Love Across Time (8 page)

Tears welled in her eyes. With her eyes closed tight, she willed the tears behind her lids not to fall. But, tears have a will of their own. When one wormed its way free, others followed. The warm liquid ran down her cheeks in rivulets. She covered her face with trembling hands and gave vent to the agony of her loss.

Fingers gently caressed her hair before the weight on the edge of the bed lifted. The sound of the door opening and closing failed to penetrate her sense of despair. Being left alone had no affect on the misery she felt of hope found, then lost.

Her eyelids flew upward. Left alone?

She dabbed at her wet cheeks with the edge of the blanket. Now was her opportunity to retrieve the gown, to find the brooch. She sagged back against the pillows and sighed. Only Liam had left. Ursula sat in a chair, head bent as she painstakingly sewed on a frothy piece of material.

Ursula glanced up and smiled. “’Er ye o’er yer wee pout?”

“I was not pouting, just disappointed.” If the woman wondered why she would be disappointed to see her family, she was kind enough not to mention it.

“Weel none the less, I thought I’d do a bit of mending and give ye time to settle things in yer mind. I ken ye nae remember yer family, but young Morag will want to tell ye yer life history.”

“Morag?”

“Aye, yer sister.”

“You have met Margaret’s sister. I thought only Liam and his men went to the Campbell’s.”

“Nae. Where e’er me lad goes, I go.” She lowered her head and sewed several stitches.

“Liam is your son?” He must have taken after his father because she saw no resemblance at all to Ursula.

“Nae, but I’ve had the care of him since he was a wee lad. Me only lad died when he be ten. Fell to the ground from the barn roof he did. No matter how hard I prayed, he ne’er woke up.” Moisture gathered in the old woman’s eyes. The loss of her child still had the power to devastate her.

Is that why Ursula spent so much time nursing Margaret? She refused to lose another victim to a deadly fall. If she knew of the wonderful medical care Maggie had received, she’d understand how she’d survived her accident. But, Liam insisted she not tell anyone that she came from the future, including Ursula. She gritted her teeth, probably, because he didn’t believe her.

Ursula tilted her head sideways and rubbed her wet cheek against her shoulder. “Och. That be years ago. I brought ye a fine bowl of stew fer yer nooning. Do ye need help to feed yerself, lass?”

“N....” At the hopeful look in Ursula’s hazel eyes and the memory of how she’d barely feed herself earlier, she relented. “Yes, thank you. I feel weak after getting up, even for that short time. But I will never regain my strength if I stay in bed. Each day I intend to exercise. Walk around.” When Ursula began to object and shake her head, Maggie insisted. “Short distances at first, then as I become stronger, for longer periods of time.”

Ursula’s gray head bobbed up and down. “I see ye be a stubborn lass.” She settled into the chair next to the bed, held the bowl, and aimed a spoon at Maggie’s mouth. “Now eat.”

With her mouth open, her gaze strayed to the gown on the peg across the room. Gone! She swallowed the half-chewed food so fast she choked.

“Ursula, where is the gown that hung on the wall.”

“I be mending it.” With a nod toward the chair, Ursula indicated the material she’d been sewing. “It tore when ye fell, and I be too busy ’til now to repair the damage.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at her bare hand. “And my ring?”

Odd, she’d felt such an intimate connection with the ring, yet apparently she hadn’t worn it long enough to leave a white line around her finger.

“Yer hand swelled, and Liam took the Claddagh ring to keep safe fer ye.”

“Claddagh ring?” Had she found someone who could explain the significance of the odd piece of jewelry?

“Aye. The three symbols be fer friendship, love, and loyalty.” Ursula’s narrowed eyes held what she could only interpret as a warning. “Something the Laird be needing in his marriage.”

What could Maggie say? She couldn’t hurt Liam since she wasn’t his wife, and any promises she made, Margaret wouldn’t be obligated to keep. She clasped her hand over the place where the ring should have been and raised her fists to lie between her breasts.

“What happened to my brooch?”

