Once Upon A Highland Legend (6 page)

The looks on all their faces ranged from surprise, to fear and doubt. If Annie had been a little less unnerved by the entire situation, she might have laughed.

Callum’s dark brows crashed, apparently disliking her answer. “Ye said ye were a Merican,” he growled.

It wasn’t a question, but Annie nodded. “That’s where faeries come from. Have you not heard of America?”

“Nay! So ye’re telling’ me ye’re a fae with a mortal father and mother?”

Annie was no expert on faeries, but she thought it could be possible. Honestly, right now, she was thinking practically anything could be possible. She shrugged, trying for a disaffected tone. “It happens to the best of us.”

Callum narrowed his gaze.

Annie was desperate to get the crystal back now. “Look…if you’ll just give me my crystal, I’ll prove it to you.” She couldn’t tell what it might be doing at the instant, or what their reaction to it was. Their attention seemed far more riveted on Callum’s discussion with her, but she hoped there might be some way to use the crystal to impress them. Kate hadn’t appeared to see any color changes, but the shopkeeper clearly had. Did these people see it as well?

She hoped.

The one called Brude suddenly seized the crystal from the woman who was holding it. He loomed over the group, glaring into the gently glowing orb.

Even from where Annie sat, she could see that it was turning a shade of pink in his grasp, though he seemed oblivious to that fact. “What’s so special aboot this piece o’ shite rock?” he demanded.

Annie hitched her chin up at him, and said with a sort of gypsy flair, “
That,
sir, is the Winter Stone. In its depths I see truth, lies and the destinies of men!”

“Bollocks!” the bearded man exploded. Though even as he said it, red sparked in his hands, and Annie experienced a tiny jolt of excitement at the discovery. He was getting angry. That much was clear. Maybe his anger was affecting the crystal’s color? It made sense to her in an odd sort of way. In many color association charts, red was attributed to anger. That, or passion, but then passion was also an intense emotion, she reasoned. If she could keep him talking, she might better be able to test the crystal. She had no clue what the colors meant as yet.

“I heard you say you buried your chief…” Her gaze was directed at Brude, not Callum now, though she realized it was Callum’s father and she felt another stab of guilt for intruding on his moment up on the ridge.

It took Brude a long instant to reply, and during that time, the crystal’s color heightened. “He was my brother,” he admitted, but reluctantly, his face twisted with what appeared to be regret mixed with anger.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“Are you maybe pleased over his death?”

The crystal’s color glowed brighter and he stood a little straighter, dropping the hand with the crystal at his side. He stiffened his shoulders as he scowled down at her. “What sort o’ daft question is that?”

For his part, Callum remained quiet, watching curiously. She shrugged, trying not to show fear at Brude’s aggression. “It was simply a question. I heard he was poisoned.”

The look on the man’s face turned murderous. “Are ye accusing me of killing my own brother, outlander bitch?”

Did faeries plead for their lives?
Annie winced. “No.”

He suddenly hoisted the crystal into the air, his voice thunderous. In his hand, the crystal glowed a fiery shade, illuminating his face with an eerie glow that set his forked beard afire. “I ought tae crack ye’re skull!” he said. “Instead, I’ll smash ye’re bloody keek stane!” He lunged toward the boulder where Callum sat, clearly intending to smash the crystal.

Inconceivably, Callum didn’t flinch as the brute descended upon him.

“No!” Annie cried, terrified that he would destroy her way home. “Please!”

Thankfully, Callum intervened. He stood, halting the man with a gently raised hand. “Enough!” he said.

The man froze above Callum, his expression full of fury.

Okay, so red was definitely anger, Annie decided, as Brude stood there, glaring at her with the crystal frozen in mid air. She couldn’t believe no one else seemed to notice the red-hot orb—especially not Brude. Like a mini sun, it shed its light far beyond the reach of the fire.

