“Ye dinnae need to thank me,” Kincaid replied. “As far as coming, I promised the witch I’d look after ye.”
Lachlan’s head shot up. “What witch?”
“The witch of the curse,” Kincaid replied. “The witch that made this curse in the first place.”
Ivy gasped. “Alexis!”
“Aye,” Kincaid replied. “She came to see me and did me a service. In exchange, she got me promise to help ye, so here I am.”
“When did you see Alexis?” Ivy asked.
Kincaid shrugged. “Perhaps a week ago. She came and went, but she leaves her mark behind her.”
“I wondered if she might have gone home.”
“She’ll no’ return, and neither will ye,” Kincaid told her.
Ivy stared at him in shock. In the depths of her soul, she knew he was right, but she never let herself accept it, not even when she thought she would marry Aegir.
She would never go home. She would never return to modern America. She would…she had no idea what she would do, but she wouldn’t do that.
No one noticed her surprise. Kincaid turned his attention back to Lachlan. “Your people have reached Kinlochspelve all right. Ye neednae worry on them any longer.”
Lachlan’s chin fell on his chest. “Thank Heaven!”
“It’s us we must worry about,” Arch interjected. “Those things’ll be back.”
“Ye all saw what Kincaid did out there,” Lachlan replied. “We’re safe for the moment at least.”
“I cannae defeat Aegir,” Kincaid told him.
“How did ye defeat Naga Rara?” Lachlan asked. “If ye drove that thing off, what else can Aegir throw at us?”
“I didnae defeat Naga Rara, either,” Kincaid replied.
“What do ye call it?” Lachlan asked.
“I call it a temporary cease-fire while Aegir rallies his powers to wipe ye out,” Kincaid replied.
Lachlan’s head shot up. “Did ye come all this way to deliver that message? Ye neednae have bothered. Ye could have let him wipe us out now.”
“I gave the witch my word I’d help ye,” Kincaid replied. “I didnae say I’d save ye. No one can do that.”
Lachlan turned away. “We’re grateful for all the help ye can give us, but I’ll thank ye to keep those opinions to yourself. If we’re going to fight this war, we must fight it believing we can win.”
“How are we going to do that?” Ivy asked.
Lachlan didn’t answer. He clenched his jaw and stared into the flames. The men watched him, but when he didn’t respond, they drifted out of the room. Kincaid, Arch, and Colin waited until last until Kincaid spun on his heel and strode away. Colin followed him.
Arch came to Lachlan’s side and laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We brought him here and he helped us once. Whatever he does can only work to our advantage.”
Arch left Lachlan brooding. Ivy regarded Lachlan from across the fireplace. The flickering orange light glowed on his bare skin. His rounded shoulders rose and fell, and his hair framed his face.
The lives of all Clan McLean rested on those shoulders. He carried the responsibility of making all the right decisions, but in the end, he was just an ordinary man of flesh and bone.
She picked up the sheet she brought from the laundry. She tore it into strips and stacked them on the table next to Lachlan. He showed no sign of seeing or hearing. She went down on her knees in front of him and took hold of his arm. “Your ribs are sore. Let me tie you up. You’ll feel better.”
He turned his head away from her, but he didn’t resist. He let her peel his arm away from his midsection, and he sat still while she wound the cloth strips around his ribs. She tied them tight. He grunted in pain, but when she finished, he slumped on his bench. “Thank ye. It feels better.”
She touched the bandage. “Does it hurt to breathe, or is it just bruised?”
“Just bruised,” he replied. “I’ll be all right.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you,” she told him. “You saved me from that thing.”
He refused to look at her. He gazed into the flames and spoke under his breath. He might as well have been talking to himself. “I must get ye a different weapon.”
“Yeah,” she shot back. “The other one is inside that blob thing. It’s probably at the bottom of the ocean right now.”
“It was far too heavy for ye. I shouldnae have let ye take it out on the field in the first place.”
“I can see you don’t want a woman fighting your battles for you,” she returned. “That’s why I asked you to let me go with Martha. Then I wouldn’t be here to bother you.”
