Claire Delacroix (34 page)

The dream blurred and Baird had the sense of time passing, of distance flying beneath his feet. He was on the deck of a ship, the sails snapping overhead and the ropes groaning with the tug of the wind. Excitement was high on the ship, every man determined to strike a blow for justice, and Bridei no less than the others.

The ship began to round a jut of land, every eye on the horizon, and the open sea stretched behind them. Ahead lay their destination, the battle that would prove Bridei’s manhood, perhaps the bride he would make his own.

They pulled around the point and the crew gasped as one at the sight. Baird’s heart dropped to his toes.

Dunhelm was burning.

He was too late.

* * *

Baird sat up and shivered. The acrid tang of smoke lingered in his mouth as though the dream had been real. He was chilled to the bone and gooseflesh rose all over his skin.

Failure hung on his heart like a lead weight and Baird felt an urge to weep for what he had lost. He mourned for Thord, even though he knew that Julian slept just a few doors away.

No wonder Julian hated this place so much. He had been Thord, the son of Hekod who had been ruthlessly slaughtered by Bard.

But that didn’t completely explain Baird’s sense of loss. He hated that as Bridei he had failed his father’s weighty trust. He had not proven himself worthy of that man’s powerful love.

And the knowledge tore him up.

Baird shoved a hand through his hair, knowing he had never been so twisted around by something he couldn’t see or control.

This couldn’t go on.

He rolled impatiently to his feet and paced the length of the room. There had to be something he could do to stop these dreams. Intuition came knocking in that moment and, for once, Baird Beauforte was listening.

He would go to Inverness.

* * *

Aurelia’s eyes flew open, her breath came in spurts and her fists clenched the linens. Dunhelm was burning! She had seen her father’s beloved hall consumed in flames.

But it had only been the Dreaming.

Aurelia sat up and tried to shake off her terror. It had been so real to her, so terrifying a glimpse of the world she remembered with startling clarity.

Dunhelm had burned to the ground.

Twelve hundred years before. It was hard to believe that it had all happened so long ago, or that she had slept through all of it. Aurelia stared at the scar on her thumb.

It was hard to believe that her gift was strong enough to summon such a powerful image.

Even knowing that she was responsible could not slow the pounding of Aurelia’s own heart. She slid from the bed and stood at the window, watching the moon. On the eve of the morrow it would be full.

But would her Dreaming, even at the fullness of its power, be enough to convince Baird of the truth? He had been coming for her, coming to aid her sire. He had been Thord’s friend Bridei, and there would have been none more fitting for Aurelia than the High King’s own son.

Even in those days, Baird had been hailed as the one for her.

An intense yearning burned in Aurelia’s heart. They had been cheated of that time together, so many years ago, and now, Baird’s own reservations held them apart. Aurelia bit her lip and hoped fiercely that he had shared the dream again, that he had been persuaded, that she had the ability to convince this man to accept the reality of who she was.

Even though Aurelia knew the truth defied every grain of common sense.

Unfortunately, Aurelia knew Baird Beauforte valued common sense above all else. To believe in this, he would have to believe in the urging of his own heart and Aurelia was suddenly afraid that Baird had learned all too well not to listen to his heart.

His mother in this life had served him poorly indeed.

Suddenly cold, she folded her arms about herself and watched the moon slide across the sky. Aurelia fought the urge to go to Baird, not knowing what his response to that would be, and impatiently waited for the dawn.

She had to convince him.

Somehow.

* * *

The sun was barely above the horizon when Tex pointed out the distant sparkle of Inverness. Baird climbed into the seat beside his pilot, his gaze intent on the town ahead.

A cliff rose behind the town nestled at the mouth of the Ness River and Baird scanned the details.

There. He picked out a desolate point and knew without doubt that the high king’s fortress had stood there.

But how could he know such a thing with such certainty?

Baird couldn’t explain it and he didn’t care. He had to go and stand right there and he had to do it today.

“Business, boss?” Tex demanded cheerfully.