“I ken naught about yer brooch.”

Maggie stared down her nose cross-eyed at the spoon held an inch from her mouth. She opened for another bit of the delicious stew. Her gaze darted to the gown lying in the chair. If the brooch wasn’t still attached, where could it be? Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. She had to find her possessions soon and return home.

If Abby returned from vacation and discovered her missing, she’d think Maggie’s family had claimed her and she’d left without saying goodbye. Then she wouldn’t look for her. Of course, she wouldn’t find her even if she bothered to search. Which put her right back where she’d began before she’d left the twenty-first century: lost, no memory, and no family.

At the thought, her spirits sank lower.

“Thank you, Ursula. I am full.”

Ursula dropped the spoon. The ping of the metal against the side of the bowl ricocheted off the rock walls. “Oh, aye, ye near ate three spoonfuls. Ye’ll be back on yer feet in nae time with such a great appetite.”

A teasing twinkle lit the old woman’s eyes. The cagey rascal knew she’d won by playing on her desire to gain her strength as fast as possible. Maggie parted her lips. Open mouth, chew, swallow, repeat. She duplicated the process until the bowl was empty.

With the soup finished and a cup of cider to quench her thirst, she snuggled down into the covers to formulate a plan to search the castle.

The chair creaked as Ursula once again took up her vigil.

Mounted on Raven, Liam raced from the stables as if the demons from hell were after him. And, maybe they were. His poor, wee wife thought herself a time traveler. The bash she’d received to the head when she’d fallen must have jolted something loose in her mind. What else could account for her farfetched tale?

When he’d mentioned her family, her eyes had glittered with happiness then faded to disappointment and tears. Her shoulder-racking sobs had nearly unmanned him. Powerless to comfort her, he’d pushed aside the heaviness that constricted his chest and raced from the room to saddle his horse.

Wind loosened the ribbon holding his hair clubbed at his nape and strands whipped around his face. This is what he needed to clear his mind and rethink Margaret’s accident. He’d often wondered why she’d been in that part of the castle. When he’d rushed to her side, he’d glanced up the dark stairs and noticed that someone had extinguished the lanterns that usually lit the hallway. But in his concern for his wife’s recovery, he hadn’t had time to look into the matter.

The thunder of horse hooves pounded the ground behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Conner gaining on him. He had been ready to mount when Liam had shot passed him, galloped across the bailey, and dashed toward the trail that lead into the woods.

He urged his mount faster. Connor would want to discuss how Margaret fared, and with his mind in such a jumble, he doubted he could make sense if he attempted to explain her condition.

Something whizzed past his back. His horse whinnied as if in pain and broke gait. Raven stumbled and struggled to regain his footing but fell to his knees. Liam yanked his boots from the stirrups to roll clear of his falling horse. Raven toppled sideways, and Liam sailed through the air to land several feet away.

“Liam! Stay down,” Conner shouted.

An arrow struck the ground not far from Liam’s extended leg. He jerked his knee up toward his body and rolled over onto his belly. He scrambled to crawl behind his mount and grabbed the reins to hold his horse to the ground for protection. He peered over the edge of the saddle to see Connor disappear into the woods.

After several seconds had passed, and no more arrows flew at him, he urged Raven back to his feet but still used him for cover. The horse snorted and his body quivered. Liam ran his hand down his forelegs to check for injuries. When he saw none he moved toward the horses flank. A bloody groove creased the top of the stallion’s hips.

Conner galloped up and kept his mount between Liam the woods. “Are ye hurt?”

“I be fine. Did ye see anyone?”

“Nae. I heard someone crashing through the woods and gave chase but ne’er caught a glimpse of the bloody bastard.”

“I best get Raven home so the stable master can see to his injury.”

Conner stood up in his stirrups and leaned forward to study the narrow gash two inches behind the saddle. “If the arrow had been a wee dab faster or ye a wee bit slower that very long feathered-splinter would be buried in yer side.” His gaze strayed to the wooded area where he’d searched for the bowman.