His head snapped up. “With Martha! I told ye already….”
“I know what you told me,” she replied. “You didn’t want me bringing the sea creatures around to threaten them. Well, if you don’t want me around, I can go somewhere else. Now that Kincaid is here, maybe he can send me back where I belong.”
“Now just ye hang onto your knickers, lassie,” he began. “I only meant….”
She gathered up the rest of her bandages. “I know what you meant.”
“Apparently ye dinnae, or ye wouldnae turn that tongue on me like that,” he shot back. “I meant I’d give ye a lighter axe so ye could fight. Ye did well with the axe ye had, and it was far too heavy for ye. You’re a slight build. Ye need a lighter weapon—like Christie. You’ll no’ see him lugging a beast like that axe around the battlefield.”
Ivy cocked her head. “Really?”
Lachlan waved his hand, which made him wince again. “Have ye seen how the different men carry different weapons? Christie—he’s a weedy mite. He carries a lighter blade. He wouldn’t dream of going into battle with an axe. He’d tire his arms out too fast. Each man must play to his own strengths. A light man, an agile man, must take advantage of his quickness. He must confound the enemy and do naught to impede his own movements. He must leave the brute attack to the meatheads like Arch. Do ye see?”
Ivy stared at him. “Really?”
“Every fighter has his own strengths. Ye must play to your strengths.”
“But I’m not a fighter,” she pointed out. “I never raised a finger to fight anybody until today.”
“Ye have done it today, though, have ye no’?” he asked. “Ye may have been no fighter afore now, but ye are one now. You’d be one to save your own life in this fight, so ye may as well face your enemy with the right weapon.”
“So what is the right weapon for me?”
“You’ll go down the armory later,” he replied. “I’ll send Christie with ye. He can advise ye, and ye can pick out something that fits ye.”
He slumped back in his seat. She studied him closer than ever. He wanted her to fight. He really wanted her to. In a way, he wanted her to fight more than she wanted it herself. She half-hoped he would send her back with Martha and the other civilians. She didn’t want to believe he kept her around just to keep the threat away from his Clansmen.
She wadded up the remaining bandages. She didn’t trust herself to stay alone in the same room with him. “I better go put these away.”
“Wait, Ivy.” His hand shot out to stop her. “Sit down. I want to tell ye something.”
She sank onto the bench next to him. “What is it?”
He put out his hand to touch hers, but he let it fall. Her heart ached when she saw that simple gesture. Whether he felt the same way about her that she felt about him, he would never let himself go through with it. He probably wanted to marry someone from his own world—Martha, perhaps.
He took a deep breath. “Ye ken, Ivy, I’m a wolf.”
“I know,” she replied. “I’ve seen you shift a dozen times if I’ve seen it once. I told you I watched you through my mirror.”
“Aye.” He dipped his head. “When ye showed me that wreck, the one where Arch and Aiden washed up along of Jura…do ye remember?”
“I remember. I wanted to warn you to stop antagonizing Aegir. I wanted to
protect you. I watched you so long, I felt like I knew you. I couldn’t stand aside and watch him kill you, especially not when you were trying to find me. That’s why I did it.”
“I ken it,” he replied. “I must tell ye now, or I’ll never get the words out. I made up my mind on that day, when I first saw ye, to take ye away of Aegir. I listened to the words ye said, and I made up me mind I would bring ye up, no matter the cost. I didnae care if ye had the power to lift the curse. I wanted ye here, no matter what I had to do to get ye.”
She stared at him. Was he really saying these words? Out of nowhere, his hand came to rest on hers the way he wanted to do it before. His skin warmed her all through. She gazed into the gleaming depths of his eyes.
All at once, she broke away. She jumped off the bench and paced around the room. “I should…you know, it’s probably not such a great idea with all this craziness going on. I mean, either one of us could have been killed out there today. We could be killed tomorrow. What’s the point of getting involved when it might not work out? I mean…”
He caught her by the hand as she passed by him. He drew her to a stop and looked up into her eyes. “Ye neednae do naught about it. I’ll do naught about it. I just wanted to tell ye, just so’s there’s no secrets between us.”
