He stiffened but forced himself to consider her words. Even Modan had mentioned that Neacal had honor. When Ailbeart was spying for him, he’d told him that Neacal didn’t seem interested in leadership—he’d even seemed opposed to his brother. It was a great risk to reach out to Neacal, but he needed every advantage he could to defeat Padraig. And wasn't leadership about making risky decisions?
“We’ll have tae be careful,” he said finally. “I’ll talk tae the others and get a message tae Neacal.”
Evelyn smiled. She reached for him, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his in a fervent kiss that he hungrily returned. When she released him, her golden eyes were alight with emotion.
“You have no idea how frightened I was when I heard Padraig’s men attacking the castle,” she whispered. “I feared he'd capture you.” She lifted his hand to her lips, closing her eyes briefly as she murmured, “I feared I'd never get to tell you how much I love you, Latharn. So I'm telling you now. I love you, Latharn MacUisdean. With every part of my being. I didn't realize it until your betrothal to Ros . . . but I think I've loved you from the start. Do you want to know something? Years ago, when my mother told me about the babe that Seoras and his wife lost, I felt a little spark in my belly. It was like some part of me knew that I was meant to love you. That I already loved you. And my love for you will never waver . . . even when I'm back in my time."
And before he could respond, his body shaking with emotion at her confession, she turned and disappeared into the cottage.
* * *
When Latharn went to sleep, it was a brief and restless one. It wasn't the battle to come that consumed his thoughts but Evelyn’s quiet confession of love. It was like some part of me knew that I was meant to love you. That I already loved you. And my love for you will never waver.
Joy flooded his body at the memory of her words, but uncertainty chased away his joy. He didn’t know the status of his betrothal to Ros now that Modan's nobles had betrayed him. Even if their alliance was over, he’d still have to wed a well-connected noblewoman to secure his claim. Evelyn’s father had been well respected, but he was long dead, and many of the nobles would only ever see her as a servant.
But none of this mattered. Evelyn wasn't from this time; she had added that caveat to her confession of love. Even when I'm back in my time. She needed to return to her own time where she'd be safe. What if he hadn't gotten to her chamber in time the night before? What would Padraig have done to her if he'd captured her this time? The thought hardened his resolve; he knew what he would tell Evelyn when he next saw her.
Evelyn wasn't in the cottage when he awoke not long after falling into a fitful sleep; Horas informed him she was training with Tulach and the other men. He frowned at this, but he shouldn't have been surprised. His lioness was fierce, but he wouldn't allow her to fight in the upcoming battle.
"I've sent word tae Artair—and tae Neacal," Gormal said. Gormal had looked hesitant when he'd told him to reach out to Neacal, but he hadn't put up much of an argument. He seemed to understand that they needed any advantage they could gain, even if it was risky.
Gormal informed him that many of Modan's men had joined them; Modan had held off the attack and fortified his castle to ward off any further attacks from Padraig, with some of his men staying back to help him defend it.
"But he's kept tae his word," Gormal said, "and stuck to the alliance despite the betrayal of his men."
Latharn gave Gormal a nod of agreement before leaving to speak to his men who'd set up camp on the grounds nearby.
"I'll no longer flee from Padraig. The time has come tae fight. More men are joining us—we go tae battle in two days' time."
His men let out shouts of fierce agreement, and determination melded with pride swelled within him; he needed to succeed on behalf of his men.
When he sought out Evelyn, he found her in a large forest clearing with Tulach and several of his men—she was the one teaching them archery. He watched with both pride and amusement; he didn’t know how she’d convinced these burly Highlanders to let a lass train them, but they listened intently as she demonstrated. Longing coursed through his body as he watched his lioness, and his chest tightened at the thought of what he was about to do, but he made himself step forward.
His men stopped and turned to face him, giving him nods of respect. Evelyn whirled, surprised, her face flaming as she saw him. He knew she was thinking of her confession of love to him that morning; embarrassment infused her expression.
