Love Beyond Time (Morna's Legacy Series) (14 page)

Eoin’s face lit up as he moved away from me and embraced the large, red-faced man. “Aye, it has, Bran! How’s yer wife and children?”

“Fine. Fine. Dona is in bed, nursing our sixth bairn. She gave birth only two nights ago.” The man’s eyes gleamed with pride as he spoke of his family.

“Six, my God, man! Do ye no ever let the lass rest? How have ye been managing the others on ye own, the last few days?”

“I havena.” The man let out a loud, deep chuckle before continuing. “They’ve had free run o’ the place while their mother has been in bed. I’m sure she’ll be no too pleased with me once she’s up. Come inside. Let us have a drink for old time’s sake, aye?”

Eoin reached his hand behind him, and I instinctively took hold.

“Let me introduce ye to my wife, Bran. This is Blaire.”

I smiled as the man quickly looked me up and down. “How did this old sot get such a beautiful lass like ye to marry him? Oh, never mind. What’s done is done, aye? I shouldna try to talk ye out of it now. Come. Ye shall have a drink with us as well.”

I followed the two men through the small entranceway into a one-roomed first floor where all five children, minus the newborn, were running around, creating chaos. All children were under the age of seven, and a few days without strict structure from their mother had put them in a tailspin.

I knew that the noise level in the home could in no way be conducive to their mother’s rest, and my teacher drive immediately kicked in.

“Alright, stop where ye are!” And I quickly held my hands up as I stared them down. “My name is Blaire, and ye are all going to follow me outside so that we can allow yer mother some rest time. Aye?”

I watched as the three oldest children glanced up to take in the shocked look on their father’s face. When he stood silently, they looked up at me and seemed to consent, slowly marching out the front door together. I yanked up the two youngest—year-and-a-half-old twin boys—and placed one on each hip.

I turned to address the two men before following the children outside. “Go ahead and enjoy a drink. I’ll keep the children busy so that the two of ye can visit and yer wife can rest with the baby.”

Leaving them both open-mouthed, I made my way outside with the two squirming toddlers.

Chapter 18

Kinnaird Castle

“The fire served no purpose! The lad is too foolish to see when he’s been warned and to be afraid. He thinks the fire happened by chance, set by a drunkard at the wedding.” Ramsay Kinnaird sat at the end of a long table, staring down the two servants unfortunate enough to be called to his service.

“What will ye do, sire? Attack them at once?”

The servant’s words were rewarded with a large bang as Ramsay threw his fist down on the table hard. “No, ye fool! To attack by surprise would be too easy! I want Eoin and his brother Arran to sense the darkness coming for them. I want them to feel afraid for their home and their loved ones and know that there is nothing they can do to stop them from losing everything.” He stood from the table and walked toward the servants until his own face was but inches from theirs. “The first attack was too simple. We must take something that is precious to them.”

“What would be best? Would ye like us to slaughter their sheep?”

Ramsay contemplated the servant’s suggestion. A wicked grin contorted his face as his next plan came into full view in his mind. “No, the Conalls have no real connection to their sheep, but they’ve always loved their horses. Conall Castle is known for them, all cared for by that pathetic stable master. The loss of horses will hurt them. Send the two lads that work the stables out tomorrow midday. Take their mother, should they need motivation. Tell them to take the head of every last horse, and leave behind the pieces to be found.”

* * *

“No, Arran. I’m telling ye the truth. I dinna ask her to take the children out of the house. She offered to do it all on her own. I was surprised as well, and ye should’ve seen Bran’s face.”

Arran ran his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth in front of his brother. He’d spent days trying to make some sense of Blaire’s strange behavior, and the only thing he could come up with was that this lass wasn’t actually Blaire. That conclusion made no sense to him at all.

“It just doesna make sense, Eoin. Blaire hates children. If ye left her alone in a room with them, she’d be more likely to eat them than offer to care for them.”

“Aye, I know the Blaire we knew as children was that way, but perhaps she’s changed.”

“She hasna. Because the lass ye have married isn’t Blaire.” Arran could sense Eoin’s temper flaring as he finished his sentence, and he marched over in front of his brother to stop him from pacing back and forth.

