Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (85 page)

Alasdair frowned and his grip tightened on
her elbow. “But, my lady, this is no jest…”

Morgan fixed him with a stern eye. “I
thought you wanted to see your son again.”

Alasdair shut his mouth. He was obviously
still skeptical but fighting valiantly against his impulse.

“
Do you truly believe it
can be done?’ he asked finally, his tone revealing his
hope.

“
Yes,” Morgan assured him.
“And we’re going to do it.” She rummaged in her bag and pulled out
the crystal, which sparkled in the starlight. “Look, here’s the
stone. Which hand did you have it in?”

Alasdair hesitated, then took it in his left
hand.

Morgan dug in her bag and found the battered
scrap of heather, the one that Alasdair had given her on Moot Hill.
She turned it in her fingers, letting herself remember that
afternoon, before she handed it to him. “And this is white heather.
Or at least it was.”

Alasdair’s eyes lit up and his conviction
visibly grew. “And it grew near the Stone of Scone. The wee witch
said as much of the piece she granted me. This might indeed be
successful!”

“
Well, there you go. Now,
all we need is the Gaelic verse.”

Alasdair’s face fell. “I do not recall the
verse.”

“
Then, we’ll just have to
do some experimenting. You must know some Gaelic
verses?”

“
Aye.” Again that glimmer
of hope lit his eyes.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the evidence of how
much this meant to him and she had to look away. All the same, she
hoped that they could make it work. “We’ll just have to try them
all. Maybe it’s the Gaelic itself. Was the tune familiar to you? Or
did it remind you of one you know? Think hard – maybe you can
remember at least part of it.”

Alasdair pursed his lips. “’Twas a merry
chant. ’Twas not unlike a song my gran sang when I was a babe,
though these words called to Morgaine.”

“
You’ll just have to come
as close as you can.”

What other variable could they control? He
could turn three times in place easily enough, although they were
far from Edinburgh’s towers.

The orb of the moon crested orange on the
horizon and gave Morgan sudden inspiration. “What was the phase of
the moon that night? Doesn’t that sort of stuff matter in these
things? In the story of the smith, it was full.”

“
Like this night,” Alasdair
agreed, then thought for a moment. “Aye! On that night, it was full
and riding high. I feared we would be seen because of its
light.”

Morgan’s mouth went dry that things were
moving so quickly. “So, if we don’t try tonight, we’ll have to wait
another month.”

Their gazes clung for a potent moment, and
Morgan finally averted her gaze. She took a step back and tried to
sound encouraging. “Go ahead and do whatever you did then.”

Alasdair’s expression turned grim. “’Tis not
so simple, my lady. There was something about the tower place – she
called it a portal. We need to find a portal betwixt the
times.”

“
Like that to the domain of
Morgaine le Fee.”

“
Aye, a place where Faeries
are said to gather. I have no doubt that there was a history of odd
doings in that tower.”

“
Like the hill in the
smith’s story,” Morgan said.

Their eyes met in sudden understanding, and
Morgan knew they were both thinking the same thing. They turned as
one to eye the circle of standing stones not two hundred feet
away.

“
My gran oft said…”
Alasdair began, his voice oddly strained.

“
Somewhere Faeries dance,”
Morgan breathed.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that one of the
most magical places in the British Isles was right beside them.
Morgan tried to swallow the lump in her throat without success. She
couldn’t avoid the fact that everything was falling into place with
dangerous ease.

This was the night that Alasdair would leave
her for all time. Just the thought made Morgan feel empty
inside.

“
Yes,” she said firmly.
“That’s where we have to be.”

Without another word, they walked toward the
standing stones of Callanish, Morgan fighting to hide her
trepidation from Alasdair.

*

Morgan could not wait to be rid of him.

Alasdair fought against his instinctive
dislike of that certainty. ’Twas clearly because he had never been
unwelcome in a woman’s company before, especially one upon whom he
had lavished his rough charm.