He let go of her hand and leaned back in his seat. All the vitality drained out of him. He shrank in on himself until he barely resembled the sturdy Laird she first saw standing outside on the rocky plane.
Ivy studied him. What did she really feel for him? He got her out of Aegir’s kingdom, only to bring the Sea God’s wrath down on his own head. Watching him from her mirror was one thing. Now she was up to her ears in this war with him.
Without meaning to, she put out her hand and touched his cheek. He looked up, and she caressed her thumb and fingers down his skin to his jaw. She raked his hair back with her fingernails. She stroked him, and a wistful smile spread over her face. “Lachlan,” she murmured. “Sweet Lachlan.”
His presence filled her with exquisite longing—for what, she couldn’t say. For an instant, they looked deep into each other’s eyes. Then Ivy realized what she was doing. She just said she shouldn’t get involved with him, and he said he wouldn’t.
She yanked her hand away and raced out of the room.
Chapter 12
Lachlan let his chin fall on his chest. What was he thinking, telling Ivy how he felt like that? He ought to know better. He made the mistake of developing feelings for Sadie in the midst of a war zone. Now he caught himself doing the same thing with Ivy.
His chest and side ached a lot worse than he let her believe, but the evidence turned up in his behavior. He let his injuries cloud his judgment, and he had to go and blurt out the very thing he intended to keep secret.
Did he dare believe this could actually work? He and Ivy would have to survive this insanity to have any chance together. She was the property of the God of the Sea. Aegir would never give up until he got her back. What was Lachlan doing, interfering in that?
Never mind about that. He told her how he felt, but he recovered by telling her he didn’t intend to do anything about it and neither did she. It would become nothing. They would deal with Aegir, and then Ivy would go…somewhere. Maybe Kincaid would send her home. Maybe she would go off and join those other strange women in Urlu. She would feel more comfortable there with her own kind.
What would become of Lachlan when that happened? He would marry Martha. She always wanted to marry him. She served him for months, and now she was wearing pants and carrying a weapon, just like Ivy and the others. Maybe Martha could be like them, too. Who knows?
He couldn’t give Martha his heart, though. He sensed it when he met Ivy the first time on the mountain overlooking Jura. He sensed it when she told him to leave her alone to marry Aegir. They belonged together. Her fingers on his skin told him the same story. Her eyes searching his soul told him.
He didn’t want Martha. Martha never gave him that sense of wanting to conquer the whole world. So the God of the Sea wanted to attack and destroy him? Lachlan welcomed the challenge. He would destroy anything or anybody who tried to separate him from Ivy.
Now he was doing the separating. He never should have shown his hand. He should have played it off and pretended he never cared about her. He should have left her panting in jealousy that he might hook up with another woman. That’s what a smart man would do.
While he sat there in the depths of despair, the sun went down outside the Tower House. The room darkened. Only the fire lighted the room. It crackled and infused its warmth into his shattered body, but he couldn’t rise. He should attend to the castle and its defenses. He should get something to eat and maybe go get some sleep, but he couldn’t move.
This situation with Ivy stunned him. He never expected a woman could have this effect on him, yet here he was. He had to think. He had to decide what to do, but he could only sit here and stare his fate in the face.
Something moved out of the shadows, and someone sat down on the bench next to him. Lachlan summoned all his strength to look up and found Kincaid sitting there.
Lachlan opened his mouth to say something, but Kincaid spoke first. “There is another way.”
“Another way to do what?” he asked.
“Another way to defeat the King,” Kincaid replied.
“What way is that?” Lachlan asked. “Dinnae tell me ye possess some power that can defeat him.”
“No,” Kincaid replied. “I dinnae have the power, but ye do.”
“I!” Lachlan snorted. “I dinnae possess any power beyond the wolf. That’s my only power.”
“Ye have power ye dinnae ken about,” Kincaid replied. “Why do ye think ye never drowned when Aegir attacked your vessels at sea?”
“Eh?” Lachlan asked. “How could I drown? I never went down with the ship.”
“No, ye didnae,” Kincaid replied. “That’s why ye never drowned.”
