When he finally forced himself to break the kiss—it was either that or tup her right there in the chair with the study door open—she glanced at him curiously and said, “You were frustrated today. Many times. What is worrying you, Circenn?”
He sighed. Sometimes their bond was a troublesome thing; there wasn’t much he could hide from her, and the effort of withholding his emotions was exhausting. “You were stricken by ennui,” he countered, not yet ready to broach the difficult conversation. Better to savor a few moments of peace and intimacy. “But then you seem to be that way often when you are not in my bed,” he teased. In bed was precisely where he wanted her now. Perhaps lulled by sensual satisfaction she would be more receptive. A mercenary tactic, but deployed with love. He caressed her hair, savoring the silky feel between his fingers.
Lisa laughed, a low, inviting sound. “Circenn, I need something to do with myself. I need to feel … involved.”
He’d been thinking that very thing, as her frustration had attended him for quite some time now, ever since their bond had blossomed into existence. He knew that in her century Lisa had worked constantly, and she was a woman who needed to feel she had accomplished something worthwhile at the end of the day.
“I will have Duncan bring you the list of the pending disputes to be heard in the manor court in Ballyhock. Would you like that? Galan has been hearing the cases for the past few years and would be pleased to get quit of the position.”
“Really?” Lisa was delighted. She would love to immerse herself in the villagers’ lives, perhaps make friends among the young women. Someday, she would have children with Circenn, and she missed having a girlfriend. She would want her children to have playmates. She didn’t understand why Circenn had kept himself so distant from his people in the past, but she planned to bring him close again. Hearing the cases and mingling with the clansmen would be the perfect way to set her plans in motion.
“Certainly. They will be most pleased.”
“Are you certain they will accept a mere lass deciding disputes?” she asked worriedly.
“You are not a mere lass. And they adored you when they met you at the feast. Besides, I am Brude, Lisa.”
“I must have missed that part of history in school. Who were the Brude?”
“Ah, merely the most valiant warriors who ever lived,” he said, arching an arrogant brow. “We are the original Picts; many of our kings were named Brude, until we assumed that as our name. Brodie is merely another form.” Is now the time to tell her more of my history? That my half-brother Drust the Fourth was slain by Kenneth McAlpin in 838? “Being Brude, the descent of royalty in my line was matrilineal for centuries, handed down through the queens, not our kings. The crown transferred to brothers or nephews or cousins as traced by a complicated series of intermarriages by seven royal houses. My people will readily accept the decisions of the Lady of Brodie.”
“Sounds like the Picts were more civilized than the Scots,” Lisa said dryly.
“‘This legion which curbs the savage Scots’ is how Emperor Claudius referred to my people, and for a time we did. Until Kenneth McAlpin murdered most of the members of our royal house in an attempt to erase us from Scotland forever.”
“But you still live, so apparently he wasn’t too successful.”
Ah, yes. I do still live.
“So why were you frustrated today?” she asked, circling back to her initial observation. “I can feel you all the time, you know. I could feel impatience and anger.”
Circenn stood and scooped her from the chair. He dropped into it and reseated her across his lap. “That’s better. I like being beneath you.”
“I like you being beneath me. But don’t try to distract me. Why?”
Circenn sighed, gathering her close. He was afraid. He, the fearless warrior, feared her reaction to what he was about to tell her.
As he drew a breath to begin, he heard the door to the Greathall crash open, as guards all over the castle sent up a resounding cry.
They both tensed instantly.
“Is someone attacking?” Lisa worried.
Circenn rose swiftly, depositing her on the floor with a kiss. “I doona know,” he said, taking off for the Greathall at a run. Lisa raced after him, as the noise outside grew to an immense roar.
As she entered the Greathall, she saw dozens of knights clamoring excitedly, gathered around a lone stranger.
Duncan glanced up as they entered, and his smile was blinding. “To Stirling, Circenn! The Bruce’s messenger has arrived. We finally go to war!”
