by Pam Binder
“Fiona isn’t worried.”
Michael lifted an eyebrow.
C.C. waved away his concern. “I can’t think about that now. I need to talk about us.”
Michael could only nod. He felt the tension rising between them. For a short while they’d been in a protective cocoon, and now it was coming to an end. He wanted to shout out that he wished it could be different between them, but reality kept him quiet and rooted him to the ground.
He would not, could not, abandon Tatiana. Abandonment was something his father had done. “I no longer care about the reporters, if that’s why you’re concerned. I’ll tell them anything they want to know. Let the chips fall where they may, as the saying goes.” He knew that wasn’t what she meant, but saying it aloud made it real. C.C.’s kind, non-judgmental nature had helped him face his fears as well as his past.
“Good for you.” Her voice was whisper-thin. She placed her hand on the trunk of an oak tree as though to draw strength from its core. “I know we rehearsed what we were going to say. It’s just…” She shook her head. “You were right from the beginning. This was a bad idea. I had a crush on you, and that’s when I didn’t know you very well. Now…well…” She moved to lean against the tree. “I’m sorry we kissed, and I’m sorry we spent time here together.”
“I’m not.”
“How can you say that? You’re engaged to Tatiana. This whole setup was designed not only to repair your reputation but to take the attention off the two of you long enough so that Tatiana could get a divorce and the two of you could marry.”
Michael wanted to reach out to her. Pull her into his arms. Instead he stood as still as the oak tree. She was right. All of it. He’d given in to his feelings for her. When he was with C.C. he was happy, happier than he’d ever thought possible. She made him smile, but he was engaged to Tatiana. More than that. Tatiana was pregnant with his child. He’d made a promise to her, and he wouldn’t go back on his word. Breaking promises was something his father had done. His father had not cared who he hurt as long as it got him what he wanted. Michael wouldn’t do that to C.C. or to Tatiana.
“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing the words weren’t enough.
She looked away. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I knew what I was doing. My eyes were wide open. We faked our marriage, but I can’t fake how I feel about you. Everyone will know the moment they see us together. I want to leave Scotland as soon as possible. Can you deal with the reporters by yourself?”
He gave her a quick nod and cleared his throat. He wasn’t as good as she thought about hiding his emotions. That was probably the reason Tatiana’s mother had been against the fake marriage later in the day, even though she had started the whole idea. She had seen exactly how Michael felt about C.C. whether or not he had known it himself.
C.C. brushed past him and headed toward the clearing. “We should get back to Fiona and Liam,” she said over her shoulder.
“There’s something you should know first,” he said. “We really are married.”
She turned abruptly, her eyes wide. “To each other?” She let out a breath. “That was a stupid comment,” she said through clenched teeth. “Of course you meant to each other. You wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true. I’m assuming Father O’Malley is a real priest.”
“Yes.”
“And the mountain of paperwork I signed?”
“One of the documents was a marriage license.”
Her gaze flitted from Michael, down to the ground, and then back again. Her breath labored, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her hands were clenched so tightly the knuckles shone white in the moonlight. “Setting aside the whole issue that you tricked me, I’m assuming Tatiana knew this part as well?”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “She and her mother didn’t want to take any chances that Tatiana’s husband would discover our marriage wasn’t real. Harold thought it too risky to hire an actor to play the part of a priest. He was sure the man might leak it to the press before the ceremony. It was Lady Roselyn’s suggestion that we ask Father O’Malley.”
“Tatiana put on a good performance,” C.C. said under her breath. She walked a few steps toward the clearing and then marched back to face him. Her jaw was set. “Because this is a real marriage, we’ll have to file for an annulment or a divorce. Annulment would be simplest.”
Michael noted that C.C. sounded deceptively calm. He was getting to know her and understood that at the moment she had her emotions on a tight leash. That was for the best. All they had to do was get through the next few hours, and it would all be over. “Tatiana doesn’t want you and me to get an annulment. She wants the drama and media attention of a divorce. She doesn’t want her husband to suspect it was all staged.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not sure,” he lied.
“Divorce it is.” She gave him a thin smile. There was pain behind the smile that tore at his heart. “Did I mention to you that my brother is a divorce attorney?” C.C said. “A really good one. When he finds out that I’m filing for a divorce from the famous quarterback Michael Campbell, he will want…” She shook her head. “My brother will demand that he be allowed to examine the divorce papers before I sign. In less time than it takes for you to throw a football pass, my brother will realize that I never signed a prenuptial agreement.”
Michael did the only thing he could. He nodded. “I get your point.”
“I don’t think you do.” She balled up her fists. “You kissed me like it meant something. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Then you spring it on me that we’re really married. And while I’m processing that revelation, thinking that it might be a sign we should stay together, you calmly discuss whether we should get an annulment or a divorce. I’m an idiot. I was swept up in the romance of our adventure, as the sisters like to call whatever this is. Nothing that happened between us was real.” Her voice rose and caught as she took a breath. She crossed her arms over her chest again as though she needed them there to keep from falling apart. “Nothing meant anything to you, other than a way to pass the time. I’m not like you. I’m flesh and blood. I’m not made of stone. I can’t turn my emotions on and off.” She pressed her lips together. “On second thought, when I talk to my brother I’m going to ask him to see if he can take you for everything the law allows.”
