Wild about the Witch (18 page)

***

When the women left, Quinn felt he could better explain things to Lachlan. He didn’t want to expose Lizzie’s betrayal, because he forgave her. It was water under the bridge and didn’t seem worth rehashing. And he didn’t want to swear too much in front of them. He still felt the need to be his best around Lizzie, and Piper had always taken up for him, so he didn’t want to give her reason to be disappointed. As soon as they left the room, he and his brother scowled at each other for several long moments before Lachlan started in again on how foolish he was.

And he just couldn’t take it anymore. He had done the best he could, in fact he had done everything he was supposed to do. Their wee demon of a sister simply could not be contained, and he was beginning to think they needed to stop trying. If she didn’t want to marry an English lord, they needed to bugger that plan. Her inheritance could rot for all he cared, or she cared, so why should Lachlan care? Let the money go to the church or whatever the contingency plan her mother had set it up to do.

Catie was as smart as anyone he’d ever known, so why not let her make a decision or two for herself? And why was Lachlan trying to manage things from hundreds of years in the future anyway? He’d made his choice, his proverbial bed, and now he had to bloody well lie in it.

Quinn paused to get a breath after forcing all his thoughts out in a loud, obscenity laden heap, and Lachlan held up his hand.

“Verra well,” he said, his eyes wide with amazement. “Ye’ve given me much to think about. Dinna over exert yourself before the physician has a chance to fix ye.” Lachlan pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, and Quinn thought they might actually have a conversation. Like two adults. “I apologize for calling ye so many thoughtless names, lad.”

Quinn nearly choked, not sure he heard correctly. “This time and Piper have changed ye, Lach,” he said. “I thought ye’d at least hit me in the face after all that.”

Lachlan grumbled, clearly uncomfortable with his newfound sensitivity. “It’s good to be on your guard,” he said. “I may yet.”

He then asked for news from their own time. Quinn’s time, as Lachlan was clearly at home in this one. He recalled what Lizzie had said, that people end up where they’re supposed to. He’d thought it hogwash at the time, but wasn’t so sure anymore.

“One of Bella’s children is ill?” he asked, standing up in his panic, as if he could do something about it immediately. Quinn waited for him to sit back down before continuing.

“Aye, and the illness is spreading. We need to return with all due haste. Ye dinna know which of the children Piper’s line is descended from?”

Lachlan shook his head, his eyes tortured. “No, they’re verra bad record keepers. I used to think it was solely to plague me when I, ah, messed things up the first time.” He frowned. “Bloody Glens.”

Quinn nodded in agreement. There really wasn’t much more to say about the clan that had been making their family miserable for as long as either of them could remember. Quinn smirked. “And ye’re about to marry one, truly this time.”

“Aye, but she is much diluted. Speaking of matters of the heart,” Lachlan cleared his throat. “What is between ye and Miss Burnet?”

“Ah, Lizzie,” he sighed, closing his eyes and bringing her face to his mind’s eye. How could he admit to Lachlan what a fool he’d been over her, when he was treating him like an equal at last. “Certainly Catie has filled your ears with the tale.”

“She said ye had a dalliance,” Lachlan said. He looked like he might burst a vein in his effort to remain nonjudgmental.

“Aye, that’s what it was.”

“Was?” Lachlan prodded.

“She’s back in her own time and shall want to remain. I of course, must return. And I believe she has someone in this time who she’ll reunite with.”

Lachlan looked more uncomfortable than he’d ever seen him, and he laughed in spite of the bitter words he uttered. If Lachlan tried to comfort him like a mother hen, he was going to take a swing at him.

“Go gather up the supplies I shall need to take back with me, and write any letters ye want delivered to Pietro and Bella. As soon as my arm is wrapped up again properly, I will leave.”

“Aye. As much as I’d like ye to stay ...” Lachlan looked like he actually missed him.

