Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (84 page)

He barely heard Morgaine running after
him.

*

Morgan couldn’t keep up with Alasdair, let
alone catch him. “Alasdair!” she cried when she stumbled on
Frances’s gravel path, not expecting him even to acknowledge her
shout.

He looked back, and Morgan’s heart twisted
at his anguished expression.

But he did not stop.

And Morgan would never be able to close the
yawning gap between them. She halted and watched Alasdair make
quick progress across the peat, his figure growing rapidly
smaller.

Alasdair must have known that Angus would be
dead – it had been seven hundred years, after all – but she
couldn’t blame him for being shocked that the boy had died so very
young. Angus had died so soon after Alasdair leapt through time
that Morgan couldn’t help wondering whether there was a
connection.

And she guessed that Alasdair was wondering
the same thing.

Alasdair’s only son, his only touchstone to
remind him of his beloved Fenella, had died young, perhaps because
Alasdair had been away. Alasdair probably believed he had failed
the memory of his gorgeous wife.

Or maybe it just troubled him that her
presence had been wiped away so quickly. Morgan wished heartily
that the record had included some notation of how Angus had
died.

It might have set Alasdair’s mind at
ease.

“
Well, I must say I’ve
never seen such a strong reaction to finding a record,” Frances
commented behind Morgan.

Morgan deliberately turned away from the
highlander’s fleeing figure and forced a smile. “It was a bit of a
surprise for him.”

“
Hmm.” The older woman’s
expression was skeptical, as though she sensed that there was more
to this story than she was hearing. “I suppose his family must
descend from another line,” she confined herself to saying. “No
doubt he’ll discover some other helpful details from those at home
and be back.”

Morgan guessed where Alasdair might have
gone. He could have gone home, where at least in his mind, he could
be with Fenella and their son. It was the closest he could come to
fixing what he thought he had done wrong.

But Morgan could do one better. The ideal
solution for Alasdair would be for him to go back in time. Maybe
then he could help his son. Maybe then he could set history to
rights again.

She had the crystal that had somehow tumbled
out of the Scottish regalia when Alasdair had appeared. She didn’t
know how everything was connected, but the fact remained that
Alasdair had traveled through time once. That could only mean that
he could do it again. Morgan resolved in that moment that she would
figure out how.

The blue Micra came puttering around the
corner with perfect timing, and Frances glanced at her watch. “My
goodness, we were occupied for quite some time.”

“
Yes, well, thanks for your
help.” Morgan retrieved her bag from the foyer, exchanged a few
more pleasantries, then hopped into the waiting car. Blake had come
alone, and Morgan barely noticed that his shirt was
uncharacteristically untucked.

“
Can we hurry?” she asked
as she got into the car. “Alasdair decided to walk.”

Only then did Morgan notice that Blake
didn’t need much encouragement to put the pedal to the floor.

Morgan waved to Frances, then stared out the
passenger window as though she were fascinated by the dusk falling
over Lewis. She hoped that Blake wouldn’t notice she was upset.

Morgan knew that Alasdair would never be
hers, no matter how much she loved him. Still she had to try to
make him happy, simply because she did love him.

Which meant that she had to send him
away.

Forever.

Auntie Gillian had always said that life had
no interest in playing fair, but that one had to make the bets of
it. Morgan bit her lip, blinked back her tears, and determined to
make the best of this. She would do whatever she could to give
Alasdair his one desire.

She would help him solve this, even if it
meant spending the rest of her own life with an aching heart.

*

But Alasdair wasn’t at the
bed-and-breakfast.

Morgan paced up and down the porch for a
good two hours, purportedly watching the sun set, but he didn’t
show. She finally concluded that this place was too resonant of the
present for Alasdair to escape to the past here.

After all, there was a bed-and-breakfast
built virtually on the site of his home.

She remembered how Alasdair had pointed to
the standing stones, the first thing he had seen that was precisely
as he recalled it.

