Revenge (Book 3 of Lost Highlander series) (14 page)

“Things happen after my time that ye dinna want to tell me?” he asked.

He tipped her chin up to show her he wasn’t upset. It was just as when she’d had to tell him he was down in the family crypt. He’d been surprised and confused, but not overly upset about it. She loved that about him, his ability to take whatever came in stride.

“It’s not so much that. But you have to remember, I grew up in another country. We didn’t study this history so I hardly know myself what happened. If you want to know, you should ask Sam.” She looked at him a moment longer. “But, you’re right. It isn’t good.”

“This is my time now,” he said, stooping to kiss her. “It’s tempting to try to find out what happens to Quinn and Catriona, and my other kin, but perhaps it’s best no’ to.”

“Whatever you decide, Lachlan. I’ll help you.”

“It does pain me that I canna wear my kilt.” He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and she laughed to see that it really did pain him.

“Poor modern man,” she said, wrapping her hands around his bottom and giving him a quick squeeze, causing his face to redden as he scanned the room to see if anyone had noticed her brazen display.

What he saw caused his eyes to widen. A look of disbelief crossed his face and Piper turned in his arms to see what had upset him.

A man in full, glorious Highland regalia came into the room, followed by an equally splendidly bedecked piper, giving lie to her assertion that he had to wear the suit. At the injustice of it, he looked down at her like a little boy who was told he couldn’t have dessert even though he ate all his broccoli.

“They must be entertainers,” she said, glancing around. No one seemed phased at their entrance, and Evie, who had just returned with a baby monitor in her hand, actually gave them both quick kisses on the cheek before pointing the piper in the direction of the makeshift stage. “See, the one is going to play the bagpipes.”

“That is the Campbell plaid,” Lachlan said. “‘Tis no costume.” He almost looked dizzy, as if he’d recognized an old friend.

Piper grabbed his hand to keep him steady. She knew what he must be thinking, as she was thinking it too. Had someone been dragged forward with them when she’d done the spell to bring them home? They’d been deep in the forest, away from anyone, or so they thought. Her brain clicked back to reality when she saw Evie leading the strange Highlander over to them. Stop going bonkers, she admonished herself.

“You’re one of the re-enactors,” she said, almost wanting to wipe her brow with relief. “He’s a historical re-enactor,” she laughed, tugging excitedly on Lachlan’s arm.

“So glad to finally meet our fair hostess,” he said, dropping an impressive bow while reaching for her hand. “Archie Bancroft at your service, as always.”

He was tall, not Lachlan tall, but probably at least Sam’s height, and had tight curly black hair, soulful chocolate brown eyes and a charming, slightly snaggle-toothed grin. He snapped his feet together and saluted Lachlan. “Milord,” he said, glancing down at Piper with a wink. “I’ve heard from Evelyn that you’re the foremost expert in these parts on the eighteenth century, and I would be honored to pick your brain now that you’re back in the Highlands.”

Piper couldn’t close her mouth. The man was overwhelming, to say the least. She glanced behind him and saw Mellie hovering in the background, also staring at him with her mouth unattractively open. There was one thing that stood out about him most glaringly.

“You’re English,” she sputtered, then looked chagrined at his crestfallen expression.

“Yes,” he said sadly. “An accident of birth. I assure you I’m Scottish in my heart.” He said the last with a fairly bad accent.

Lachlan looked horrified. “Ye must no’ do that anymore,” he said, causing Archie to laugh good naturedly. It was a deep, infectious laugh and Piper couldn’t help but join in.

“I’m Scottish in my heart, too,” she said, taking his arm and leading him to a table so they could chat.

“Love, ye are actually Scots,” Lachlan said. “By blood if no’ by birthplace.”

“Oh, yes, I always forget,” she said.

Archie began to tell them in great detail of the camp he had set up, how many people participated in their little experiment in historical living, and how they had rebuilt one of the ruined crofter’s huts. She assured him she would come out and take a look at it all as soon as she could, letting him know she had heard nothing but good things about his group.