Baird nodded, not in the least bit interested in conversation. They drew closer at an achingly slow speed, to Baird’s mind, the Moray Firth a long vee of sparkling silver below them. Finally, they wheeled around the sleepy town at a dizzying angle, the path Tex took giving Baird a bird’s-eye view of the harbor with the North Sea stretched out behind.

Baird swallowed. It was the same as his dream.

He knew he had never been here before - he and Julian had flown from Edinburgh on a small jet that had not passed near Inverness. Tex had picked them up at Kirkwall.

At least, he had never been here in this life before.

But if Baird knew Julian from the past, it only made sense that he could know Inverness, as well. Inverness was where his dream indicated that he had known Julian, after all.

What if the dreams he had had at Dunhelm were memories?

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Marissa saw the uncertainty in Aurelia’s eyes when that woman came down for breakfast and smiled to herself. She hadn’t been able to seduce Baird while Aurelia was around, which left an obvious solution to the problem.

Aurelia had to be evicted. Then Baird would see what was patently obvious to everyone else.

It had nearly killed Marissa to get up this early, but it was now or never. She smiled in her most friendly manner to the wary blonde and waved a coffee cup in greeting.

“Good morning, darling!” Marissa yawned luxuriously. “Did you have the most wonderful sleep last night? I must say that I” - she giggled - “had a rather exhausting night.”

“Did you?” Aurelia’s expression was stony, though she summoned a thin smile for Elizabeth when that woman bustled near. “Has Baird come down for breakfast yet?”

“No, my dear, I haven’t seen him yet today.”

“And you won’t.” Marissa sipped her coffee, enjoying the way the other women’s gazes swiveled to hers. “He’s gone off to Inverness, darlings, he was up so dreadfully early, all full of vim and vigor.” She chuckled as though recalling morning masculine energy. “Quite unlike him to be so...lively in the morning, but I may have had something to do with that, darlings.”

Aurelia frowned. “Why would he go to Inverness?”

Marissa let her characteristic laughter dance through the air. “Why, Aurelia darling, there is nothing like a splendid night of romance to turn a man’s mind to a more permanent arrangement, if you know what I mean. And Baird and I have known each other positively forever, after all.” She smirked as she drained the coffee cup, then indicated the pot with a regal finger. “Coffee’s cold.”

Elizabeth snatched up the pot, bright color burning in his cheeks. “Mr. Beauforte must have had business in Inverness this morning,” she said stoutly.

“Mmm.” Marissa crossed her legs, watching both women eye the expanse of leg revealed by her short kimono. She bounced her boa-tipped mule on one toe. “Most definitely. I would say he had business with a jeweler.”

“I do not understand,” Aurelia said tightly.

Marissa rolled her eyes at the blonde’s persistent stupidity. “He’s gone to buy me a great big diamond engagement ring,” she declared, then smiled. “And don’t worry, darling. I’ll accept.”

Elizabeth glared at Marissa while all the color drained out of Aurelia’s cheeks. “You cannot wed him. We are destined to be together!”

“Haven’t you heard, darling?” Marissa said through gritted teeth. “Baird Beauforte doesn’t believe in destiny.”

Her damage done in a most satisfactory way, Marissa swept to her feet and smiled at the two dumbfounded women. “Don’t worry about the coffee, it wasn’t very good anyway.” She examined her nails. “And besides, I have to decide what would be appropriate to wear to accept a wedding proposal from a terribly eligible man.”

Marissa strode from the hall, well pleased with herself.

If she had read Aurelia’s expression right, the blonde would be gone within the hour.

And open season on Baird Beauforte could be declared.

* * *

By eleven, Baird had climbed up the bluff behind the town of Inverness.

The cab from the airport had dropped him in front of the tourist center. Even though that establishment wasn’t open at the early hour, they had a map mounted on the outside wall to show the local places to stay.

Baird was interested in something less practical. His heart had leapt at the historic site marked at the top of the hill. He memorized the street names that wound their way to the crest and started to climb.

It seemed appropriate to walk to the place Baird was convinced he had known twelve hundred years before.

When Baird reached the summit and could see the view of the bay, his heart clenched at its familiarity. There was where he had said goodbye to Julian, apparently for the last time.

