Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends, Book 1) (31 page)

When I slid my feet into the leather slippers, he stood and took my hand, leading me downstairs to the map room. The wall shimmered and beamed as if anticipating us.

Iain released my hand and walked over to it, placing his hand in the upper left-hand corner as he’d done before. “This spot is where the control happens. Place only one hand flat here. No matter where we are, it takes us to the opposite place. Since we’re between worlds, my contact now brings us back.”

“Sounds simple enough, I guess. How will I know when to hide us again?” I asked.

“You’ll know. We’ve scouts to report back if we’re threatened.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “And if you’re not here, Brigid knows what to do.”

I nodded, watching the lights fade until they became only pinpoints on the wall. The design suddenly struck me as resembling constellations in our galaxy rather than locations on an earthly map. The fluidity of the sparkling gray backdrop stilled as it adopted a solid state. Energy that had been sparking in the room when we arrived had dimmed to a low hum.

“You mean, when I go back.” I said.

He removed his hand from the wall and turned to face me, taking my hands into his, keeping a small distance between us. “Aye. We agreed a week here and a week there. But I doona know how that can continue. Your people here need you. I need you.”

I nodded, tears springing into my eyes. My two worlds were at odds with each other, and the strain had begun to unravel me inside. I didn’t know how much longer I could continue living two lives when each one needed all of me.

A strong man stood before me, opening his heart to me. Offering me everything he had: his world, his heart. I smiled at him, refusing to let tears fall.

“I’m here for you, Iain. Go and fight for us. Come back to me safe, and we’ll talk about our future. You’re right, I’m needed by many. I’ll make sure they’re cared for and protected.”

He dropped his head, grabbed my hips, and crushed my body into his while kissing the breath out of me. I melted into him. My man and his clan weren’t the only ones with needs. I thrived off Iain’s love. The joy and accomplishments of his people great and small were my successes too. Those were the things that gave me purpose every day.

I followed him out to the courtyard. In one fluid motion he mounted
Dubhar
. The horse pawed restlessly at the earth, dressed in the clan colors on his bridle. The animal had been outfitted with a thin saddle and a rolled blanket, food and supplies tied to the back.

A group of people gathered, likely attracted by the real-world blue skies sparkling overhead. I jumped when a light hold grasped my waist. Brigid’s smiling gray eyes greeted me.

“Hello, sister,” she said.

I laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist too. “Hello, sister.”

Iain gave me a last look, and I drank in the spectacular sight of my warrior: long chestnut hair rippling in a slight breeze, a fresh braid dangling from each temple, his angled jaw shadowed by darker stubble. A hard edge defined his expression as his fierce hazel eyes pierced a silent message into my soul.
He did this for me . . . for us.

I belonged to him.

And he . . . belonged to us all.

CHAPTER Thirty

New purpose filled my heart and pumped through my veins as I watched the drawbridge lift into place, locking us within the protection of the curtain walls while we remained in the real world, ticking away on history’s clock. Iain galloped off, dense forest beyond the meadow swallowing man and horse whole.

In silence, I renewed my vow to the role he’d given me—caretaker of his clan. Brigid and I wandered back to the village, and the small crowd that gathered to bid Iain a safe journey walked with us. I surveyed our people and the surrounding landscape with fresh eyes.

I clasped one of Brigid’s hands with both of mine. “I want to spend the morning focusing on everyone’s needs.”

My voice carried loud enough for everyone to hear. The group exploded with excitement, several people addressing me at once. I grinned, eager to help them in every way, determined to understand and become an integral part of a world that had chosen me.

“I’ll need pine board to build more beehives,” said Agnes. “Mairi’s been helpin’ me with the harvestin’ and candle makin’.”

Jamie, one of Iain’s guard left behind for protection, spoke up. “M’Lady, three of the cottages need roof rethatchin’ before winter.”

A tug at my skirt drew my attention downward. Round eyes of emerald green looked up at me. A stem, covered in dozens of creamy-white flowers with pink striations, was thrust between us, clutched in his little hand. The orchid blooms resembled ascending angels, their broad, scalloped skirts and high-arching wings fluttering in the breeze.

“Why, thank you,” I said, taking the flowers from the lad. Between my fingers, I twirled the conical bouquet-on-a-stem, delighted with the secretly symbolic gift.

As we passed by the garden, I glanced at the stream flowing inside the curtain wall, feeding into the millpond. I realized not everything existed independent of the outside world. The water had flowed when I was on the other plane. Had creatures swam through both realms with the water current? The mechanics of what could and could not breach the time barrier perplexed me.