Liam squatted, plucked the arrow from the ground, and stood. Twirling the shaft around in his fingers, he studied the markings and the fletching. The cock feather appeared familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. Perhaps his uncle would recognize it.

He applied pressure around the horse’s scored flesh to test the seriousness of the injury. When Raven didn’t flinch, Liam mounted, careful not to scrape his boot across the wound. He reined his mount toward home and eased him into a gallop. It wouldn’t be safe to tarry here in case the huntsman returned, and his aim proved more accurate.

Conner rode between Liam and the dense forest. When they reached an open field that offered no cover for an attacker, he slowed his mount to a more sedate pace.

“Liam, ye’ve had a muckle lot of accidents and near misses of late. Have ye nae given any thought to who might be wanting ye dead.”

“The only one to gain from me death would be ye or yer father.” A frown of outrage scrunched Conner’s eyebrows lower on his forehead. “Nae, look so grieved, cousin. I ken neither of ye would see me harmed.” Yet, he wondered why Conner would ride into the dark woods without so much as an arrow notched in his bow.

“Glad I be that ye ken it. But who would be behind these incidents. They be too many to call accidents, like I first thought.”

“I nae believe they be accidents anymore, either. Nae more than I believe Margaret’s fall be an accident.”

“Yer wife’s fall wasnae an accident?”

“I havenae had time to think on it clearly, but the hallway above where she fell was dark. The stairs be nae too steep and if she’d just slipped, she would have caught hold of the railing afore she tumbled to the bottom. She be a nibble lass.” He shifted sideways to stare at his cousin. “’Tis certain someone shoved the lass.”

Anger grew inside him each time he thought of someone harming Margaret.

“Aye, it sounds like ye have the right of it.” Conner massaged his jaw. “But, why would anyone want to murder ye wife?”

“I nae ken. ’Tis a puzzle for sure.”

He dismounted in front of the stable and gave instructions to have Raven’s wound tended. Conner tossed his reins to a young lad and stayed at Liam’s side. Liam motioned to Rory, his captain, to follow him to the castle.

His uncle was descending the stairs as the door closed behind them.

“Dugan, I need to have a word with ye after I have spoken to Rory.”

Conner went to stand beside his father and Liam told Rory what had happened.

“Send a couple of men out to see if they can pick up the trail Conner lost. And if any strangers be seen in the area report to me at once.”

“Aye, laird.”

Liam stood and watched Rory leave for a moment before he strode to where Conner and Dugan waited.

His uncle’s gaze shifted from his son to Liam. “Conner told me what happened.”

“Good.” Liam held up the arrow that had nearly pierced his thigh when he lay helpless on the ground. “Have ye seen the markings on this arrow afore?”

Dugan gripped the shaft then turned it upward to study the fletching. “Bloody hell. Come with me.”

His uncle whirled and climbed the stairs two at a time. Liam and Conner raced to catch up. Dugan entered an unused chamber and when Liam and Conner entered, he closed and locked the door behind them.

He strode to the other side of the room, opened the lid to a trunk, and rummaged through it. “’Tis the same markings, me be sure.”

“The same markings as what?” Liam asked.

“As the arrow that came near to hitting ye when we rode to the Campbell’s holding.”

“’Ere sure sure?” At the time, his uncle felt certain that a careless archer had been responsible for Liam’s near miss of a serious wound.

Liam cast an uncertain look at his cousin and Conner shrugged.

“Here it be. See fer yerself.”

His uncle held an arrow by the shaft with the fletching pointed upward. Both arrows had the same cock feather.

“Why did ye keep the arrow if ye felt it be an accident as ye said that day?”

“I had me suspicion, but didn’t want to sound like an old woman if I be wrong. If ye hadnae noticed lad, ye’ve had a muckle lot of accidents of late.”

“Aye. Conner and I discussed it on the ride home. The only ones to gain from my death would be ye and Conner, and I ken it be neither of ye. Have ye any idea who might resent me enough to see me dead?”