“I’d like tae speak with Ev—with Eibhlin alone for a moment,” he told his men.
Once he and Evelyn were alone, he approached her, cupping the sides of her lovely face.
“Evelyn." He swallowed, forcing himself to say the next words. “I want ye tae leave. Tae return tae yer time.”
She looked at him in disbelief, her body going stiff with anger as she took a step back.
“I already told you—”
“I ken what ye’ve told me. But ye’ve already been imprisoned once, and I’ve been betrayed. If something goes wrong the third time, I donnae ken what I would do if ye came tae harm.”
Evelyn shook her head, her golden eyes glistening with angry tears.
“I tell you I love you, and your response is to tell me to—”
“I’m telling ye tae go because I love ye!” he shouted.
Evelyn froze, her eyes widening. He stared at her, breath heaving, as he continued, “I’ve loved ye since before yer confession. Perhaps I’ve loved ye since ye first came tae me, spitting fire out of yer eyes and demanding I let ye help me. Or perhaps since the first moment my lips touched yers—or when I claimed ye with my body. I love Eibhlin Aingealag O’Brolchan and Evelyn Angelica O’Brolchan. Ye’re the first thing I think of in the morning. The last thing I think of at night. I love ye with every part of my soul, Evelyn. And that’s why I want ye tae go. I love ye tae much tae see ye suffer. If ye ever came tae harm again, it would break me, and none of this would matter. So ye have tae go, my lioness. My love.”
Chapter 25
Evelyn’s heart swelled at his words. Ever since her confession she’d chided herself for telling him how she felt, convinced he didn’t feel the same way. But the look he was giving her now was filled with nothing but genuine affection. Nothing but love.
“Latharn—"
“I love ye,” he repeated. “And that’s why ye must—"
Evelyn silenced him with a kiss. He stiffened for a moment before returning it, enfolding her in his arms as their mouths melded together, their hearts beating in tandem.
When she pulled back, he kept her in the circle of his arms.
“You’ve tried to send me away before,” she gently reminded him. “And I’m going to say to you the same thing I said then—I’m staying until the battle is won, and you’ve earned your titles back. Only then—only then will I leave and return to my time,” she said, anguish tearing through her at the thought.
Though Latharn loved her, his duties hadn’t changed. Once he became laird and chief, he would have to wed a suitable bride, not the daughter of a long-dead clan noble who now worked as a servant.
A storm of conflicted emotions passed over his face, but he gave her a jerky nod.
“I kent ye would refuse, but I had tae try,” he whispered. “I love ye so, my Evelyn.”
Joy soared in her chest; she’d never tire of hearing him say the words. He reached out to wind his hand in her hair, pressing her close for yet another kiss that left her breathless. She clung to him, desperate to remember every single detail she could about this moment.
When he released her, they returned to the cottage together for the midday meal. But as they drew near, Evelyn stiffened; a small group of men approached the cottage on horseback.
“Stay here,” Latharn ordered, leaving her behind as he hurried forward to join Horas, Crisdean and two of his other men as they stood protectively before the cottage.
Dread tightened h
er chest as she moved to the doorway of the cottage, praying that these weren’t Padraig’s men.
The men stopped several yards away, and one of them dismounted. He was a slight man who didn’t look like a clan noble but a peasant, with a worn wool cloak, white tunic and tattered, dirty breeches.
“Are ye Latharn MacUisdean?” he asked Latharn.
“Aye,” Latharn returned.
“Who are ye?” Horas demanded, moving to stand in front of Latharn. “How did ye ken where tae find us?”
“Common folk have spread word that Seoras MacUisdean’s son has returned and will remove Padraig as laird,” the man replied, turning to Latharn. “Padraig has raised the rents; many cannae pay. Now that people ken ye’re back, they’re no longer willing tae cower before the current laird. We wish tae join ye in yer fight against him—if ye’ll have us.”