“That’s a relief,” he said. “After the rumors of the original lot being such ruffians, I wanted to make sure we didn’t get a bad reputation by default.”

Lachlan coughed, having been the basis for the ruffian rumor in the first place, and Archie pulled out his sword, nearly causing Lachlan to jump out of his chair to defend himself, or Piper, or anyone who needed it.

He quickly relaxed when Archie showed him the hilt and started asking questions about whether or not it looked realistic enough. They tried to get as many actual artifacts from the time as they could, but some things had to necessarily be replicas. Lachlan seemed to take a great interest in it, also asking to see the small knife he had strapped to his sock. Piper was a little disturbed that someone should be so well armed at her birthday party, but she imagined he’d wanted to go all out with his costume.

Poor Mellie kept hovering and passing by the table and finally Piper couldn’t stand it anymore.

“There’ll be plenty of time to show each other all your weapons tomorrow,” she said. The men looked up at her and blinked, having gotten lost in their conversation about sharpening methods. “I think we need to appreciate the band and dance some more. Oh, look, Archie, why don’t you dance with Mellie here.”

Piper reached out and snagged Mel by her sleeve before she could escape, her face bright red and eyes full of murder. She quickly relaxed when he bowed gallantly and said he’d be more than delighted to take a turn with her.

They spent the next hour dancing and speaking to the guests. Piper was surprised at how easily Lachlan communicated and got along with everyone, then laughed at herself. He wasn’t a caveman. But she had always pictured him battling or swinging his axe around, tearing across the countryside on horseback. When she found he was gracious, friendly and drew people to him like flies to honey, her pride in him grew.

“Did you have a lot of gatherings in your time?” she asked as they twirled on the dance floor.

He had grown more adventurous and they had moved past standing and swaying a few songs earlier.

“Aye, when my aunt visits us, and of course we have holidays for the crofters. A big feast, and singing and storytelling. The clans around us usually invited us to their gatherings, and up until my father died, we’d have them every so often as well.”

The music stopped and he dipped down to kiss her, having become more relaxed as the night wore on. She realized she was exhausted and looked around to find very few people were left. Sam and Evie were sitting at a table with the baby monitor between them, Evie looking at pictures on Sam’s phone, a sweet, unguarded smile on her face.

Archie was pouring a drink for Mellie. She’d have to keep an eye on those two. He seemed nice enough but he was too old for her. She saw Dr. Stone for the first time picking at what was left of her extravagant birthday cake and waved at him, glad that he had made it.

“Looks like—” she started when a huge crash sounded from overhead, shaking the wooden beams with its force.

She grabbed Lachlan’s hand and squeaked in surprise, wondering if the half rotten fifth floor had finally collapsed. “Will you run upstairs and see?” she asked, looking around to try to reassure everyone.

She’d heard plenty of creaks and groans since she’d moved into her stone monstrosity, but never such a resounding crash.

She hurried over to Evie’s side after Lachlan took off, his new best friend trailing after him. Evie pressed the monitor up to her ear and fiddled with the settings, handing it to Sam with a dismayed look on her face.

“I can’t hear anything,” she said. “Can you?” She stood up and yelped. “I’m just going to go check on him,” she said, wringing her hands.

“I’ll go with you,” Sam said, trying to sound calm, but his face telling another story. “I’m sure it’s just those damn squirrels knocking things over up there though.”

He and Evie headed for the door of the dining hall before she could stop them. Dr. Stone and Mellie gave the ceiling suspicious looks.

“It’s been standing for a thousand years,” Piper said, herding the stragglers into the kitchen. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

Once they were in the cozy confines of the smaller room, they began to relax. Until Evie’s blood curdling scream rang out from the second floor.

Pietro awoke to one of Quinn’s world class swearing tirades. He reached for Bella’s hand that had been comfortingly resting on his chest all night and sat up when he found it was no longer there.