Lachlan frowned. “I dinnae catch your meaning.”
“Ye didnae go down with the ship, but if ye had, you’d no’ have drowned. Why do ye think Aegir couldnae find ye when ye hid in that cave with the cuttlefish?”
Lachlan shrugged. “I suppose he can see what he wants to see.”
“He couldnae see ye until ye came out in the open to find Naga Rara.”
Lachlan cocked his head and studied the man. Kincaid was no Highlander, no matter what he talked like. “How do ye ken so much about what happened under the ocean?”
Kincaid put his hand into his sporran. Quick as a flash, he withdrew his hand and flung it at Lachlan’s face. A fine powder flew off his fingers. It got into Lachlan’s eyes and nose and mouth and made him cough.
Kincaid scanned him with that flashing gaze of his. “I kenned it. Ye have the power to defeat him. Ye must learn to use it afore it’s too late. That’s the only way ye can turn him aside and take Ivy for your own.”
Lachlan blushed. What was the use in trying to hide something from this man? “What do ye mean, I have the power to defeat him? What could I do—dive into the ocean and fight him as a wolf?”
“It’s as ye say to Ivy,” Kincaid replied. “You’ll fight him with the weapons you’re most comfortable with. If ye wish to fight him as a wolf, you’ll triumph. If ye wish to fight him with your bare hands, you’ll triumph. Ye have only to challenge him.”
“I cannae challenge him,” Lachlan exclaimed. “He’d destroy me in seconds.”
Kincaid snapped his fingers in Lachlan’s face. Lachlan jumped. “Did ye hear a word I just said, lad? You’ll triumph. It’s your own muckle head that’s too soft for its own good. You’ll keep telling yourself he’ll destroy ye, and that’s how he’ll destroy ye. I told the witch you’re too dozy glakit to ken what’s good for ye. Fight the doaber, for all you’ll get any help from me.”
Kincaid started to get up, but Lachlan held him down. “Och, give us an inch of slack. I dinnae ken what’s in your mind, and ye come talking your fud in a twi
st telling me I’ll triumph over the God of the Sea. What’s a man to think of that?”
“Think your fanny down the cludgie, ye radge,” Kincaid shot back. “I dinnae care if ye live or die. It’s the witch as cares for ye.”
“The witch!” Lachlan exclaimed. “I never met the lassie.”
“No’ that one,” Kincaid snapped. “The wee one. The one as loves your muckle doaber.”
“Loves me?” Lachlan blinked in shock. “You mean Ivy?”
“Who else?” Kincaid shot back. “What did ye think—that she came above for the fresh air? Wheesht, mon! You’re thicker than a brick wall.”
Lachlan shook himself out of his stupor. Ivy—loved him? Did he dare believe it? “Ye dinnae have to get rude about it. Just tell me how I can triumph, as ye say. I dinnae need to hear anything else.”
“I dinnae ken how you’ll do it, but ye possess the power. You’re one of him.”
“One of whom?” Lachlan asked. “You’re speaking riddles, mon.”
“Aegir, ye fool!” Kincaid returned. “You’re one of him, and no mistake.”
“What in the name of Heaven are you talking about?” Lachlan asked.
“Did ye no’ ken your father the auld Laird married Aila Fraser in his youth?”
“Aye,” Lachlan replied. “She died giving birth to their first bairn, who died likewise. What of it?”
“And did ye no ken your father married Nessa Munro a year later?”
“Aye.”
“But ye didnae ken he fell in love afore he ever laid eyes on Nessa,” Kincaid told him. “He fell in love with a beautiful golden-haired lassie he met down the coast near Crinan, a beautiful lassie by the name of Rhona Kirk. Have ye never heard that name?”
Lachlan frowned. “Are ye sure on this? My father…”
“He fell for her and wanted to marry her, but her father didnae approve. Your father even traveled to visit this man, but to no avail. The auld man wouldnae listen, no to all your father’s claims to be Laird of the Isles and Chief of Clan McLean and Master of Duart and all the rest of it.”
Sea Queen (Phoenix Throne Book 6): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance Page 9
