“Go, go on. Get out of here. You have what you wanted, you don’t need me anymore. Go and live up the good life. I’ll work out how to get home by myself.”
“Ye need me tae show you what tae dae.”
“I’m sure I’ll do just fine on my own. And you can take your rowing boat too, I won’t need that anymore. I’m going back home where I belong.”
“Lindsey-”
“Go!” She shoved him in the chest. “Leave me alone.”
Her eyes were cold. He turned without another word, dragging the rowing boat away from the shingle. When he’d climbed in, he looked up to see her standing with her back to him, staring at the well.
The mist grew thicker as he rowed out onto the loch. Soon the island was lost from view and he was alone. She had proved him right. It was stupid to get attached to people. You only ended up getting hurt.
He reached the far shore, his jaw set. As he grew closer to the mainland, he saw someone on the shoreline. Who was that?
He rowed the last few feet, dragging the boat up onto the shore before letting go, turning to see who the figure was.
“Tavish,” the stranger said, pulling down his hood. “It’s been a while. I thought I’d find you here.”
“Quinn? Is that you?”
The druid smiled. “You’re a hard man to find, you ken?”
“What are ye doing here? Have ye been looking for me?”
“Your father is awfa sick.”
“What?”
“I was looking for ye. Ah ken the laird willnae let you in but ah might be able to take him news of you.”
“Ah have the stone. I can get inside to see him.”
“Then you should go quick. Ah dinnae ken how much time he has.”
“Will ye dae something for me, Quinn? Will ye take the boat and show her what tae dae.”
“You found her then? The one from the future.”
“Aye, ah did. Now, she ’s brought me the stone like you knew she would. She wants to go home and I’m no going tae stop her. I understand why she’s doing it. I just wish there was another way.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Forget her.”
13
Lindsey couldn’t believe her misfortune. She was cold, wet, hungry, and alone. What was worse she was still no closer to going home. The mist that had been spreading from the moment she woke up had long engulfed the entire island.
She was trapped in the past at the moment she most needed to go home. All she could do was relive the dream over and over again while staring at the well.
She’d been staring at it for so long her eyes were stinging. Around her, the mist swirled like a living thing. If only she could work out what to do. The answer was there somewhere in the stones, but she could not fathom it.
The dream came again unbidden into her head. She had been outside Tavish’s house in the present day, not the past, walking by several cars.
Her mother was being dragged outside, tossed into the dirt by anonymous men in suits who ignored her pleas for mercy, for just a little more time.
“Mom,” she cried but Rhona didn’t hear her, sobbing on the ground as more men vanished inside.
She reached out toward her mother. “I’m coming. Just hold on.”
She woke up with sweat pouring down her. It hadn’t been a dream. It was real. She was certain of it. At once, she was outside the hut, running for the spot where Tavish had hidden the rowing boat.
It took her far too long to find it in the dark but when she finally did, she made up for lost time, rowing faster than she thought possible, racing to the island as the sun rose. She had to get home.
Last night had been one of the hardest nights of her life. She had been desperate to tell Tavish the one thing she’d kept from him. She loved him.
She had realized during the journey south but that had only made things harder for her. She couldn’t stay with him. She needed her mom to know where the locket was and there was no way of doing that other than going home and telling her.
Each day that passed only made it harder. She had been stupid, falling for someone she couldn’t possibly have.
Then sitting together on the shore of the loch, him trying to get her to talk. What would have been the point of telling him?
Telling Tavish she loved him would only make a difficult situation far worse for both of them. She still had to go home. Leaving him with the knowledge that she loved him would tear a hole in an already broken man. He needed healing, like her mom, not more damage from someone broken like her.
She was damage personified. She only had to look at herself as she stared down into the well. She had a man who cared about her, who’d looked after her, who’d kissed her so perfectly she’d gone weak at the knees.
And what had she done? Pushed away the only person who could give her the emotional support she needed. Not only that but she’d hurt him in the process, shoving him away, demanding he go.
It wasn’t his fault she was stuck in the past. The longer she spent alone the more the truth began to break through her defenses. None of it was his fault. He’d done nothing except be kind to her.
She was upset because she was unable to help her mom and she’d taken it out on him. Well done, Lindsey. How mature.
Where had that effort got her? Had it got her home?
Nope. She was freezing cold, the mist soaking through her clothes and seeping into her bones. She was starving hungry with no food anywhere. She was no closer to cracking the secret of the well.
Best of all, she’d told him to take the rowing boat so she had no way of getting off the island. She was stuck there alone, and unless she worked out what to do to get home, she might just starve to death, the locket hidden forever and her mom homeless.
Well done again, Lindsey. First rate job.
Why did this have to happen? Why did she have to develop feelings toward him?
She looked down into the blackness inside the well. Should she jump in? Would that take her back to the present day?
