Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends, Book 1) (25 page)

“Do they?” He asked the question harmlessly enough, but it reminded me of the secrets he knew about me .
 . . and how much more I knew about the world.

“No. But not for lack of trying, unfortunately.” I sighed at the great and destructive ego of man.

I reflected on the Battle of Mons Graupius and the questionable victory the Romans had claimed. History depended on who wrote the book. Tacitus had documented the event as a Roman victory with minimal losses on their side, yet they never occupied the Scottish Highlands. They erected a wall decades later, followed by a second wall. The barriers had separated the Highlands from what they did occupy—England and the Scottish lowlands.

“They bring as many as thirty thousand men.” I wanted him prepared. He needed to know the size of the force they faced.

Velloc’s muscles tensed at my news, and I turned in his arms. Dark, penetrating eyes questioned mine before he nodded. His gaze traveled to the ground in thought.

“All our tribes combined have more than that many men,” he commented.

“Would they unite like tonight?” I asked, even though I knew they had.

“Yes, to defend the land and protect our people, we would combine for a common cause.”

He stared at me, searching my eyes, hesitating. The wisdom he held in his expressions—in careful questions and the way he directed, led, and protected his people—explained a great deal about why his people followed him without question. I would follow Velloc across oceans upon command.

His voice fell to a whisper. “Did we win?”

I smiled. He’d weighed the consequences of knowing the course of events before they played out. His knowledge about whether they won or lost could impact the way they fought now. The information would either change the course of history, or resign him to their destiny.

How would I ever know the extent of
my
impact along the preordained timeline?

I grasped his hands in mine, squeezing them. “Velloc, no one knows. The arrogant Romans were the only ones who told the story. They
claimed
victory, but no evidence suggests they actually won. They never stayed.”

Velloc nodded. His seriousness bore the gravity of the situation, penetrating every crease on his furrowed face.

I kissed him, drawn to the quiet power of his discernment, palpable in the air around us—between us. Long, lazy nips of his lips, his tongue caressing alongside mine, and his arms traveling up my back, pulled me closer, combining us . . . defining us as one.

His gentle hands on my shoulders separated us, and he closed his eyes, touching his forehead to mine. “Isobel, why are you back? He let you go?”

The conversation had to happen. I’d been avoiding the difficulty I knew he’d have with the reality of the situation. So many qualities that Velloc possessed, Iain shared. Two men identical in core values and personalities existed over the span of twelve hundred years. It made me wonder at the oddity of being soul mate to them both. No wonder the box had paired me twice.

In silent prayer, I begged for it to end there. My sanity couldn’t deal with another surprise mate. Twice in a lifetime was more than most ever hoped to have. Some never found love. Two perfect matches—at the same time—filled my glass completely.

“I insisted I had to come back, Velloc. I love you. My heart belongs to you.”

He sighed loudly, but I kept talking, needing to get it all out in the open.

“It also belongs to him. He is my husband—the first man who has ever known my body; the only man before you to ever hold my heart. I love you both.” I pulled back enough to catch his gaze.

He listened, his solemn face .
 . . unreadable.

“He’s a man very much like you—a leader, strong, kind, fierce. He didn’t ask for this. We’d just been married and my heart was wrapped completely in him.

“When I met you, I thought I’d been trapped here. Your ferocity and protectiveness captured my love in a heartbeat’s time. I’d been imprisoned by your love long before I’d understood what had happened.” I paused, taking a breath, waiting for his reaction.

“You love us
both
.” He spoke slowly, digesting all he’d heard.

“I do. Iain had a hard time accepting that I love another man. I imagine you will too. None of us deserved to have this happen, and yet, what each of us share together is so rare, so precious.” I expressed every ounce of compassion that I felt in the gentle tone of my voice.

“How did you come back?” he asked.

“The box had been passed down through time. You have it now. I imagine your people continued handing it down through the generations until Iain’s people gained possession of it. His tribe is a clan called Brodie. Your people, the Picts, are his clan’s ancestors. I don’t really know if he descends from your tribe specifically.” I thought about the chain of events. “You said you obtained the box from another tribe?”

“Yes.” He arched a brow. “I stole it.” He smirked.

I laughed. Pirating between tribes had been suspected, but firsthand knowledge confirmed it. Historians had correctly theorized some of the mysteries of the early Picts.

