Choosing the Highlander (33 page)

“At first, I didna ken who ’twas that mounted the dais, but I heard someone whisper ‘one of the twin blades’ and I understood that to mean the very lad I wanted to see had just put himself in danger. I respected his courage, but I figured he was a dead man taking on so many singlehandedly.” He shook his head. “I didna have faith he would succeed, even though I’d heard tales of his strength in battle. I didna wish to see him cut down, so I continued my leave. ’Twas a disappointing night on many counts. I ken now, I underestimated him. You are proof that he survived. I should have done somat.”

“I don’t know what you could have done. If it had been me, I would have left as well.”

He looked down his nose at her. “Cease this farce, lass. You’re no’ English.”

“No. I’m not.” She dropped the accent with a rush of embarrassment.

It was all or nothing now. She had to tell him everything and pray he took pity on her. He seemed to have respect for Wilhelm. That was something. But she hated piling another problem on his plate after he’d just lost his daughter. If there was any other way, she would leave this family in peace.

I’m trusting you, Gravois.
 

“As you might have guessed, I’m not from any place you’ve ever heard of.”

He glanced at her documents and nodded, looking too wrung out to register any more shocks. He was a man at the limit of what a person could handle.

She continued with a gentle voice. “Explorers are just now beginning to map the North American continent that will eventually become the United States of America and Canada.” She reached for her driver’s license. “This—” She pointed to the numerals denoted by
DOB.
“Is the date of my birth. The eleventh month—November—on the seventh day in the year nineteen fifty-three. I’m from a state in the center of the continent. Illinois. The city I live in—lived in—is called Chicago.”

She let Turstan take the little laminated card. He ran a finger over the date. For several minutes, he studied her license in silence. She had to remind herself to breathe.

“Is this why Ruthven accused you of witchcraft? These records?” He handed her license back and leaned forward, fingers steepled.

“I think so. And the fact I’d been wearing a piece of jewelry Ruthven called a hag stone. My sister—my twin sister, Leslie—the necklace was hers, but she put it on me and—you’re going to think I’m completely nuts, but she made a wish. For my happiness and for me to find love. We were at Druid’s Temple, and it had been the morning of the summer solstice. Nineteen eighty-one. Next thing I knew, I was here in the past—” She huffed with wry humor. “In the middle of a winter’s night wearing a summer ensemble appropriate for my time. The men who found me—Ruthven’s men, I assume—thought I was half-dressed.”

The corner of Turstan’s mouth turned up, and for an instant he reminded her of her father.

“I admit it had to have been magic to bring me here, but I’m not a witch. Neither is my sister or Aifric, the other woman Ruthven tried to burn.”

“What’s her story? The lass with child. Did she survive?”

She nodded and told Turstan what Ruthven had done to Aifric and how Wilhelm’s cousin had married her after she delivered Anice.

“Thank the Lord she’s alive. And her bairn.” He leaned back again, deep in thought.

Could it be he actually believed her? Despite his commanding presence, he struck her as compassionate. Maybe Gravois had been onto something sending her here.

“So, the lad rescued you then decided that of all the candidates for marriage he’s no doubt been presented in his twenty-five years,
you
would be the best partner for him?”

She bristled at the implication she might not be good marriage material because she wasn’t of noble blood. Or was Turstan pointing out that she was literally nobody in this place and time?

“I believe in this day, you call it a love match,” she said, lifting her chin. “Wilhelm’s friend Ewan MacPherson drew up the contract just last night. I was concerned about having no legitimacy in this time, but Wilhelm insisted his clan would accept me. I wouldn’t have agreed to his proposal if I thought I would hurt his reputation in any way. That’s the last thing I want to do. He has brilliant ideas, and he’s a good man. Scotland needs him, and I intend to support him in his political ambitions.”

Turstan scrutinized her the way her father had the day she told him she wanted to be a mechanical engineer, with a mixture of incredulity and pride. “You’ve a spine of steel, my dear. And quite the astute mind. Good communicator.” He sounded like he was ticking off checkmarks on a list.

She could see this man arguing for laws in parliament sessions. Might Wilhelm find a mentor in him? Would Wilhelm survive this to live his dream of serving his country with Turstan and his peers?

