His dark powers have now surpassed our own, and we must kill him before Samhain. Now please, hold out your hand."
Mackenzie obliged and Gregor took a dagger and stabbed her index finger rather ruthlessly, she felt, and the blood spilled into a small vial. She yanked her hand back and wrapped it in the linen strip handed to her.
Addressing Morvern only, Mackenzie asked, "So you have my blood, now what?"
"We will charm the dagger and you will hide it under your gown. Then after the wedding feast, when everyone is deep in their cups, you must stab him with it. But a warning first, my Lady, his blood will burn you, should any of it touch your skin."
Mackenzie cut him off, "Okay, so don't touch, simple enough, but how will this charm be any different from the other dagger?"
"The other one only would protect you, this one will kill him. We have discovered that your blood is the only thing strong enough to accomplish that feat. His dark powers have made him nigh invincible."
"Great, simple." She muttered.
"Do not fret, my Lady. You are for whom this dark task was meant; you will prevail."
Morvern was trying to placate Mackenzie, but she knew nothing could do that. She would relax her frayed nerves when this dirty deed was done. Then she could go back to her own time, and—-and what? she asked herself. Pine away for 348
Connor, a man who would have died 200 years before? Raise a child on her own? Oh Lord, the baby? What would become of the baby? Would he even be able to cross over into her time? Or would she lose him as she was losing Connor?
Taking a deep breath, Mackenzie tried to focus on what Morvern was telling her; he hadn't stopped talking during her panic attack.
"...and when you see the MacRae, you must not pay heed."
What was this? Connor? What had she missed?
"Excuse me, but what was that about Con—about the MacRae?"
"He will try to reclaim his wayward bride, but it is not meant to be; you must resist him."
"Oh," Mackenzie knew she sounded sad. "Of course not, I mean, I wouldn't want to endanger him. Or anyone else.
Umm...is he really going to come here? I thought he would remain at his castle."
Morvern exchanged a shrewd look with his son, and his whispery voice somehow echoed in the room, "Do not mistake your worth. The MacRae will chase after you until he retrieves you. He will follow until he finds you." His voice was intense by the end of his speech, and Mackenzie wondered what he actually was trying to say. His son was gaping at him as if he had revealed too much. Unfortunately for her, Mackenzie had no clue what that might be.
"Do not underestimate Lord Campbell's reaction either. If you are not successful, then he will come after you. Please 349
understand there is no place on Earth, no time on Earth, where he cannot find you. And he will hunt you."
Her eyes wide, and her breathing accelerated, Mackenzie stared at them for a moment, letting his words sink in.
Eventually she was able to make her voice even.
"In other words, if he is not killed, then he will come after me through time, and...and then what? Will he kill me? Pull me back through time? What?"
"Most likely, he will kill you where he finds you, and once he lays eyes on your world, he will want to rule it as well. Or, in the worst possible case, he would bring back your weapons and use them here. We can not allow that to happen. He must be defeated, and it must be tonight." Gregor, ever blunt, forced Mackenzie to understand that there were indeed things that were worse than her own death.
Beneath the calm exterior she was afraid. Mackenzie felt as if her knees were shaking so violently that it should be audible. "What you are telling me is that if he is not killed by the time I go back through the gate, then the world will end.
Great, super." Where was a superhero when she needed one?
A simple and all-encompassing "Yes" was all that she got out of Gregor.
"Great. So what do I do now?"
"You wait. We will be back soon to bring you the dagger, and if anything else reveals itself to us, we will let you know.
Before we go, though, we will set up a warning, so to speak.
Gregor?"
He handed his father a large purple crystal.
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"Amethyst," Morvern explained at Mackenzie's bewildered expression. "Its mate is down the hall, and whenever Lord Campbell walks by it, this one will light up. It will give you advanced warning of just a few moments, but you may better prepare yourself."
"Thanks." Mackenzie sat down on the one chair, and prepared to wait.
Morvern paused and said, "Do not be sad. All will work out in the end, and everything will be as it should be."
"You sound so sure."
"Naturally. I have faith, my Lady, and faith in you. Good will prevail. You will be surprised at how things work out." He smiled and was gone. They both were. She shook her head and tried to calm herself as she waited. But waited for what?
She had no idea.
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Chapter Thirty Four
"Father, if the MacRae and the Stewart lass are meant to be, why did you tell her it wasn't?"
They had hidden themselves away in their workroom, and were working on charming the dagger that they desperately hoped would kill their master.
"She needs to believe she must go back to her own time, or she won't go, and the MacRae needs to believe she willingly sacrificed herself for the good of his clan, or he will never understand how she loves him. If all goes as planned, she will save our lands, return to her time, and the MacRae will come to us. We will help him cross times, of course, and then she will understand how much she means to him. A man who is willing to give up his lands, title, position, his time, why would she resist that?"
"Why do you take it upon yourself to do this?"
"The world has so few true champions of good, we must do all we can to help. Pass me the vial of her blood, we must make quick work of this."