Was it deep enough for a fall to be fatal if it didn’t work? It would be far worse if she broke her legs in the fall but survived. Leaning down she picked up a stone and threw it down, listening hard. Nothing. Not even a distant plink of it hitting the water. Just how deep was the thing?
Behind her, she heard the splashing of water. Turning, she could see nothing but the mist. Then out of it, a shadow fell across the water. She realized a moment later that it was a rowing boat.
At first, she thought it was Tavish coming back but before she had time to shout an apology to him for how she’d spoken to him she saw it wasn’t him at all.
It was an elderly man with a shock of white hair. He was wrapped up in a cloak like Tavish’s and her own.
The boat reached the shore a second later. The man slid the oars inside, then stood up. He climbed out into the water before wading up toward her. His cloak dripped on the heather as he made his way to the well.
“You must be Lindsey,” the man said. “My name is Quinn and I’m here to help you.”
Tavish rode fast to Castle Sinclair. He prayed he would make it in time, that his father would still be alive when he got there.
Approaching the castle after so long a strange feeling washed over him. Guilt, anger, affection, all mingled with panic over whether he had taken too long to get there.
Two guards manned the gates. They were not men he knew though after so long would he recognize anyone there?
“What do ye want?” the first guard asked. “Alms are given tae beggars on Sundays only. If ye seek charity, the abbey feeds the poor. Five miles that way.”
“I seek no abbey. I seek the laird of the Sinclairs.”
The second guard laughed. “Do ye now? A beggar wishing to speak to our laird. Well, what might ye have to discuss with him?”
“Ah have something for him.”
“And might I ask what gift you bring? Gold? A destrier perhaps? Chainmail?”
/> “This.” Tavish leaned down to pass the velvet bag to the guard, watching as the two of them slid it open, pulling out the contents.
“The sacred stone,” the first guard said, sounding shocked. “But how did ye get this?”
“Ah am Tavish Sinclair and ah retrieved the stone to end my exile as I was bid tae dae a decade before this day.”
“Tavish? Is that really you?”
The second guard vanished, leaving the first to hand the stone back to Tavish.
“The stone is returned at last,” the guard said. “Praise God.”
“Are ye going tae let me inside?”
The gates rattled open. The guard stood aside and watched as Tavish rode into the courtyard, taking in what had changed and what remained the same. A new armory had been built against the far wall. The chapel had been expanded. It was all so different yet so familiar.
Jumping down from his horse he carried the bag into the keep, marching up the stairs to the great hall. The laird was at the far end, deep in conversation with his retinue.
“I seek the laird,” Tavish called out in a loud voice.
“Deal with him,” the laird said impatiently, waving at one of his retinue.
“This way,” the steward said, trying to push Tavish backward.
“Is that how you treat an old friend, Andrew?”
The man stopped, blinking as he stared at Tavish, realization spreading across his face. “Tavish?” he muttered. “Is that you? You must go. They’ll have you killed. You know the law.”
“I have the stone.”
The steward’s face turned white. He almost dragged Tavish over to the laird who looked up with fury in his eyes.
“Who disturbs my plans? I have the English on the march and a steward who cannot keep beggars from my door. Take him-” He stopped dead. “Tavish?” He was already getting up, reaching for his sword when Tavish held up the stone.
“Ah bring back the sacred stone of Clan Sinclair as you bid all those years ago. Now you will free my father and bring him to the infirmary.”
The laird waved at someone in the back of the room before reaching out, his eyes wide, his fingers trembling. “The stone. Ah cannae believe the stone is back where it belongs.”
“I give it freely tae you,” Tavish said. “The MacIntyres return it with a plea for peace. We must come together if we are tae defend the Highlands.” He pressed it into the laird’s hand. “Now tell me, does my father live?”
“He lives. Go now and free him with my blessing.”
Tavish turned, trying to resist running from the room. He made it down to the dungeon in time to see the door unlocked. Inside smelt strongly, the only light coming from a thin window high in the wall.
At the far end of the room there was another open door and inside that the rattling of chains. Lifting a candle from the sconce in the corridor he walked through the dungeon and into his father’s cell. The servants were already unlocking Fingal’s chains, shielding him from Tavish’s view.
He shoved past them, reaching down for his father’s hand. He tried not to let the shock show on his face, but it was not easy. The strong Highlander he knew from his childhood, the man who’d beaten the plague and carried his son to Castle Sinclair, was gone.
In his place was a will-o-the-wisp. What hair was left was white, lank, and hanging down his shoulders. His beard was ragged, his body little more than skin and bones. Sores covered his wrists and ankles from where the manacles had been removed.
“Father,” Tavish said, getting an arm around him, helping him to his feet. “Ah am back.”
“Tavish?” the old man said, his voice no more than a faint wheeze. “Is that you?”
“Aye, it is me.”
There was barely any weight to Fingal. Tavish could easily have lifted him into his arms but the old man was determined to walk, placing one shaky foot in front of the other as they edged their way out into the open.