“WHAT SAY YOU?” CIRCENN DEMANDED, HIS EYES GLITTERING with anticipation.
The messenger spoke quickly. “The Bruce’s brother has made a wager, and we must prevent the English from reaching Stirling Castle by Midsummer’s Day. The Bruce has ordered you to present your troops with all weapons at St. Ninian’s by the Roman road—”
Circenn cut him off with a deafening bellow of joy that was echoed by all the men in the hall. Lisa moved closer to his side and he caught her in his arms, swinging her high in the air. “We go to war!” he shouted, elated.
Men, she thought, amazed. I will never understand them. Then a worse thought followed: What if I lose him?
“But you must hurry,” the messenger yelled into the din. “If we ride without pause we will scarce arrive in time. Every moment is critical.”
Circenn hugged her close. “I will not die. I promise,” he said fervently. He kissed her deeply, then slipped from her arms. There was no time to tell her more. He would go to war, and upon his return they would have their long-overdue talk. In the meantime, he would send constant reassurance to her via their bond.
War! It’s about damned time! he thought, elated.
“I must gather my weapons,” he muttered, racing from the hall.
* * *
Drawn to spend every possible moment with him before he left, Lisa left the hall shortly after he had. The estate was a riot of activity as the men prepared to ride out immediately. She should have remembered that Circenn would have to leave soon. She’d known that the battle at Bannockburn occurred on June 24; history records had placed the thane of Brodie and his Templars in the midst of the legendary battle. But in the pleasure of their newfound love, and then in the fright of Armand’s abduction attempt, she’d given little thought to the date or the impending war.
She headed for Circenn’s chambers and slipped quietly into his room, wondering if there was enough time to steal a moment of passion. She doubted it; she sensed that his mind was already far away. He was all masculine warrior right now, consumed with the looming battle. As she moved deeper into his room, she was shocked to see a great gaping maw in the wall where the hearth normally was.
A hidden room. How fantastic, she thought, and how appropriate for a medieval castle. Curious to see what he kept in there, she slipped past the hearth and entered. The fabric of her gown caught on the rough stones of the rotated hearth and ripped audibly. Busy trying to disengage the fabric from the sharp edge of the stone, she didn’t see Circenn look up. Nor did she see his expression.
“Get out, lass,” he thundered, leaping to his feet.
As Lisa glanced up, Circenn froze in mid-leap, his plan to thrust her from the room aborted. He watched with dawning horror as her gaze skimmed the interior of his hidden room. He stood motionless, surrounded by incriminating evidence. Standing amid items from her time, he knew that she would never believe him, and worse, that he must leave immediately if they were to prevent the English troops from reaching Stirling by Midsummer’s Day.
Lisa was motionless but for her gaze, which roamed disbelievingly over the items in the room. Her eyes widened, narrowed, and widened again as she realized what she was seeing. Weapons, yes. Arms and shields, yes.
Inexplicably, items from her own century?
Yes.
The first wave of emotion that buffeted her was hers: a suffocating feeling of pain, bewilderment, and humiliation that she’d bequeathed h
er heart so wrongly. The second wave was his: an enveloping cloak of fear.
How could he possess such things? How could he have items from her time, yet not be able to send her home?
Simple. He’d lied. That was the only possible explanation.
“You lied,” she whispered. She could have gone home to Catherine, but he’d lied. What else had he lied about?
Her hands closed on a CD player. A CD player! She raised it with shaking hands, peering closely at it, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, SONY was emblazoned on the chrome-colored case. Eyes narrowed, she flung it across the room, where it shattered into bits of plastic, narrowly missing his head. Unappeased, she reached for another missile, closing her fingers around an oddly familiar cardboard box. She spared it a glance, and her lip curled in disbelief.
“Tampons?” she cried. “You had tampons? All this time? How dare you!”
Circenn gestured helplessly. “I didn’t know you had anything to clean.”
