Wild about the Witch (22 page)

She turned her head to the side, wanting him to elaborate, but he remained maddeningly quiet. She didn’t know if he was thinking or waiting. She’d never been good at knowing whether to wait or charge forward in sticky situations like this and she had to press her lips together to keep a rush of words from flying out— excuses, reasons, begging. But she couldn’t stand the silence.

“This is your home, Lizzie,” he said, his voice steady and final. “Ye waited so long to get back here, and now ye finally are.”

“But things are different now,” she said, barely letting him finish his sentence.

She flinched at her impatience and took a breath. God, she wanted to touch him. If only he would let her, they could melt into the comfort of each other. There was never any lack of surety when they were in each other’s arms. Slowly, she took a step forward, keeping her eyes locked with his. He glanced over her head at the door. She knew he was thinking they had to go, there was no time for this, and her heart sank.

But then he took a step forward to fill the small gap that remained between them and brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. She smiled and kept herself from closing her eyes, in case this was the last time. She had to savor it.

His lips touched hers, tentatively, then hard. He wrapped his hand behind her head and pressed her close, and she finally gave over to the kiss and enjoyed it, instead of struggling to commit it to memory. She couldn’t let it be the last. When he released her, they stayed close and she took the hand that hung next to his body in the sling.

“Ye mustna feel guilty or that ye have any obligations to me or my family. I see ye struggle to make me see that ye want to make amends, and ye dinna need to. I only want ye to be happy.”

She tipped her head back to gape at him, not sure what the hell he was saying. He closed his eyes and stepped back, shaking his head. His hand slipped out of hers and a cold emptiness filled her.

She could go back without his blessing, without his say so. She knew she could make him see he still loved her, he just had to accept it. But what if he didn’t? If she went back and he still refused to let her into his life, could she live there without him? She didn’t know if she was strong enough.

“I know ye still love another,” he said, forcing out the words as if they were stabbing him in the gut.

Lizzie reached out to the wall, staggered by that pronouncement. She shook her head. “Trent? No. Just, no. We were never engaged, we never lived together. He’d get irritated if I wanted to use his shower.”

“He’s worked verra hard to find ye,” he said, as if he felt sorry for the man all of a sudden.

“I have no clue why he’s doing that. He’s an attention seeking fame hound.” Frustration made her slap the wall and turn around, wanting to run from this ridiculous argument. Clenching her fists, she turned back and faced him. “I’m telling you now, that we are not together.”

It was Quinn’s turn to smack something, and he paced to the fireplace, punching the stone mantel.

“I heard ye speaking on the—” he frowned. “Ye said ye loved him and wished ye could see him and could never forget him.”

It dawned on her what he was rambling about and she laughed. “No, Quinn, that isn’t what you heard.”

“Lizzie, please dinna lie to me anymore.”

That stung, and the pain made her angry, want to fight harder. “You heard me on the phone?” she asked. “I was speaking with my oldest friend, to let her know I was still alive, and explain to her what happened. I told her that I missed her, but wouldn’t be returning to London.” She sighed. “Because I would be going back with you.”

Another silent staredown, and she let him ruminate, ready to pounce if he tried to walk away.

“Ah, Lizzie,” he said quietly, looking down at the ground. “Do ye only want to come back with me because it might be easier than facing your life here after so long?”

She could not believe he was trying to psychoanalyze her, this Highlander from the eighteenth century. It hit her that he might be onto something and she gasped. It would be awful to try to explain, worse than awful to face interviewers. But if she were to stay and try and get her career back on track, there would be no way around that. Still, the audacity.

“Are you bloody kidding me?” she asked. He shook his head and she continued to rail. “Do you honestly think any inconvenience in explaining things here could possibly match the horrors of the eighteenth century?” She pointed to the kitchen sink. “Running water alone would be enough to make anyone stay in this time. Not to mention better roads, better medicine.” She waved at her dress. “No bloody corsets.”