People broke off a few at a time, going to their homes or finishing their day’s tasks. Agnes, the beekeeper, joined Mairi, donning a similar linen-shrouded hat and gloves. Mairi held a smoldering stick up and blew smoke into one end of the four-foot-tall, two-foot-square wooden hive, forcing the bees out. Agnes pulled out pieces of honeycomb and carefully placed them into a lined basket at their feet.

Brigid squeezed my arm when only the two of us remained. She whispered, “I’m off to find Donalda. I need to order a few new gowns. Agnes is pregnant with her first bairn.” Before I had a chance to reply, she skipped off toward the seamstress’s cottage.

I laughed at Brigid’s boundless energy and walked into the smithy, marveling at all the gleaming weaponry hung on the wall. Hamish slid a red-hot blade from the forge with huge forceps. Then he laid it upon an iron anvil and hit the fiery surface with the hammer in his other hand, causing sparks to fly.

“Hamish!” I shouted above the ear-piercing clash of metal.

He glanced up, grunting.

“I need four iron candleholders about so high.” I held my hand about shoulder height, and he nodded in reply. “Where would I find someone to supply wood?”

“Uilleam’s the woodcutter. He stocks the kitchen every few days in the late morning,” he said.

“Thank you,” I shouted over my shoulder as I dashed off.

I rushed up the hill, hoping to catch Uilleam if he hadn’t yet stocked for the week. When I arrived in the kitchen, midday meal preparations were in full swing. Rowena, a generously curved woman with ruddy cheeks, oversaw the kitchen staff of a half dozen while they cut meat, added herbs to stews, and pulled out small bread loaves from a stack.

I stood there long enough to get Rowena’s attention. She began to cross the room. Rich scents of a brewing stew wafted into my nose, and my gut clenched. I rushed out of the kitchen and into the hall, my hand flying to my mouth.

My entire skin dampened as I struggled with a wave of nausea. I took several slow, deep breaths until the intensity of the attack subsided. I laughed dryly, musing that Agnes might not be the only one pregnant. During that fleeting thought, the smile fell from my face, complicated reality sobering my mood. How stupid of me not to think about what unprotected sex with two men would produce.

Burying the ramifications of my actions into the sand along with my head, I dragged my body up the stairs, pressing my cheek against the cool stones of the wall as I went. The clan seemed to be doing fine without me, and I needed to lie down and rest a while. Later, I would calculate my cycles to determine
if
I was pregnant, who the father might be.

With a shoulder into the heavy door, I stumbled into our room and collapsed onto the bed. Layers of blankets cushioned my fall as a dizzy spell spiraled me out of consciousness.

* * *

A new day brought our
Highland mountains gray skies with a steady drizzle. I’d found and met with the woodcutter. Brigid had been kind enough to fetch the seamstress up to the castle so that we could both select fabrics for new gowns. Dress patterns and jewel-toned cloth squares were spread in a mosaic across the wooden surface of a long table in the great hall.

I perused the length of the table, sucking in slow breaths, feeling a little green from what seemed like morning sickness. I’d put thought to the matter, realizing I hadn’t had any flow since my time-jumping—and bed-hopping—adventure had begun. The calculations meant, if the symptom rang true, that I was likely about nine weeks pregnant with
Iain’s
child.

I sat down, rubbing soft pink satin between my fingers. The color made me wonder if the babe would be a boy or a girl. Brigid and Donalda chattered on about the best fabrics to suit Agnes while two men came up from the cellar and transported a large wooden barrel across the room toward the larder.

Surrounded by the commotion of a normal day, I wondered if I should tell Brigid her possible aunt status. I discarded the notion, deciding a quiet time would be better. Based on recent experience, her people expected their secrets to gain a proper amount of age anyway.

All of a sudden, the main door flew open, hitting the stone wall behind it with splintering force. I spun at the startling noise. Brigid shrieked, and I gasped as Gawain stood there covered in crimson blood.

Brigid ran toward him, but he held his arm up, pegging her with a commanding stare. She stopped, crossing her arms. “’Tis not my blood. Robert sent me.”

He looked squarely at me. “Isa, shroud the castle. The battle was a distraction. They’ve advanced in great numbers in our surroundin’ forest.”

“Won’t they see us disappear?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I doona know. It matters not at this point. Our men are a day’s ride away and in the thick of battle. Our enemies laid a well-planned trap.”

