endlessly searching.