“This MacPherson.” Turstan broke into her thoughts. “Did he send the marriage contract to Edinburgh as yet?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know how often he leaves his tower.”

“Ah. He’s a signalman?”

“Yes. His peel tower is a day’s ride from here. It’s where Wilhelm and I spent last night.”

Turstan grinned. Years melted off his face as his eyes sparked with some idea he’d just had. “The sun will be up in a few hours. Between now and then, we’ve much to do. You may begin by tossing each of these items into the fire.” He nodded at her documents and modern possessions—her travel guide, her Walkman, an emergency tampon, lip balm, her travel-sized first-aid kit.

“I can’t! They’re all I have of home.”

“No. They’re not.” He leaned forward and tapped her temple. “You’ve got all you’ll ever need from home up here. These—” He motioned at the papers scattered across the hearth. “Can only bring you harm. They serve no purpose here. Understand?”

She bit her lip. Goodness. He was right. In the wrong hands, her modern paraphernalia would condemn her, and it could condemn Wilhelm by association.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’ve messages to send.” He leaned on his cane to rise and limped from the room.

Knowing what she had to do, she knelt in front of the fire. It was time to say goodbye to her past and commit herself fully to Wilhelm.

She
would
rescue him. They
would
live in Dornoch as husband and wife and have a long, happy life together.

She wouldn’t let Leslie down by failing to make the most of her generous wish.

Chapter 28

She was gone.

Ruthven’s men had beaten Wilhelm until he could hardly breathe past the pain. They’d chained him in a pitch black dungeon without so much as a blanket for warmth. He’d been in and out of consciousness since they’d taken him off guard at the inn, their numbers so great he’d had no chance. Likely, he was on his way to the executioner’s block. Mayhap, if Ruthven was feeling like nodding to the law, he would arrange a farce of a trial with this Bishop of Perthshire he had in his pocket, but the outcome would be the same. His death.

And all he could think was:
She’s gone.
 

Earlier in the day—or had it been yesterday—he’d lost track of time—Constance told him of the shopkeeper her sister had met, the one who’d encouraged the wish responsible for sending her to him. Only hours later, while Ruthven’s men carried him from the tavern below the inn, he watched Constance flee into a shop that had disappeared the moment the shopkeeper had closed the door behind her. At first, he thought he’d imagined it, but no. He knew what he’d seen: his Constant Rose returning to her time.

As he lay on his side taking shallow breaths, he wished he’d had a chance to bid her farewell. He wished he could turn back time to before entering the inn. He should have checked that no one inside might recognize him. He should have remained another day at Ewan’s loving his wife and making certain she remembered him well.

So many regrets.

Constance would miss him. He wished he could take that pain for her. But at least she would be home, where her sister could comfort her. She wouldn’t have to see him executed. ’Twas a blessing, even if watching her leave had hurt worse than the blows he’d received from Ruthven’s men.

’Twas better this way. She would be safe in her own time. She would go on with her life as she’d fully intended to before he’d courted her.

His side was on fire from receiving the kicks of booted men, but worse was the unbearable ache of his heart at the thought of his wife going through life without him to care for her. His independent lady wouldn’t appreciate that sentiment—she would insist she could care for herself in her own time. That strength of spirit was one of the thousands of things he loved about her.

He’d had less than a full day to prove his vows. Would she remember him a year from now, a decade, in her old age?

She is gone. And she’s taken the best of me with her.
 

Including all his dreams for a Dornoch keep filled with their children.

Likely, now that he was captured, Ruthven would search in earnest for Terran. Thank the saints his cousin and his new family were safe with Anselm. At least Wilhelm could go to the guillotine kenning Dornoch was not without an heir.

A scraping sound at the door indicated someone was lifting the bar. One of Ruthven’s men come to inflict more injury? Ruthven himself, come to taunt him? Certainly, no one would bring him food or drink, and he doubted Ruthven would hasten the execution. He would want Wilhelm to suffer a while first.

The cell had no window, making it impossible to tell whether he should count the passing of time in minutes or hours. Surely it could not have been days, unless he’d been unconscious more than he’d been awake. Considering the blows he’d taken to his head, he shouldn’t rule out the possibility.

