Highland Tides (13 page)

Not miles, centuries.

“I was reminiscing,” he explained, his heart still swelling with the notion he might have sired a bairn.

Ainslie shuffled out of the kitchen carrying bowls for Callum and his bride. Alexandra picked up her wooden spoon and slowly stirred the steaming broth. He pitied her. She was the niece of an earl, a noblewoman. This was not a fitting wedding banquet. “It’s good,” he said lamely.

Callum shoved his bowl to one side. “Now, brother, we’re in need of an explanation. Ye claim to have one.”

Braden finished his broth and dabbed his mouth with the rag that apparently served as a napkin in Mistress Ainslie’s tavern. It was a far cry from the eighteenth century elegance of the Duke’s table. The tale had to be told, but he was reluctant to tell it. Chances were Callum’s bride wouldn’t believe a word of what he had to say.

“Alexandra,” he began.

She scowled. “Nobody calls me Alexandra, except my uncle.”

Braden was perplexed. What did she expect him to call her if he wasn’t permitted to use her given name? He
was
her brother-by-marriage.

“Lexi, if you please,” she said haughtily.

This was obviously a nickname and he was relieved her anger had abated enough to allow them the use of it. Callum reached for his bowl, eyes wide as he silently mouthed his bride’s name.

Braden pressed on. “Lexi, the tale I’ll tell ye is an incredible one.”

He paused while she digested the notion along with the broth she sipped.

“It begins in the year of Our Lord Fourteen Hundred and Thirty-Six.”

As he’d hoped, his words captured her attention. She looked up from her bowl.
 

Callum’s spoon clattered to the planked floor. “That’s the year we—”

Braden glared his brother into silence.
 

Callum retrieved the spoon, but gripped the handle in his fist like a pikestaff, his eyes still on Braden.

“Three brothers were sailing home to Oban by way of the strait between Jura and Scarba. There’s a whirlpool, Corryvreckan, one of the most dangerous in all the seven seas, but the older brother had navigated it before. He didna listen to the warnings of the others about the flood tide running too high. He was in a rush to get home to—”

Callum’s deep frown made him pause.

“What does this have to do with here and now?” Lexi asked impatiently.

He cleared his throat. Fact was he had no recollection of why he’d been in such a hurry. “Well, doesna matter now.” He looked into Callum’s eyes. “The truth is the three drowned because of the older brother’s conviction he knew best.”

“I still don’t understand—”

“I was the captain of that vessel, Lexi, and I caused the deaths of my brothers, Callum and Donal.”

It was as if a weight lifted from his shoulders. He’d been given the chance to seek his brother’s forgiveness.

Lexi’s broth-laden spoon hovered halfway to her mouth, her eyes darting from Braden to Callum and back again. “But you said this took place more than a hundred years ago.”

“Aye,” he said sadly. “The three of us were sucked into Corryvreckan. As far as our family was concerned we drowned. But the whirlpool was a sort of portal.”

“Portal?” she parroted.

“A gateway, if ye like.”

“To where?” she scoffed.

“To the future.”

Lexi calmly put the spoon into the bowl, brushed off her skirts then tried to rise from the bench. “I’ve heard enough of this nonsense. You’re a pair of swindling liars.”

Braden placed a hand on her arm. “I’ve seen the future, Lexi. Do ye want to hear what it has in store for yer uncle and yer Queen?”

She sat down, scanning the room cautiously. “I’ll not be involved in treasonous plots,” she whispered.

Braden turned his attention to Callum who gazed into nothingness as if he’d received a blow to the head. “I ken this is hard to believe, brother, but ye must have realized by now that this is indeed the year Fifteen Hundred and Sixty-Seven, and Mary, Queen of Scots sits on the throne.”

“Aye,” Callum croaked.

“And would ye say ye’re still alive?” Braden asked.

“Very much so,” his brother replied, staring at Lexi.

For the first time hope flickered in Braden’s heart. His brother’s marriage might not be a total disaster. He’d been sent to Charlotte’s time because she was his destiny. Perhaps Lexi and Callum were meant to be.
 

He noted her face had reddened considerably under Callum’s gaze. “Now, Lexi, if ’tis difficult to credit ye are wed to a man from the last century, how do ye suppose I felt when I found myself in the year Seventeen Hundred and Forty-Six?”