“What the hell are ye talking about, Arran? Ye are making no goddamned sense, and ye havena been for some time. I know that ye are still grieving for our father, but ye have to stop drinking so much. It’s beginning to addle yer thoughts.”

“I’ve no been drinking today, Eoin. I know what I’m saying sounds foolish, and I canna make sense of it myself, but this lass is no Blaire.”

“Just because she spent part of a day around children doesna mean a stranger has replaced Blaire. God, listen to what ye are saying, Arran. Ye’ve gone and lost yer mind.”

“I havena. Kip also told me that ye dinna even end up taking Sheila to the village, because Blaire could no ride her. Ye know Blaire can ride well, Eoin.”

“Aye, we left her at the stables, but only because she wanted to share a horse with me.”

Arran rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall behind him. “Did she tell ye that?”

“No, but ye are no the only one who can sense what a lass wants, Arran. Doona mention this conversation to me again, aye? I’m worried for ye, brother. Perhaps ye need to go away for a few days. I believe Kip is about to make another trip to bring back another horse or two for the stables. Go with him, and doona drink while ye are gone.”

“Aye, I’ll go. I canna stand to be around ye when ye refuse to see what’s right in front of ye. All I ask is that ye watch her. She doesna talk like Blaire either. If ye’d only pull yer head out of yer arse! Test her. Take her to do something ye know Blaire was good at as a child, and see if she succeeds.”

With that he turned and left, leaving Eoin to think about all that he’d said.

Chapter 19

I was going to throw up. There was no doubt about it whatsoever. I was about to be expected to string, or whatever the crap you do, a bow and arrow and shoot the damn thing right in the middle of the target.

When Eoin knocked on my door this morning shortly after breakfast, I’d been excited. It was unusual for me to see him after breakfast, and with progress moving so slowly in the spell room, I was happy for any excuse to keep me from my work. That is, until he asked me to go shooting with him and proceeded to tell me over and over how wonderful I’d been at it as a child, and how he and Arran never wanted go shooting with me because they knew I would beat them ruthlessly.

The gig was definitely up. The shit had certainly hit the fan. And by tonight, I was absolutely positive I would be locked away again where I’d been a few weeks ago.

It’s not that I was in bad shape. I did try to drag myself to the gym, one, sometimes two whole times a week. But jogging a mile had nothing to do with maneuvering this huge wooden contraption in such a way that it would send an arrow soaring through the air. I seriously doubted I could even pick the thing up off of the ground.

“Well, that was a fairly good shot, but I have no doubt ye can beat it.”

He flashed one of those smiles that made my muscles feel weak—exactly what I didn’t need at the moment—as he stepped out of the way to let me take my place in front of the target. “Here ye go, Blaire.”

I gripped the bow unsurely, sighing with relief when I found it wasn’t as heavy as I’d first expected. My hands shook as I fumbled with the arrow, trying my best to mimic Eoin’s movements exactly.

Pulling back, I released the arrow high into the air. Two seconds later, it unceremoniously landed three feet in front of me. I shut my eyes in defeat, only to hear Eoin’s laughter from behind me.

“Ach, lass. Has it been a long while then since ye went shooting?” He came up behind me and gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps my memories are wrong about how good ye used to be at this.”

“I suppose they probably were. Best if I just watch ye shoot.” I tried to back away, but his hands on my shoulders held me in place.

“Nay, lass, I wasna wrong. It’s just nerves is all. Give it another go, aye?”

Reluctantly and, with the most unpleasant look on my face that I could manage, I reached for another arrow and went about shooting it off once more.

It hit the target right in the middle.

“What? Yes! No freakin way!” I jumped, tossing the bow to the side as I shot my hands up in the air, realizing too late that I’d let my language slip and that I must have looked like a buffoon as I leapt gleefully up in the air.

Eoin cocked his head and looked at me with a confused expression. “What did ye just say lass? ‘Freakin’?”

I fumbled for an explanation. “No, I just made a noise, a happy noise for hitting the target. I’m surprised is all.”

