Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6) (3 page)

What else might she know? How could I find her?

“Emma!” I bellowed toward the sky, disturbing the crows that’d come to perch on the walls, awaiting the movement of anything they might find appetizing.

“My laird.” Shona’s soft fingers slid over my elbow.

“Where is she? Did she tell ye she was leaving me?” I asked, almost desperate for that to be the answer so at least I knew she was alive and here somewhere that I could find her and beg her to take me back.

Shona’s hands lifted to her massive pregnant belly and she shook her head. “She did not mention leaving. I think…” She frowned, her lips pursing. “I think she has, ye know… Left…”

“How could ye think that?”

“I had a dream.”

“A vision?”

Shona shook her head. “I dinna get visions. ’Twas a dream.”

“Tell me.”

“I dreamt that Emma was running down a street, but it was a modern street. Rain was falling and she was looking behind her, alarm in her eyes.”

“Was someone chasing her?”

“Nay, not that I could see. But it was so real.” She stroked her belly, and I could see a wave of movement as the bairn inside her did a somersault. “I’ve never had a dream so vivid. I felt like if I just reached my arms out long enough, I could grab hold of her.”

“I need to find her. I need to go to her.”

Shona glanced toward the ground. “When we, the four of us, came back…” She was referring to the time that her, Ewan, Moira and Rory returned to the Highlands from their modern world. But Shona didn’t continue.

“What?”

She looked me in the eyes and I saw sorrow there, guilt. “We wondered if by coming back it would force someone to leave.”

“Why would ye think that?”

Shona shrugged. “I dinna know much about time travel. Why, how or even what, but I do know that nature has a balance of things, and she works hard to keep that balance.”

I ground my teeth, not wanting to put to voice the dark thoughts going through my mind. Emma had been a blessing brought to me a couple years before. Without her, I’d still be locked in the deep dark of my mind. But she’d brought with her a light. Something good I could grasp onto, and I’d felt her pull, felt her haul me out of that darkness.

“I want her back.”

“I know.”

“Help me.”

“I can try.” But she looked doubtful. “Perhaps a trip to the grove? To the stone circle?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling bereft and determined at the same time.

Ewan returned to me then, a slight shake of his head. “No one has seen her.”

“Scour the woods, the roads, the village,” I ordered. “I’m going to the sacred grove.”

Ewan nodded. “I’ll see it done, my laird.”

“Did ye dream, Logan?” Shona asked.

I shook my head. “Not this time…” My voice trailed off as I recalled those odd dreams from years before.

When I’d been captured and strapped to a table in the torturer’s chamber, Emma had come to me in a dream. She’d given me strength and I’d been able to escape.

Now, Shona had a dream of Emma in another time. Mayhap the way to get her back was through dreams.

I marched toward the water gate. “Open the gates,” I demanded.

I yanked a boat from where it was moored, and seized the oars. Prepared to make my way across the loch.

Chapter Three

Emma

Present Day

Less than four hours after climbing into Mrs. MacDonald’s compact, blue Vauxhall, we pulled off the A90 onto Belford Road. We’d found Shona and Moira’s address in an old tattered phonebook—and I was exceedingly grateful, and surprised, that it wasn’t unlisted.

I grabbed for the
oh shit
handle near the top of the passenger side window—again, my other hand clutched the beige, fabric seat.

The woman drove like a maniac.

Not at all what one would expect from someone in her aged years. My hands ached from holding tight the entirety of the ride. I was a little dizzy from being whipped around.

The countryside had sped past us in beautiful blurs of green, orange, red and yellow. If I squinted my eyes enough to blur out the modern corners of the houses and shops we passed, it could almost pass for 1544.

Mrs. MacDonald whipped the car around to the right, nearly taking out a mother pushing a stroller—which sent my heart into palpitations of sorrow and fear.

Oh, Saor.
How was my baby?

The mother shouted, shaking her fist at us, but Mrs. MacDonald barely seemed to notice. My gut ached from her neglect for their safety.

I was honestly surprised we’d made it here alive. The car jerked to a stop, and I slapped my hand on the dash to keep from hitting my head. We’d finally reached Coates Garden where Moira and Shona had lived.

“That’s it there, lass.” She pulled up in front of a pretty, stone, row home. Flowers in the window-baskets wilted over the side, dead.

Trees lining the street had lost most of their leaves, but a few orange and red ones hung on for dear life. Lampposts dotted the sidewalk, and I imagined then when it grew dark, this was a picturesque street.

