Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(70)

The group meandered along the perimeter slope of the mountain until a small stream cut across our path. We changed direction to follow the flow, the snowmelt leading us down from the mountain to where it fed into a long, narrow loch. Sennian led us around the shoreline until an area opened up between the forest and the water large enough to accommodate our party.

Velloc dismounted and pulled me down into his arms. Numbness occupied the space between my ears as I let my man take charge.

Four men stayed mounted. They rode off in opposite directions, two to the west and two to the east, skirting the water’s edge. Safety remained a top priority, and the mood remained tense and alert.

While we waited for the patrols to return, others collected firewood, dropping gathered branches into a pile next to a sizable fire already taking shape. Minutes later, our security system returned, giving us a measure of peace for the moment. Then all four men took off again, presumably to stand guard at our flanks.

I stared out over the loch. The glassy surface appeared inky black, the setting moon behind us casting a shimmer over its peaceful surface. Churning happened beneath the calm, though. Outside tributaries secretly flowed beneath the vast watershed we’d traveled through. A shiver raced down my spine in response to a reaction that had nothing to do with the cold night temperature. Attentive to my needs, Velloc added his fur to the one already wrapped around my shoulders.

Rabbit, pheasant, and legs from what looked like several deer were brought out by the fire, skewered, and rotated on spits made from nearby branches. My mouth watered. Apples, pears, quinces, dates, and other exotic fruits were brought out and passed around; the raid had yielded more than stealing horses and winning a small battle against a large, advancing enemy.

I wriggled my hips between Velloc’s bent legs, nestling further back into his embrace. We sat on a gently sloping flat boulder as the men regaled each other with tales of the success they’d achieved only hours before. A sense of home and family surrounded me. Velloc tightened his hold, crossing his hands over my knees. I rested my cheek on his forearm, watching the orange tips of the flames snap into the air.

“Velloc, what brought you down to the Roman army?”

He nuzzled his lips against my ear, kissing it lightly. “A scout from a southern Pict tribe came to us, warning of the invaders coming north. We went down there to assess the situation, bringing most of our men. Larger tribes sent only part of their forces. Our combined group was only one of several raiding parties all across the enemy line. We attacked to ascertain their weaknesses before we regroup and return again. You call them . . . Roman?”

I nodded. “Yes. The Roman army comes from a land far away . . . over the ocean. They attempt to conquer the world.”

“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.