Scarlett laughed aloud, the sound filled with bitterness. “How can you doubt it? Didn’t he lead you down some primrose path with cryptic advice about finding what you’ve been looking for?”
“Or about second chances?” Emmy glared at Donell, who suddenly seemed fascinated by his feet.
Hugh frowned. “Nay, I—”
“Fate.”
He looked down at his wife. “What?”
“He said it must have been fate that day I first found you,” Claire told him with wide eyes. “And that everything happened for a reason. That was why I finally decided to help you.”
Anger surged in Hugh and he glared at the man he’d long considered a kindly part of his childhood. For months, Hugh had been jailed, treated worse than an animal. And Donell had known all along?
“Ye knew I was in that hell hole? And did nothing after all the kindness my family showed ye?”
Donell shook his head, but with more regret than denial. “I dinnae mean to hae ye suffer as ye did, lad. It just took longer to arrange things than I thought. I regret yer pains.”
“Why did ye do it? Why?”
“I told yer mother, ye were meant for better things.” Hardly the justification Hugh was looking for. “And I was correct, aye? Look at ye now.”
“Sloppy is as sloppy does, eh Donell?” There was a wealth of sarcasm in Scarlett’s tone. “We all got a dose of suffering thanks to you.”
Not like his, Hugh would wager. Months in a tiny cell, treated like an animal. Hunted like prey. “To what end? Speak, auld mon. I would know what game ye play.”
“Wouldn’t we all,” this from Connor.
“Aye,” Laird agreed, finally speaking for the first time since Hugh had dropped the bomb of his ancestry upon them.
His ancestry. Hugh looked back at Laird with a dash of pride mixed in with his wonder. This man was his grandfather. Scarlett Thomas, his grandmother. Many times removed, aye, but still his blood.
The moment he’d seen his medallion around the man’s neck, combined with the kilt Laird had worn, the ancient Hepburn tartan, he’d suspected the truth. No matter how fantastic the thought that what had happened to him, being moved through time and space, inconceivably happened to another.
He and Claire had been outside the infirmary for the past day, waiting for an opportunity to present itself after being turned away from the door. No amount of bribery had gotten them past the nurse’s station. Fate had been smiling on them when he’d recognized Connor and Emmy standing at the curb in need of assistance.
Fate.
He glanced at his wife again. Had Donell’s words to her truly been the reason she’d chosen to help him escape? But how had Donell known Hugh was imprisoned at the lab to begin with? It wasn’t as though he’d brought him there. Hugh had fallen through a portal generated by the lab. Science had brought him to this time.
How, then, was Donell here? And the others? How did they all know the old man?
“Did ye ken Donell from yer time as well?” he questioned Laird but looked to Connor as well.
Both men nodded, confusing Hugh all the more. He turned to Donell. “Ye dinnae employ the machine at the lab. ‘Tis too well guarded. So, how did ye manage it?”
“Machine?” Laird repeated. “There were nae machines to what he did. ‘Twas magic.”
To Hugh’s surprise, the others in the room all nodded in agreement. Emmy punctuated hers with a shrug that told him she didn’t like to believe in such nonsense, but couldn’t argue the point.
The man of science and reason within him rebelled at the thought. “Och, there’s nae such thing as magic!”
“Of course, there is. How else could you explain Donell pulling us all through time then?” As soon as Scarlett voiced the question, she turned her inquisitive gaze to Donell. Everyone’s eyes followed hers.
“Time to fess up, you old fart,” Emmy added.
Donell’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish under the expectant looks directed at him. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and Scarlett jumped up with a wince.
“No, don’t let him…”
But Donell was gone in a blink. Laird reached toward him but caught nothing but air. If Hugh hadn’t seen the old man disappear with his own eyes, he never would have believed it possible.
Magic.
Fookin’ sorcery.
Scarlett
Hugh and Claire had won points with practically everyone in the room by bringing a suitcase full of men and women’s clothes with them. Apparently having anticipated their lack of options if Hugh’s assumption that they were also time travelers proved to be true.