The servants hovered nearby, unsure what to do with themselves.
“How long has it been?” Fingal asked as they climbed the steps to the courtyard.
“Ten years, Father.”
“Ten years for them to admit the truth.” He almost spat the words out before breaking off as coughs wracked his body. “To banish my son so long, how could they?” He stumbled, almost falling before Tavish caught him.
“Dinnae talk. Rest, Father.”
It took five minutes to reach the top of the steps. When they walked outside Fingal winced, the bright light impossible to bear after so long in the darkness. He shielded his eyes as the two of them slowly crossed the courtyard to the infirmary. The entire place came to a standstill to watch, no one saying a word.
Once inside, Tavish helped his father into the nearest bed, draping a blanket over him and watching his eyes close.
“Bring me the apothecary,” Tavish said to the steward crammed into the doorway. “My father needs tending for his ailments. And find out where Lilias is hiding. It is time she tell you all the truth.”
14
Lindsey tried to pluck up the courage to say something. She sat on the ground, her back against the cold stone of the well. Quinn sat opposite her, a warm smile on his face.
“You should go home,” Quinn said. “You’ve done what you needed to do.”
She shook her head, getting to her feet. “I’m not going home.”
“And why not? I could send you back right now. You’d be safe. All of this will soon be a distant memory, a time that belongs to nothing but the history books.”
The books, she thought. That was how she could get a message to her mother. “The stone we found,” she said, getting to her feet.
“What about it?”
“The clan needs it, right?”
“Aye. More than anything, they need it to bring the highlands together.”
“So would they reward the person who returned it?”
His smile broadened. “Go on. You’re almost there.”
“The book I read, the history of the Sinclair Clan. Who wrote it?”
“It is being written as we speak. The laird has been laboring over it for years. And to answer your question, yes.”
“What question? I haven’t asked a question.”
“You’re about to.”
“What if the reward for returning the stone was to be allowed to include a message in the book, a message that would be there when…”
Her mind was already whirling. Was it possible? Could it work? Could she really leave a message for her mom to read in the future? If she could, then that meant…
She jumped to her feet. “Where’s Tavish?”
“On his way tae Castle Sinclair.”
“I need to find him.”
“Come wi’ me. Ah will row us across.”
She sat in the boat while Quinn rowed. The gnawing despair that been growing inside her had vanished, replaced by a single desperate hope. She could stay.
She winced as she thought of the things she’d said to Tavish when they were last together. She would have to apologize, hope he could forgive her for pushing him away.
Then? Well, then she would tell him she didn’t need to go home. She already was home. If he would have her. She thought of the kiss.
Before the boat even reached the shore she was out and splashing through the water.
“Take my horse,” Quinn shouted after her. “It’s a lot quicker than going on foot.”
“Thank you,” she shouted back, reaching the piebald nag a second later. The horse looked like it was ready to collapse but as soon as she was on its back it was running with hurricane winds behind it.
She could barely hold on, gripping the horse’s neck as it galloped along the grass, heading steadily south. She didn’t have to guide it or stop for it to drink. It seemed to take no time at all to reach Castle Sinclair and yet it still took an eternity.
During the journey, she thought about what Quinn had said, and about what Tavish had said.
&nbs
p; The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was a test and one she almost failed. Whatever powers had brought her back through the past, there were other powers out there too, ones that had no interest in her happiness.
That didn’t matter. What mattered was she had finally stood up for herself. She could have let Quinn send her home but she didn’t. She wasn’t the same person who’d come back in time. She’d changed. She could only hope she’d changed enough to get into a castle full of bloodthirsty highlanders who hated the English.
Praying she wasn’t too late, she breathed a sigh of relief when a castle finally came into view. “Is that it?” she asked as the horse slowed to a canter.
The beast seemed to nod its head, coming to a halt by the gates. Two guards were standing there looking in amazement at her.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re on Quinn’s horse. He doesn’t let anyone else ride him. Ever.”
Sliding down to the ground she looked up at the beast which was already turning and heading back the way she came. “Thank you,” she called after it before turning to the guards. “Is he here?”
“Who? The druid? He went out late last night.”
“No, not Quinn. Tavish. Please, tell me he’s here.”
“Inside. Is he expecting you?”
“No, but-”
“Then we can’t let you in, not with English scouts so nearby. You sound a wee bit English in fact. Hold it there.”
“No,” she snapped, darting between the two of them and sprinting into the courtyard, ignoring their yelled curses after her.
“Stop her!”
“Oi!”
She continued running, looking around her at the sea of people, none of them friendly. Where was he?
“Tavish,” she yelled. “Have you seen Tavish?” She grabbed the nearest person by the collar. “Where is he?”
The two guards had caught up and were just reaching for her when a voice boomed out, “What’s all this blether?”
Outlaw Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander's Time Book 3) Page 11
