Page 53 of Beloved Enemy
“Oh,” she said, her shoulders falling with a hint of dejection.
Don’t be ridiculous,Charlotte, she scolded herself. Of course this vibrant, electrifying man was not interested in her.
She’d spent nearly every day since Reid had kissed her trying to convince herself that it had meant nothing—that it hadn’t stirred something deep within her or made her question everything she thought she wanted. She told herself that she didn’t want to stay in this time for a man, no matter how magnetic or perfect he seemed. To assign any significance to that kiss would be reckless, foolish even, especially for someone like her, who had—as she’d just said and which was true— always guarded her heart, resisting connections out of fear of being hurt or left behind.
And yet she couldn’t deny that as they neared Ben Nevis the thought of leaving him behind filled her with a strange, hollow ache. She knew she definitely didn’t want to be in the 14thcentury, but she was compelled to be honest with herself: she did kind of want to know Reid Nicholson. Or at least be given the opportunity to know him better, to see if there was any chance—
Good Lord, there I go again.
Stop. I belong in the twenty-first century. That’s where I need to be.
Still, the closer they got to the mountain, the harder it became to ignore the tiny voice in the back of her mind that whispered she didn’t really want to go.
Their journey continued mostly in silence, with Reid occasionally signaling the men under his command to spread out and search the area for any signs of the reivers who had escaped during their last encounter. Charlotte tried to distract herself by taking in the scenery—the dense woods gradually giving way to more open terrain as they climbed higher. The landscape was breathtaking, with rolling hills that seemed to stretch on forever, dotted with spring wildflowers and patches of heather.
At one point, Tavish rode beside them, asking Charlotte why she expected to be reunited with her kin on this day and time.
Charlotte stared blankly at Reid’s second-in-command, having no idea how to respond. She couldn’t simply say she was only hopeful of some witch, seen or unseen, being present at the mountain to take her back to the future.
“Just as we have contingencies in place,” Reid answered for her, “so, too, Charlotte and her kin had laid plans for how to reconnect if they should become separated.”
“And what was it ye were about, ye and yer kin,” Tavish asked, not bothering to hide his distrust of her, “near the mountains that day?”
“Oh, um,” Charlotte began nervously, “we were simply traveling from one place to another.”
“Going from Blarmachfoldach to Inverlochy,” Reid inserted. “Visiting her sire’s kin.”
“Yer sire is kin to the Camerons?” Tavish persisted, narrowing his eyes at her.
She nodded mutely, but said nothing, having no desire to add to these lies. And just as Charlotte thought peevishly that Tavish had been very suspicious of her from day one, she admitted to herself that obviously, he had cause to be. Her entire existence in this time period was told as a lie.
“And what do ye ken of Tor Castle?” Tavish asked next.
“She dinna ken anything about it,” Reid clipped impatiently. “And how would she? She’s never been there, having been separated ere they might have visited the Macintoshes of Tor.”
When Tavish asked no more—possibly deterred by Reid’s palpable annoyance—and moved out of earshot, Charlotte said quietly to Reid, “I didn’t even think to wonder what you had told your men.”
“The less they ken, the better,” was his response.
The landscape around them was rugged and wild, the mountains looming in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist. The path they followed was narrow and winding, cutting through dense forests and across rocky streams. Though the sun was out, the air was crisp and Charlotte was grateful for her sweatshirt though she would have much preferred the breacan Reid had lent her. Her eyes widened.
Damn, I should have brought it with me.She would have nothing to remember him by—er, nothing by which to remember her fantastic adventure.
“What if I get moved somewhere else?” she asked after the silence between them had stretched on for several miles. “Like to another century or place that is not where I want or need to be?”
Reid was slow to answer, clearing his throat first. “Charlotte, I dinna ken anything about it—I ken even less than ye. But aye, that’s something to consider. At the very least, I suppose the possibility of going elsewhere—being moved elsewhere—should give ye pause.”
"But... to not even try? To just accept that this is my fate, that I’ll stay here forever..." She let the words hang between them, not so much an argument as an attempt to give him the chance to say something—anything—that might make her want to stay.
“'Tis your fate to be decided, and thus your decision to make.”
Not helpful.
They’d been several hours in the saddle when the Grampian Mountains came into view and another thirty minutes before they reached the base of Ben Nevis, which looked familiar in shape and size, but was so different from her twenty-first century view, being so heavily forested now, and having no clear path or trail.
At the clearing near the bottom, Reid called for a halt. The men began setting up a small camp, clearly expecting to be here for a while. Charlotte dismounted, her legs stiff from the long ride, and stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness and her unease.
She walked a few steps away, staring up at the towering mountain. It was imposing, its slopes covered in dense forest that eventually gave way to rocky crags higher up. This was the place where it had all started—the place where she had been flung into this strange, ancient world. She waited for a joyous anxiety to overcome her, a mad desire to get home, but though her emotions were high, none of them seemed to be a desperate hope to leave this time.