She growled, a feral sound of pain and anger, as she flung the box of Playtex easy-glide applicators at him. It missed, too, hitting the wall behind him, showering the room with small white missiles. “No!” She raised a shaking hand when he moved to approach her. “Stay there. How much have you lied to me about? How many other women have you brought back here—that you needed tampons for? Did I not rate tampons? Was I won so easily that you didn’t have to bribe me with conveniences? Was it all a lie? Is this some sick game I can’t fathom? Didn’t the fact that my mother is dying touch your heart at all? What are you made of? Stone? Ice? Are you even human? All this time you could have returned me, but you wouldn’t?”
“Nay.” He moved forward again, but stopped when she cringed back from him. His pained expression deepened.
“Don’t even think of touching me. How you must have been amusing yourself with me. Me and my pathetic tears, me and my weeping for my mom, and all this time you could have returned me at anytime. You—”
He let loose a bellow of pain and frustration. It had the desired effect of terminating her accusations, silencing her with its sheer volume.
As she stood there gaping, he said, “Listen to me because I doona have much time!”
“I’m listening,” she hissed. “Like a fool, I’m waiting for you to give me one decent explanation for all of this. Go ahead—tell me more lies.”
He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “Lass, I have never lied to you. I adore you and there have never been any other women from the future here. And these”—he flung a tampon in the air—“cleaning swabs, I cannot fathom why they upset you so greatly, but I assure you I have never let the maids use them.”
Lisa’s brow furrowed. No man could be so stupid. “Cleaning swabs?”
He snatched up a gun and jerked the barrel in her direction, and an unwrapped tampon shot out. It was coated with black from the slow corrosion of the steel. She eyed it for a moment, bent, and plucked it from the floor. “You clean your guns with these?”
He lowered the gun. “Is that not the purpose for which they were designed? I vow I could not conceive of another.”
“Didn’t you read the box?”
“There were too many words I didn’t understand!”
Lisa’s eyes widened and she reached for him internally, wondering why she hadn’t done that first. There, where they joined, he could hide nothing from her. But she’d been so stunned that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She reached and felt …
Fear that she wouldn’t believe him.
Pain.
And honesty. He genuinely didn’t know what the tampons were. But there was something else, something he was willfully concealing. A monstrous dark thing, cloaked in despair. It made her shiver.
He raised his hands in a gesture of supplication. “Lisa, I never lied to you about the fact that I cannot return you. These are gifts a man named Adam brought me. I have never been to your time, nor can I get there, nor send anyone else.”
She pondered his words, weighing them for truth. She recalled watching him pick through the fabrics and overhearing mention of this Adam person: Adam whose gifts Circenn had disdained, except for the gold fabric he’d chosen for her wedding gown.
One floor beneath them, men roared for Circenn.
Ignoring the summons, he said, “I would not have had it come out like this—not now, when I have no choice but to race off to battle. You must believe that I have never lied to you, Lisa. Believe in me and await my return. I promise we will speak of it all then. I will answer any questions you have, explain everything.” He sighed, rubbing his jaw. His eyes were dark with emotion. “I love you, lass.”
“I know. I can feel it.” She inclined her head stiffly. “You do love me. If I hadn’t blown up so quickly, I would have sensed your feelings and realized that all this aside, you harbored no intent to harm me.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank Dagda for our bond.”
“Go on,” she said, encouraging him to reveal the dark secret that was yet untold. As Circenn moved toward the entrance she realized he’d misunderstood her words.
He looked askance when she didn’t step aside. “I must reseal the chamber, lass, before I can ride out. I promise to let you examine it to your fill upon my return.” He moved toward her, edging her back into his chamber.
“No,” Lisa said quickly. “I meant go on and tell me the rest.”
He stopped moving reluctantly. “I thought you meant that I should join my men and we would speak of this upon my return.” He noted her tense jaw, her unyielding gaze. “What else do you sense?” he evaded.
“Something that terrifies me, because it scares you, and I suspect that anything that causes you fear would crush me. There is something you aren’t telling me that your fear cloaks. You must tell me, Circenn. Now. The quicker you tell me, the more quickly you may go. What are you hiding from me?”