She fisted both hands on the table and glared at him. “Oh, please. You must think I’m an imbecile.”

He took off his wedding ring and placed it in front of her. “Take a good look and tell me what ye see.”

“I know naught of gold and such,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“Read the inscription,” he insisted softly.

She stared at the ceiling. Callum picked up the ring and squinted at the inside. “Braden and Charlotte,” he read. “1746. One forever.”

He gaped at Braden. “Ye truly are wed.”

“Aye,” he confirmed, “and I intend to do everything I can to get back to her, but first I’ll do what I must to aid ye both.”

Lexi drummed her fingers on the table, eyeing him suspiciously. “If you have a wife, why are you here now and not with her?” she asked.

“That’s another long, incredible tale,” he replied.

~~~

Lexi listened to the tale of Braden appearing to his sister, Margaret. Like every Scot, she was aware of the assassination of King James Stewart but had never paid attention to the details. It wasn’t the first time a Scottish monarch had been murdered, and likely wouldn’t be the last.

What struck her as odd, though, was that this was obviously the first time Callum had heard the story. He asked question after question, coming close to tears when he learned of Margaret’s peril.
 

“And in the end she married happily, and sired healthy bairns with this Rheade Robertson fellow?” he asked Braden.

“Wait,” Lexi exclaimed. “How can he know if the last time he saw her was in a nunnery?”

Braden pointed to his wedding ring, still in Callum’s grasp. “My wife has a friend, John Reade. He’s a direct descendant. He changed his name from Robertson in honor of Rheade.”

“This is such a convoluted story,” she retorted, yet Braden seemed certain of his sister’s fate. Wait! Was she starting to believe he had actually risen from the dead and appeared to his sister? More than one hundred years ago?

Braden put a reassuring hand on Callum’s shoulder. “Aye. Despite having no brothers to take care of her, Margaret fared well. But it appears our parents died not soon after we drowned.”

Callum put his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. “They died of grief,” he rasped.

Sitting thigh to thigh on the narrow bench she felt the tremor shuddering through him. His distress was real.

Braden let out a heavy sigh. “Naught we can do to change that now, but you and I have been granted a second chance at life. I dinna ken yet where Donal is, but my place is with Charlotte.” He looked directly at her. “Mayhap your place is here, Callum, with Lexi.”

Saints preserve her, she was starting to believe it might be true. A strange urge to console Callum’s grief took hold. Then she recalled something else Braden had mentioned. “But you said you can say what the future holds for my Queen?”

He retrieved his ring and slid it back onto his finger. “Are ye prepared for dire tidings?”

Lexi had long been bothered by a premonition that her uncle’s thirst for power would lead to disaster. But did she truly want to know?
Crivvens
! Had Braden Ogilvie seen the future?

He took her hand in his. “If I tell ye, and I must, ye hafta understand we can do naught to change the course o’ Scotland’s history.”

“I understand,” she whispered.

As if sensing her agitation, Callum put his arm round her waist, and drew her against him. “Tell us,” he said.

To her surprise, she drew strength from the closeness of his big body and the warmth of his protective embrace.

“Aye,” she agreed. “I’m ready.”

Callum struggled to understand the predicament in which he and his new bride found themselves. He sensed her distress and was pleased she didn’t pulled away when he put his arm around her. He liked having her nestled against him, one hand on his chest. She smelled sweet. Mayhap hers was the lavender scent he’d savored on the bed linens.

Incredible as this tale was, he trusted his brother, but Lexi didn’t know his sibling. How could she be expected to believe the story? “Braden has many faults,” he told her with a wry grin, “but he’s nay a liar. Tell me first about yer uncle, then I can mayhap better grasp what he has to tell us.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “He’s my late father’s brother and my guardian.”

The way she muttered the word
guardian
gave him pause. “It was plain ye dinna care for him. He struck me as a stern fellow.”

She clenched both fists. “There are things I’ve never understood surrounding my parents’ deaths, but that’s not important now. Uncle James was recently acquitted of involvement in the murder of Lord Darnley.”

Callum frowned. This was unexpected and confusing.

Braden came to his aid. “Queen Mary’s husband, and the father of her son,” he explained. “He died in mysterious circumstances earlier in the year after an explosion.”

“Aye,” Lexi confirmed. “And I’m ashamed to say I believe my uncle was complicit in the plot, and I’m not alone. However, nothing was proven and now he is free.”

“And a mere sennight after his acquittal he comes here, to this tavern,” Braden said. “Is this the kind of place he normally chooses for his lodging?”

She shook her head. “Nay. He likes comfort and fine things. Indeed, ’twas out of the way of our destination. He was taking me to the nunnery.”

Callum’s heart lurched. “He intended to shut ye up in a convent?”

“Nay, ’twas my wish. I must atone for my parent’s deaths. If I’d spoken up earlier—”

She choked on her words, and Callum had an insight into her distress at their unexpected wedding. “I’m sorry. I didna ken.”

She hunched her shoulders. “’Tis of no consequence now. Explain to me the presence of the men who met with him here.”

It seemed to Callum she was starting to believe Braden’s story and the slight easing of his brother’s frown showed he sensed it too.

“An agreement was signed and sealed. I canna recall the names of all the nobles and bishops who were here. Charlotte had my head spinning with the amount of history she crammed into it. She loves history. She writes books, ye ken?”

“Aye,” Callum said impatiently, growing tired of hearing about Braden’s perfect wife. “Tell us of this agreement.”

“It’s known as the Ainslie Tavern Bond. The signatories have guaranteed to support yer uncle’s plan to wed Queen Mary.”

Lexi shook her head vehemently. “It canna be true. He has a wife.”

“He’ll divorce her in the next few days, if he hasna already. While we sit here, Queen Mary is travelling to visit her infant son in Stirling. On the return journey to Edinburgh, Bothwell will abduct her.”

Lexi struggled to stand. “Then we must warn her.”

Callum understood now why Braden had forewarned them. He pulled her back to his side. “Nay, we canna interfere.”

“In any case, some students of history claim Mary knew of Bothwell’s plans,” Braden said. “Indeed, some say she was aware of the plot to kill Darnley.”

“Nay,” Lexi replied hoarsely. “’Tis no secret she and Darnley were estranged, but I can’t believe the Queen would conspire to murder her husband.”

“Whatever the case,” Braden continued, “Bothwell and Mary will wed. I seem to recall the ceremony took place here in Edinburgh. I dinna remember the date, but it wasna long after she was abducted.”

“This month?” Callum asked, alarmed when the color drained from Lexi’s face.

“Sometime in May,” Braden replied. “That’s why I plan to get ye and yer wife as far away from here as possible. I can do naught about Queen Mary’s ultimate fate, but I can save my brother.”

“Her ultimate fate?” Lexi murmured.

Braden shook his head slightly. His bleak expression caused Callum to urge his wife to her feet. “We’ve heard enough bad news for the day. Let’s away upstairs. Ye look worn out.”

She allowed him to lead her to the stairs without objection and they ascended to their chamber.