A woman a few houses down from the Ayreshires swept her broom with fury on the path, eyeing us with curiosity. From Shona’s description of her matronly, nosy neighbor, I recognized her instantly. Stout and big bosomed. Her graying hair was pulled back in a bun that frayed at the sides. It had probably been neater that morning, but fallen loose from the head whipping she must do as she snooped on her neighbors.

What had Shona said her neighbor’s name was?

I couldn’t remember, and quite frankly, I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to make friends, let alone speak to her. The less people knew who I was, the better.

“Is this your place?” Mrs. MacDonald asked again, even though she’d asked me the same thing when she looked in the phonebook.

I could tell she wanted to know more. Wanted to ask me a thousand questions. But I didn’t have any answers for her. The effort to talk seemed like too much. I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, and then I’d have to try and remember what I’d omitted and what I’d made up. I’d just need to stick to simple facts. Mundane truths. Kind of like what I had to do when I’d first met Logan, so he wouldn’t know at the time that I was from another time. I was amazed and grateful that he’d listened to my truth when I was ready, and accepted it. Loving me no matter what.

“No.” I shook my head and reached for the car handle, wanting to escape the small car and breathe in deeply of the cool November air. I felt like I was suffocating under her prying gaze and the secrets I kept. “My friends’ house.” I glanced at Mrs. MacDonald, saw that she’d turned the key in the ignition and was making way to climb out of the vehicle. “Thanks for dropping me off,” I said, hoping, but not hopeful, that she would take the hint I didn’t want her to come inside.

It was uncharitable of me. After four hours in the car, her old bladder most likely needed to relieve itself, I knew I did, and she might want a cup of tea, or even to stay for a while before making her way back. I couldn’t blame her. That was a lot of driving, and I’d not want to whip around and return, even if I knew Steven wasn’t there.

“I’m coming in.” Her words were filled with conviction, and so I didn’t argue.

After all, the woman had saved me from Steven. A virtual stranger. I owed her more than she even realized.

“All right,” I said wearily, climbing from the car.

I made my way up the short walk to the front door, surreptitiously glancing down the street.

The nosy neighbor waddled faster than Mrs. MacDonald drove, up the walk toward us. I recalled what Shona told me about this woman. How she stuck her nose into everyone’s business—as though it were her life’s purpose to know everything about everyone. How they’d been terrified that she would figure out what they were up to when they’d come home from jail still in cellblock uniform. How they’d lied and said they were in their workout clothes.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Have you seen the Ayreshire lassies?”

I forced a smile on my face and rounded to meet her meddlesome regard. “Why, yes, I have.” My voice sounded entirely too cheerful and fake to my own ears.

“Oh.” She squinted her eyes, looking me up and down and then doing the same to Mrs. MacDonald. Thank God I couldn’t hear her thoughts. “Where are they?”

So blunt, she was. I guess I didn’t expect anything different.

“They went on a vacation,” I said, the first thing that came to mind.

“A vacation.” She narrowed her eyes, and I kept my gaze steady, going for the look a teacher gave a student when questioned. “For several weeks.”

She wasn’t asking, but stating a fact, and it came out rather judgmentally.

I nodded, not feeling required to explain their situation to an outsider.

“We’re here to take care of the house,” Mrs. MacDonald added.

I glanced back at her, wondering why she felt the need to step in.

Did the old broad know something about time traveling?

Ohmygod…

I had to be reading into things. Paranoid about everything and everyone. She was probably just coming to my rescue from the pesky busybody. Wanted to escape this conversation as much as I did.

The neighbor sniffed, swiping hair from her face. “Well, ye’ll need the key then.”

I turned to face her, narrowing my eyes and cocking my head. I refrained from putting my hands on my hips, reasoning this would likely only get the lady riled up more. “Did you take their key?”

She straightened, holding her broom firm and straight up and down on the ground, like a Roman sentry with his spear. “I did.”

I cocked my head, genuinely irritated and curious. “Why would you do that?”

Her nose turned up. “I wasn’t certain they’d be back.” Her eyes shifted away.

“That’s an odd thing to say. They are your neighbors, and have been so for quite some time. There is no for sale sign. Why would you think that?”

She pursed her lips and looked me straight in the eye. “On account of them having broken out of jail.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Jail?”

Mrs. MacDonald eyed me with worry, but I shook my head. So she’d not fallen for their lie about working as personal trainers. She was smarter than they thought. Or just more of a busybody than anyone had anticipated. Probably went home and searched on the internet for what the clothes at the jail looked like.

She smacked the broom against the pavement. “Jail, missy.”