He drew a deep breath. “Adam, who gave me these oddities”—he gestured sweepingly—“could return you to your time. I did not tell you that because it was pointless. Recall that I swore an oath to kill the bearer of the flask?”
She nodded.
“Adam is the one I swore the oath to.”
Lisa closed her eyes. “In other words, the only person who could return me would kill me first. All right. What is the other thing?”
He looked at her with an expression of innocence she didn’t buy for a moment. “I can still feel it, Circenn. You haven’t told me the biggest thing.”
“Lisa, I will tell you all, but now I must get to Stirling.”
Conveniently—it must be part of a male timing conspiracy, Lisa thought—Duncan bellowed Circenn’s name with obvious frustration.
“You see?” Circenn said. “The men await me. It will be a near race, Lisa. I must go.”
“Tell me,” she repeated evenly.
“Doona make me do this now.”
“Circenn, do you really think I could bear sitting here for weeks wondering what other fantastic fact you’ve been concealing? It would be torture for me.”
Circenn’s hands clenched around the gun.
“I will follow you on horse, if I must, right into battle.”
A pregnant, tense silence filled the space between them.
The continued bellows of the men below heightened her tension. Whom would he heed? His men or her? Lisa felt her heart pounding. He licked his lips and started to speak several times, then stopped, averting his gaze. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight and weary.
“My mother was a Brude queen who was born five hundred and seventy-odd years ago. I am immortal.”
Lisa went as still as the stone walls around her. She blinked rapidly, deciding she must have misunderstood. “Say that again.”
He knew which word she needed repeated. “Immortal. I am immortal.”
Lisa stepped back. “As in live forever, like Duncan McLeod—the Highlander?”
“I doona know this Duncan McLeod, lass. I wa
s unaware there was another like me. The McLeod have never spoken of such a man.”
Lisa could not speak for a moment. “Im-immortal?” she managed in a dry whisper.
He nodded. He thumped the stock of the gun on the floor in response to a particularly furious summons.
Rejecting the absurd possibility, Lisa reached for him emotionally. Her incredulity was squashed with one firm draw on their bond.
He was telling the truth. He was immortal.
Or at least he believed he was.
Could he be deluded? After a moment of reflection, she discarded that possibility. A person would know if he had lived five hundred years—it wasn’t exactly something one could overlook.
Not looking at her, he continued, “I discovered I was immortal when I was forty-one.”
“But you don’t look forty-one,” she protested, eager to object to any small part of such madness.
“I wasn’t when Adam changed me. I was, as near as I can calculate, nearer thirty than forty. He never would admit exactly when he slipped me the potion. But when I confronted him, he confessed that he had indeed poisoned my wine.”
“Why? And who is this man that possesses the power to make you live forever? Who is this Adam who could send me home? What is he?”
Circenn sighed. There was no point in trying to rush away now. He would give her a few answers to consider while he was gone. When he returned, he would tell her all, and offer her the flask again—to drink, this time. “He is of the old race called the Tuatha de Danaan. He is what some call the fairy.”
“Fairy?” Lisa was incredulous. “You expect me to believe in fairies?”
Circenn smiled bitterly. “You accept that you have traveled seven hundred years across time, yet dispute the existence of creatures who predate us by millennia and possess unusual powers? You cannot pick and choose your madnesses, lass.”
“The fairy,” Lisa repeated, sagging against the edge of the rotated hearth. “No wonder my traveling through time didn’t seem so strange to you. I thought you’d accepted it unusually well.”
“Think not of the fairies as wispy, ethereal creatures, flitting about on wings—they are not. They are an advanced civilization that inhabited some faraway world before they came to ours in a cloud of mist, thousands of years ago. No one knows whence they came. No one knows who or what they really are, but they are powerful beyond compare. They are immortal, and they are capable of sifting time.”
The Highlander Series 7-Book Bundle Page 85
