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  Her Highlander Fate

  Amid pressures from his uncle and clan to marry a suitable Scottish bride, Aleck, laird of Lorne Castle, meets a mysterious foreign lass who sets his senses aflame.

  Transported through time from present day to medieval Scotland, the last thing Sara expects is to fall for a dashing Highland laird.

  Separated by time, class, and duty, will Aleck and Sara give in to their powerful attraction?

  * * *

  This novelette is a prequel to the Highlander Fate series by Stella Knight and includes a sneak peek of Eadan’s Vow, the first book in the series.

  Her Highlander Fate: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

  A Highlander Fate Novella

  Stella Knight

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Eadan’s Vow

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  1385

  Lorne Castle

  Among the throng of revelers who crowded the castle grounds, Aleck only saw the woman. She wore a plainer gown than the peasants and nobles around her, yet she was lovelier than anyone here. She wore her hair loose, her dark waves hanging nearly to her waist. From this distance, he could see that her eyes were hazel, an odd yet arresting mix of green and gold.

  As laird of Lorne Castle, Aleck needed to keep company with the nobles who surrounded him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the lass. It was May Day, and the villagers had come to the castle grounds to celebrate at the annual festival held here. Nobles and peasants alike were invited, and Aleck saw many familiar faces in the crowd. But he’d never seen the dark-haired hazel-eyed lass before.

  She stood apart from the other revelers as they moved about the courtyard with cups of ale, their baskets heaped high with food the castle provided for the occasion. Others danced to songs the minstrels had been playing all throughout the day. She looked around at the festivities, a quiet look of awe in her eyes.

  Aleck stepped away from the nobles who surrounded him, crossing the courtyard to approach her. When her eyes locked with his, his breath caught in his throat. Even though he was still several yards away from her, it was as if an invisible thread linked them.

  Most of the guests knew he was the laird, but when he reached her, there was no recognition in her eyes. Nor was there any of the reverence the nobles and peasants bestowed upon him. He wondered if she was from a distant village.

  “Good day tae ye, lass,” he said, his eyes meeting her stunning gold-green ones. “I'm Aleck.”

  “I’m—I’m Sara,” she murmured. She had an odd accent; one that he’d never heard before.

  “Sara,” he said, holding out his hand. “May I ask ye tae dance?”

  She looked startled at the request, and a slight flush chained her cheeks. She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she’d refuse, but she took his hand.

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  Heat coursed through him at her touch as he led her to the center of the courtyard. He could feel the curious eyes of the other revelers on them, and he could surmise their whispers: Why is the laird dancing with that peasant woman?

  But he found that he did not care. He couldn't take his eyes off her as he pulled her into his arms. They began to dance to the strains of music. At first, she seemed unsure of what to do, a look of embarrassment crossing her face as he patiently guided her along with his steps. Were there no May Day festivities where she was from? And what of her strange accent? He found Sara intriguing; he couldn’t wait to learn more about her.

  She met his eyes as he pulled her close, and it was difficult to quell the surge of desire that filled every part of him. He’d never felt anything close to the attraction he felt for Sara with other lasses. Aleck was nearing his thirtieth year, and his Uncle Fergus had been urging him to wed soon. But none of the daughters of nobles stirred his loins the way this Sara did. What was it about her?

  “Where are ye from?” he asked, as he twirled her in his arms.

  “En—England,” she hedged, averting her gaze.

  He stiffened, instinctively knowing she wasn’t telling him the truth. Her accent differed from that of the Englishmen he’d met, but the way she’d avoided his eyes also told him she was being dishonest.

  But why? A wave of protectiveness swept over him. Perhaps she was on the run from a husband or a lover. He suppressed the stab of jealousy that pierced him at the thought of her with a husband or lover, shaking his head. He barely knew the lass, and he was jealous of a potential man in her life.

  The song ended, and he released her with reluctance.

  Aila, the young daughter of his steward, ran up to them with a basket of hawthorn flowers. Sara smiled and squatted down so the child could place flowers in her hair.

  When she straightened, Aleck stepped forward and took her hand. He swallowed when another surge of heat flowed through him. Sara met his eyes, her lips parting in surprise.

  “May—may I take a walk with ye?” he asked.

  Again, she hesitated, before giving him a shy smile.

  “I’d like that,” she replied.

  He kept his hand over hers, and the other guests openly stared as he and Sara strolled out of the courtyard. He knew the gossip would spread like wildfire, and Fergus would lecture him about spending time with a foreign lass who was likely a peasant. But at the moment, all he could concentrate on was how natural it felt to have Sara’s hand in his.

  “What brings ye tae the festivities?” he asked.

  “I’m—I’m visiting family in the village,” she said, not looking at him. “They were too ill to attend, so I attended in their stead. And you?” she asked, glancing up at him. She took in his fine clothes. “Are you from the village? A castle worker?”