But ’twas something more than that irking
him and in a secret corner of his mind, Alasdair acknowledged the
truth.

He loved Morgan. Indeed, he had fallen
irrevocably in love with his wee enchantress.

And he was not by any means ready to part
her company.

Even for his son.

This might have been frightening enough -
for Alasdair had never permitted anyone to have such an effect upon
him - if the lady had not been so intent on sending him away from
her side. What was more, the sooner that happened was clearly the
better, to her way of thinking.

And that irked Alasdair. Was it just his
pride that was wounded? Or was it a sense that there was something
greater betwixt them, something that twisted his innards, yet
something to which she was oblivious?

For a moment, he had hoped to spend an
evening with Morgan, within the circle of stones, putting all the
troubles aside. He would know the woman herself, without guise of
sorceress. When Morgan took his hand, Alasdair’s heart had clamored
with the rightness of his choice.

But it seemed the lady did not wish to put
Alasdair’s troubles aside. ’Twas Alasdair himself she would send
away, and that with all haste.

Alasdair trudged along beside her,
disgruntled and not liking in the least that the Fates themselves
seemed to be on the lady’s side. ’Twas a poor time to part, in his
mind, but that seemed to be of little import. Not only had she the
stone and the heather he had forgotten giving to her, but the
cursed moon rose full on this very night.

And the stones were far too close for
chance. They were the one thing exactly the same both in Alasdair’s
memory and before his eyes. ’Twas not whimsy that made him conclude
these stones could be the link between the centuries that he
sought.

Alasdair had the sense that he was destined
to leave this very night.

Yet he was not prepared to go.

The delicate marvel of Morgan marched beside
him, a definite briskness in her step, and Alasdair knew he had
made no error. The lady could not wait to see the back of him,
whatever his feelings to the contrary.

Sorceress or nay, her thorough assessment
and determination had Alasdair believing she could do this thing.
And ’twas true enough what she said - he had done the feat once,
and likely could again, were all circumstances right.

Would Morgan forget him once he was gone?
The thought was startling, but Alasdair had to consider what had
happened to the tale of Robert the Bruce. Would his departure leave
Morgan with the sense that he had never been?

Alasdair was more troubled by that
possibility than he thought he should have been. ’Twas clear enough
the lady thought she lost naught by sending him on his way - and
Alasdair wished he could somehow guarantee that she would at least
recall him.

He knew full well that he would never forget
her.

The standing stones of Callanish etched a
great circle upon the land and though Alasdair knew they were not
the only standing stones thereabouts, this gathering was the
largest. A circle of thirteen massive stones stood on end, each one
of them taller than he was. In the center of the circle stood an
even taller stone, its crest angled in a distinctive manner.

Lines of stones extended in the four
cardinal directions from the center, the northward avenue outlined
by a double line of stone sentinels. The stones themselves were
weathered and gray; the rising moon burnishing the rough surfaces
with deep gold.

Alasdair and Morgan entered the avenue and
approached the stones. A hush seemed to fall around them as they
walked and Alasdair could near naught beyond the pounding of his
heart.

It seemed they were sheltered even from the
wind in this place. It had always been this way when Alasdair
ventured close to the stones. The majesty of their height and the
sense of ancient power contained here struck right to his very
soul.

And he understood now that ’twas because his
gran spoke aright. This place stood portal to domains beyond the
eye. That those domains were more of this earth than Faerie was but
a detail.

They halted beside the commanding center
stone and Alasdair knew he did not imagine Morgan’s
nervousness.

She would not look to his eyes.

“
All right, you have the
crystal and the heather, the moon is full and we’re here.” Her
emerald gaze danced to him and away as she chattered. “Um, what
else? You said you turned three times in place and oh! Wait! You
said you were
drunk
! Maybe we should find some whisky or
something.” She spun away as though anxious to find such a
substance and send Alasdair from her side.

