Dark Side of the Laird (Highland Bound) (14 page)

When her name came close to crossing my lips, I clamped my mouth
shut and turned to face my brother, my enemy. “Ye can take away my freedom, ye can take away everything, but I’ll never give ye the respect ye crave. Ye’re not my king.”

Chapter Fifteen

Emma

I
was back in that musty, dank corridor, this time lying on my back, just as I had when I fell in my chamber. Darkness surrounded me, and an eerie pounding echoed deep within my skull.

I pushed up, my hands slipping on the scummy stone
, causing me to crash back down. My elbow banged painfully, and I rubbed it as I pushed more carefully back toward the door. On my knees, I pressed my hands gently to the wood, hoping it was still ajar, the way I’d left it.

No such luck.
The door was closed again. All the progress I’d made before undone by the mists of time. The dagger was once more strapped to my nude thigh, and I felt it, almost like a pulsing, pulling me to unlock the door again.

I peered once more into that tiny keyhole, realizing t
he pounding was the sound of my heart. Through the keyhole, I could see Logan. He was still strapped to the table, still bloody and bruised, but this time he was looking toward me, like he knew I was there. His dark eyes were intense, his lips in a long firm line.

“Logan,” I called out, but the sound seemed trapped in the space around me, dull and muted.

But it didn’t matter, because somehow, he must have known I was there. We were together in this altered state. Not a dream, but not quite reality either. He mouthed my name. Or maybe he said it, but I couldn’t hear, only witnessed the movement of his lips.

The door must have blocked our voices, though before I’d been able to hear shouts and the sound of whip
ping. Now there was only my own sounds.

The right side of him faced me, and his hand flexed, clenching into a fist, and then his fingers splayed out and he motioned toward me. He was reaching for me, needed me.

A desperate sense of fear clawed from within me. Logan needed me and there was nothing I could do to help him, save him.

“Emma.” His lips moved and my name, spoken on his lips, was heard
this time, but inside my head. Not from my ears.

I shook my head, certain I must have imagined it, but then he said it again.
Now we were telepathic?

“Can ye hear me?” he asked.

It was clearly Logan’s voice, and he
was
inside my head.

I nodded, then remembered, from his distance, he wouldn’t be able to see such a movement through the keyhole.

“Yes,” I answered, pressing my hands so hard to the door, if it were soft I’d sink right through it.

“They have me, Emma.”

I swallowed, feeling my throat constrict. “I know.”

His eyes burned a fiery black.
“Ye’re Scotland’s only hope. The king…he has been…poisoned against me. MacDonald will take over and he’ll side with the English, sell us for a price.”

I opened my mouth to tell him about Isabella, but instinctively closed it again, pausing. Now was probably not a good time to tell him about the bitch and what she was doing. He was in enough trouble, lying beaten on a slab and having no control over anything. There he was, more concerned about his own country, too. Never had
I met a man more selfless than he. I pulled the dagger from my thigh. “What can I do? I want to save you.” I licked my lips, the stress of the situation taking all the moisture from my mouth. “I have the dagger. The key fits in this door. I can open it.”

Logan shook his head vehemently, a feat that had to have pained him.

“Dinna use it on me. Safeguard it.”

“Logan, no! I have to save you.”
The handle of the knife dug into my palm as I held it with an iron grip.

Logan closed his eyes, pain etched on his face, then slowly opened them.
“Emma, ye canna, my love. I am beyond saving. But ye can save this country.”

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. He was pushing me away. He didn’t think I could help him, or he didn’t want to be saved.

“I can help you. I can save you and then you can save Scotland. You are the guardian, and I’m just…just a time traveler!”

Logan laughed, the sound gravelly and pain filled. “Lass, ye’re more than just a time traveler to me. And to Scotland. Ye were sent here for a reason.”

“Yes, to be with you!” I argued, refusing to take up this monumental task.

His lips quirked in that way that made me feel warm inside. Logan’s indulgent smile. The one he gave me whenever he knew I needed to be coddled, and reassured.
But I didn’t want to be coddled, nor reassured. I wanted to help him. Wanted to take him away from this horrid place.

“Emma, do ye truly believe that Fate would have ye travel back five hundred years for a tryst?”

“We are more than a tryst, Logan. I love you. I love your people. I belong here. I should have been born in your time. That’s why Fate brought me back. Not so you could suffer when I can help. Not so I can watch you—” But I couldn’t finish, because I couldn’t say
die.
Couldn’t tell him that he looked already to be on death’s door. That was not why I was brought back. I refused to believe that.

“Nay, love. Fate brought ye back, brought ye to me, so I could show ye how strong ye are. Because only ye have the power to save us all.”

I groaned, slapped at the wooden door. “What would you have me do? I can’t leave you here to die.” And there I’d said it. That horrible word that meant he was gone from me forever. Oh, yes, his spirit would live on, but I didn’t want to live on in the physical sense if he was but a spirit.

Again Logan seemed to hold his breath, his eyes closing. How much pain was he in? I couldn’t even imagine. He looked… shredded.
“Ye must confide in Ewan. He will help ye. Dinna linger, love, for the night grows dark and bleak.”

I tried to respond, but the loud boom, like canon fire erupted, and I was on
ce again yanked with forceful invisible hands backward, away from Logan, perhaps for the last time.