  Now it was Aleck’s turn to hesitate. He knew that as soon as he told her he was the laird, she’d treat him differently. Perhaps she’d become even more guarded. And he didn’t want that. It was a relief she didn’t know who he was; he could temporarily set aside the mantle of responsibility he shouldered as laird.

  “I’m a farmer,” he said, ignoring the flash of guilt that filled him at the lie. He had to remind himself that she was likely not being truthful as well.

  Again, her eyes drifted down to take in his clothes. The tunic and fine belted plaid kilt he wore indicated noble status, but she didn’t question him further.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she said, taking in the surrounding landscape. The emerald green grounds and hills, the hazy patches of clouds dominating the clear blue sky, the dark green forest that hugged the horizon. “And . . . it’s quiet. Even with the festival.”

  “Are ye from London?” he asked, hoping to get a hint of where she was from, though her accent didn’t match that of the Londoners he knew.

  “No,” she said, after a long pause. “But the area around my—village—is not as peaceful as it is here.“

  “If ye think this is bonnie,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “Then I have a sight for ye.”

  He led her to the banks of Loch Moran, a lake that lay even further beyond the grounds of the castle. The blue waters of the lake reflected the clear blue sky and clouds above while patches of forests and hills surrounded the banks on the opposite side. It was one of his favorite places to go when he needed solitude.

  Her eyes lit up at the sight and she shook her head in awe. He studied her, reveling in the look of pleasure in her eyes. He had the sudden urge to keep a smile on her face . . . to keep her happy. But he wanted to know what she was hiding. Perhaps he could offer her protection if she was in danger.

  “Tell me of yer family,” he said.

  “Not much to tell,” she said, keeping her gaze trained on the lake. “My parents died a while ago. I’ve only distant cousins.”

  There was a genuine flash of pain in her eyes. This statement must be the truth.

  “And you?” she asked.

  He now understood her tactic. Ask him a question instead to take the burden off of her. If it would help her open up, he would oblige.

  “My uncle raised me. Parents also died years ago. But we’ve never been close—he’s always been distant. Of late, he’s been on me tae find a suitable bride.”

  As soon as he spoke those last words he regretted them. He didn’t want to discuss his troubles with her. But she was studying him with a curious gaze, so he continued, “I donnae care for any of the lasses he wishes me tae wed. ’Tis not common, but when I wed I hope tae have a wife I truly care for.”

  A powerful longing swept over him at the words; he hadn’t realized until now how much he wanted a loving family. Most lairds married daughters of allied noble or clan leaders. He wanted more than that. And that was why he’d not wed before now.

  “I hope you find a wife who can make you happy,” Sara said, giving him a wistful smile.

  He wanted to ask her more questions, to have her open up to him, but as strains of music from the castle’s courtyard drifted toward them, he extended his hand.

  Sara looked surprised, but smiled and took his hand. He led her in a dance, right there on the banks of Loch Moran. For several moments as they danced, the world faded away, and it was just the two of them.

  As the song ended, Aleck didn’t want to let her go. Desire seized him, and his eyes
remained locked on hers as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

  Sara returned his kiss, her arms going around his neck. He held her lush curves close against him as he plundered her mouth with his own, and when they broke apart, breathless, Sara stumbled back. Her eyes were wide, and she touched her lips.

  “I—I—" she faltered. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

  She turned and fled before he could stop her.

  Chapter 2

  Why did you stay? Sara scolded herself as she hurried away from the castle. As soon as the handsome Scot approached, she should have made her excuses and fled. But she’d been unable to move as he approached her; it was like her feet were glued to the ground.

  He was by far the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He was tall, well over six feet, with chestnut brown hair, chiseled features, and vivid green eyes. She could tell that beneath the tunic and belted plaid kilt he wore, he had a lean muscular body. The desire that seared her insides at the sight of him was raw—instantaneous. And so wrong.

  Sara kept her eyes focused on the dirt road as she hurried forward, lifting her skirts to help quicken her movements, her heart hammering in her chest. She should have come up with a better back story; she could tell by the look in his eyes he didn’t believe her story about visiting family. But she’d never intended to talk to anyone . . . she just wanted to observe and take in her surroundings.

  Right before Aleck kissed her, she’d been so tempted to tell him the truth.

  She was a time traveler from the twenty-first century.

  Sara shook her head, imagining how that would have turned out. No, it was better that she’d fled. He probably would have had the villagers come and hang her for being a witch.

  But it was true. Impossibly, Sara had traveled through time.

  In her own time in the twenty-first century, Sara had stumbled across the ruins of an abandoned village after taking a wrong turn while visiting the Scottish Highlands. A powerful sense of déjà vu overcame her as she explored the village, and when she stepped into the ruins of the castle that lay on the edge of the village, a powerful vortex of wind had tugged her on body, and she felt as if a tornado had sucked her into its swirling center.