Relief swirled through Evelyn as Latharn stepped forward with a smile, moving past Horas to clamp the man on his shoulder.
“I’ll be honored tae have ye.”
The men who arrived were only the first of several groups to arrive, all with the same tale of word spreading that Seoras MacUisdean’s son was about to go to battle with their current laird. Evelyn watched with pride as Latharn greeted and welcomed each man who joined him before they set up camp with his other men. He’d often meet her eyes, and she would give him an encouraging smile. People were now seeing what she already knew—that Latharn would make a far better leader than Padraig.
Evelyn spent the rest of the day training some of Latharn’s men in archery. Tulach and Horas had spread word of her prowess, and while many men refused to take lessons from a lass, others were willing to set their pride aside to improve. She realized that this was something she could do when she returned to her own time, she truly enjoyed it—though an avalanche of pain swept over her every time she thought about leaving Latharn.
Through all this, the matter of Neacal lingered in the back of her mind; he hadn’t responded to the message Latharn had sent to him through a messenger, and she feared that she’d been wrong about Neacal.
If Latharn shared the same concern, he didn’t express it with her; he already had much on his mind with the upcoming battle. That night Latharn ushered her into his room, but they didn’t make love, speaking little as they just held each other close.
As she drifted off to sleep, she tried not to think of the upcoming battle, of the possibility of losing Latharn, but she couldn't help but think of her mother and her life of grief. Now that she'd fallen in love with a man from the past, she could understand her mother's eternal sadness. Evelyn knew that she too would never recover if Latharn fell in battle—or after she'd left him behind.
* * *
When she awoke, it was to the sound of horse hooves approaching the cottage. Latharn was already gone, and she hastily dressed before slipping out of his room.
Latharn stood outside the cottage, along with Gormal, Horas and Crisdean, a broad smile on his face as a handsome man with wavy chestnut hair dismounted from his horse, along with a lovely blond woman. They had roughly fifty men on horseback behind them; Evelyn realized this must be Artair and his wife, Diana.
As Artair strode toward Latharn, Diana studied Evelyn for such a long, disconcerting moment that Evelyn wondered if she knew her.
“Laird Latharn MacUisdean,” Artair greeted Latharn, clamping him on the shoulder. “I was happy tae receive yer letter.”
“I thank ye for coming,” Latharn said, returning Artair’s smile.
“I meant what I told ye—I’ll always assist ye in any way I can.”
Latharn made introductions, and as he and Artair headed inside the cottage, and Artair’s men dispersed to set up camp, Diana approached her.
“Evelyn. It’s nice to meet you,” Diana said with a warm smile.
Evelyn stiffened with surprise; the woman had an English accent—a modern, twenty-first-century English accent. Her instincts had been correct. This woman had to be a time traveler. As if sensing her surprise, Diana gave her a wry smile.
“I think we have much to discuss.”
* * *
Moments later, Evelyn walked along the edge of camp with Diana, reeling from all that she'd just told her. Not only was Diana a fellow time traveler from the twenty-first century, she was a stiuireadh. She told Evelyn how she’d only agreed to help guide Artair back to his time after a distant descendant, Niall, had taken his place. She hadn’t expected to fall in love with him and remain in this time, especially when she’d turned her back on magic and time travel for much of her life.
“And you?” Diana asked.
As Evelyn told her her story, Diana listened intently, shaking her head in amazement.
“It’s rare for someone born in the past to live in another time period,” Diana said. “I sensed you were coming . . . that you would appear in Latharn’s life.”
“You did? How?”
“Even I don’t understand how it works. It was just a feeling I had, every time I was around Latharn.” She stopped walking, studying Evelyn with disconcerting focus. “You love him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Evelyn replied without hesitation. There was no need to dance around her love for him, especially after they’d discussed time travel, witchcraft and magic. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“Love is the only thing that matters,” Diana gently returned. “One thing I learned growing up around stiuireadh . . . love is the strongest force that can permeate through time. It’s even stronger than magic.”
