A Highlander’s Homecoming (5 page)

The spear held to his chest wavered.

“You’ll move that this instant, you worthless oaf,” she ordered, slapping away the spear pointed at his heart before throwing her arms around him.

The guard took a faltering step back as if unsure of exactly what he should do next.

Margery MacQuarrie, though barely tall enough to reach Robert’s breast, had always been a force to be reckoned with. He was glad to see that hadn’t changed.

He enfolded his mother in his embrace, holding her tightly to him for only a moment before she pushed away, again lifting her hands to his face.

“I can hardly believe my own eyes. They told us you were killed in the king’s service. But I’d no given up hope, Robbie. When they couldna bring yer body home to be buried, I told yer father they had to be wrong. I said my prayers and lit my candles daily. And now you’ve returned to us as I prayed you would.” She let go of him and wiped a hand over her damp cheeks.

Robert stood silently watching while this amazing woman morphed from Mother to Lady Margery in less than a heartbeat. Her back straightened and the emotion swept from her face in the transformation of composing herself, as if only now she realized that everyone closely watched her actions.

“It’s yer son, Hugh,” she called, her eyes focused over his shoulder. “Come home to us at last.”

Robert turned his head, words abandoning him for perhaps the first time in his life as he watched the large man headed in their direction, his progress slowed by a decided limp. Hugh MacQuarrie? The man was far too old to be his father. How was this possible?

Could their time travel have missed its mark by a few years?

The guards scattered backward as Hugh approached. He moved in closely to stare into Robert’s face. After a moment or two, apparently satisfied, he threw his arms around his younger son.

“Welcome home, my lad, welcome home. We’d all but given up hope.” Margery cleared her throat and he added, “Well, yer mother never did.”

When his father stepped back, Robert was shocked to see a glassy sheen of tears in the old man’s eyes.

“Mind yer manners, Hugh. Robbie’s brought someone
with him. A wife perhaps?” Margery rested a hand on Robert’s forearm as she spoke. “Though much too young for you,” she added quietly, her disapproval clear in her tone.

“Wife?” Leah squeaked from her perch on top of her mount. “No!”

Robert’s own hurried “No!” all but drowned out Leah’s protest.

He stepped to the side of her horse, holding up his arms to lift her down. Though he knew she would prefer to avoid his touch, after only the slightest hesitation she leaned into him, her hands grasping his forearms to allow him to lift her down.

A sharp pain twinged through his chest when he took her weight, and as soon as her feet hit the ground he dropped his hold. That was odd. She was such a tiny thing, less than he bench-pressed on a regular basis at the gym. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something he had time to worry about right now.

“No my wife,” he repeated, catching Leah’s gaze as he continued. “My daughter.”

Her eyes widened and her lips tightened but, to her credit, she made no comment refuting his claim.

He’d considered using this story from the start but had worried he’d have problems convincing them he had a daughter her age they had never known about. Still, it seemed his best ploy and was the only story he’d managed to invent. The result of an indiscretion he’d learned of only recently, a deceased mother, all good reasons to bring her here for their care.

In the seconds after his claim, his mother swept forward, a joyous smile breaking over her face. “A daughter!
Och, Robbie, you’ve made me a happy woman indeed.” She threw her arms around Leah, hugging the girl closely to her. “With nothing but sons of my own, you’ve no idea how I’ve longed for a lass over the years to join our family.”

Robert tightened his hold on his emotions. Absurd to feel this pressure in his throat. Still, it did his heart good to see his mother so happy. Bringing Leah here had been a good thing all around. Though he’d never know the comfort of having his own children, his parents would feel the pleasure of thinking their bloodline continued in the form of a granddaughter.

As for Leah herself, though she was obviously surprised at the welcome, she handled it all quite well. This was going to work out even better than he could have hoped.

Now, before he had to face his brother, seemed an opportune time to come straight to the point.

“I’ve come to ask yer indulgence in allowing my Leah to remain here with you.”

“And why would she no?” his father boomed. “As yer daughter, this is her home as much as yers.”