He kept his voice disciplined, even. He wouldn’t allow himself to think too much right now. “I’ll let Harold know not to contest anything.”
Her voice broke. “Why are you doing this…really?”
“I told you.”
C.C. placed her hand on Michael’s arm. Her voice softened as she blinked away tears. “Something else is going on with you. I can feel it. I know you don’t love Tatiana. I’m not blind. I’m not asking you to choose between us: I just want the truth. I’m asking as a friend. Please.”
He looked away. “Tatiana is pregnant.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Michael’s announcement echoed in C.C.’s mind. He hadn’t said a word more. She knew he was watching her, waiting for a reaction. Surprisingly, she felt at peace.
Tatiana was pregnant.
C.C. should have suspected that was the real reason Tatiana was in a rush to get a divorce after months of delays. Tatiana and Michael hadn’t been behaving like a couple in love for some time. It wasn’t that they were fighting. It was the indifference.
Michael stood waiting for her to judge him. How could she? He was doing the right thing. If anything, she loved him more.
She stood on tiptoes, smiled warmly, and kissed him on the cheek. It was her way of saying good-bye.
The clearing erupted as William’s coach thundered into view. Startled, C.C. turned toward the commotion. William struggled to control the horses, shouting to Fiona and Liam as he reined in the team. Fiona and Liam grabbed onto the lead horse as William continued to shout for them to hurry, adding, “I think I was followed.”
C.C. and Michael raced to t
he clearing. Out of breath, C.C. approached the coach. She remembered her impression of it when they’d first traveled back in time. It was not exactly as she’d imagined a Cinderella coach would look, but it was close—copper and wood polished to a high gloss, painted images of braided vines and wildflowers outlining doors and windows, and white horses, bright as new snow.
She knew the coach before her was the same one by its markings, but it looked like it had driven through a storm of mud. Only glimpses of the painted vines and flowers were visible through the dirt and grime. The horses had suffered the same fate as the coach. Their sides heaved as they sucked in breath through flared nostrils.
William yanked his rifle from the bench’s boot and jumped down from the coach. His clothes were as disheveled and transformed as the coach and horses. “I think I was followed,” he repeated.
Fiona stroked the lead horse’s nose while Liam asked Michael to help him rub down the other horses. “The woods are full of shadows and sounds this time of year,” Fiona said. “We’ve never had any trouble before.” She paused. “Where did you get that gun? It looks like it belongs in a museum. Is the rifle from the right century?”
William smoothed his hand over the barrel. “It’s always been with the coach. This is the first time I’ve felt the need to make sure it was loaded.”
C.C. stepped forward. “To answer Fiona’s question, I believe it is eighteenth century. I know a little about guns. This type of weapon was used in the battle of Culloden by both British and Scottish troops. It has a faster reload time than its predecessors, but it also has a powerful kick when fired.”
When both Fiona and William gaped at her, she shrugged. “Michael’s not the only one who knows history trivia.”
“We should get going,” Liam said, coming over to Fiona. “The horses are strong, but I don’t want them standing in the cold any longer than necessary. They need to keep moving. So do we. The clock doesn’t stop its countdown just because we take a break.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “You may play the part of a juggler, but you do not have a sense of humor.”
The crack of a rifle tore through the forest. Liam dove in front of Fiona. The force of the bullet pushed his shoulder back against Fiona as they both hit the ground.
The lead horse reared. William fought to bring it under control as Michael pulled C.C. to the ground and covered her with his body. William fired into the woods.
Another shot.
The bullet lodged in the side of the coach. The horses whinnied and pawed the ground.
“We’re outnumbered,” William shouted, reaching for his powder to reload. “One rifle against many.”
C.C. sprang to her feet and reached for William’s rifle. “You drive. I’m a good shot.”
“She’s right,” Michael said. “The horses are ready to bolt. We need to get out of here.”
William nodded and climbed back into the driver’s seat. C.C. leveled the rifle in the direction she’d last heard a shot, while Michael helped Fiona get Liam into the coach and waited for C.C.
She squeezed the trigger. The recoil of the rifle pushed her back as William snapped the reins over the horse’s rumps. The coach lurched forward.
Michael scooped C.C. into his arms and dived into the moving coach as another round of bullets sprayed the clearing.
****
C.C. braced against the side of the coach. The forest sped past as the horses raced toward Urquhart Castle. The danger had become real. She gulped in air like she’d finished a marathon She had kept the rifle with her, reloaded and ready. It was one thing to shoot a gun at a target or into the forest. But could she aim a gun at a person and pull the trigger? She shivered. She honestly didn’t know.
“Do you know who attacked us?” C.C. rubbed her shoulder where the butt of the rifle had bruised her.
Bending over to tend Liam’s wound, Fiona gave a slight shake of her head.
“Where’d you learn how to shoot?” Michael asked.