With that recollection, Morgan knew exactly
where to find him. He would have sought out familiarity – she knew
it.

Morgan raced back inside, startling Justine
and Blake from the whispers they were exchanging over their
after-dinner coffees.

“
I need the car!” It wasn’t
much of a greeting, but it got their attention.

Blake frowned. ‘You’re sure you can handle
driving on the wrong side and all that?”

“
No,” Morgan conceded. “But
it hardly matters. There’s not much traffic here. It’s a good place
to practice.”

“
Uh huh.” Blake clearly
didn’t share her optimism.

“
At night?” Justine
demanded. “Where are you going?”

“
To get Alasdair. I think I
know where he’s gone.”

Blake and Justine exchanged a glance, then
Blake got to his feet. “Look, I can take you there.”

Morgan’s tone was firm. “No. I need to go
alone.”

She knew this as surely as she knew her own
name. Justine and Blake understood her determination because they
conceded the point immediately.

“
All right. But let me show
you a few things,” Blake said. Morgan turned to hurry to the
car.

“
And be careful!” Justine
shouted after them.

*

All Morgan could think about was getting to
Alasdair, so she felt that Blake was determined to teach her every
nuance of the car’s operation. She was impatient with his thorough
tutorial, resenting every passing moment, but she soon regretted
that.

She particularly regretted not paying much
attention to what Blake had said about using the manual choke.

Morgan did well enough on the paved road –
and thankfully, divine intervention ensured that very few of the
residents of Lewis were subjected to her habitual drift to the
right side of the road.

She repeatedly corrected her course in the
glare of oncoming headlights.

Fortunately, she didn’t have that far to
go.

Soon, Morgan saw the standing stones rise
ahead and sighed with relief. The Micra skipped along the gravel
road littered with a jarring quantity of potholes.

Even worse, it was hard to anticipate them.
Morgan was jostled and bounced in the driver’s seat. She ground the
gears more than once. The little temperature gauge nudged upward as
she kept her foot hard on the gas pedal.

The Micra bottomed out twice with a jolting
grin, then lurched into a spectacularly deep hole. Morgan
miscalculated whatever she should have done and stalled the
car.

She couldn’t get it started again. The Micra
was apparently not interested in enduring another round of torture.
Morgan cranked the ignition over and over again, gave it a good
shot of gas, and heard the engine choke to oblivion.

She had flooded it.

She supposed she shouldn’t have been
surprised. She looked around herself, becoming aware for the first
time how completely dark and silent it was here. Night had fallen
with incredible speed, a night that was blacker on this island than
anywhere else she had ever been.

But Alasdair was out there alone. He needed
her help, whether he realized it or not. Morgan gathered up her
bag, then turned on the headlights to give herself at least an idea
of where the road went.

A dark shape lurched across the road.
Morgan’s heart missed a beat and she flicked on the high beams.

Just to find a tall, golden highlander
striding toward her.

Morgan collapsed against the seat in relief
as Alasdair hauled open the door. He bent to duck his head inside,
bracing his hands on either side of the door. Though he smiled, his
gaze was somber and Morgan knew he hadn’t missed her moment of
fright.

“
You cannot be surprised to
see me, my lady,” he mused, despite the opposing evidence before
his very eyes. “Only this wee chariot could make such a riot of
snorting and farting. They likely have heard you all the way to
Edinburgh.”

Morgan took a deep breath. “I came to find
you.”

“
Aye,” Alasdair said, his
voice low and silky. Morgan was painfully aware of how very close
he was, and her desire for his touch hummed to life.

“
I came to help you go
home,” she said quickly hurrying over the words before she could
think about them too much. “You came forward in time, so it only
makes sense that you can go back. We just have to figure out how.”
Morgan looked up to find Alasdair’s gaze intent. “You just have to
tell me exactly how you did it before.”

“’
Twas the witch as done
it,” he acknowledged slowly. “And ’twould seem clear that you are
indeed no sorceress.”