His mother, arm around Leah’s shoulders, herded the lass toward the keep, her expression shuttered as she cast one last look in his direction. “Bring her things, Robbie. I’ll be about getting our bonnie lassie settled and then we’ll have a grand visit, just the two of us.”

His father’s large hand clapped down on his back, accompanied by the booming laughter he remembered so fondly from his childhood.

“Aye, it’s good to have you home, son. And with a
daughter as well! Perhaps ’tis a profitable score of years you’ve spent away from us, after all.”

Robert’s step faltered and he stopped in his tracks.
Score of years?
Could he have heard his father correctly? No wonder everything was so changed. From everything he’d seen, he’d suspected they’d arrived later than planned, but not by this much. This was supposed to be the same year he’d left, not twenty years later!

How could their plans have gone so wrong?

Mairi’s parting advice about the Magic taking over danced through his mind as he tried to accept this unplanned change.

Twenty years.
Twenty years had passed since he’d last laid eyes on this world.

What his eyes had shown him all made sense now. Little wonder his home looked so changed, his parents so much older.

Twenty years.
What else might have happened in twenty years’ time? A creeping fear spiraled through his gut at the thought. Had he completely failed his oath to Thomas? What might have become of his friend’s poor little daughter?

Jogging forward, Robert caught up with his father, slowing his pace across the bailey to match his father’s halting limp.

“I’m no as young as I used to be, Robbie. It’s good you’ve returned to take yer rightful place at the keep. With you and the lass here, I can put away any worries about what will happen when I’m gone.”

“Da! You’ve no call to say such as that. You dinna look ready to pass on to me. No yet.” Robert smiled
over at his father. “Besides, you’ve Richard here to look after things.”

This time it was his father’s step that faltered and stopped.

“Yer brother’s at Edward’s court, thanks to Elizabeth and her father. He calls himself an Englishman these days. He’s even taken the Hawthorne name.” Hugh straightened and started forward again. “He’ll no have any part in the future of MacQuarrie Keep.”

Robert shouldn’t be surprised but he was. That, at least, explained the guard’s comment. It wasn’t bad enough that Elizabeth had broken his heart years ago. Now the red-haired bitch who’d used him as a stepping stone to get to his brother had managed to bring even more trouble to the MacQuarrie Keep.

“Come along, lad. Yer mother’s no a patient woman these days.” Hugh chuckled as if he found his own words quite amusing.

Considering twenty years had passed since he’d been here last, Robert had to admit he saw the humor himself, sad though it was.

Inside the door of the keep a young boy took the saddlebags from Robert, racing away up the stairs, presumably to Leah’s new room.

His mother waited at the bottom of those stairs.

“You’ll have time to meet with his lairdship after the midday meal. For now I’d ask you to join me in my solar.”

He glanced at his father, who shrugged indulgently. “Best no to keep yer lady mother waiting. Any longer than you already have, that is. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Robert nodded and followed his mother up the winding stone stairs to the second level of the keep.

Just as he remembered, her solar smelled of flowers. Though he’d never stopped to consider it before, he realized she must keep dried bits and pieces tucked away in here. There certainly were no fresh bouquets available at the corner grocery in this time.

“Where’s Leah?”

His mother motioned for him to have a seat next to her in one of the large chairs drawn up in front of the fireplace before she answered. “With Maisey. She’ll bring the lass to join us here once she’s settled in.”

“My Maisey?” Now there was a name that brought back memories. The woman had been nursemaid to both him and Richard for the first eight years of his life. “She must be ancient by now.”

Margery smiled, pouring a cup of spiced wine and handing it to him. “Aye. At least as ancient as I am.”

He felt his neck redden as he realized his words had slipped out before he’d had a chance to consider them properly. “No, my lady, I dinna mean to say . . . that is . . .”

His mother lifted her hand to halt his ineffective apology, her smile even broader than before. “It’s no matter, lad. I’ve many a day where I do feel ancient. But enough of that. Today is no one of them.”