His eyes saddened as if she’d just made his point for him, and she knew he wanted her to come back with him, believed it fully for the first time. He was being a freaking gentleman.

“I dinna want ye to resent me,” he said. “What ye say is true. My life is hard compared to what ye know.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped, barrelling forward and laying her hands flat against his chest. “I don’t care about any of it.” In her urgency to make him understand, she shoved him backwards, gripping his plaid. She tried to shake him but he was an unshakable mountain. “Look, I’ll lay it out for you. I’m going back. You’re under no obligation to me, but I’m going to be there, and I’m going to make it difficult for you to ignore me. But if you find a way to do it, then I’ll make my way back to London and you needn’t think of me anymore. But I’m going back.” She hit him in the chest with each word. “I’d rather live a shorter, unwashed, corseted life with you, than any life that’s here for me.”

He smiled. “Ye can wash,” he said. “Every day if ye like.” He pulled her closer, then ran his hand up her side. “And I dinna mind if ye want to go without a corset.”

She dropped her head against his chest, exhausted from her battle, and took a moment to rest in the glory of victory.

He tipped her chin back and leaned down to kiss her, and instead of merely accepting the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.

“I couldna stand it if ye wanted to leave me,” he said into her hair. “I only want—”

“Stop,” she said. “We have to stop.” She ran her fingers through his tangled hair, patted his shoulders and adjusted his sling, reveling in touching him. “Let’s start fresh,” she suggested. “You don’t worry about me and I won’t worry about you.”

He furrowed his brow and squeezed her waist. “Do ye think we can do that?”

Instead of answering, she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed him.

***

They decided to do the spell in one of the secret passages that Quinn swore was there in Bella and Pietro’s current time. Piper hoped he was right.

When they arrived, they’d be close to the sleeping chambers and could easily find their way to Bella to give her the medicine. Piper gave Lizzie the instructions Dr. Stone had written, and before they entered the passage, pulled her a bit away from the others.

She held out a few heavy gold bangle bracelets and a ring. “These are from around that time,” she said, trying to get Lizzie to accept them. “They’re solid gold so you should be able to get a nice sum for them.” She paused and her eyes twitched over Lizzie’s shoulder. She was happy that things seemed settled between her and Quinn, but for how long? Did Lizzie really know what she was in for? “Just in case,” she finished awkwardly, pressing the pieces into her hand.

Lizzie stood with her hand held open, looking down at the gold. “Thank you, that’s so kind, but I don’t think—”

“She willna need it,” Quinn boomed, scowling at Piper. She blushed. “Why does everyone have such a low opinion of me?”

“Historical precedence, lad,” Lachlan said, clapping him on the good shoulder. “Dinna take offence. Let Lizzie take the gift. I’m sure your extended absence from the farm has caused some sort of trouble that it may help solve.”

“And if you don’t need to sell them, they’re very pretty,” Piper said encouragingly.

Now Catie quietly sniffled in the dark, cramped space while Lachlan ground the necessary herbs. Lizzie kept jumping at every sound while Quinn patted her hand. Piper’s head ached worse with every passing minute and she wanted to urge Lachlan to hurry, but he was being methodical, not wanting to take a chance of the spell not working.

Before he began the chant, he kissed Catie’s forehead and told her he loved her, causing her to sob in earnest. He clasped Quinn’s arm.

“I dinna say it enough, perhaps I’ve never said it.” He looked at Piper and she nodded encouragement. “But ye’ve done well. I have faith in ye to continue to do well.”

Piper’s throat closed up at the sentiment, and she hugged Quinn hard around the neck.

“Thank ye, Lach,” Quinn said, clearly nervous about returning.

Piper squeezed Lizzie’s hand and gave even the reluctant, crying Catie a hug and kiss on her tear streaked cheek.

Feeling as silly as she ever did when they performed the spell, she sang Mary Had a Little Lamb after Lachlan chanted.

