Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) (13 page)

“I know how ye feel. The first time it happened to me, I was certain I’d died and gone to the afterlife.”

“Heaven or Hell?”

“Depends on my mood,” he chuckled. “Every moment with ye was like being in Heaven. Every moment in these damn denim was like being in Hell.”

“Ye don’t have to flatter me so much,” Moira said, realizing, as the words came out, that she sounded a little bitchy, unappreciative. He’d just offered her a compliment and she stomped on it. “I’m sorry. I… it’s been such a long day, and I’m getting a little hangry.”

“Hangry?”

“Hungry, angry.”

“Huh.” He looked mystified, rolling the syllables on his tongue. “Hangry. What about hunfrustgry?”

“What?” She looked up at him, not sure she heard him right.

He shrugged. “Hungry, frustrated, angry. If ye can make up words, so can I.”

That made her laugh out loud, perhaps the first genuine laugh of the day. “I didn’t make up hangry. They’re going to add it to the dictionary if they haven’t already. Kind of like selfie.”

“What are ye talking about?” Shona and Ewan slowed down so they could walk beside them.

“Your sister is hunfrustgry.” Rory smirked when he said it.

“That’s odd,” Shona said, furrowing her brow. “What does it mean?”

Moira rolled her eyes. “I’m hungry, frustrated, a little angry.”

“Oh.” Shona’s expression dropped and she put her arm around Moira’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need for ye to be sorry. Ye cannot stop Fate, and ye’re not the first in our group to time travel,” Moira said.

“Ah, the first, that would be me, so then, I’m sorry,” Ewan said, though there was humor in his voice.

“I don’t blame ye either,” Moira said.

A light breeze whistled through the trees. The air was so fresh. So clean. She’d been up north many times in present day, and always thought the air was easier to breathe—but now, it seemed even smoother. Industrialization had yet to come to anyplace on earth, the land was still untouched by pollution.

“Is that water I hear?” Moira asked, cocking her head. Her tongue was dry, and her stomach rumbled again.

Somewhere off to the right, she could have sworn she heard the sounds of water trickling.

“I think so,” Rory said.

They headed to the right, stepping over logs, and for the first time Moira actually looked at every tree. The bark, the sage-colored lichen spreading over trunks and the moss that sprouted on rocks jutting from the earth. They’d not yet reached whatever road Ewan was taking them toward, and this part of the world seemed as though it could have been completely untouched by human hands.

Birds flew from tree to tree overhead, settling on branches and cocking their heads at the four intruders into their peaceful domain. Squirrels darted this way and that, climbing in circular patterns up the trees. Tiny white, purple and pink flowers sprouted randomly in places, some on bushes, others on vines that wove their own paths on the forest floors.

Nature was alive in this place, a time of its own, and a beauty that was eternal. From somewhere deep within her Moira felt a tugging of hidden emotion. Was it pride? The sense of feeling like she’d come home? Her limbs seemed to speak to the earth around her, and she felt pulled, drawn. She’d never felt it before. It was almost euphoric in a sense. Happiness, pure and simple.

And that made no sense. Happiness should be the furthest thing from her mind.

Why shouldn’t I be happy?
She stood between the two most important people in her own world. The people she loved. The people she wanted to spend time with every single day.

Moira breathed in deep. At least, if she was going to travel back in time she came to a place that was beautiful, with the, people she cared most about in the world. She supposed she should be grateful for the favors Fate or the time-space-continuum had deemed to give her.

“I’m the one who is sorry,” she said softly, glancing first at her sister, meeting her eyes and then to Rory. “I didn’t understand what was happening, what happened to you in the past, and I still haven’t fully grasped it all, but I should have tried harder from the beginning. I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like, kind of an arsehole, all day. I promise to do better.”

Shona squeezed her shoulders, and Rory clutched her fingers a little tighter.

“We’ve all been there. Trust us, we won’t hold any of your reactions against ye,” Shona said. “I’m just so damned glad to have my memory back! I know where I came from. I can’t believe I spent five years not knowing who ye were.”

“Shite. I just thought of something,” Rory broke in as the trickling stream came into view.

“What is it?” Moira asked, feeling panic tighten hold around her ribs.

“We dinna know what year it is.”

“We just assumed we were back in our time,” Ewan said.

“Aye, but the truth is, I came from 1541 to see Moira, and ye both came from 1544.”

“
Mo chreach
,” Ewan muttered.

“That means, we dinna even know
if
the king lives,” Shona said.

“What do ye mean, if he lives?” Rory asked.

“He died of an ague last December. His daughter born just days before. She was crowned queen when she was nine months old.”

“Mary Queen of Scots,” Moira said. Something she knew about history. “England is at constant war with Scotland.”

They all nodded.

Moira, feeling her fingers grow tingly and her legs weak, dropped down with the pretense of sipping some water. The woods were full of more dangers than just a few drunken outlaws. The English could be roaming anywhere and all they had were the rusty weapons of the outlaws they’d essentially robbed.

The water was cool on her fingertips and she brought it to her mouth, sipping. The chill liquid forged a path all the way to her belly, and eased some of the rumbling. She splashed water on her face, rubbed some around the back of her neck.

“We are in somewhat better shape in 1541 than 1544,” Shona said.

“Why’s that?” Rory asked.