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Chapter Thirty Five
After the wizards had returned the dagger to her, she stood in her room, looking out the window at the loch. It was Loch Ness, and she idly wondered about the Loch Ness Monster and if it really existed. After everything she had been through in the past few weeks, she was a believer. It was then that she heard a noise behind her, next to the fireplace.
A scraping, shuffling sound. Mackenzie gasped, her hand flying to her throat, as the wall opened and the dark shape of a man stepped silently out. Mackenzie ran for the dagger, unsure of what she would do with it.
"I'd appreciate if you didn't stab me again." The all too familiar voice sounded almost amused.
"Connor?" she gasped. Mackenzie was so relieved that it was him and not the Campbell returning, but she was worried for him. He shouldn't be here. She ran to him, but stopped short of throwing herself into his arms. So many emotions flitted across her face, as she tried to control what she felt.
"Aye, lass."
"How did you get in here? What are you doing here? You have to leave. Now." She tried to shove him back through the opening in the wall. His rock hard muscles didn't so much as budge.
"I didn't come all this way to leave now."
"Why did you come?" she retorted coldly. It was so hard to be angry with him when all she felt was fear.
"Liam told me that you lied to me."
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"There's a big surprise. About what?"
"He said that you are with child."
"Oh, that. Well he's wrong." His penetrating gaze unnerved her, so she turned away and walked back to the window.
"Don't lie to me lass." Connor strode over to her and gripped her chin in between his strong fingers, forcing her to meet his probing sapphire gaze. "Are you carrying my child?"
She instantly denied it, "No, Connor, I'm not pregnant."
"I don't believe you." His voice was thick.
> "Believe what you want. I don't care anymore." Mackenzie shook her chin loose and looked away from his too intense gaze.
"What is it? What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that you are unwelcome and need to leave.
Now." This was killing her to be so cold to him. But she needed him as far away from here as possible, even if it meant sacrificing her own heart and making Connor believe the absolute worst of her. She was a hideous person for having love and pushing it away. So many people dreamed about this kind of love, and here, she had it, and was stomping on it. He had to accept that she was a cold, selfish person who'd never had any feelings for him.
Connor gripped her face between his hands and stared deeply into her eyes for a long moment before pressing his warm lips to her tight mouth.
"I still don't believe you. You are a terrible liar." He was so gentle with her.
A bright purple light caught her attention from the corner of the room. The crystals! Oh crap, he was coming!
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Mackenzie's mind flew in several different directions at once.
Her eyes locked on Connor's, then back to the crystal.
"He's coming," she hissed at him. "You need to leave or he'll kill you!"
"The Campbell? Let him come." Connor flexed his fingers into fists, and then released them. He seemed so confident that he could win. Mackenzie was saddened by the knowledge that if he faced the Campbell, he would die.
"No, Connor," her eyes were wild as she pleaded with him.
She pressed her hands to his chest and shoved once more, but he didn't budge an inch. "You need to go."
"I'm no' a coward." Connor seemed angry that she would insinuate he should run, but it was necessary.
"You're also not stupid. Connor, you cannot beat him. Not here, not now. Please, hide! We're running out of time!"
Connor took in the naked fear on her face and grudgingly nodded. He stepped back into the wall and the door swung shut almost noiselessly. What was she going to do?
Seconds within Connor hiding, John Campbell unlocked her door and walked in.
* * * *
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Chapter Thirty Six
"Come my dear, we have guests."
Mackenzie was stunned. They had guests? Who? And why did he want her down there? So far, he'd seemed content to leave her locked away in her room. She looked down at the Campbell's waiting hand, and up into his cold eyes, and suddenly felt grateful for the dagger she'd hidden up her sleeve.
"There's a good girl," he complimented her as she placed her hand in his. He was so condescending; she felt like a dog.
Would he pat her on the head next? The difference between this man and Connor was staggering. There was no heat in his hands, no warmth in his eyes. Connor was all heat. He was cold.
This man had a sick sense of humor. Their "guests" were in the dungeon. They were all of the clan MacRae. They all looked so weak, she thought. Dirty, half-starved, obviously either beaten or tortured, or both. As the Campbell proudly displayed his "guests" and his warm "hospitality," Mackenzie tried not to wrinkle her nose against the smell. At the end of the small, cramped tunnel was a slightly larger cell.
Mackenzie steeled herself for another tortured soul, but gasped as she saw what looked like a small child cringing away from the bars.
"Oh!" She tried to run to the bars, but the Campbell yanked her back.
"Oh no, my dear. We mustn't touch."
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"What are you doing? Why is he here?" Mackenzie demanded.
"He was caught in the battle this morning. He was trying to fight off my men," his grin was patronizing.
"What battle?" Mackenzie asked slowly, afraid to hear the answer.
"My men nearly decimated the MacDonald clan today. We caught them quite unawares. There were no prisoners, save this." He indicated the boy.
"But he's just a child," she protested.
A slow, evil grin slowly spread across his face, twisting and contorting it. "Exactly."
"I don't understand." Her eyebrows were knit over her nose and she stared at him, uncomprehendingly.