Catie, Quinn and Lizzie cut their fingers and all held tightly to each other, while she clung to Lachlan’s hand. They’d never tried this spell where they sent someone away and stayed behind themselves. Piper secretly wanted to see Bella’s children, and she would have loved to see her old friend Pietro, but she knew she shouldn’t wish to get sent along for the ride. They had things to do here.

A gust of wind blew through the closed passage and she held her eyes shut tight, always a bit skittish, no matter how many times they did this. Something intuitively told her she did not want to see what happened during the transition.

The air settled and she opened her eyes. The candle they’d lit had gusted out and she reached for her phone for some light. Before she could click anything, she heard Catie’s sniffle, and hurriedly turning on her phone, saw that they were all still there.

“What in the hell?” she asked, looking to Lachlan. He shrugged.

“Ye better do it, Piper,” he said, looking meaningfully at her. Since she’d been possessed by Daria, her powers were stronger than ever, but she feared using them.

“Is it the castle?” Lizzie said in a hushed voice.

“No,” Piper snapped, then sighed. Why hadn’t it worked? “Lachlan’s done it so many times,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t get it.”

“Love, it’s all right. If ye feel certain it works inside, ye must do it.”

Her head throbbed and her vision blurred, but Lachlan squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Close your eyes and buckle up,” she said.

Lizzie squeaked nervously, then everyone went still. Piper poked around in the recesses of her mind, finding the spot, the tiny dark spot that still remained, and prodded it, telling it to wake up and get to work.

A buzzing feeling tingled over her skin and she said the words without thinking them, just opened her mouth and let them fly.

Lachlan’s grip almost broke her hand and she forced the terrifying power from it’s hiding place and into the passage. A burst of light exploded behind her eyes and she cried out from a pain so terrible, she was momentarily blinded.

“It’s blocked, or something,” she said weakly, clutching her head to keep it from breaking.

The air in the tight space grew even closer and she groped for the opening in the wall, desperate to be free. Lachlan pushed it open and helped her out, where she gasped for breath. She blinked against the dim light, grateful she could see, but the pain grew worse, thousands of hot needles trying to prick through her skull.

“Love, ye’re bleeding,” Lachlan said.

Catie handed her a handkerchief from the waistband of her dress, her face drawn with worry. “It’s killing her,” she said, voice breaking.

Piper held the cloth to her bloody nose and saw that it was just a few drops. Everything above her shoulders crackled with pain. It was agony just to shake her head.

“It’s not killing me,” she said, not sounding the least bit believable even to her own ears.

In fact, she had to cling to Lachlan’s arm to keep from completely freaking out. Something had forcefully blocked her when she tried to do the spell, like a hand pressing against her, or … more like a claw. Lachlan put his arm around her and she rested against him, absorbing his strength. She felt his heart pounding hard and fast and knew he was almost as upset as she was.

Laughing nervously, she tried to sound airy, but it came out tense. “It’s too late now to try it in the woods again. Let’s get a good night’s rest and we can head out in the morning.” She looked from one to the other, everyone stricken and pale.

Downstairs, Piper called Evie, who waited anxiously to see if it worked. She’d gone to hang around in the barn, always scared to get caught up in the blast radius of the spell. While Evie loved time travel novels, she hated and feared actual time travel.

When she learned they were going to sleep on it, she begged Lachlan to let Catie spend one last night at her house.

“I would so love to say goodbye to wee Magnus, and kiss his fat cheek once more,” she said, clasping her hands and turning wide, beseeching eyes to Lachlan.

“I’ll bring her back at the crack of dawn, if not before,” Evie said, turning the same look on him. “Mags gets up at five, so it won’t be a problem.”

Lachlan relented and they left, leaving Lizzie and Quinn to attend to. Piper tried to tell them to take any room on the second floor, offer them clean towels and anything else they might need, but her splitting head wouldn’t let her.