Highlander in Her Dreams (30 page)

“And where—
how
—do you intend to live your lifetime?” Kira's father eyed them. “Even Elliot King at the Tile Bonanza wouldn't hire you on a résumé that says you're a seven-hundred-year-old legendary historical hero.”

Aidan swallowed, unable to answer him.

Worse, he understood the man's outrage.

Given the circumstances, he would have reacted in a similar fashion. Nay, he'd ne'er have tolerated such a discussion in the first place and would have silenced the upstart young man with a swift, swinging pass of the Invincible.

Kira, apparently, had other thoughts.

Shrugging off her backpack, she undid the zip-
her
and withdrew a bundle of rolled parchments. No longer fresh and supple as he knew they'd been at Wrath, the scrolls now appeared ancient. Thin and brittle, they crackled in her hands, the frayed red ribbon tying them looking ready to crumble to dust.

“Here.” She thrust them into her father's hands. “This is a record of my time in medieval Scotland. I wrote it for Dan Hillard and would appreciate it if you'd see he gets it. He can have the paper and ink carbon-dated. That'll prove the year it was written, and you, Daddy, cannot deny that it's in my handwriting.”

Her father grunted again.

Some of the angry red color left his face as he peered down at the parchments. “That still doesn't tell me where you mean to live? And how?”

Kira glanced at Aidan. “We'll stay here in Scotland,” she said, knowing that would please him. Turning back to her parents, she hugged them both. “You know it's always been my dreamland. Now it is also the home of the man I love.”

She kissed them each on the cheek, willing them to understand. “Someday…maybe…we'll return to Aidan's time. If such a thing is even possible. But if we did, you will now have seen us together and will know how happy we are. If it came to that, I'd try to somehow let you know we made it back. That we were okay and thriving in Aidan's world.”

“Humph.” Her father pressed his lips together and scowled, reminding her so much of Aidan that she would have laughed had the circumstances allowed.

“You are well and truly married?” He grabbed her hand, examining the ring Aidan had slipped onto her finger only an hour before.

“Yes,” she lied, knowing in her heart that they soon would be.

“And you love my daughter?” He shot another glance at Aidan. “Have the means to keep her fed and clothed? Happy?”

Aidan smiled, sensing the man's softening. “She is my life, sir. I'd be honored to have your blessing…but I'm keeping her whether it pleases you or nay.”

“Then take good care of her, by God.” Her father marched over to him, thrusting out his hand.

“I will, sir,” Aidan said, meaning it. He surprised himself by ignoring the older man's hand and, instead, grasping him by the shoulders for a quick, tight embrace. “Ne'er worry about her. I would kill the man who'd even glance sideways at her.”

There are some men who deserve killing,
he thought he heard Alex Douglas speak low at his shoulder. But when he released Kira's father and looked at Alex, his host stood across the little clearing again, one arm slung casually around his wife.

“We've readied the Heatherbrae for you,” he said.

Looking so like the men of Aidan's own day that his heart squeezed.

“It's the same cottage Kira had before.” Mara McDougall Douglas slipped away from her husband. Coming forward, she handed Aidan a key. “I think you'll find it comfortable. It's a bit old-fashioned, but has everything you need.”

Unfortunately, when he took himself there a short while later, hoping to give Kira some time alone with her family, he found himself unable to enjoy the luxuriously appointed cottage's amenities.

The
lights
, as a cheery young man named Malcolm had called the bright-glaring contraptions, hurt his eyes. And the chattering little moving people in the so-called
telly
unsettled him so much he was sure his head would soon burst just trying to comprehend the thing.

Almost as bad, when he'd tried to use the
shower
he'd scalded his back. Then, a short while later, he'd raised a blister on his finger when he'd touched one of the
lights
, trying to see how the fool thing worked.

But none of those horrors came anywhere near to the nightmare spread across the bed in the Heatherbrae's tidy bedchamber.

Going there now, he stared down at the books he'd examined earlier. Wee Hughie's
Rivers of Stone: A Highlander's Ancestral Journey
. Kira's other little volume,
The Hebridean Clans
, and several others.