“What about Iain? He was to have joined you; he left a day ago.”

“If he came through that forest, they have him. I spent all mornin’ skirtin’ the perimeter to make it through to you.”

My hand flew to my mouth. The idea of the enemy capturing Iain skyrocketed my nausea.

Brigid tugged on my arm as I sat there dumbfounded. She said, “Gawain, go to the apothecary. Have him attend to your wounds.”

He nodded once and left, pulling shut the oak door with a thud.

“Not his blood, my arse,” she grumbled as she continued to tug at me. “Isobel. Come.
The wall
,” she implored.

Her focus was commendable. Three siblings pulled apart by their past, united in a heartbeat to protect their clan. They were right. We had no time to worry about any one of us; we needed to guarantee the safety of everyone. I jumped to my feet, and the two of us rushed to the study.

Brigid closed the door behind us, and I stepped to the far left side of the wall, glancing back at my friend through the streams of light. She nodded toward me in encouragement.

“Okay. Here goes everything.” I took a deep breath, willing positivity out, as I placed my hand on the shimmering surface of the wall.

Even in its fluid state, the cool membrane held firm in its upper-corner section. A power exchange occurred, flowing into and through me, surging back out again at our point of contact. An immediate reaction began: a low hum grew in volume; the lights flashed, then dimmed.

The floor swayed, and I swallowed hard. As I stood there with a hand on the key to our camouflage, the room spun like a cheap carnival ride. I tried to brace my feet wider but lost my balance. To avoid lifting my left hand from the wall and severing the connection, I took the only other option: I dropped my right hand onto the surface, landing it squarely on a cluster of lights.

“Isobel!” Brigid screamed.

By the time I whipped my head around to look at her, my friend had disappeared. Suddenly, a blinding flash of light surrounded me, and the world went dark.

* * *

Lying flat on the ground had become a familiar state of being each time I jumped through time without warning. A faint noise crackled in the distance, and a glow off to one side penetrated the darkness of wherever I’d landed. I sat up, propping my hands behind me in dirt. The box sat upon the pedestal housed in the room designed for it .
 . .
in Velloc’s time.

I shot to my feet and threw my hands onto the box, desperate to return to the castle. The metal sat cold, completely inert. For the first time, no energy whatsoever transmitted from its surface.

Even with the resounding clue that something had changed, denial fueled an attempt to gather more power from the environment around me. I scrunched my face and took a deep breath, concentrating hard. But my effort came up empty. A growl of frustration rumbled from my throat.

The only other times the artifact had transported me with a one-sided connection had been with the wall’s power boost and with the sun’s radiant heat. There had to be
a way to find more energy. I whirled around, frantic to get back, needing to make sure I’d gotten the clan to safety.

Flames danced in my sightline from the long fire pit.
Perfect.
I strode over to the blaze, rolling up the sleeves of my dress, and I held my hands out to the warmth. With focus born of my desperation, I drew in energy from the kinetic orange flames. More than heat infused into my body; a conduit for pure power had been opened. On a cellular level, every molecule in my body vibrated.

I looked up as I waited until I’d gathered enough, my urgency dancing the edge of madness. The ends of my hair fanned around my face from a strong wind behind me. A few members of Drust’s tribe walked by, casting silent, curious glances my way. Their expressions made me wonder if I glowed in the dark.

Without a word to any of the passersby, I returned to the box, placing my hands upon the top. I pressed them onto the cool metal, opening my mind wide, sending a prayer to my God and their god to send me back.

My plea fell on indifferent ears. Nothing happened. A relic so eager to wreak havoc with my life had suddenly forsaken me.

The heavy feeling of failure crushed the air from my lungs. In one accidental move, I’d abandoned those that needed me—the very ones I’d vowed to protect.

I stumbled from the suffocating enclosure, unable to breathe. I crumpled to the ground, burying my fisted hands into the folds of the scarlet gown Iain had asked me to wear the day he left—the dress I should’ve been wearing in
his
time,
not
Velloc’s.

Salty tears streamed down my cheeks. I forced a shaky breath into my lungs, casting my face up toward a glittering night sky.

“Fine. I don’t have it all figured out, do I?” A loud sob followed by a hiccup racked my chest. “
Skorpius
?
Orion
? God, if you’re even up there
helping
people instead of
fucking
with their lives . . . if any of you can hear me, if any of you care, please, just make them safe. And please . . .”—my voice fell to a whisper—“please, protect Iain.”