Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6)
Read Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6) Online
Authors: Eliza Knight
Highlander
Unraveled
An Erotic Novel
The Highland Bound Series
Book Six
Eliza Knight
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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FIRST EDITION
May 2016
COPYRIGHT © 2016 ELIZA KNIGHT
HIGHLANDER UNRAVELED © 2016 Eliza Knight. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Kimberly Killion @ The Killion Group, Inc.
Published by Knight Media, LLC
PO Box 324
Mount Airy, MD 21771
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Chapter One
Emma
Present Day
Drumnadrochit Village
Scottish Highlands
“Just where the hell have you been?”
I woke to the sound of Steven’s berating voice pounding through my skull.
Wait—Steven?
No, no, no…
Blinking, I look up at the modern day ceiling. At the familiar water stain. Rusty-gray, and if I squinted my eyes, I could make out the shape of a rabbit in its pattern.
“Emma, goddammit, I’m talking to you.”
I blinked again. Disbelieving what I saw, heard.
Modern ceiling. The one I stared at for several nights while on “vacation” with this man—because it wasn’t what one would normally call a vacation. Only a moving of location. A place that was not my home. But the same old shit, the same nasty Steven.
My first husband.
“For fuck’s sake, Emma! Why are you even dressed like that?” Steven shouted, his words sounding as though they came through a megaphone from a mile away.
Boom. Boom-boom.
His footsteps pounded on the floor, closing the minuscule distance between us and I tried not to flinch.
“Steven?” I asked, rolling my head to look over at him. I hoped by saying his name aloud this nightmare would disappear.
How was this possible?
How was I here?
It had been over two years since I’d left him, racing through a storm when lightning had struck. I’d been transported back in time to 1542, and into the arms of Logan Grant. My soul mate. My true husband.
The lump in my throat grew, but my mouth was dry. I couldn’t swallow, only lay there, feeling my tongue grow thick.
Close enough now to touch me, Steven reached out and plucked none too tenderly at the arm of my gown.
My clothes were soaked through. A plain green gown. The wool scratched against my soggy skin. My linen chemise was tangled around my legs.
Why was I all wet? I closed my eyes listening for the sounds of a storm outside. I could hear the faint splatter of raindrops, not the torrential downpour kind, just a soft rain, one that turned into a mist.
“Are you going to answer me?” he shouted.
“What…?” My eyes popped open. I could barely get the word out. My mind whirled so fast nausea filled my belly. Was this a dream?
Or had my life with Logan been a dream?
Tears pricked my eyes.
Steven’s fist slammed down on the bed beside me. “You have embarrassed me for the last time.”
I flinched, wondering if the next slam of his fist would be on my body.
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. How could I answer him? Did he even want to hear what I had to say? Quite frankly, I didn’t give a shit.
“Did you know I was arrested? Do you even care?” he droned.
No. And No.
He let out a frustrated, animal-like growl. “I’ve been searching this godforsaken countryside for weeks. Trying to clear my name. They thought I murdered you. Half my business partners have dropped their contracts.” He gave me such a hard stare, I was certain, now that he’d found me, he was considering murder.
“How… How long have I been gone?” I managed to ask, working to sit up.
“Three months.” He shoved me back down.
Three months. That was
all
I was gone? And yet, years had passed with Logan. Years of love, of adventure, of hardship. I was a changed woman. In 1544, which was what it was when I left, I was strong, confident, happy. I was a mother.
Oh, dear God…
I pressed my hand to my middle, feeling the new squishiness of my belly, the place where my son had occupied just six weeks before. I swallowed hard. Trying hard not to cry. Praying Steven hadn’t seen the way I touched my abdomen.
My baby
…
An ache, deep and profound, filled my chest, suffused my bones.
How could this be happening?
Steven narrowed his eyes at me, scanning me from head to toe. “You look different. Fatter.”
He sounded disgusted. But I knew it didn’t matter how I looked, bone-thin or thick as a whale, he’d never be satisfied.
And, I
was
different. I had been proud of myself. Logan had loved me and called me beautiful every day. Yet, Steven had the power to strip away all the ways in which I’d changed, blossomed under Logan’s love. I felt small, insignificant.
I curled up in a ball and rolled away from him, unable to look at his hateful face. Tears rolled from my eyes. I was powerless to stop them. I bit my knuckles to keep mournful sobs from leaping out of my mouth.
My true husband, my love, my child, my friends. My life.
All of it was stripped away from me.
In the blink of an eye.
Happiness, that had been mine, was gone.
Steven made a disgusted sound and headed for the door.
“We’re going home, Emma. You’re going to tell the authorities you ran off, but now you’re back. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to me. I don’t know how, but you will.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t even if I tried. No words would come except for Logan’s name, and Saor, the name of our baby son—meaning free.
The door slammed closed and I jumped.
You’re going to pay
…
Steven’s footsteps pounded down the stairs. I could hear him shouting at someone. Maybe his mother. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to stay here, and I wasn’t going back to the U.S. with him either.
I wasn’t going to
pay
.
Gathering a strength, which I didn’t quite possess, I sat up on the springy bed and swiped at my tearful eyes.
I had to figure out a way to get home—to 1544.
Again.