Alasdair gritted his teeth and stood his
ground. “I will drink naught this night,” he said so forcefully
that Morgan glanced back at him. When he noted her surprise,
Alasdair arched one brow and let his voice drop. “You forget, my
lady, that I granted my word to you.”

“
But it might be part of
your going home.”

“
I shall go with my wits
about me or not at all. I have told you oft enough, a man’s word
must be worth something or he is as naught.”

Morgan stared at him, as though she was not
certain whether or not to believe him. Alasdair could not tell
whether his assertion pleased her or not, and irritation surged
through him.

She might want to be rid of him as quickly
as possible, but Alasdair had something to say first. He stepped
forward and captured her chin with one hand, stared into her eyes
and willed her to not look away.

Alasdair felt the lady swallow, but she did
not flinch.

“
My lady,” he said, his
voice low yet filled with resolve. “Before we do this thing, I
would have you know that I have never met a woman the like of you.
Indeed, you might as well be an immortal sorceress, for your gentle
beauty entwines with your strength of will to make a beguiling
combination.” He smiled down at her. “And your kiss is no less
bewitching than the reputed power of Morgaine le Fee’s
embrace.”

“
I’m just a…”

Alasdair slid his thumb across Morgan’s lips
to silence her protest, not in the least interested in her modesty
at this moment.

He would have his say, before he left her
side forever.

“
Do not dismiss my tribute,
my lady. You are like the rose, which blooms in beauty all the
season long, though few appreciate the challenges it overcomes to
bring those blossoms to light. ’Tis a stalwart plant, a harbinger
of fair weather, yet of sufficient strength to survive both poor
soil and foul winters.”

The lady blushed. Alasdair felt his
annoyance dissolve at the sight, and he could not have stopped
himself from cupping her face in his hands. To his amazement, she
did not pull away.

“
Whereas I, my lady,” he
continued with a rueful smile, “am but a lowly briar. Rife with
doughty thorns, rough-hewn yet strong, of common persistence to the
rose, but sadly without her beauty and grace. We are as unlike as
two beings might be, my lady, but I would ask of you one thing ere
I go.”

“
What?” Morgan’s voice was
soft and uncertain, and her eyes were wide.

“
I ask only that you
remember me,” Alasdair declared with low urgency. “As I shall
remember you for all my days and nights.”

Before she could argue the matter – or
decline – Alasdair bent and sealed her lips with his kiss.

As she had before, the lady trembled within
his embrace, then tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders.
Alasdair’s heart sang when she arched against him, and he dared to
hope that he had fallen in love with a woman who held him in some
esteem.

As the heat of her kiss unfurled in his
loins, Alasdair faced the truth. He was smitten with a tiny woman
whose life was fixed seven centuries ahead of his own. A part of
him wanted to ask her to accompany him home to find his son, but a
larger part of him was afraid to face her certain refusal.

After all, she had made it clear that she
wanted him to go quickly. Alasdair would hold the possibility of
her admiration in his heart rather than force himself to face her
rejection.

’
Twas not a characteristic
choice, by any means, and Alasdair supposed that was a sign of how
deeply she had affected him.

With that realization, Alasdair broke off
the kiss and stepped away, refusing to acknowledge the shimmer that
blurred his vision. Morgan wanted no more than to be rid of him. He
had no need to hear the words.

Alasdair gripped heather and crystal, summon
the first Gaelic verse that came to mind, and began to chant. He
turned in place, telling himself that he closed his eyes so he
might not see Morgan’s relief when he left.

His heart ached with the awareness of her
watchful silence.

Once
. Alasdair chanted with vigor and
heard his voice bounce off the stones. He forced himself to think
of Angus, not of Morgan, to think of his home and his gran and his
debt to Robert the Bruce.

Twice
. He felt the dizziness flooding
through him as it had that night in Edinburgh, and his heart
skipped a beat. Alasdair took a deep breath and chanted louder,
telling himself he would see his own time when his eyes opened
again.