Seconds later
, hands were sliding beneath my shoulders and hauling me to my feet. I blinked open my eyes, feeling groggy, my head pounding. A guard carried me back to my bed and Agatha screeched in the background.

“I dinna know how she fell, I was only gone but a second, and now she’s on the floor. Oh, dear, Lord in Heaven…” And on and on she went.

“Agatha,” I managed to rasp. “I’m fine.”

I sank beneath the covers, shivering uncontrollably, feeling numb, cold and filled with fear.

“Dearie, ye’re not fine. Why I—”

“Agatha, I need Ewan. Now.” I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to fill my voice with all the power I didn’t feel and it came out in a rush.

She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “Nay. Not this time. I must—”

“You
must
get Ewan. Bring him to me now. It’s an emergency.” I glanced toward the table, recalling the herbal tea and the cup that lay somewhere on the floor. I leaned forward and motioned to her, keeping an eye on the guard. If Agatha had done the deed of seeing me drugged, then I could yell for him to help me. I whispered in her ear, “I’ve been poisoned.”

Agatha let out a gasp that sounded as though she might have a heart attack. She took hold of my shoulders, her eyes wide. “My lady, how?”

“In my cup. It was an herb of some sort, I’m almost sure of it.”

“
What kind?” Agatha glanced around the room.

“
I don’t know. I dropped the cup over there.”

My maid turned on her heel and rushed to the table. She d
ucked from my sight, but I could hear her rummaging around on the floor. She hopped up a moment later with the mug in hand, and sniffed it loudly before recoiling.

“My God, ye’re right.
I dinna know what it is, but for certain, ’tis not tea in your cup.” Agatha frowned into the cup then held it at bay before slipping it in her apron. “I’ll ask Cook to help me figure it out.”

“Okay,” I said. “But send Ewan. Please.”

Agatha nodded. “Guard, keep an eye on Lady Emma. I will go and find Ewan myself.”

The guard nodded, and shut the door behind Agatha’s retreating figure, hopefully to stand guard on the other side. But what if, and I was pretty sure it was Isabella, stood in the adjoining room?

I slid my hand over the dagger on my thigh, sighing with relief that it was still there, but this wasn’t a weapon I could use in my own defense, not if I wanted to keep it safe. As it was, it was very likely Agatha and the healer knew I wore a dagger on my thigh, though neither of them probably knew what it was for. I glanced around the room. Nothing but a couple of candlesticks and a wash bowl. I’d be dead in a second if someone came in with a blade.

I had to get into Lo
gan’s room. Even if Isabella hid in there, I couldn’t just sit here without a means to protect myself. He had an arsenal hidden in there.

This time, I took it slow. Pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the side. I let my toes touch the floor, adjusting to the coolness of the wood planks. I wiggled my toes and pressed them against the wood. They tingled at first, threatening to take away my power to walk, but within a minute or two I felt strength filling my feet. I stood, my legs wobbly. I shuffled to the foot-post, holding tight to it, and letting my legs become accustomed to standing.
I wasn’t going to risk what happened last time when I tried to move too quickly. There was no telling how much of the poisoned herb I’d consumed.

A few steps to the other foot-post and then back again. I practiced walking, slowly, building strength. I was dizzy as shit, but I couldn’t let that get to me. I had to power through it. Logan’s life, my life, and apparently the lives of everyone in Scotland depended on me being able to
pull myself together.

Taking a deep steadying breath, I let go of the post and walked slowly over to the sliding door that joined our bedrooms. I slid it open, half expecting Isabella to come rushing through with a wicked dagger and murder in her eyes, but she didn’t. The room was empty, dark. The light from my own chamber barely made a stripe of light in his.

But I didn’t have time to light candles, I knew where I could find a blade. I lurched forward, holding my hands out to steady myself until I reached Logan’s bed. His covers were cold to the touch, but straight and neat. He’d not slept there in weeks. Not since he started to share my bed at night, too.

I slid my hands over the edges, feeling my way toward his pillow, and then I reached behind the polished wood of the headboard, feeling the cold metal of several blades.

Thank God he’d shown me where his weapons were.

They all hung on hooks, specially made to store his weapons
out of view. Since I couldn’t see, touch was the only way to make a selection. I chose a long dagger. Shorter than a sword, but long enough I felt I could fend off an attacker who had a blade.

The handle was made of bone, and I squeezed it in my fist, feeling a little safer already.

I’d just made it through the door, back to the bed and hidden the blade beneath my pillow when Agatha came back in, a stern frown on her face.

“Why are ye out of bed again?” she asked.

“Just needed to stretch,” I replied, trying to keep all emotion from my face. Logan said I was like an open book. But I couldn’t be that way now, not when we were all in danger.

“My lady,” she rushed forward, turning to shut the door. Wringing her hands together, she looked anywhere but at me.
Then scurried over to help me get back under the covers, but I pushed her hands away.

“Where is Ewan?”

“There is no sign of Sir Ewan anywhere.”

My heart leapt into my throat.
“What do you mean, no sign?”

“’Tis as though he simply vanished.”
She shook her head in confusion and I felt the mounting dread pile heavily on top of me. “No one has seen him.”

“He can’t have just disappeared, Agatha. Keep looking.” The words were angry, bitten out in a panic. Oh, God, had Isabella gotten to Ewan somehow?

Dead God, don’t let it be so!

I pressed my hands into the mattress, steadying myself as my legs suddenly quaked, threatening to collapse.