  When she came to, she found herself on the outskirts of a medieval village. Dazed, she’d kept herself tucked away in the surrounding forest while watching people in authentic medieval-looking clothes mill about. There was no sign of modern paved roads, her car, or anything from the twenty-first century.

  She’d kept out of sight, finding her way into an empty church that lay on the edge of the village. She’d stumbled into the church and found an open record book that someone had left on a pew. And her heart nearly fell out of her chest. Though written in Latin, she recognized the current year it had logged.

  1385.

  Despite her shock, she’d slipped out of the church when she heard approaching voices and slipped back into the forest. Thanks to extensive camping trips she’d taken with her father as a child, she was familiar with using landscapes and the positioning of the sun for orienting herself after getting lost. She’d recognized a distinctively shaped mountain, the shape of a clenched fist, in the distance, and used it as a guide post to find her way back, on foot, to the ruins of the same village she’d come to in her own time.

  To her relief, the village was only a couple of miles away. It was in the same state of ruin here as it was in her own time. She’d entered the ruins of the castle, and that rush of wind sucked her forward . . . back to her own time.

  Shaken, she retraced her steps back to the medieval village, but it had vanished. Along with the dirt roads. There was no hint of what she’d just seen.

  For weeks afterward, she went over every possible explanation for her experience in her mind. Maybe she’d hit her head while exploring the ruins and had a strange dream. Maybe she’d stumbled upon an authentic-looking medieval reenactment. But some instinct told her this wasn’t the case—that somehow, she’d traveled through time.

  She didn’t dare tell anyone what she’d experienced. Her closest friend, Paige, the owner of the bookstore where Sara worked would have thought she was crazy if she even broached the possibility that what she’d experienced had been real. She considered taking Paige with her back to the village as a witness, but ultimately decided to return on her own. She needed confirmation that what she’d experienced had been real.

  So she’d taken a second trip to Scotland, this time purchasing a fourteenth century gown from a costume shop in Edinburgh. If she wasn’t crazy and did fall through time again, she'd bring back proof.

  And . . . it had happened again. As soon as she entered the ruins of the castle, she’d felt that powerful tug of wind on her body and found herself on the outskirts of that same village. This time, she saw that all the villagers were heading to the nearby castle, speaking of a festival, and she’d followed along with the crowd, hoping to be as unobtrusive as possible.

  But when the stunningly handsome Scot had approached her, she’d forgotten all about her plans to get proof and remain in the background. Even now, a sliver of heat went through her at the memory of their kiss and the feel of his strong, muscular body pressed against hers.

  Sara shook her head, forcing herself back to the present. She’d arrived back at the ruins of the village where she’d first time-traveled. Taking a breath, she made her way to the castle, trying to push the handsome Scot from her mind.

  But as she drew close to the castle and heard the telltale rush of wind that came from the center of its ruins, she hesitated. The portal would suck her back to her own time, hundreds of years away from the gorgeous man she’d just met, the man who’d set her senses aflame.

  He’s from another time, she scolded herself. And you don’t know how all this works. Your point was to get evidence and come back.

  She had to force herself to keep moving forward and enter the castle. Taking a breath, she approached the swirling vortex of wind she could hear and not see, and the world around her dissolved as she returned to her own time.

  Present Day

  Portland, Maine

  * * *

  “OK. What’s going on with you?”

  Sara looked up. It was a week later and she was back at her job in the bookstore, categorizing a stack of books. Paige stood opposite her, hands on her hips, her blue eyes studying Sara with concern.

  Sara flushed, lowering her gaze. She’d hoped to do a better job of hiding the sadness that had consumed her since her return. She’d been walking around in a haze, thoughts of Aleck haunting her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about the connection they’d shared, the pull she felt toward him, and the strange sense of mourning that coursed through her, knowing that now, in this time . . . he was long dead.

  “Sara?” Paige pressed.

  Sara looked back up at her friend, biting her lip. How could she tell her friend she had a strong attraction to a medieval Highlander? She could only imagine how that conversation would go. Oh and by the way, it seems I can travel through time.

  She went with a half-truth instead.

  “When I was in Scotland, I met a guy.”

  “Really?” Paige asked, her eyes going wide with delight.

  Amusement filled Sara at Paige’s obvious delight. Sara had always been a loner, content to keep to herself. She’d only gone on the occasional date. Her life was burying herself in books and working at the bookstore, a job she genuinely enjoyed. Until she’d met Aleck, she’d been content with her life, ignoring the occasional stabs of loneliness. Paige had urged her to step out of her comfort zone and start dating. You’re twenty-eight, Paige often told her. Have as much fun as possible before you turn thirty.

  “Yes,” Sara said cautiously. “But he lives—there. My life’s here.”

  “Well, if there’s a connection, there’s nothing wrong with exploring it,” Paige said. “What’s wrong with trying out a long distance relationship? Or at least visit him for a longer period just to see how it goes? The bookstore will be just fine if you need to take an extended vacation. These trips to Scotland have been the only real vacations you’ve taken in years.”