Eight altogether. Kira's two, plus six he'd plucked from a shelf on the wall.

Each one said the same thing.

Conan Dearg drowned.

Not that he'd really care—were it not for the rest.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he picked up his kinsman's little tome, once more opening it to the damning passage. Tracing the words with a blister-tipped finger, he swallowed against the thickness in his throat and wondered how the fates could be so cruel as to let him save Kira only to cause Tavish's death.

Aidan closed his eyes and groaned. Never had he felt more helpless and miserable. Until Alex Douglas's cryptic words came back to him.

There are some men who deserve killing.

His eyes snapped open. When the first thing that leapt into view was the Invincible, its bloodred pommel jewel glittering like a dragon's eye, he knew what he had to do.

Leaping to his feet, he grabbed the sword, feeling better,
stronger
, the instant his fingers clenched around the leather-wrapped hilt.

Power—and rage—swept him, heating his blood until it was all he could do not to throw back his head and shout his clan's battle cry.

Instead, the words he'd said to Tavish the morning of the feast echoed in his ears:
Chances are we'll be rejoining you in the hall—back before the sweet courses are served
.

He closed his eyes again, his heart thundering. If they could manage that, all might not be lost.

It was a risk he had to take.

“You want to go back?”

Kira slowly closed the door of the Heatherbrae behind her, then set down the glossy monthly,
Scotland Today
, that she'd brought back from the Ravenscraig library. She stared at Aidan, her initial euphoria on hearing him declare he wanted to return to his time giving way to queasiness and dry mouth now that she looked at him more closely.

He no longer looked like Aidan-out-of-water, but rather the fierce laird of Wrath she knew so well from his own time.

His jaw was set in a formidable line and his eyes blazed. Most telling of all, he'd strapped on the Invincible.

Crossing the cottage's little sitting area, she slid her arms around him. “What's wrong? What's happened?” She looked up at him, not surprised when he disentangled himself and started pacing. “Why do you want to go back now? I know things aren't ideal, but we just got here.”

“It's no' that I want to go back, though the saints know I do.” He whirled to face her, his expression giving her chills. “We
must
. According to your history books, our leaving caused Tavish's death.”

Kira's eyes widened. “What? How can that be?”

He disappeared into the bedroom, returning a moment later with an armful of books. Dumping them onto a tartan-upholstered armchair, he snatched up one and began flipping through its pages.

“Here! The lines in the middle of the page.” He thrust the book at her, pointing to a brief paragraph on page 57. “Read it and you'll understand.”

Kira looked down at the clear black print, her stomach dropping as she read the words. “Oh, God.” She tossed down the book and pressed a hand to her chest. “Conan Dearg slew Tavish while escaping Wrath's dungeon? Then drowned? With that MacLeod woman?”

“So the books say.” Aidan folded his arms. “All of them. Even that fool, Wee Hughie's. Some just say Conan Dearg killed
the laird of Wrath
, but the result is the same. After we left, Tavish took my place. Had we remained, he would still be alive.”

“And you'd be dead.” She didn't like that possibility either.

Aidan snorted. “Nay. Conan Dearg would be dead, and by my sword. No' from drowning.”

Kira dropped onto a chair. “I don't get the drowning part. Or the connection with that awful woman.”

“That's because you don't know my cousin. Or Fenella MacLeod.” He gave her an alpha-male look, all medieval chieftain again. “I wouldn't be one of the most respected warrior lairds in the Highlands if the answer weren't clear to me.”

Kira looked at him. It wasn't clear to her at all.

“'Tis simple, lass.” He picked up Mara McDougall Douglas's welcome decanter of single malt and poured himself a hefty dram. Tossing it down in one quick swig, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Lady Fenella devours men faster than I just swallowed that whisky. Conan Dearg will have attracted her like a lodestone. Especially since she was grieved with me.”

“She didn't like you?” Kira lifted a brow.

“She liked me too much. Some while before you came to Wrath, she visited, offering her men and her fleet of longships to help me to search for Conan Dearg.” He paused to toss back his hair, a look of distaste passing over his face. “Not surprisingly, she offered other services as well. When I declined, she left in a fury.”