It tugged at his heart. He wouldn’t have minded staying, to visit and have a bit longer with Lizzie. He wanted a larger store of memories to take back with him.

“I fear too greatly for wee Callum,” Quinn said.

The reality of possibly losing Piper made Lachlan jump to his feet, clenching his fists against the invisible foe. “I shall ready what ye need. Catie willna be pleased to leave in such a hurry. I was hoping to ease her into it and avoid the storm.”

“Ye never learned the trick to weathering her tantrums,” Quinn said. “Ye must just face them head on and be pummeled.”

“In this, ye are indeed braver than me.” Lachlan squeezed his good shoulder and left.

Piper’s head pounded and a strange halo surrounded everything in the kitchen. She blinked several times to no avail and sat down to wait for Lachlan to come downstairs. Lizzie huddled over her mug of tea, miserable and tired looking. Piper felt she should say something encouraging, but couldn’t think of a single thing. And furthermore didn’t feel encouraging.

Honestly, she wanted everyone to leave. She poured a tiny bit of whiskey, hoping it would calm her irritation and get rid of her headache. Settling down at the table, she surveyed her guests.

Oliver had perked up considerably. Elbow to elbow with Mel at the counter, he helped her slice carrots, while she asked him question after question about his townhouse, his country house, his life. She wondered when Mellie had gained such an interest in the past, and wondered if she was interested in Oliver himself or always wanted to ask such questions of Lachlan but was too scared.

Lachlan had relaxed considerably since he’d settled into this time, and was getting used to not having to be in charge of everything, but still had moments of autocratic bossiness. She thought he seemed happy, but wondered if he’d grow bored with no real responsibility.

Aren’t you sick of worrying about everyone?
 A nasty little voice sounded in her head.

She sat up straighter and almost exclaimed out loud at it. Evie looked at her, eyebrows raised. She had mostly convinced her she was fine now, ever since they returned from the ill-fated visit to her grandmother in the past. And she had been, until they returned from vacation. Perhaps whatever plagued her was afraid to fly, or couldn’t leave the land.

She wanted to confide in Evie, get her imaginative ideas and opinions about it, but was overcome with another overwhelming sense of anger. Why was she mad at Evie? It didn’t make sense, but it was so strong, she had to look away from her friend’s inquisitive smile.

Thankfully Sam mentioned it was time to fetch Magnus, and after telling her to call one of them if Catie needed a ride back to their house after she spoke with Lachlan and Quinn, they headed for the door.

“Catie will be fine,” Piper snapped, then pressed her lips together, alarmed at her voice.

She wanted to say thank you, see you later, anything to soften her bitchy tone, but the words wouldn’t come out. They literally wouldn’t come out, and panic rose as she also realized she was holding her teacup in a crushing grip. When had she even picked it up?

A few moments after Sam and Evie left, Catie peeped her head around the back door. Lizzie stood up and ran to her, taking her hands and pulling her into the kitchen.

“Catie, I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said.

Catie looked relieved to see her old chaperone, then her face went through a series of horrified expressions, settling on fear.

“Quinn is here?” she asked, all color drained from her face.

Lizzie nodded and gently turned Catie to the kitchen counter, where Oliver stood with the knife poised frozen over a large, leafy carrot. He swallowed hard and Piper didn’t think it was possible, but Catie went even paler. She thought the girl might faint, and wanted to rush to her side, but her feet wouldn’t do what her mind wanted, and her hand shook.

Piper looked at the cup in her trembling hand and struggled to put it down. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but wouldn’t fall. She couldn’t control her own body, and the voice was back. She didn’t feel good about what might be coming.

“Oliver,” Catie squeaked. “Why are ye here? I mean, I’m pleased to see ye,” she finished lamely, turning to Lizzie, then Piper, for help. Lizzie shook her head, and Piper was powerless to do anything.

“Well, we came to rescue you,” Lizzie said, flapping her hands. “However, it seems you’re doing well.”