The reminder surfaced a new idea. I settled back into his arms, watching muted watercolors paint the world of the loch, the short midsummer night bringing forth morning’s gloaming.

“If the box has already traveled between tribes, it’s possible that it might still change hands. His clan might not have even descended from yours.”

The realization swirled up unasked questions like a dust devil lifting grains of sand left undisturbed until the right conditions for liftoff. I snatched one from the whirlwind of my mind.

“How did you become leader of your people?”

“My brother was chieftain before me. I supported and advised him. Our people respected him. During a hunting party, a bear killed him. I had to put my shock and grief aside; it had been a hard winter and our people needed to be fed. We wrapped his body in skins and continued the hunt. Anger at his loss cleared my head, fueling my actions like nothing ever had. We brought more food back on that hunt than we’d killed in months. The men never wavered. They followed me when our brother died and officially made me their leader upon our return.”

I knew it. History
had
been wrong.

Bede, “The Father of English History,” far-reached his limited knowledge of the Picts all the way from England, using hand-me-down information and experiences more than six hundred years forward from where I stood. With inadequate information, he’d concluded a matriarchal society existed among Picts solely because the Irish
claimed
to have supplied the Picts their only women on the sole condition that Pict kings were to be chosen from the female royal line.

Velloc, however, made crystal clear the reasoning behind his rule. The decision had been made for experience and obvious leadership skills. They pledged allegiance to the one who immediately protected and guided them, giving their people the best chance to flourish.

Pride in the knowledge that I’d gained—and in the man that had provided it—filled me with renewed hope. My sense of purpose grew with even that small historical revelation.

I leaned back into the warmth of his chest, lacing my fingers into his and wrapping our arms around us. “I have to go back.”

“When?” he asked, pressing his lips to my temple.

“In a few days. Iain agreed to have part of my time with all my heart, rather than all of me with a piece missing.”

Velloc nodded but said nothing.

The air hung heavy with our love and his desperation about the situation. As alike as my two warriors were, it surprised me how differently they dealt with the same issue. I wondered if a storm simmered below Velloc’s calm surface. I turned in his arms, burying my face into his neck, holding him tighter.

Velloc lifted me up, untangling our arms. He led us to a secluded, elevated cave protected by surrounding boulders. The vista afforded us a breathtaking view just as a blinding sun broke the horizon. He pulled me to the ground, holding me in his arms as we witnessed dawn’s arrival.

Dark storm clouds edged into view from the north. The snow-capped mountains above us commanded their own weather, funneling a cold wind down through the valley. My focus, however, remained steadfast over the peaceful water as shimmering sunlight stole the show.

CHAPTER
Twenty-five

Highlands of
Scotland—First Century AD, Five Days after My Return

Warriors, hundreds strong, moved across the field like a single large predator hunting its prey—all sleek muscle, stalking gait, and focused eyes—as their leader and his mate rode proudly at the front of the pack, guiding them to their common goal: the solace of home.

A sleepy village snapped to life before my eyes. Women who were hanging fish and meat, carrying baskets, and preparing fire pits dropped everything midtask, rushing to greet us. Not a single man in our pack broke rank, but I could feel their pent-up energy building behind us. A massive spiritual and physical collision happened when bodies connected with bodies, shouts ringing out in joy.

I dismounted Malibu and stood among them. I’d become one of them in every way, and yet, a chilling detachment seeped numbness into my heart.

Homecoming fell bittersweet onto my shoulders, my arrival counting down the coming of my departure .
 . . back to another time. The melancholy of a great vacation ending too soon doused my mood, and I plunged into an empty abyss, circling aimlessly, needing to find my North Star.

All the travel had made me weary. I’d become a wandering vagabond without a home, searching for my place in the vastness of my new reality. However, my despondency lightened somewhat as I thought about another man .
 . . a thousand years forward and a day and a half away . . . who held my heart.

A dog nearly knocked me over as a child chased after the reckless beast. I wandered from the frenzy of activity toward the nearly completed
broch
. The circular stone structure had a large square entrance. Rough-cut rocks had been dry stacked, but the roof still opened toward the sky. Stepping inside gave me no more indication of its use than the ruins left to taunt us in the twenty-first century. My fingers skimmed the jagged surface, a heavy sigh escaping my lips.