“And you think she then hooked up with your cousin? To get back at you?”

He nodded. “I'd bet my sword that was the way of it. I should have thought of it before, but I was…distracted.”

Kira swallowed. She knew he meant her. “I still don't understand the drowning part. Especially if the MacLeod woman is supposed to have drowned with him.”

“I can only guess, but I'd vow Lady Fenella helped him escape at some point during the feast and they tried to leave Wrath Bay in her galley.” Coming over to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Tavish and I suspected her of damaging her own craft as a ploy to pull up on my landing beach. If her flight with Conan Dearg caused as much confusion as I suspect it might have, and my men pursued them, in the rush to get away she may have set sail in her own galley rather than taking one of mine as I imagine she'd planned to do.”

“You think her boat sank?” Kira blinked up at him. “As they tried to sail away?”

“I was told when she arrived that there was quite a hole gouged in her galley's hull. They wouldn't have made it past Wrath Isle if they sought to flee in such a vessel.”

Kira shuddered. “If this is true, I'll bet she was behind my poisoning.”

“I thought the same,” he agreed, shoving a hand through his hair. “Though if she'd been slipping into Wrath to visit Conan Dearg, or harm you, someone there must've been helping her.”

“That has to be how your cousin got up onto the arch that night.” Kira bit her lip, a hundred thoughts churning in her head. “I suspected he'd somehow learned about me. How I got there. Someone must've helped him sneak out of the dungeon so he could examine the top of the arch.”

“Indeed. You're a wise lassie.” A touch of admiration lit his eyes. “Poor Kendrew must've startled him—and suffered the consequences.”

“But who would've helped your cousin?” Kira couldn't wrap her mind around it. “Your men can't stand him. And the women, those laundresses—” She broke off, suspicion making her breath catch. “Do you think one of them did it?”

He frowned. “Help my cousin?” He started pacing again, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked. “Could be. I've told you, Conan Dearg exerts a weird influence on women. But I can't see any of the laundresses doing Lady Fenella any favors.”

Stopping by the table, he helped himself to another dram of whisky. “It doesn't matter, Kee-
rah
.” Confidence rolled off him. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he'd grown several inches. That his powerful shoulders had gone even wider. “Now that I know what to be wary of, I'll get to the bottom of the matter when we go back. Hopefully we can get there the same night we left. If so, I'm sure I can save Tavish.”

Kira's heart sank. “Oh, dear,” she said, half certain the shadows in the room had just deepened, turning as dark as the blackness she felt bearing down on them. Her gaze slid to the little pine table by the door. The slick and colorful issue of
Scotland Today
lying on the tabletop. “I don't think we can get back.”

She hadn't wanted to say so yet, but now, watching and listening to him talk about saving his friend, she couldn't keep quiet any longer. “The gatehouse arch—”

“Worked once and will serve us again.” He set down the little crystal dram glass. “You just need to
left drive
us back to Wrath. We'll leave in the morning, as soon as you've said your farewells to your family and friends.”

“You don't understand.” Kira pressed her fingers to her temples. “It won't matter if we go back to Skye. Even if we did, we wouldn't be able to get to the arch top. Not even the outermost ruins of your castle.”

He looked at her, uncomprehending.

“The site's under construction,” she tried to explain, pushing to her feet. Going to the little table near the door, she grabbed the
Scotland Today
and waved it at him. “It's all in here. You can even see pictures. In the months I've been away, Wrath has gone to the National Trust for Scotland. That's a historical preservation society and they're currently developing the ruins into a tourist exhibition. They—”

“A what?”
He stared at her, the blood draining from his face. “You mean a place overrun with Ameri-
cains
and tour buses?”

Kira nodded, hating that she had to tell him. “Mother said they tried to go there weeks ago when they first arrived, but it's all roped off and guarded. Even at night. No one can set foot on the property.”

“I see.” He looked at her, all the flash and gleam in his eyes, vanished. “Put that thing away, Kee-
rah
,” he said, glancing at the magazine in her hands. “I dinna want to see the images. No' now.”