"When I execute it, the MacRae will finally understand how serious I am about eliminating his kind from the Highlands. I shall usher in a new era. One where our progeny rule the Highlands, and these lowly clan 'chieftains' will follow my orders. I will be the most powerful man in Scotland, and soon I will be more powerful than the king himself!"
Mackenzie quietly thought about that. She couldn't think of anything a lady of this time would say, so she settled for something a woman of her time would say.
"It won't work, you know." She tried to keep her tone neutral.
"Pardon, my dear?" So polite.
"You'll never beat him. You can't. He's stronger than you and he's better than you." She instantly regretted the words.
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His eyes were no longer cold, they were crazed. The eyes of a madman.
"You will not speak so disrespectfully."
He slapped her across the face, and Mackenzie staggered back from the blow. She hadn't seen his temper before and she was irritated with herself for not holding her tongue. He grabbed her by the upper arm, making her wince—-it was her sore arm—-and dragged her back to her room. The whole time he ranted and raved about how he would kill Connor, and how he was better than any Scottish dog who probably didn't even know who is mother was. This time, Mackenzie was smart enough to keep silent. When he had thrown her into her room and slammed the door behind him, Mackenzie childishly stuck her tongue out at the door. It made her feel slightly better. She rubbed her arm, and glared at the fireplace.
After what felt like the longest night of her life, Mackenzie just wanted to sleep. Upon returning to her room, she flopped down on the bed and waited for Connor to sneak back in. She knew he wouldn't give up, so she'd assumed he would be waiting to pounce on her as soon as she walked in the door.
He never showed, though. Mackenzie didn't want to admit how disappointed she was, so she tried to think positively.
Maybe he went back home. That was as comforting as it was disappointing since she knew he'd be safe there, but it was still hard to be happy that she'd never see him again.
After she finally passed out from exhaustion, Mackenzie dreamed. The nightmare was becoming more and more real.
Maybe it was because she knew all the players now, or maybe 358
it was because she was finally living it. Either way, it was now coming true.
Her dream was the same one over and over and over this night. It never deviated. She was waiting for some brilliant twist or idea to help her, but nothing changed.
She was in a large room, a ballroom, she thought. The man she now knew as John Campbell held her hand tightly, but she kept her face smooth, not showing her discomfort.
Mackenzie was aware she was dreaming this time, and she waited for them to drag Connor in. He was shackled and it looked as if he'd been beaten. How had he been captured?
The Campbell stood and dragged Mackenzie up before the guests.
He addressed the crowd, "We gather today to celebrate my impending marriage," he glanced at Mackenzie, whose eyes were on Connor. "And as a wedding gift to you, my dear, I shall kill your husband. Tomorrow you will be free to marry me."
Even though she knew he'd say it, Mackenzie stifled a horror-stricken gasp.
"Now watch as your husband dies!" he gleefully shouted.
Mackenzie tried desperately to feign indifference, but all to no avail. Her stricken eyes never left Connor's bruised face.
She begged his forgiveness with her eyes as he glared at her with hate and distrust. He thought she'd betrayed him. Her heart broke and shattered into a million tiny pieces at the thought not only of Connor's death, but of him thinking she would ever betray him. How was she supposed to fix this?
There had to be a way. Mackenzie racked her brain for some 359
way out of this. The
dagger! She'd hidden it under her long sleeves. If she could just get to it without attracting attention....
Mackenzie feigned boredom with the whole procession, and yawned, fanning her mouth, then pretended to scratch an itch on her arm, slowly, so slowly, she slid her hand under her sleeve and in one quick motion, she yanked out the dagger and plunged it into the back of his neck. Her hands were covered in warm, red blood. Mackenzie screamed as she yanked the dagger back out of his neck and he lurched at her, knocking them both down. She was pinned to the ground as she watched him gurgle his last breath.
When she woke, she knew how Connor had been captured.
He'd been here waiting for her. It was her fault. This new bit of information didn't help ease her anxiety level at all. She sat up in bed and ran her hand through her hair. So Connor had probably been discovered in her room, or in the secret passageway. No wonder he hadn't been waiting for her after her little "tour" with the Campbell, he'd been busy getting himself captured!
Now she had to find a way to save not only herself, but Connor too! Mackenzie groaned aloud. What were the fates trying to throw at her now? This was so frustrating. The man she loved was trapped most likely in the dungeon by the man she had feared her whole life, and not only did she have to save Connor, but she also had to kill the Campbell. All before the end of the month which was only in two days! She flopped back onto the pillows and sighed. What was she going to do?
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If her dreams were correct, she would stab the Campbell at the feast the next night. The main problem was that she still hadn't figured out why she'd had the dreams of Connor and the Campbell fighting. Or how he had used the fire against Connor. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes and tried to see the dream again. She saw it vividly; she fell asleep again. But the next dream didn't change, or the next.
Upon waking in the morning, she was more discouraged than ever. So much was riding on tonight, and she felt so unprepared. Her nerves were stretched to their limits, and every small noise had her jumping. She waited for her breakfast to be delivered and for once didn't try to make conversation with the servant who helped her get dressed.
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