My purpose had clouded. Uncovering truths lying hidden in time had been my singular goal for so long. But well along that path, I’d begun to struggle for a reason to reveal history’s secrets.
To what end would it serve?

Velloc’s scent hit me seconds before disturbed air changed the echoing sounds of the ocean. His warm arms wrapped around me.

Emblazoned brightly, my path lit up like a spotlight-lined landing strip in the darkest night. The lost traveler’s way stood behind her.

I’d gone from an historical interpreter to a vibrant thread woven into the tapestry of time. I had two guides who held integral pieces of the puzzle as to how and why I’d been chosen. Velloc didn’t hold all the answers, but since I knew he’d stolen the box from another tribe, I had an idea of where I could find them. And Iain knew a hell of a lot more than he’d been willing to share.

One question remained: would both men cooperate in my task? I
had
to find out. I had to know one thing more than anything.
Why me?

“How do you feel about my having to go back?” I asked.

He bent down and touched his lips to my ear, murmuring, “I don’t like it at all. What if I don’t let you go?”

I laughed. “You act as if that’s an option. None of us have total control of what we want in life, but when I travel in time—and where I’m destined to go—is governed by that box.”

“Without the box, you’d have no way back.” The edge in his tone loaded his threat.

“You would do that? Take away the box?” I asked.

His pause dragged heavy between us. “Yes. You’re everything, Isobel. It doesn’t matter that someone else waits for you. What matters is that you seek to be with him rather than stay with me. You are
mine
. I won’t let you go.”

“Velloc, please. This is bigger than my wants or yours. I know what happens in history. Maybe my travel through time has already happened and charted the historical record that I’ve read. I don’t know. What I do know, to my very core, is that my next step is to learn about the box: from where it derives its power, who controls it, and why I was chosen. You’ve no right to deny me, just as I have no right to deny my fate.”

The sudden release of his hold knocked me off-balance. I spun around, but he’d disappeared. I darted out of the
broch
just as he entered our home. I marched after him.

My eyes adjusted as I searched the darkness of the room, and I spotted his bent form kneeling at the head of our pallet before the box.

He spoke softly. “This box brought me you.” He stared down at the artifact.

“Yes. Without it, I wouldn’t be here,” I replied.

“The thing that brought peace and joy back into my life will take it away . . . take you away . . .” His quiet voice drifted.

I went to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I
will
be back, Velloc. Often. Iain’s agreed to a certain amount of time spent with him. Can’t you do the same? I will give you all of my heart when I’m here. Know and trust in that.”

Velloc shook his head. He struggled with the same fears Iain had. They each risked losing me forever. Velloc had already lost his first wife. He’d also had less time to adjust to the concept of my traveling between two men than Iain, and Iain had
demanded
that time.

Between Velloc’s calves, I knelt behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, sliding my hands up his chest, kissing his bare shoulder. “We have a saying in my time: ‘If you love something, set it free.’ A bird is meant to take wing, not be caged. Let me fly, Velloc. I love you. My love for you alone will bring me back.”

“What of this war with the Romans? How does that fit into your plans?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. He’d be fighting in the war. They all would. A dark menace would descend upon them, scouring the land, threatening them all.

“I don’t have a plan, Velloc. I’m living life one day at a time as any other does. You’re a valiant leader and remarkable warrior. The greatest battle recorded cites victory to the Romans, but without their hold on the land, it’s an empty claim.”

He shook his head again, “No. Isobel, I can’t protect you if you’re not here. Wars exist in every man’s time. I do not know this man, Iain.” He lifted my hands to his mouth, kissing my fingertips. “I trust only this—only you .
 . . here with me.”

He placed his hands on the metal lid. I put a hand over his, careful not to touch the metal. “Velloc, no one has a guarantee for tomorrow. We live for today. I’m here with you now, and I love you. My purpose beyond that is greater than you, me, or Iain. I need to find out what role I play in the adventure.”

“No. You live for today? Live for right now.” He twisted, tumbling us back onto our bed, lacing his fingers with mine. “I’m on the path with you, holding your hand . . . only me.”

I opened my mouth and his lips silenced my protest, his body calming the fight right out of me. I spread my hands across the lean muscles of his back, pulling his weight down until all I felt and thought about was him.