~~~

Lexi’s limbs were heavy as she climbed the last creaky stair. She would never have made it to the top without Callum’s strong support.

A thousand thoughts tumbled into her confused mind. Braden had hinted at Queen Mary’s fate and Lexi had no doubt that if her uncle did indeed marry the monarch, folk would condemn her for it.

James Hepburn was a married man; Catholic Scots would never recognise any divorce he might procure. No priest would marry them, which likely meant a marriage outside the Church, another black mark. On the Protestant side, John Knox was already stirring up opposition to the monarch. Many among the nobility believed Lexi’s uncle guilty of murder and were outraged he’d been acquitted. How could a Queen wed a man who’d killed her husband?

Rebellion loomed large if what Braden had told her was true. Surely it wasn’t. How was it possible for a man to travel in time? It wasn’t. And yet the way he talked of his precious Charlotte was enough to bring tears to any woman’s eyes. To be so loved…

“I’ll leave ye to rest,” Callum whispered, guiding her to the bed. “I’ll sleep in Braden’s chamber.”

His deep voice jolted her from the dark thoughts. “Nay. Don’t go. I’m afraid.”

He frowned. “I’ll call Mistress Ainslie to assist ye with yer garments.”

The prospect of the rough tavern keeper’s dirty hands on her didn’t appeal. “You can help me. We are married.”

The brazen remark surprised her, and she feared Callum might be shocked, but then she supposed if a man had already died there was nothing she might do to stun him. The silly notion was welcome in the midst of doubt and uncertainty.