“You’ve got the wrong of it,” I said, using the tone I carried with wayward staff or adolescents at Gealach Castle. “And it is unchristian of you to pass judgments, especially false. I hope you haven’t spread rumors like this across town. I’d hate for Shona and Moira to return from the U.S. and be labeled for something they didn’t do.”

“Well, I…” The woman sputtered.

“Best give us back the key, else I’ll be forced to call the police,” Mrs. MacDonald said. “That’s stealing, and at your age, ye ought to know better. I’m certain ye don’t want to spend a night in jail.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The neighbor was likely every bit the same age as Mrs. MacDonald. But the mention of stealing, and spending the night in jail, seemed to drain her of her attitude.

“I’ll go get it,” she muttered, but then waggled her finger at me. “But I’ve got my eye on ye. Any funny business and I’ll see to it that the police are questioning
ye
.”

I was too tired to respond, and when Mrs. MacDonald said she would follow the neighbor back to her house to retrieve the key I nodded, sitting down on the front stoop, all the energy sapped from me. I pressed my forehead to my palms, massaged my temples, the pounding in my head not having abated.

“Where are you, Logan?” I murmured into my hands.

But there was no answer, as I knew there wouldn’t be. Oh, but I could have curled up on the stoop and cried. My entire body ached for missing my family. Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away, not wanting to break down in front of my new friend. I’d already burdened her enough.

A moment later, Mrs. MacDonald returned with a bronze colored key and held it out to me.

“I don’t know what that was about, my dear, but we’d best get inside before the old biddy comes at ye again. I can tell ye’re tired.”

I nodded, took the key and forced myself to stand. With great effort, as my limbs felt heavy, thick, tired, I slipped the key into the lock. The bolt turned easier than any at Gealach, and I pushed the door open.

The inside of the house was dark and smelled slightly of stale air. The blinds were drawn. I expected, with them having been gone, to also smell something rotten, since they’d not had a chance to empty their trash or clean out the fridge before Fate pulled them back to 1544. I was surprised to find I didn’t.

I flipped a switch and lights turned on. The neighbor said they’d been gone a few weeks, so the electric company wouldn’t have turned off their power just yet. Thank goodness, for me.

“Can I get you some tea?” I asked, walking down the corridor toward the back of the house, where a kitchen normally is, and pleased to see I found it.

I didn’t want Mrs. MacDonald to realize I’d never been here before. I was also hoping she said no.

“How about ye sit down and I’ll make the tea.” Mrs. MacDonald scooted past me, patting my shoulder as she went.

I nodded, slumping into a wooden kitchen table chair and settling the pocket book Mrs. Lamb gave me onto the tabletop. I’d yet to look inside, but guessed there was money. Why else would she insist I take it?

I should have offered to give Mrs. MacDonald money for gas. She’d volunteered the eight hour round trip, but she shouldn’t have to pay for it. I opened the purse to find a wallet with several hundred pound bills in it.

Ohmygod
…

If there was such a thing as a fairy godmother—which I wouldn’t be surprised to find out given there was such a thing as time travel—then Mrs. Lamb was she.

“Let me give you money for gas,” I said.

“No need, dearie.” Mrs. MacDonald was busy heating up water in the electric kettle, and sticking tea bags into two black coffee cups.

“Please, let me.” I tugged out a bill and held it out to her.

“Nay, dear. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.” She opened and closed a few drawers, finding a spoon, and then cleared her throat. “There is fresh cream in the refrigerator.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Someone has been here recently.”

I nodded. “Likely my friends.” I had no way of knowing whether or not they’d been gone as long as their neighbor accused. She could be senile. Sometimes years passed when a person time traveled, other times minutes. “I’ll check the expiration date.”

“Already did. Doesn’t expire for another week.”

“Oh, good.” My voice trailed off. All I could think about was Logan and Saor. Nothing as stupid as cream for my tea.

“Where is your son?”

It was as if she’d read my thoughts. I bit my lip. Was I so obvious? I leaned back further in the chair, praying I could just sink into the wood and end up back in 1544. “He is with his father,” I managed to answer.

“That man?” She winged a brow, her frown deepening her wrinkles. “Steven?”

I shook my head. “No. Not him.”

“Ah.” She didn’t ask any more questions. That one sound seeming to bring her to her own conclusions and I let her think whatever it was she wanted. What did I care what she thought about me, or whether or not her judgments would ruin a reputation that I cared nothing for? I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t going to stay. Her conclusions, and anyone else’s, mattered little to me.