He was right about one thing. I would live for the now.

* * *

Shadowy tendrils of fear slithered into my mind. I shot upright. Trace light framed the doorway. I spun around, scanning the room. Our small home was empty.

Velloc .
 . .
and the box
. . . were gone.

I scrambled outside and searched the shoreline, the village, and the
broch
for any sign of him. Sea mist swirled everywhere, shrouding the land in eerie camouflage.

The snort of a horse snapped my head around. Fog curled around a figure wearing a black, hooded cloak. He was seated on a black beast larger than any we had in our herd. His horse reared, whinnying as its hooves clawed the air, and I froze. The stranger cradled the box in his arms.

His animal turned around and charged into the mist. I sprinted after them, only to watch the horse, rider, and box evaporate like a ghostly apparition. Stunned at what I’d just witnessed, I ran straight to the spot where he’d disappeared. Energy sparked through the space they’d occupied and filtered through my body.

I jumped at a shift in the air current to my left, my heart slamming into my chest. Velloc stepped out of the fog. His expression seemed grave but not distressed as he stared at me.

Panic welled up.

My pulse raced.

Nothing made sense.

Constants that I’d clung to in the masquerade of my life crumbled into illusion. My mind had already accepted as fact that the box remained present throughout time, facilitating my travel between my worlds. The greater forces at work transported
me
from place to place—
not the box
.

The parameters had suddenly changed with the box vanishing into thin air, my miniscule understanding of everything and everyone surrounding the box made glaringly obvious.

In anger, I shoved Velloc’s chest hard, knocking him back a step. The man I trusted most had betrayed me. The foundation I’d tried so hard to build, to have solid ground beneath me, had been rocked by a singular act.

“How could you? You threaten to take the box from me, and while I’m asleep, you give it to another? Who was he? Why?” I glared at his chest, clenching my jaw, feeling as if my entire being was about to detonate, exploding from my heart out.

His finger hooked my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I gave no one the box.” His terse words bounced off the ice dam in my mind.

“
Riiight
. You expect me to believe he just strolled in and stole it from you as we slept. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” As my acid words dripped out of my mouth, they floated into my ears. The impossible had become very plausible in past weeks. Even I had to take a step back and wonder how much more fantastic the journey could get.

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes never straying from mine. “Isobel, it
is
true. I startled awake to find the box gone. My first thought? The tribe I’d stolen it from had taken it back. I rushed out, alarmed for the safety of our village, armed for a fight, but saw only the one man. As for
how
he got past us, I have no explanation.”

My gaze drifted down his completely naked body. He gripped a spear in one hand and knife in the other. Velloc’s state of undress and weaponry supported his claim, and relief flooded in, displacing my anger.

I exhaled, crumpling into his chest, feeling defeated. “Velloc, I’m sorry for doubting you.”

He wrapped solid arms around me. “It’s already forgiven, Isobel. I understand why you panicked, but know that my love for you would never allow me to deceive you.”

Velloc was asking for my unwavering trust, and yet we both needed to have it in one another. A soft voice, a plea, left my lips. “Velloc, we have to go to the tribe you stole the box from.” If what he’d said was true, another woman like me would be there. With no other viable lead to follow, foraging along the same route the box had previously taken seemed my only option.

He sighed. “Yes. We do. If I’m to have a happy wife, we do. Drust, however, might have me killed for stealing his box and returning empty-handed, asking again for what I’d pirated. The
Lugi
don’t handle offenses brought to light very well. Given the risk, my agreement makes me worry that I’ve wandered into a realm of madness.”

I laughed. “Yeah? Well, it’s good to know I’m not alone. Insanity craves company.”

Velloc shook his head, laughing as he ruffled the hair at the top of my head. He grabbed my hand, and we jogged back to gather supplies.

* * *

At a full gallop, Velloc led us on a different path than we’d taken before, heading due east. The direction enabled us to cover more ground with less tributaries and mountains barring our way. The few waterways we did encounter had only the faintest markings of a trail, thick foliage masking most of the path on the rarely taken route.

In a day’s hard ride, we reached the coastal tribe of the
Lugi
after pushing our horses just below their limit. Adrenaline had successfully conquered the tired in me, but with all the physical and mental stress I’d had over the week on such little sleep, I knew exhaustion would soon be the victor.