She took a sip from her cup and fixed him with a look he remembered well from his childhood. A look that put him on notice of what was to come. His mother, perhaps the most gentle, most loving female to ever step foot in the world, had always possessed the ability to pin her sons to the spot with that look. As they’d
grown older, he and Richard had compared her gaze to that of a falcon as it eyed its prey.

“Perhaps you’d care to tell me where you’ve been this past score of years.”

Stalling for time, he lifted his own cup to his lips and felt some of his apprehension slip away as he contemplated the story he would give her. The twenty years, though not at all in his plans, would actually make it easier to explain Leah’s presence: a marriage, a deceased wife, a daughter in need of a woman’s care. It would actually fit much more logically now.

“And while yer at it, Robbie, you can tell me who the lass really is, no this made-up story of her being yer daughter.”

The wine caught in his throat and he choked, coughing as he gasped it into his windpipe.

His mother jumped from her chair, pounding him on the back while she lifted one of his arms above his head, just as if he were still a small child.

When he’d recovered, she returned to her seat, once again fixing him with “the look
.”
“Well? I’m waiting. The truth, Robert.”

He huffed out his breath, shaking his head. It was no use. He’d never once in the entirety of his life been able to sneak even the smallest deceit past this woman. How he’d ever allowed himself to consider the possibility he could carry this off was beyond him.

“You’ll no believe me if I give you the truth,” he muttered. “And I’d rather no have you think yer son has gone daft.”

“That’s my decision to make, is it no?”

Clearly she would settle for nothing less than the full truth, but where would he even begin?

“If I were to tell you a tale of magic and Faeries, what would you make of that, my lady?”

His mother looked down at her cup, her fingers clenching tightly around the vessel. “She’s one of theirs, is she no? One of the Fae. She certainly has their delicate beauty about her.”

It took a moment for him to realize his mouth had fallen open. His mother believed in Faeries? “How in the name of the saints . . .”

He stopped himself from speaking, watching his mother’s grip gradually loosen on the cup she held while her expression calmed, as if she worked through some problem, at last reaching her decision.

“You ken the existence of the Fae, do you?” he asked when he thought her ready.

With a sigh, she slowly nodded, bringing her gaze back up to meet his. “Aye, son. I encountered one of them as a wee lass. I’d been allowed to accompany my father and brothers into Inverness for market day. The streets were crowded and we’d stopped at so many booths that morning, I’d grown tired, and gradually I fell behind the others.” Her eyes glazed over with the memory of her experience.

“Go on,” he prodded, not wanting her to stop now.

“I was terrified, unable to cease my tears. As I searched for my father, I found myself in a small alley, where a beautiful woman sat on the ground with her wares spread out on a cloth before her. She beckoned me closer and spoke kindly to me, assuring me I would find my family shortly. And though I dinna want to allow her to touch me, when she reached out to stroke my cheek it was as if I had no the power to move away
from her. To this day, I remember her words, her voice, as if it were yestereve when I met her.

“‘Have no fear,’
she said to me. ‘
What you will do in life, the lives of those you raise, all are too important to the Fae for us to allow anything to happen to you this day. Hurry along, child. Even now your father searches for you.’”

“I no ever heard you tell that story of yer childhood before.” Though certainly his mother had delighted them with stories of her youth their whole lives.

“No. I’ve told that one only once, to my father, and no all of it at that.” She shook her head, the faraway look still in her eyes. “I felt as though my feet were bound to the alley and I couldna move, no even when the woman dropped a necklace of ribbon and stone over my head. She tucked the bauble down under my shift where it would be hidden, and told me I’d find need of it one day. When she finally removed her touch from my skin, I ran as fast as I could. Blindly, out into the thick of marketplace, weaving through the masses, straight into my father’s legs as if I were directed to him by a power not my own.”

She paused to sip her wine once more, her expression returning to her normal composure.

“And?” Robert encouraged. There had to be more to this fantastic tale.

She smiled, again shaking her head. “I told my father of the beautiful woman and her words, but he dismissed it as nothing more than an encounter with a Tinkler, assuring me I was lucky to have escaped those who steal children as well as possessions. It was only after I was older I heard the other rumors about Tinklers.”