“Aye,” Catie said, eyes narrowing. She looked apologetically at Oliver. “I didna need rescuing, though I thank ye for trying.”

“Certainly,” he said stiffly.

Piper laughed at the ridiculous manners flying everywhere and everyone looked at her.

Why are they here?
 the voice hissed.

The irritation Piper had been fighting since she came downstairs flared to red hot rage and she saw with horror that her hand was rising, as if she was going to fling the cup at someone. It didn’t matter who, she was equally disgusted with them all.

Recalling the time she actually tried to speak back to the voice, she forced all her remaining will to keep her hands steady and closed her eyes.

Let me go
, she thought forcefully.

Brilliant idea. Let us leave these intruders,
 the voice said cheerfully.

Oh, that wasn’t what she meant and when her feet turned her toward the door leading to the front of the house, she used the last of her fading will to grab onto the table. How bizarre was she acting? Shouldn’t someone notice her behavior?

Catie and Lizzie glared at one another. What was their deal now? Oliver stood awkwardly trying to get Catie’s attention and Mel was as imperturbable as ever. If Evie was here, she would notice something was wrong, that Piper was about to be dragged from the room by some inner force that had taken over.

Scream, she told herself, no longer caring about embarrassment, only concentrating on trying to stay in the kitchen. With witnesses. If she could stay until Lachlan came back down, he would notice something was off. Maybe his strong, comforting presence would be enough to snap her free from whatever had her in its clutches.

Like a robot, with stiff, jerky movements, she slammed the cup onto the table. Still no one glanced her way and she felt her mouth opening. Please let a scream come out, she thought.

“I have to go … speak to Dr. Stone,” she heard her voice say.

She shuffled toward the door. Whatever was controlling her didn’t seem to have the full hang of it and she tried one last time to grab the door frame as she made her way into the hall. Her fingers tingled and went numb and her feet continued to send her toward the front of the house.

She made an abrupt turn past the stairs, knocking her shoulder into the bannister. The pain brought her back to her senses and she reached out and planted her palms on either side of the narrow hallway walls, trying to dig in her feet.

I need you to come with me,
 the voice said. And after a tense moment, her muscles shaking from stiffly pressing the walls, the voice spoke again.
Please.

This so shocked her, she lost her concentration and her arms flapped to her sides, pinned there by the unseen force. Her legs began their ungainly march through the halls once more, as tears flowed over her lids and down her cheeks. She’d lost the tenuous control she regained and no amount of focus could get it back.

She wound her way through the castle, down some stairs to an unused cellar, all the way to the back to stand in front of what looked like a plain plaster wall. Terror struck as she watched her hands push against the opening of the secret passage she’d meant to have permanently sealed, just hadn’t got around to it yet.

The opening swung inward and she took a step, dragged into darkness by the force that controlled her.

Lizzie sat locked in an awkward showdown with Catie, who wore a pink satin prom dress of all things, her hair mussed and windblown, her cheeks slightly sunburned. She looked radiant, not at all in need of rescuing, but as if she’d spent the time Lizzie was being dragged across the countryside by a madman, the same time that Quinn was frantic with worry and getting shot, having the absolute time of her life. And she had a new boyfriend? What in the hell was that all about? Poor Oliver.

“Catie, sit down, please,” she said after Piper wandered out of the room, muttering about finding the doctor.

Catie barely glanced at her. “I’ll do standing, thank ye,” she said.

Lizzie sighed. “Your brother was injured in trying to get here.”

Catie sat down. “What? Where is he?” She looked around. “I should go to him.”

Lizzie tentatively placed her hand on Catie’s wrist. “The doctor’s patching him up. He should have stayed behind and let us come alone, but …”

“Ah, that’s Quinn,” Catie finished. She shook her head, brow creased with worry.

Oliver cleared his throat. “He would stop at nothing to make sure you were safe,” he said, then visibly gathered his courage and added, “Nor would I.”