“Because in 1544, there is much unrest. Castle Gealach is even more dangerous now with an infant princess on the throne. The treasure of Gealach and the crown itself are much sought after. Then again, Henry VIII has proposed a marriage between the infant queen and his son, so I suppose the English aren’t roaming as much,” Shona said with a shrug.

“We have to find out. What if we fell even further back in time and William Wallace is still leading the Scottish armies and Longshanks is ready to ride through these woods at any moment?” Moira dipped her hands into the creek, sucking down more water after the words fell from her lips.

“That would be bad.” Rory kicked at a rock in the earth, and when it came slightly free, bent to pick it up. He tossed it toward the water, and she watched it skip once, twice, three times. “We should tell them, Ewan. Tell them about the Ayreshire lassies.”

“Tell us what?” Moira asked.

“Depends on the year,” Ewan said.

“Tell us!” Shona said, marching over to Ewan and pinching his arm.

“Ow,” Ewan said, though it was obvious from the crinkle of humor around his eyes, he felt no pain. “All right, I’ll tell ye. Ye might as well know the danger.”

“Ohmygod, more danger.” Moira’s breath hitched.
Just what I need
…

“The story goes, the Ayreshire girls were the legitimate heirs to the Scottish throne through their father King David II of Scotland, son of Robert the Bruce. Their birth was never recorded as their father was imprisoned in England at the time they were conceived. The queen was allowed to visit him a few times.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell anyone she was pregnant or that she gave birth?” Shona asked.

Ewan shrugged. “Maybe since her husband was imprisoned for so many years by the enemy, their children’s lives were in danger?”

“That means…” Moira’s mouth was suddenly dry once more.

“We could be queen.” Shona paled, her hand coming to her throat as if she already imagined being beheaded.

“Nay, not both of ye,” Rory said. “Only one of ye.”

“Twins again…” Shona whispered.

“What?” Moira and Rory said in unison.

Ewan remained silent.

Shona licked her lips and shook her head. “Nothing. Just a rumor I heard. Something about Laird Grant being the twin brother of the king.”

“The late king,” Rory said.

“Or maybe he’s still the present king,” Ewan uttered.

“Or maybe he’s not even born yet,” Moira mused.

“We need to find out what year it is. Everything hinges on that.” Ewan wiped the water from his face with this shirt.

“I need a drink, and not the water kind.” Rory reached down his hand to Moira where she’d sunk again by the water’s edge. “How are ye holding up?”

She reached for his hand, glad for the warmth and strength he exuded. “I’ve been better.”

“If we’ve made it back to our own time, the tavern should only be another half-hour or so from here. If not… well, the place has been there for a long time. People have been drinking, eating and whor—” Ewan cut himself short. “Enjoying themselves, for many years.”

Just as Ewan predicted, the tavern was only a short distance away. They’d been walking for hours, and considering she was in her thick, fall boots, not made for hiking, Moira’s feet were hot and killing her.

A dozen or so yards away, the tavern loomed from the ground up. A stone and wooden building that looked a lot more like a historical house than it did a tavern. A few horses were tied up inside a makeshift stable. The scents of horse manure, garbage and roasted chicken filled the air. The latter of which didn’t seem at all appetizing with the two afore mentioned scents.

Laughter echoed in the small glen that housed the tavern. It seemed like a jovial establishment.

“I suppose only one of us should venture forth.” Ewan frowned, scanning the building. “Wish I could remember what sort of foliage Hildie had planted around the front of the place. There looks to be a small garden and a few fruit trees. But I canna honestly remember if they were here before.”

“Ye go first then,” Shona teased. “Besides, if Hildie does recognize ye, then we’ll have no need to worry.”

Ewan grinned. “I think this might be the first time ye’ve ever been glad for another woman to recognize me.”

“Oh, its not the recognizing that’s ever bothered me, love,” Shona teased. “It’s the,
Oh, Ewan, remember when we
…” Shona sang softly and sweetly as she swaggered in a small circle around her lover.

They all laughed behind their hands, trying to keep the sounds from carrying.

“Shona.” Ewan cleared his throat and he tugged her abruptly out of sight behind some trees leaving Moira and Rory alone.

Moira’s breath hitched, a little with fear and trepidation. What was going to happen next? They had no clue as far as the scale of what sort of shit they were about to fall into.

“I know I’ve said it at least a dozen times in the last hour, but I’ll keep ye safe, Moira. Ye have my word.” Rory’s voice was soft and filled with conviction.

She studied his handsome face, her eyes roving over his chiseled features, his hair the color of night, none of the red showing in the shade. Out of instinct, she reached up and touched his cheek, the stubble tickling her palm.

“I know. And I trust ye.”

He let out a breath, taking a step closer. He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Ye’re still as beautiful as I remember. I missed ye so much.”

Emotion swelled inside her. “I missed ye, too.” Her body acted before the thought had a chance to cement itself, and she was closing the distance between them.
She
was leaning up on tiptoe.
She
was grabbing hold of his waist and tugging him forward.
She
was pressing her lips to his.

Moira needed this. Needed to melt into his kiss. Needed this world, the next, and whatever else lay between, to melt away.

God help her, but she still loved him.

Chapter Eleven

“Shona…” Ewan pressed his forehead to hers, his hands cupping the sides of her face.