Quinn noticed he was awake, and instead of stopping his cursing, seemed to be inspired with a refreshed stream of creativity. Pietro got dizzy trying to keep up with all the rude variations on the livestock theme. Surely a goat wouldn’t fit … he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Aye, I see ye there,” Quinn said, hitting the mantel with his fist, causing the trinkets to wobble precariously.

Catie sniffled in the corner of the room, and Pietro was shocked that Quinn had gone on like he had with his sister present.

“Where’s Bella?” Pietro asked as he mentally examined his condition.

Headache mild. Fever somewhat subsided, but he was still a little chilled. Hunger level ravenous.

Quinn’s already dark look turned dangerously stormy and Catie began to sob. “That is what we are trying to find out,” he said.

He pressed his lips together, glaring at his sister, then shook his head and sat down hard in the armchair where Bella had been sleeping.

“What do ye mean?” Pietro asked, swinging his legs over so he was sitting up like a regular person.

He was so sick of lying around like a frail invalid. He was a bit muzzy from sleeping so long, but his senses were starting to click into full alert.

“I didna know,” she wailed from her corner.

“Know what?” Pietro tightened his hands into fists.

He looked from Catie, who was useless in her pitiful crying, to Quinn, who was still simmering with barely controlled rage.

“The lasses went out early this morn to gather eggs,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “A man rode up and said he was my messenger. Told them he had important news from Lachlan that only Bella could hear.”

He shook his head and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he took them away, Pietro noticed for all the man’s great size, he looked very young and frightened.

“It wasn’t your messenger?” Pietro asked, his voice sharp with panic. “Where are they?”

“I dinna know, and I dinna know,” he said.

“He was wearing our plaid, and he called me by name,” Catie said, blowing her nose into a hankie. She took a deep shuddering breath. “It’s been so long since I’ve been home, I didna know he wasna our man, Quinn.”

Quinn winced and got up to put his hand on her shoulder. “I know, lass. Ye must try to calm down. We are sussing out what’s been done.” He turned to Pietro. “Catie left them to have a private word. The man said they’d be right behind. She ran ahead to have breakfast ready for them when they returned.”

“And they never returned?” Pietro stood up and ignored both of them leaning forward like they might need to catch him at any moment. He swayed but stayed upright. “How long have they been gone?”

A clattering in the kitchen caught their attention and Quinn and Catie hurried out of the room, nearly knocking him over in their haste.

“Yes, I’ll be fine without your help,” he muttered, following them at an unsteady pace. His fear for Bella’s safety was keeping him on his feet.

A stable lad and Aunt Gwen were helping a man into a chair. The man wore only his shirt and stockings and rubbed a large welt above his right eye. Quinn groaned and turned to Catie.

“Do ye recognize him, then?” he asked her acerbically.

“Hello Redmond,” she said, eyes downcast. A second later she was crying again.

Quinn motioned for the lad to run along, then asked Redmond what had happened.

“Well, and it seems self explanatory, nae lad? I got hit on the head and my clothes stolen from me.”

Aunt Gwen pushed bowls of parritch in front of them. Pietro gave her a grateful look and paused before digging in. How could he have an appetite when Bella was possibly in danger? Going without wouldn’t help her, so he forced a spoonful. He’d need whatever strength he could cling to and he didn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

“Was it one of the bastard Glens?” Quinn asked.

Redmond rolled his eyes and then clutched his head. “Aye, and there was more’n one of them.”

Quinn glanced at his aunt, and Pietro was sure her presence was the only thing sparing them from a new round of cursing. He swallowed a mouthful of oats and spoke up.

“So, the Glens took Bella?” he asked, only to be given twin dirty looks from both Quinn and Redmond. “But wouldn’t she have recognized him?” A sharp pain struck him in the heart, and he wasn’t sure if it was Bella choosing to leave him or the thick, pasty parritch. He couldn’t believe she would leave, just tear away from him after last night. He pressed his palm to his chest, still able to feel her warm hand resting there. He looked to Catie and gently touched her arm. “Did she act like she knew the man?” he asked, not wanting to send her into another bout of hysterics.