Baird frowned and turned to scan the area. The site was grassy, a few heavy stones scattered about, but devoid of real ruins. A discreet sign was mounted further along and Baird strolled toward it, liking the clean smell of the air. He didn’t expect to learn anything further here, but found himself unwilling to leave just yet.

The picture on the sign made Baird catch his breath.

It showed a heavy silver chain, obviously lying in a modern display cabinet. The links were thick, the catch engraved with a reverse Z entwined with a snake.

It was his father’s badge of office.

An image assailed Baird and he did not fight its advance.

The walls of the increasingly familiar room where he had seen a son born and been himself dispatched to battle rose high around him, a silvery light filtered through rain poured into the single window.

The king braced his hands on the bottom of the window and stared at the gray gloom outside. He had changed, Baird noticed, his demeanor less invincible, his gray brows drawn together with worry, his beard almost white. Where once this king had been a man who laughed boldly in the face of adversity, now he fretted like an old woman. His gaze was anxious and he spun hastily at a rap on the door.

The woman who had slept in the great bed came into the room. She too had aged, the great auburn coil of her hair threaded with silver, though she was still a beauty. Her eyes held a tremendous sadness and she said nothing as she held out a sword on the flat of her two hands.

The old king cried out in pain. “No! Not my son!”

He lunged across the room, falling on his knees before the woman, lifting away his hands before he reclaimed the sword that had once been his own.

“Not Bridei,” the king whispered hoarsely. Tears ran freely down his aged cheeks as he looked to his wife. Baird saw that her eyes were rimmed with red.

“It was supposed to protect him,” he whispered, staring at the blade as though he had been betrayed by an old ally. “It was forged with strong runes and blessed with power.” He swallowed. “It was supposed to bring Bridei back to us.”

Baird’s heart lurched with his own failure. Not only had he come too late to Dunhelm, but evidently he had died trying to fulfill his father’s command. He had not avenged Julian’s death as Thord, he had not upheld his father’s honor, and he had hurt these two people who had been good to him.

Now he would lose even the whispered memory of this great king’s love for his son.

And deservedly so.

A middle-aged man lingering behind the woman cleared his throat pointedly. Baird recognized him from the deck of the ship, though there was a long gash on his cheek that had not been there before.

The king’s lips tightened as he became aware of the man’s presence. “Tell me, Angus,” he whispered. “Were you there?”

“By his very side, my lord king.”

The king closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He seemed to tremble before Baird’s eyes, but his voice was grim. “Tell me.”

“Dunhelm was burning when we arrived,” Angus said, his words falling in a flat monotone. “Bard had already claimed the keep, though the battle was far from won. Bridei” - his voice wavered over the name - “declared time to be of the essence. We dove into battle, assaulting Bard’s rear flank and surprising him to no end.”

Angus swallowed. “He almost single-handedly turned the tide of the battle, my lord.”

The king’s lips tightened and he stared at the blade. His wife shook her head, her tears splashing on to the blade. Baird ached that he had caused her such pain.

“How did he die?” the king demanded tightly.

Angus frowned. “Bard was enraged by the threat of victory being snatched from beneath his nose. He challenged Bridei, who willingly matched blades with him. My lord, it was not an easy battle. They fought in the surf, each as determined as the other, their blades flashing in the sun.

“Bridei showed himself well, he fought nobly while Bard used any means he could contrive. After many glancing blows, Bard drove his sword through Bridei’s shoulder. We all feared our champion was lost, but he rallied to fight again. That was all we and Hekod’s troops needed to rally and turn back the tide of Bard’s victory. The very cliffs echoed with the sounds of swordplay, and still the pair fought in the waves, Bridei bleeding profusely.

“After one arduous bout, Bridei stumbled and Bard lunged in for the kill. We all feared the worst, but Bridei rose at the last instant and impaled the attacker on this very blade.”

Angus bowed his head. “He fell, then, his strength gone and too much of his blood mingled in the salt water. He entrusted me with his blade in those last moments and bade me return it to you, my lord king. He bade me tell you that your will had been done.”