“But Latharn needs to marry someone suitable,” Evelyn said, avoiding her intense gaze. “I don’t want to hinder him.”
“I understand,” Diana said. “But you can never hinder someone who loves you as much as Latharn does. I can sense his love for you with just a glance.”
Evelyn’s heart warmed at her words. She and Diana spent the rest of their walk discussing the things they missed and didn’t miss about the twenty-first century, and the things they enjoyed during this time.
“The quiet,” Diana said. “There’s nothing like living in this time to realize how bloody loud the future is.”
Evelyn laughed, nodding her agreement. That had struck her during the first and second time she’d traveled through time as well; she much preferred the quiet of the past over the hubbub of the future.
“But most of all . . . Artair. He’s the reason I stayed here. I think I always knew deep down that I was meant for him,” Diana said.
Evelyn’s gut twisted; she felt the same way about Latharn. But the time in which he lived had a different set of rules.
Her heart was heavy as they made their way back to the cottage. Before they reached it, Diana turned to face her, squeezing her arm.
“Titles and land aren't the only things worth fighting for," Diana murmured cryptically, before turning to head inside.
Chapter 26
After Latharn and Artair spent time with their men discussing the next day’s battle strategy, they went for a ride to the far end of camp where they could speak in private.
Latharn had many questions for Artair about Diana, and Artair confirmed what he’d suspected. Diana was not only a time traveler but a stiuireadh, one of the time-traveling witches Evelyn had described.
“Traveling through time,” Latharn murmured, shaking his head in amazement. “How is it possible?”
“I donnae ken. Neither does my wife,” Artair said with a rueful smile. “But I’m glad ’tis possible. Otherwise, I would have never met my Diana. She is my life’s love. Without her, my life would have been empty.”
Latharn’s chest tightened; he felt the same about his Evelyn. When she disappeared through the fabric of time, he knew he’d never love a lass again. How could he after Evelyn, his lioness? She was a lass like no other.
“I’m proud of what ye’ve achieved,” Artair was saying, glancing back toward his camp of men. “’Tis difficult tae get men tae follow ye, especially when they’ve never kent ye. They must
ken what I do—that ye’re a good man. A worthy leader.”
Pride and relief swelled within Latharn; he didn’t realize how much he wanted his former laird’s approval until now.
“I hope I can be the leader they deserve,” he said. “I’ve no choice but tae win this battle. If we suffer a loss, I’ll not forgive myself. I’ll gladly go tae my death.”
His heart stung as he thought of Evelyn and leaving her behind. Knowing his lioness, she might even refuse to leave this time even after his death; she’d do something brave and foolhardy like trying to get revenge. “Can I ask something of ye, Artair?”
“Aye,” Artair said, studying him closely. “About yer Evelyn?”
“Aye,” Latharn said, enjoying Artair’s referral to Evelyn as “his.” “If I fall in battle—”
“Donnae say such—”
“If ye were tae fall, ye’d want tae ken yer Diana was taken care of, aye? Just . . . look after her. Please. Make certain she’s safe. I’ll ask my brother tae do the same.”
“I will, but donnae think of defeat before going in tae battle,” Artair said, after a long pause. “Think only of victory.”
When they made their way back to camp, he longed to share a meal alone with Evelyn, but he had an obligation to his men; they were risking their lives for him.
He ate his supper with them instead, trying to spend as much time as possible with each cluster of men, listening to their stories and why they’d joined him. He heard personal tales of low food stores after a difficult winter, higher rents that paid for the elaborate feasts Padraig liked to enjoy, illnesses and deaths of beloved family members because of the low food yield. Anger coursed through him at the tales. He promised himself he'd do right by each and every man, woman and child of Clan MacUisdean.
At the end of the meal, he stood and faced his men.
Latharn's Destiny: Highlander Fate Book Six Page 15