“Why would ye be surprised, lass? Ye have always been good at this. Here, let’s take turns shooting a few more. Aye?”

* * *

They continued to take turns shooting arrows until all that they’d brought stuck out of the target. After the first one, Blaire had hit every single one right in the center.

Eoin had expected her to excel. That’s why he’d asked her to go shooting, so that he could prove Arran’s ridiculous theory wrong. But why did he feel so surprised?

He knew all that Arran had suggested was impossible, but just to humor him, shouldn’t he test her in some other way as well? A fair number of lasses in the Highlands could shoot a bow and arrow decently, and he knew there were always a few people who could succeed at anything at their first try. Perhaps Blaire was one of those naturally gifted people?

As they gathered up their mess and began the half-mile trek back to the castle grounds, Eoin thought of a few questions that he knew would help put his own mind at ease, and hopefully put an end to his brother’s ridiculous notions.

“Blaire, do ye remember the time ye shot me in the arse? Did ye really think it necessary? All I did was tell ye that you could no come down to the village with me and Arran.” He turned to watch her closely, hoping she would correct him. He knew why she’d really shot him. His father had spent what seemed like half a day explaining to him why he was never to speak to a lady in such a hurtful way ever again.

“Nay, Eoin. That isn’t why I shot ye, that day. I shot ye because ye told me I was the ugliest lass that ye’d ever seen, and ye’d rather kiss Griffin’s arse than be married to me someday. It was the summer we walked in on our fathers discussing the betrothal.”

“Aye. That’s right. I do apologize, Blaire. I was young and foolish. At that age, I’d rather have kissed Griffin’s arse than any lass.” He laughed, thinking himself foolish for giving Arran’s notion any thought.

As they reached the castle grounds and Eoin stashed their equipment away, he thought of one last question as Bri turned to make her way up to her room in the castle. “I canna remember which ear it is that yer father canna hear from. Which is it?”

“It’s his right.”

As she turned and walked inside the castle, Eoin felt his heart drop into the deepest depths of his stomach.

He knew it had always been her father’s left ear.

Chapter 20

Was it his right ear or his left? Dammit! I couldn’t remember, and I second-guessed myself a thousand times as I made my way back to my bedchamber. Why did Eoin ask the question in the first place? Was it really that he just couldn’t remember, or did he suspect something?

It had to be the first. What on earth could he suspect? Surely, even if he found my behavior different than Blaire’s, he wouldn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that I was someone else. From everything Mary had told me, I looked exactly like her.

It didn’t matter at this point. If he asked, surely he wouldn’t know whether or not what I told him was true. He wasn’t testing me; although, the way he went on and on about how great Blaire was with a bow and arrow, it did sort of seem that way. Luckily, I’d had a knack for it. Who knew? I’d never been coordinated at anything, and all of a sudden I was an expert archer. The entire situation was just too odd for words, and it made me even more anxious to get back to work in the spell room. I’d spent far too long here, and with each passing day I found myself more reluctant to spend hours searching through spell books. I’d much rather spend my time exploring the castle, visiting with Eoin, or actually cooking with Mary like Eoin thought I was.

And while I missed my mother, homesickness wasn’t setting in like I thought it should have. I loved it here—the lack of cars and modern technology, the way you didn’t hear car horns and sirens every time you stepped outside, the way everything was quieter and, as a result, more simple as well. People had to work so much harder for everything that there was an overwhelming sense of pride and work ethic that just radiated from every person I’d met while here.

I was also beginning to love everyone at the castle: Mary, Eoin, even Kip and Arran, both of whom seemed dead set against getting to know me. It was okay. I still felt more at home here than I did in my newly remodeled former bachelor pad of a home, where I’d spent so many nights alone. It was comforting to know that there were people just down the hall. It somehow made every second feel less lonely.

Yeah, it was definitely time to get back to work in the spell room. As nice as it was to escape reality here for a few weeks, this was not where I was meant to be. If that was the case, I would’ve been born here, hundreds of years ago. I was an unnatural imposter, and it was vital that I find the spell that would get me back home.