Scarlett had made use of some of Claire’s clothes as well since the clothes Emmy retrieved from the bed and breakfast she’d stayed at so long ago no longer fit her after five years and two children. The friendly woman had thoughtfully packed some comfortable maternity wear to accommodate Scarlett’s post-partum body.
Maternity clothes Claire had on hand because she was expecting a baby after the new year.
My great-grandchild, Scarlett thought. Not sure how she felt about that yet. Many, many greats. Sure. But still her descendant. And her newborn daughter’s as well.
At least now she knew why Donell was so gung ho about saving her baby’s life. Hugh would never have been born otherwise. Never been alive to come to this time. Scarlett only wished she knew why that particular series of events was so important to the old wizard.
Now feeding her newborn with Hermione cuddled close to her side fast asleep, Scarlett looked around the congested room. Emmy and Claire chatted like old friends already. About food, if she was interpreting the snippets of conversation correctly. Claire about her cravings and Emmy expressing envy at her options. Scarlett hadn’t had a chance for more than a brief exchange with the newcomer other than when Claire and Emmy had both admired Scarlett’s Stella McCartney Falabella purse they’d brought back from Dunskirk.
She couldn’t blame them. It was a fabulous bag.
Connor and Rhys were watching the news channel on the television. She hadn’t quite determined if they were watching for information or not, because they talked through it all. Beyond the social wreckage they’d experienced beyond the hospital doors, this time had fascinated them both.
Connor, still reeling from the boorishness of the drivers he’d encountered, was content to soak up the more technological features of this new world. He’d already picked up a copy of Car & Driver from the gift shop near the lobby.
Rhys was more engrossed with societal aspects of the new millennia. Having been deferred to because of his noble station his whole life, the lack of submissiveness and boundaries regarding personal space both confounded and delighted him.
Scarlett had laughed aloud at the astonishment on his face when one of the nurses had hugged him in thanks for carrying a heavy piece of equipment for her. She suspected the nurse had done it just to get a chance to touch his heavily muscled body. They hadn’t yet deduced his sexual preferences, but then, he’d gotten adept at hiding them in his own time.
There might have been a lot more touching of male bodies if some of the female—and even a bit of the male—staff had their way. Even Scarlett had never seen such a collection of braw muscle in one place before. The delectable sight was enough to make any healthy libido quiver and take note. Rhys was simply the most approachable of the group.
Laird’s battle-worn demeanor checked their advances, leaving only a visual option available to them.
However, he wasn’t looking aloof at the moment. He and Hugh spoke quietly near the window. Getting to know one another. Though she knew the two hundred years of lineage between them should have significantly impacted the genetic line, Scarlett swore she could see the resemblance between them. Even more so now that her husband was dressed in a pair of jeans and tailored dress shirt that hugged his shoulders.
The men were about the same size and build, though Laird was slightly thicker through the chest and arms. Hug
h’s eyes were bright blue instead of gray, his hair a few shades darker, but they had the same strong bone structure in the cheekbones, nose, and jawline, reinforcing their relationship. More like brothers given the similarity of their current ages instead of their true connection.
Laird seemed more enthralled by his progeny than he had about any aspect of this time thus far, whether it be technology or society related. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. One never expected to come face-to-face with such a distant descendant after all. However something held her back from succumbing to the same awe. When Emmy had told Scarlett about meeting her own grandson and gaining a snapshot into her future, Scarlett had experienced a dash of whimsical envy at the idea.
But she didn’t now. If she had Spidey senses, they’d be tingling. Something wasn’t right here. Not that she doubted Hugh’s story or distrusted him, but a sense of foreboding told Scarlett that meeting him was the worst possible thing that could happen to them.
She wished she knew why.
A new report flashed up on the TV screen, scattering her wayward thoughts.