C.C. knew Fiona was avoiding her question, and Michael was using C.C.’s tactic of changing the topic. Normally, she’d be frustrated at the change in subject, but the alternative was a full scale freakout.
She sat up a little straighter. “Remember I said my family was into fairytales?” When he nodded, she continued. “What better place to wear our costumes than at a medieval faire? My parents thought while we were there we should take advantage of all the classes being offered. In addition to the candle, pottery, and soap-making classes…” She paused to look over at Michael and mimicked the kind of face she might make if she bit into a sour lemon. “I was a total failure at all three of those. Thankfully, there were also ones that taught weaponry. You saw that I’m not very good with a sword. They’re just too heavy, and I kept cutting my fingers on the edges. It became obvious that I was more likely to injure myself than someone else.” She grinned. “I discovered, however, that I am very good with a gun.”
Fiona tore material from the hem of her skirt and pressed the wadded material against Liam’s wound. “You and Michael were a big help. Thank you.” She exchanged a glance with Liam. “Do you think Bonnie Prince Charlie and his men attacked us? It’s common knowledge that they don’t like the Campbells, and Michael wearing their clan tartan made him a target earlier.”
“Anything is possible,” Liam said, wincing. “I think you’re making my wound worse. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I was a field nurse. I know what I’m doing. If it was the prince’s men, it doesn’t make any sense that they would take the trouble to attack us.”
“Agreed. Why waste the ammunition? It’s common knowledge that their stores are depleted. The prince gave strict orders to conserve their reserves in anticipation of their battle with the English in the spring.”
The coach rolled over something on the road and threw Fiona off balance. Michael helped her back up. She nodded a thank you and regained her position beside Liam before she tore off another strip of cloth and pressed it to his shoulder. “I agree,” Fiona said. “I don’t understand why they would risk wasting their ammunition, either.” She frowned at Liam. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt. No one was.”
“Yeah, well, we all knew the risks.”
C.C. noticed that Fiona’s words sounded deceptively calm. A muscle along her jawline flexed as she pressed her lips together before she said, “Except, we hired you because you said you were the best. That you were an expert with any weapon made by man or beast, and that you could keep everyone safe.”
“And here I thought it was because you thought I was cute.”
Her lips trembled as she kept pressure on his wound and looked as though she struggled with either bursting into tears or throwing Liam out of the coach. “Your brother is cute. You are annoying.”
He reached for her hand. “Then why did you agree to our betrothal?”
She moved away. “Neither one of us had a choice, remember? Stop changing the subject. You weren’t supposed to get shot.”
“I’m not bulletproof.” He winced. “Hey, are you deliberately pressing too hard?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” She narrowed her gaze. “You leapt in front of me.”
“I was trying to save you.”
Fiona’s hand trembled as she tied the bandage in place. “I can take care of myself.” She paused. “You could have been killed. Then where would we be?”
“I’m expendable. You aren’t. There have to be three matchmakers or the enchantment won’t work.” He leaned against the back wall of the coach and shut his eyes. “On second thought, next time I’ll let them shoot you.”
Michael leaned toward C.C. and whispered, “Do you know what is going on between them?”
“Fiona said they don’t like each other. Paraphrasing Shakespeare, ‘I fear they do protest too much.’ ”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Most of the ride to Urquhart Castle had been in silence. Fiona and Liam had continued to bicker, but there was somethin
g about how Liam’s gaze lingered on Fiona when she looked away that told a different story. There was a time C.C. had hoped that was how Michael looked at her. Even if it were true, C.C. pledged she would no longer dwell on the possibilities of being together with Michael. Tatiana and Michael were going to have a baby, and his focus needed to be on his family.
C.C.’s eyes brimmed with tears as she forced herself to gaze out the coach window. The dark forest sped past in a blur. She wanted the last few hours she’d spent with Michael to be a dream. She wanted to wake up, knowing that everything was back to the way it had been before she’d traveled back in time. When they were only friends. Before she agreed to a fake marriage, before she realized how much she loved him.
William thumped against the top of the coach. “We’ve arrived at Urquhart Castle.”
Fiona gazed over at C.C. and Michael. “Get ready to run. The door that leads you back to your time in history won’t stay open for long.”
C.C. swiped at her tear stained face and nodded.
Michael reached over and squeezed her hand. “Ready?”
She hesitated.
“I’m not ready either,” he said.
William drove the coach toward a side entrance of the castle overlooking Loch Ness. The shadows of the night hid the castle’s true condition. Before repeated attacks had reduced it to rubble, it had once been a mighty fortress, a guardian of the Highlands. Now only a few towers and walls remained to hint at its past glory.
The coach stopped beside a gravel path to a familiar tower and a wooden door painted with a Scottish thistle, the same door they’d come through earlier that evening. Golden light outlined the door, and mist curled around the threshold as the whole area glowed and pulsated in the moonlight.
Silently, the passengers filed out of the coach, each locked in their own inner turmoil.
“We’re cutting this close,” William said, breaking the silence. He looked past them in the direction of the forest, then toward the castle. “We’re being watched.”