With a lifted brow, Callum peered from Annie to the crystal. He stood and calmly removed it from his uncle’s hand, then turned toward Annie, closing the distance between them, seeming not to notice the crystal’s transformation as it faded to pink in his grasp. It remained pink as he stared at her, holding it for her to take.

Annie’s heart was racing.

Awkwardly, because of the bindings on her wrists, she reached up to accept the crystal from him. To her surprise, as she touched it, that same arc of energy shot through her arm and she cried out, nearly dropping it. Somehow, she held onto it, and in her hands it turned to green.

Her reaction did not escape Callum’s notice, but Brude was unfazed. “She’s a lying bitch!” he groused as Annie recovered from the shock. “If she were a faerie—as she claims—she wadna still be sitting with arms bound. An’ ye wadna be keeping the wench if the sight of her didna harden your greedy cock, Callum mac Finn!”

Annie gasped aloud, peering up in surprise to gauge Callum’s reaction.

He was still staring at her, not at the crystal, nor at his uncle. And then he suddenly turned to address his kinsmen, and said evenly, “Until Biera arrives to give her a trial, whether ye like it or nay, the lass is under my protection.” He peered back at Annie and reassured her, “No one will harm ye, lass, as long as I have breath. I may no’ believe in faeries…but I believe in you.”

Those four little words kept echoing in Annie’s head.

I believe in you.

Even more than “I love you,” they had the power to infiltrate the little cracks of her heart. She sat mulling over the thrill it gave her to hear Callum say those words. But, really, why should she care if he believed in her? Aside from the simple fact that his
not
believing in her could prove to be life threatening, she didn’t know this man. Whether or not he had faith in Annie, the person, shouldn’t matter. And yet the simple fact that Paul had never believed in anything she had stood for—even after five years together—and this man had stood up for her after knowing her all of—what? A few hours?—was quite…confusing.

Point in fact: It had taken her all this time to even consider going after a dig for the Stone of Destiny. Why? Because her lovely fiancé had often pointed at her thesis, and her professor’s comments, as proof that she was batty. He had made her feel invalidated, and the last trek they’d made through the Cairngorms, Annie had secretly scoped out the terrain, without saying a word to Paul about her intentions.

All of it was so bemusing.

At least she had the Winter Stone back in her possession. Except that now she had to figure out how to make it work. Apparently, simply wishing upon the crystal wasn’t enough, despite the shopkeeper’s claim. Though Annie clearly recalled her saying,
“If ye truly wish it, the Winter Stone will return on its own.”So much for that.
It wasn’t working, and it certainly couldn’t be that she had reservations about leaving here—despite that little rush Callum’s words had given her.

Right, so she’d prefer to hang around a bunch of barbarians instead of getting home and crawling into her nice warm bed?

No.

However, she conceded, just maybe the chance at seeing the Stone of Destiny was holding her back…maybe a little? It was possible, because she was probably willing to saw off a limb or two for that opportunity.

In her hand the crystal had grown cold and milky again. She set it down beside her, contemplating its strange properties—none of which could be properly explained by properties known to her. Annie believed all things worked within the laws of nature, yet clearly there must be something she was missing here.

She eyed the woman they had left to guard her. Half naked, just like Callum. Hair streaked with gray and similar braids. Woad, half worn off. Weird clothes. Nope. Annie would be willing to bet that woman hadn’t seen a hairdryer in all her life.

Their discussion ended, the entire group had moved away from the fire, except for the elder woman. Someone came and dumped wood at the woman’s side, and she fed the fire all the while eyeing Annie with a look of undisguised suspicion.

Apparently, they didn’t trust her. How was she supposed to have guessed they were hiding the Stone of Destiny—less that she had somehow traversed centuries to arrive here at the perfect time to open mouth, insert foot?

The word coincidence didn’t apply here. She sensed there was something far greater at work. No, this wasn’t simply a coincidence.

Fae magic.