“Speculation has run rampant about the new men in Scarlett Thomas’s life. From the dark, brooding Scotsman who came to her defense outside the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary yesterday to the delicious ginger who has acted as a sort of bodyguard and was spotted…”
“Och, silence that infernal thing machine,” Laird grunted. “I cannae bear their accursed nattering.”
“Hear, hear,” Hugh seconded.
“Nay, leave it on,” Rhys exclaimed with a chuckle. “I’ve ne’er been described as delicious before. I’m interested in hearing more aboot myself.”
“Who says they were talking about you?” Claire laughed, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder. “Could’ve been me.”
“Yer wife is a saucy wench, sir,” Rhys told Hugh with some approval in his tone.
“Well, I can verify she’s verra delicious,” Hugh murmured, casting a loving, rather passionate glance at his wife.
At least there was that for her descendant, Scarlett thought with a sigh. A love that on the surface seemed every bit as powerful as her own.
The news program caught her attention once more. “Reports are also coming in verifying that Scarlett Thomas has given birth to a baby girl who is in critical but stable condition at this time.”
Scarlett sat upright as they flashed a picture of her newborn daughter in the incubator on the screen. Then another grainy shot of Scarlett when she’d been down in the nursery breastfeeding the baby with the supervision of a neonatal nurse during one of her first attempts.
“How did they get those? Someone is going to die, I swear.”
“We know Olivia Harrington, Thomas’s mother, and her agent, Tyrone Halliday, visited this morning. Also Miss Thomas’s former co-star from the Puppet Wars trilogy, Grayson Lukas, was spotted entering the facility today.” A new picture came up and the reporter went on, “His appearance seems to confirm his claims that he and Miss Thomas secretly eloped during her mysterious disappearance following the opening of the new museum at Dunskirk. Rumor has it he is the father of the child.”
“If someone is to die, he’ll be the first to go,” Laird promised darkly, rising to his feet. “How dare he spout such falsehoods!”
She wasn’t surprised Grayson would leak such a claim. Sickened, but not surprised. He’d do anything for the spotlight. God, had she even been aware of how much she’d hated her life before?
Her acrimonious feelings toward Donell mellowed a fraction. Whatever else he had up his sleeve, at least he’d taken her away from this life and given her all she held dear. Scarlett supposed she owed it to him to be a little more charitable.
Whatever his plan was.
She was too tired to think about it at the moment when the weight of the world already seemed to be pressing down on her. Uncomfortable tension held her so taut, Scarlett was sure she’d snap instead of bend in a brisk wind. Quiet time and meditation would help. More than that, Scarlett needed sleep. Lots of it.
The sky out the windows had long since grown dark. Visiting hours, if they were adhered to, had long ended.
“It’s getting late,” she announced to the room at large. “Isn’t it?”
Claire, sympathetic because of her own pregnancy or perhaps because she was more aware than her husband that Scarlett hadn’t completely warmed to them yet, took pity on her first. She cast a warm, sympathetic smile at Scarlett. “You must be exhausted. It’s terrible of us to keep you up. We should go.”
“I’ve secured rooms for ye at our hotel,” Hugh told them. “I imagine ye could all use a decent bed, aye? Maybe a change of scenery as well?”
Connor and Emmy both expressed their enthusiasm for the idea, but Rhys looked first to Laird then Scarlett. “I should stay here to stand guard.”
“You should go, Rhys.” Scarlett knew he’d made the offer out of a strong sense of duty. There was enough longing in his assertion to tell her he wished it weren’t so, however.
“Are ye certain, dearest Scar?”
“I am. That is, if you can stay out of trouble for a whole night. Can you?”
A jaunty, mischievous grin spread across his face. “I dinnae ken. I should find oot, aye?”
Cheerfully, he joined the others in packing their original clothing into the bags Hugh and Claire had brought. They folded up Laird and Scarlett’s garments as well, knowing they wouldn’t be needed for the time being. Watching their activity, Laird returned to Scarlett’s side and settled in close to her. She could tell he meant to stay behind.