The scraping stopped and the door opened slowly, the creaking minimal. Why would Ruthven’s men be stealing into his cell? He’d learned that Ruthven had been given charge over this wing of the citadel, which meant the baron had more than a bishop in his pocket. He’d known the man was dangerous. Here was the proof. He had allies in every corner of Scotia, including Inverness, the one place Wilhelm had hoped to find an impartial magistrate to clear his name.

“Wilhelm? You in here?” A whisper came from the blackness. The open door had let in the scantest amount of light. Not enough to see more than a dark shape. But Wilhelm didn’t need light to ken that whisper.

“Terran?” He coughed and pain racked him. He’d wanted to ask what his cousin was doing here, but he couldn’t muster the breath.

Terran rushed to him. “Easy, Will. Let’s get you out of here.” Terran’s hands ran over him, looking for the chains.

“You. Shouldna. Be. Here.” He coughed the words out, the pain making him see spots.

Terran shushed him. “Quiet. I only had to kill two men to get in here, but I suspect there’s more.

Saints above. “No killing.” It came out a growl. “Already. Enough. Trouble.”

Terran found the chains. “Stay still. I donna wish to hack off your hands.”

Terran used his axe to break the chains. The sound would bring Ruthven’s other men, and Wilhelm was in no shape to fight.

“We must hurry. Dawn is coming. We must be clear of the citadel while it’s still dark.”

“Noooo.” He moaned. This was all wrong. “More men,” he forced out. “Least a dozen.”

“What? I saw only three guards. One I knocked out, the others I had to fight.”

“Ye must go. Dornoch. Canna spare. Us both.”

“What’s going on down there?” A voice echoed in the corridor.

Terran roughened his voice. “Giving the prisoner a fresh beating, that’s all.”

“Well, get your arse out here. There’s been a breach.”

The light was increasing as dawn approached. Wilhelm could make out Terran’s wink.

Saints above. There would be no stopping his cousin. Soon they’d both be in custody. At least Wilhelm knew Constance would be all right. That gave him an idea. He ground his teeth against the pain as he said, “What will become of Aifric.”

Terran froze.

He took full advantage of his cousin’s moment of doubt. “Go. Steal out. Find Kenrick.”

If Terran insisted on saving Wilhelm, their best chance was to bring Kenrick in before Wilhelm went to the executioner’s block.”

“You imbecile!” A furious second voice sounded in the corridor. “There are no guards down there. Both men on watch are dead.”

“Shite.” Another voice. “Come on. Someone must be attempting a rescue.” Footsteps approached.

Terran tensed. “I can take two,” he said.

There was a scuffle in the corridor. “Doona be a fool,” the first man said. “The baron says we keep a full guard against the Murray. He’s a berserker.” The last part was whispered with reverence.

So that’s why Ruthven had lain in wait at the inn with so many men. He feared Wilhelm’s strength as a warrior. Leave it to a worm who never trained to credit a fine warrior with supernatural ability. He would have scoffed if he’d had the breath for it.

“Go rouse the others,” the first guard said. “Hurry.”

Wilhelm closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle.

#

“Two for the price of one. My thanks, lads, for making my work easy. If only you’d been so kind as to deliver the devil’s whores to me as well. No matter. I shall find them and finish what I started.”

Wilhelm had a perfect view of Ruthven’s doeskin shoes as the baron stalked a circle around him and Terran, gloating, despite having done nothing to aid his men in their capture.

Though it had been ten to one in the citadel, Terran had put up a good fight. Unfortunately, Ruthven’s men had subdued him within minutes. There was only so much one man could do against so many, even if he outclassed them as individuals by leagues.

Now the twin blades of Dornach lay trussed on a platform erected on the citadel’s lawn. Wrists and ankles bound behind his back, Wilhelm felt like a fowl prepared for the spit even though ‘twas the guillotine awaiting him and Terran.

Wanting an audience, Ruthven had called for the tower bells to be rung. As the morning dawned moist and cold, curious men, women, and children crowded onto the lawn. Would that one of them were Kenrick, but Kenrick wasn’t coming. Nor was his father. His clan might not hear of their deaths for days to come. They would grieve bitterly, especially his mother and aunt.