Had Annie somehow wished herself here while in that curio shop? Could it be that she had been so obsessed with
Lia Fàil
all her life because it had been her destiny all along? Maybe this was another one of those chicken or the egg riddles, because sitting here now, it felt strangely as though she had lived her entire life for this occasion, and that everything she had ever done had brought her to here and now.

She was still contemplating that when Callum returned, making his way purposely toward her, carrying something in his hand. He knelt beside her, surprising her with a napkin filled with foodstuffs. “Ye must be famished, lass?”

Annie peered up at him in surprise. Hungry? She had eaten her entire sandwich before falling asleep on that bloody hill and this situation wasn’t exactly giving her an appetite. “I’d rather have my hands unbound,” she said honestly. He frowned, but seemed to consider her request, so she pressed. “Please, where am I supposed to go? There’s only one way out of this valley, and you have it guarded by thugs.”

His brows collided. “Thugs?”

“Goons, gangsters…”

His expression only appeared all the more confused.

Annie sighed. “Guards.”

“Ach, lass, why di’ ye no’ simply say so?” He set the napkin down beside her, and unsheathed the knife at his boot.

Annie lifted both her brows as she watched him saw at her ropes. She would have argued that she was “saying so,” except that she was getting what she wanted so she held her tongue. “Thank you,” she said instead as his knife sliced through the last of the rope. Already her wrists were chafed, after only a few hours of being bound, and she rubbed the raw area with her thumb.

He eyed her, a warning in his steel gray eyes. “Dinna disappoint me, lass. If ye attempt to escape, I canna promise to keep ye safe. D’ ye ken?”

Annie nodded.

“Now eat,” he demanded. “Ye’re naught but skin and bones.”

Annie nodded, hoping to appease him so he would go away and allow her to continue examining her crystal in peace—certainly not because the sight of him made her envision him naked. He was buff, but not in the same way as those gym-heads who posed in the gym mirrors. His body was strong and sculpted by what could only have been long hours of labor. Still, it wasn’t like her to think of men as sex objects. She lifted a slab of cheese from the napkin, acutely aware of his scrutiny.

His eyes seemed to peer straight into her soul. “I’ll bring ye a wee dram,” he offered, though he sat down beside her, lifting his knees and wrapping his muscular arms around them, watching her nibble at the cheese. “Ye’re a strange lass,” he remarked after a moment. His lips broke into a boyish grin that made Annie’s heart skip a beat. “Then again ye’re one o’ the fae, so ye would ha’e me believe…”

Quite certain of his answer, Annie asked, “Just how many faeries have you known? I’ll have you know that everyone in America looks exactly like me.”

He lifted a brow. “
Exactly
?”

“Okay, maybe not
exactly
.”

His lips tipped at the corners, making Annie’s heart trip a little harder. Men like him rarely paid attention to her. Men like him preferred her cousin Kate. “Sounds like a mon’s idea of heaven,” he said, surprising her, and Annie blinked, heat suffusing her cheeks.

“Are you flirting with me?”

Once again his brows drew together, as though he didn’t quite understand. “Flirting?”

“Never mind,” Annie said awkwardly. But he
was
, she realized. The man was flirting with her. She couldn’t mistake that mischievous gleam in his eyes. Or the appreciative way he was looking at her…nor could she ignore that familiar pang of desire that was building somewhere deep inside.

Reluctant to leave the lass yet, Callum leaned back against the boulder they had
named Clach Tolargg,
in honor of their fallen brethren. His people believed these stones were the leavings of their gods. The greater the stone, the more significance it held, and the greater the spiritual connection. They held their counsels here.

“I need ye to tell me the truth, lass. Who sent ye? From whence di’ ye come?”

She stiffened. “Okay…that makes sense.” Her tone was full of reproach, and mayhap a bit of disappointment. She waved the cheese at him. “You want something from me, so you think you can flirt your way to answers.” She gave him a lovely little impertinent nod and he found himself enchanted by the guileless gesture.