“You should go with them,” she said quietly. Lacing her fingers through his, she savored the bond between them, but she couldn’t be selfish. “Nothing is going to happen in one night and I know you must want to get out of here, for a little while at least.”
“Nay, I will remain wi’ ye.”
Scarlett shook her head with a teasing smile. “Now what makes you think I want you here? You’ve been like a caged lion all day, pacing the room and the halls. You need to get out. Breathe some fresh air. Get some exercise. Look at something besides these four walls.”
“I cannae leave ye, lass.”
In other words, he didn’t want to leave her side in case something more mystical than a horde of reporters swept her away. Either that or he was nervous about leaving what had become a known quantity and facing the unknown beyond the hospital. Not that he’d ever admit to it even if it was true, but the idea made her laugh.
“You’ll get to sleep in a real bed,” she enticed. He shook his head, lacing their fingers together as if to bind him to her side. “I know you’ll like the hotel bed far more than a cot. You can take a long hot shower in a huge bathroom.” He was still shaking his head. “And eat a real meal.”
His whole body stilled, even his breath, and she knew she’d played the trump card of temptation.
“Not all food here is like what they serve at the hospital,” she enticed him. “You could get a hot breakfast of hot bannocks and bangers and—”
“Enough.” His fingers pressed to her lips to cut her off. She nipped at his finger, then kissed it before drawing it away. Laird shook his head. “I cannae deny I would like some time away from this suffocating place. But…”
“Then go,” she urged as the word lingered. “Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I should no’…”
One last push over the edge. “Maybe I’ll be able to get some rest too without all you men snoring all night long.”
His lips quirked up. He’d go, she knew, but he’d worry about her the whole while just the same. There was nothing she could say to stop that.
Her cheek tingled as Laird’s fingers trailed down to her jaw. The love in his fluid pewter eyes sent a different sort of quiver through the rest of her.
“I’ve ne’er spent a night away from ye willingly before, mo chroí,” he whispered. “I dinnae ken I’ll be able to sleep at all wi’oot ye b
y me side.”
Scarlett knew she wouldn’t be able to fully rest either but didn’t confess to it. Laird needed this time to move freely whether either of them liked it or not. “Maybe I’ll come tomorrow night. For a short while.”
Laird sealed the promise with a hard kiss that radiated all the way down to her toes. Then brushed his lips across their little bairn’s head.
“Take Hermione,” she told him. “She needs to expel some energy, too. She’s about to burst. Like father, like daughter.”
He nodded then gathered the sleeping toddler in his arms. With her draped against one shoulder, he picked up his sheath and sword with the other hand. Amid a chorus of goodbyes, he gave one last regretful smile before he followed the others to the door.
“Be careful out there,” Scarlett called after him.
He paused and grinned at her in that roguish manner that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.
“I’m always careful.”
“I humbly disagree.” She couldn’t help but smile though. “But try, will you?”
Laird smiled once more but made no promises. When he was gone, silence fell without the peaceful descent she’d anticipated. Instead of the alone time she’d thought she needed to relax her, the quiet grew oppressive. Someone had thought to turn off the TV so the only sounds were her deep breaths mixing with the baby’s and the muted traffic both outside and in the halls. That, and her endless analysis of everything that could possibly go wrong echoing through her mind.
She tried to mediate. Breathing in and out slowly, trying to focus only on that alone, but the negative oppression wouldn’t leave her. For a long while she sat motionless expecting something to happen. She didn’t know what had her so antsy, but Scarlett felt in her bones something was waiting on the horizon.
Good or bad, she wasn’t sure.
Though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, Scarlett pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed Tyrone’s number. Better safe than sorry.
* * *
They left the hospital in mixed pairs to slip unnoticed around the group of reporters still lingering in the reception area. Once reassembled outside, Hugh led the way to his car, lamenting the absence of something called a car seat for Hermione. But then, they’d all hardly fit if they had one. As it was, it would be a cramped ride to the hotel in Old Town Edinburgh south of the castle.
A Laird to Hold Page 10