There was no censure in his tone and Morgan
smiled tentatively. “No. Just an illustrator.”

Alasdair’s smile flashed in the darkness.
“There is no ‘just’ about it, my lady. Your talent is rare in its
power.”

Morgan was dismayed that she blushed so
easily in his presence. “You don’t have to call me ‘my lady,’ you
know. I’m just an ordinary person, not nobility or anything.”

“
There is naught ordinary
about you, Morgan Lafayette.” Alasdair said her name deliberately,
as though schooling himself to address her correctly. “And never
believe anyone who tells you otherwise.”

Before Morgan could absorb his words,
Alasdair extended a hand to her. “Come, my lady. ’Tis time enough
that you saw the standing stones that so intrigue you. The moon
will rise full this night, and my gran oft said ’twas then that
magic happened within the circle of stones.”

Morgan looked at his proffered hand, strong
and broad, and knew there was nowhere else she would rather be than
with Alasdair beneath the stars.

Even if she was destined to lose him in the
end.

*

The night sky was filled with a bewildering
array of stars. Morgan was amazed that once she stepped out of the
car, her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. There were no
houses nearby and no lights other than the starlight.

Which was surprisingly bright. In fact,
Morgan had never seen so many stars. Alasdair caught her elbow with
a chuckle when she tripped because her gaze was so fixed on the
heavens above.

His touch recalled her to what she had to
do. “So, what happened? What is your last memory of your own
time?”

Alasdair’s thumb began a slow caress of
Morgan’s elbow and he frowned as he walked. “Robert the Bruce had
granted us the task of winning Edinburgh keep from the English.
’Twas one of two they yet held, the other being Stirling. We heard
tell of a way up the outside wall and climbed it, under cover of
darkness.”

“
I remember the guide
talking about that!” Morgan declared excitedly. “But then, once you
and I met, no one remembered it.”

Alasdair slanted a considering glance her
way. “We had taken the guards by surprise and easily won the keep.
We had been long at camp, and the English had ample stores of both
food and whisky. We indulged ourselves, then explored the
keep.”

“
That’s why you were
drunk.”

“
Aye, fou as a puggie we
were when we met the wee witch. She claimed we would interrupt the
slumber of Morgaine le Fee, of whom we all had heard ample tales.
It has long been said that her cavern lies beneath Edinburgh keep
and that her pet dragon, a most ferocious beast, is doubly fearsome
if awakened to defend his mistress.” Alasdair grimaced. “The witch
dared us to meet her mistress unflinchingly.”

“
And you took the dare,”
Morgan guessed.

“
Aye. In truth, I believed
it to be whimsy. I feared she knew another way into the keep, or
that she was one of the English aiming only to frighten us
away.”

“
But she
wasn’t.”

Alasdair shrugged. “’Twould seem not.”

“
What happened when you
took her dare?”

“
She ran. She led me to the
top of a tower, then granted me the gemstone from the regalia and a
tuft of white heather. She bade me turn thrice while she chanted a
Gaelic ditty.” He glanced at Morgan. “I believed I fell down the
staircase, but I awakened at your feet.”

Morgan chewed her lip. “And everything
changed. The men you were with must have abandoned the keep.”

“
Aye. ’Twould seem so. They
would be fair spooked when a man disappeared without
trace.”

“
And that turned the tide
against Robert the Bruce.” Morgan tried to sound businesslike.
“Well, we just have to figure out how to send you back.”

“
My lady, I fear ’tis
impossible.”

“
It is not. You came
forward, you can go back.” Morgan’s tone brooked no argument, and
she heard a vestige of Auntie Gillian there. “We just have to
replicate the circumstances. If it’s a spell, we just need all the
right ingredients to make it work again.”

A twinkle lit Alasdair’s eyes. “For one who
is not a sorceress, you sound an authority on such matters.”

“
I watch
Bewitched
reruns.”