Once Upon A Highland Legend by Tanya Anne Crosby Page A

this one wasn’t made of sandstone. It was made of what appeared to be basalt. Unlike the one commonly held as the Stone of Scone, it had no handles on either side, but there were holes where handles might have once been. Clearly, it wasn’t an easy object to tote around. Seeing it up close, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the stone returned to Edinburgh in 1996 was a fake.
    This one bore an intricately carved metal plaque. Annie ran her fingers over the etched letters, worn with age, but clearly visible.
     
    Unless the fates be faulty grown
    And prophet’s voice be vain
    Where’er is found this sacred stone
    The blood of Alba reigns.
     
    Her throat was suddenly thick, and she found it difficult to swallow.
    Here it is, daddy. Here it is!
    Now this was a stone to last the ages! That other sandstone block that had been seized by Edward had broken at least once when it was stolen from Westminster. But that’s just the sort of thing that had kept Annie so intrigued by this puzzle—that the widely accepted answers were not the ones that made sense.
    But this… this made sense— this had always made sense—that the stone would have been hidden somewhere in the hillside. She had been so certain of it, despite having no proof. And now she knew precisely where it was.
    The moment was so incredibly breathtaking Annie only belatedly realized her crystal was glowing softly in the corner—a ghostly green light.
    Her ticket home.
    If she found her way home using the crystal…would the Stone of Destiny be right here? She didn’t recall this cave from her walkabouts. Had they hidden the entrance somehow? Had it collapsed over time? She ran her fingers over the top of the smooth stone, where it had worn to a soft sheen, and she peered up at Callum, recalling him only then. That’s how entranced she was by this discovery…for an instant the stone had eclipsed the one man in her life that she had been drawn to at first sight.
    It was true. She had never felt quite such an electric attraction with anyone. Nor ever so at ease in someone’s presence. Something was different with Callum…very different.
    She blinked at him, seeing him with whole new eyes. For all that he looked like a barbarian, he was the most civilized man she had ever known. He was letting her enjoy this moment, somehow sensing how momentous it was for her. Never once had Paul allowed himself to fall second place to anything she cared about. She didn’t think then, merely acted. She turned, celebrating the moment, and threw her arms around Callum’s neck, kissing him soundly—not to prove anything, but just because. Because she wanted to kiss this man as much as she had wanted to find the Stone of Destiny.
    He made some startled sound, then relaxed in her embrace, automatically wrapping his arms about her waist, and Annie reveled in the strength of them.
    And then the world held its breath as their lips melted together into a searing kiss…the most passionate, heartfelt, knee-weakening kiss of Annie’s life. In that heady instant she no longer needed the Winter Stone to verify what she already knew…his body hardened between them, pressing against her, and all rational thought extinguished at the feel of it. Without thinking, only feeling, her hand slid between them, finding all the evidence she needed.
    “You want me,” she said softly, smirking, and the Winter Stone burned brighter in the corner, its color warming the room in shades of pink.
     
    “Ach, God,” Callum protested, but the feel of her hand along his shaft evaporated his resolve. To hell with waiting for Biera. To hell with trials and restless kinsmen. If any man dared to touch this woman, he’d rip out his heart with his own hands.
    If he needed proof that Annie was flesh and blood, he had it now, for her skin set fire to his hands and his lips. “Aye,” he told her gruffly. “I want ye, lass.” And then he lifted her up on the stone table, his body trembling with a desire