Leaning on sheer will like a crutch, I shuffled toward the window, peering out at the graying, cloud-filled sky. Rain wetted the street, making the asphalt look shiny black. Two elderly women walked arm and arm down the street; their heads bowed low, beige raincoats splattered with raindrops, a single black umbrella over their heads.
We’d vacationed in the summer. August I thought, but I couldn’t quite remember. I’d worked so hard to forget my past. My life with Steven. I didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to relive it. He’d been emotionally abusive to me. Crushing me from the inside. I’d sunk inside myself and become a shell of a human being. A stranger, even to me.
I clutched at my chest, feeling my heart race and ache.
It must be November now. Or close to it. In the U.S., families would be preparing to celebrate Thanksgiving. Buying turkeys, vegetables, looking up recipes and booking flights.
I never liked Thanksgiving. Not because I didn’t like turkey or cranberry sauce. The holiday had always been oppressive in Steven’s house. Not my house. His. And I had no family to celebrate with.
My mother-in-law would come over, a few of his other distant family members and business partners. Everyone would be kissing Steven’s arse (
God I miss Logan
) hoping he’d cut them a slice of his multi-million dollar pie.
I shivered. A chill filled me all the way to the bone. An icy feeling that I knew wouldn’t go away until I was in Logan’s arms.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Not Steven. Nothing about him was soft, and he’d not knock anyway.
I didn’t turn away from the window. Didn’t beckon whomever it was to come in. I stood still, silent, hoping I could wish my way out of this room. Pinching myself and praying this was just a nightmare I’d wake from.
But I knew, deep down, that this was real. I was awake. I was back in present day.
My life with Logan had been real, why else would my full breasts ache with the need to feed my child?
“Mrs. Gordon?” Mrs. Lamb said from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded far off. Older.
I still didn’t answer, but I could hear the handle jiggle and the creak of the door as she pushed it open.
I looked down to my feet, muddy and barefoot. Where had Steven found me? Or had I just appeared here? I didn’t remember walking through the mud.
“Are ye all right, dear?” she asked, also staring at my muddy feet.
I pressed my lips together, gritted my teeth. Shook my head, and water droplets pinged against my face. Mrs. Lamb had helped me to escape the last time. I owed my new life to her.
“I brought ye a tea.”
I didn’t want tea. I
wanted
my husband. My child.
“No, thank you.” The words came out harsh, bitter, and I was immediately contrite. She didn’t deserve my anger. It wasn’t her fault that Fate had brought me back.
She pressed forward, her feet skimming softly over the rug I’d muddied.
“Drink, dear. It’ll make ye feel better.”
I glanced down at the older woman; her arthritic fingers curled on my shoulder, a teacup and saucer jiggling in her other hand. I took the cup, not because I wanted to drink it, but because I was afraid she’d drop it.
“If ye want to talk…” she started, but I cut her off.
“I’ll be fine. And I never got to thank you—before.”
She shook her head. “I can’t help feeling…”
“It’s not your fault I’m back,” I said, my voice sounding hollow without emotion. “I have no idea why I’m back.”
I was flat. Numb.
Mrs. Lamb shook her head again. “But if I’d—”
“You set me free,” I whispered. I felt my womb lurch and the tears that I’d managed to quiet, once more stirred behind my eyes.
“And yet ye are back.” She sounded confused.
I nodded, though in my head, I swore, I was not going to be back for long. “Not of my choosing,” I said softly.
“I’ll help ye again, lass.” Mrs. Lamb backed out of the room, and once she’d closed the door, I set the cup down on the dresser, my heart pounding.
I couldn’t wait for her to return. I had to leave. My limbs buzzed, my heart raced and my mind was a jumble of panic.
I yanked at the lock on the window, praying that it would unhinge. God, why wouldn’t it budge?
When was the last time someone had opened it?
I tugged and tugged and tugged.
Finally it wrenched free with a loud, metal on metal grating sound. I flung the window open; not daring to look behind me, afraid that Steven was going to come through the door at any moment, jerking me back into his life.
How could this have happened? The question repeated in my mind over and over like a bad song I couldn’t flush out.
Why did Fate decide I could no longer be with Logan?
What had I done?
I stuck my leg out of the window, the water on the outside of the windowsill making me slip slightly. I was weak. Limbs shaking. Fingers trembling.
But I wasn’t going to let a thing like body weakness get in the way of escaping. Figuring out how to get back to Logan gave me some strength.
The last time I’d gone to him had been during a storm, and I’d climbed the hill toward his castle. When lightning struck, I’d been transported. But I knew from Moira and Shona’s story, they’d both traveled back in time from their house in Edinburgh. It didn’t seem to matter where you were, as long as the circumstances were right and Fate decided it was time.
All I had to do was get to Edinburgh. To…what street did they live on? I couldn’t remember the name of it, but I knew where they kept a spare key. And I knew that everyone knew them. Someone could point me in the right direction.
I glanced toward the ground, ten feet from where I was and nothing to shimmy down on. This wasn’t going to feel good.
I could break a leg, twist an ankle.
But it would be worth it. I’d crawl all the way to Edinburgh if I had to, just to get away from Steven.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The air was wet, and I could smell Loch Ness not far in the distance. Twisting so that I faced the inside of the tiny room, I had one leg hanging free and the other hooked over the ledge.