Turning away from her, he went to the cottage's front window. The one with the view of Mara McDougall Douglas's One Cairn Village memorial cairn. Its stones and great Celtic cross shimmered silvery blue in the pale luminosity of the late-summer night, the beauty of it twisting Kira's heart.

Aidan seemed to be staring at it, too, his shoulders sagging more the longer he stood there, stiff and silent, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

Kira moved to join him, but stopped halfway there, her stare shooting past him to the big memorial cairn, a smile splitting her soul the instant she made the connection.

“Oh, God!” she cried, starting to tremble. “I know what we can do!”

Aidan whipped around, the hope on his face making her heart soar. “You know of another
time portal
, Kee-
rah
? Another way we can return?”

“I might.” She couldn't lie to him. “Let's say there's a chance. If”—she snatched Wee Hughie's book off the chair and thumbed through its pages until she found what she needed—“we go here! The Na Tri Shean.”

His brows shot upward. “That accursed place?”

Kira nodded. “My boss, Dan Hillard, had reason to believe the cairns there aren't just fairy mounds, but a portal to the Other World and all places beyond and between. A
time portal
.” She shoved the book beneath his nose, forcing him to look at the black-and-white photograph of the three piles of stone on their hill. “If we go there, maybe, just maybe, we can get back to Wrath.”

“Cnoc Freiceadain—the Na Tri Shean—is far from here, Kee-
rah
.” He rubbed his forehead. “Getting there would mean crossing almost the whole of Scotland.”

“Does it matter?” She tossed aside the book and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight. “It's our only chance.”

He drew a deep breath, then hugged her back. “Then we shall seize it. I owe Tavish no less.”

Kira grinned. “I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees you.”

That he might not was something she wouldn't consider.

After all, as Mara McDougall Douglas had said, Scotland was a place of miracles.

 

It was past nightfall the next day by the time they passed through the tiny hamlet of Shebster in Scotland's far north and finally reached the great grass-grown hill that held the three long-chambered cairns known as the Na Tri Shean. A stout, rib-sticking full Scottish breakfast, a swift but emotional farewell from George and Blanche Bedwell and their hosts at Ravenscraig, along with hope, sheer will, and a seemingly endless ribbon of narrow, winding Highland roads had brought them here. And now, turning off the ignition at last, Kira had to struggle to hide her disappointment.

Dan's supposed time portal par excellence proved nondescript.

Little more than a huge, treeless hill stood before them, outlined against the eerily light late-summer night sky. The hill's summit showed the telltale fairy mounds, said to date back to the third millennium BC, but rather than the massive, well-defined cairns she'd expected, only a scattered jumble of boulders and stones showed that anything really significant had once stood there.

Getting out of the car, she pushed back her shoulders and glanced at Aidan. “Not very impressive, hmmm? I'm sorry. I thought—”

“You are thinking like a woman who no longer believes in magic, Kee-
rah
.” Tossing back his plaid, he whipped out the Invincible and held its blade to the soft, silver-glowing sky. At once, the combined light of the bright crescent moon and the pale northern sun caught the sword's edge, making its cold, hard steel shine and glow like a living thing. “The power of a place like this remains through time and eternity. It matters little that the man-made cairns are tumbled. Besides”—he reached for her hand, then started forward, up the hill—“the stones only marked what was beneath. It is there, deep under the earth, that we must go.”

“Under the earth?” Kira stopped, digging in her heels. Suddenly the great grassy hill no longer looked so harmless. “What are you saying?”

He looked at her, his dark eyes glittering in the strange silvery-blue light. “I thought you knew what long-chambered cairns are.”

Kira swallowed, not wanting to admit she hadn't really given it that much thought. At least not as far as
entering
the cairns and going down into the cold, dark earth.

“I will be with you, Kee-
rah
. You needn't fear.” He traced his knuckles down the curve of her cheek. “Now, come. Get out your flashlight, or whate'er you call it, and help me look for an entrance. There should be three. They'll be low in the ground, and perhaps hidden by rocks or underbrush. I doubt it matters which cairn we enter. The magic will be powerful in each.”