Somewhere in the Highlands (Somewhere in Time Book 4)

by Beth Trissel

  Beezus fisted her hands in the surge of anger igniting her. “Let’s give the old devil a shove and see where he ends up. If it’s Domhnall Castle, then he’s Morley’s problem. The traitor.”

  “Who may be waiting for us with a drawn sword,” Fergus reminded her, then asked his mother, “Can you say with any certainty whether he is or isn’t?”

  The seer’s penetrating gaze was reminiscent of the brooding owl perched on his master’s chair, while badly shaken Uncle Ru had been tucked into bed with a hefty dose of medication and a hot water bottle. “Morley has the ability to block me more than anyone ever has before, like a wizard. I see snatches of images. He’s at Domhnall Castle now swiftly gaining the upper hand over the flabbergasted MacDonald forces. What his ultimate aim is, I’m not certain, other than defeating the MacKenzie clan in battle.”

  Fergus grimaced. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Plenty. But there’s more.” Mrs. Fergus directed her contemplative gaze at Beezus. “Anything you care to add?”

  Shifting uneasily on the couch, she looked from one pair of eyes to the other. Fergus might not be psychic but she sensed he saw far more than she wanted him to. She might still keep the secret, though.

  Steeling herself, she murmured, “No.”

  Still studying her, Mrs. Fergus continued, “The stole seems to protect Morley like some kind of invisible shield.”

  “Uncle Ru and I didn’t know it could do that, only heal.”

  “Did you suspect Morley was insanely ambitious?” Fergus asked. “It was apparent from the start you didn’t trust him.”

  “Egocentric, yes, but he’s ten times worse now. And how were we to know he was the Red MacDonald reincarnated?”

  “I should have.” Her eyes grew distant and Mrs. Fergus seemed to see past them both. “He’s acquired more power than I felt in him before. The stole magnified it. The question now is how to destroy him before he wreaks havoc on the past and consequently the present.”

  “A cloak of invisibility would come in handy.” The overwhelming odds against them only seemed to heighten Fergus’s sarcasm.

  His mother said, “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  A wave of despair washed through Beezus. “What of my uncle?”

  Fergus closed a warm hand around her balled up fingers. “Mom will see he’s well looked after.”

  Guilt wracked Beezus. Why did he have to be so decent to her when she’d been anything but noble to him, and why did she crave more of his touch? It must be all the grief and shock.

  “Yes, and I’ll hire a nurse’s aide to assist me at my first opportunity,” Mrs. Fergus assured her.

  Blinking at tears, Beezus asked, “Is there nothing you can do to make him better?”

  “That sort of healing lies with God, child.”

  Considering the woman’s powers bordered on sorcery, Beezus was amazed to hear her refer to the Divine.

  Mrs. Fergus reached over and laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “I truly am most sorry for his illness. I have a friend, an eminent cardiologist, and will consult with him. Perhaps he can bump Ruen up on the heart donor list.”

  “You’re kind. Thank you.” Her lower lip trembling, Beezus ventured, “But I realize Uncle Ru may not be here when Fergus and I return.”

  “If we return,” he said grimly.

  His mother was firm. “When.”

  But whether it was her uncanny perception or maternal devotion speaking, Beezus couldn’t be sure.

  “Now dear,” Mrs. Fergus said to her, “when were you planning to tell us about that map?”

  Beezus gulped. Her chest thudded so hard she could scarcely breathe, let alone reply. The woman was a human lie detector, not to mention a mind reader. How she’d ever thought to keep any secrets from Mrs. Fergus she couldn’t imagine.

  Fergus jerked to attention, wincing at the pain it must have caused his sore head. He released her hand as though it had suddenly caught fire. “Is there no end to your deception? Mom knows whatever you do, unless you can block her too.”

  Still gasping, Beezus shook her head.

  Reproach in his blue gaze, he said, “Then stop wasting precious time and go get whatever she’s referring to.”

  At his stern directive, Beezus rose unsteadily to her feet and crossed the room to the desk. Sliding her hand beneath the bottom, she peeled off the large envelope she’d taped there and withdrew the yellowed sheepskin. The ancient parchment in hand, she returned to the couch and gave it to Fergus.

  Giving a low whistle, he held it out for all to see. “This map resembles Tolkien’s Middle Earth with the Highland ridges, valleys, forests, moors, 1ochs, and castles all intricately drawn in faded ink. How in the world did you come by it? Nab it from the past?”

  “No, and I don’t nab everything. Uncle Ru found it hidden among old family archives.”

  “Did he, indeed? Quite a find.” Fergus tapped his finger on the old parchment. At one point along the rocky shore of the loch adjoining the MacKenzie Castle of Donhowel was a distinct X. “This generally marks the spot where treasure is buried.”

  Even a child knew that. Beezus couldn’t possibly profess ignorance. Reluctance in her every utterance, she conceded, “Some of the treasure the Knights Templar carried with them when they fled the butchery in France and came to Scotland at the invitation of Robert the Bruce is thought to be buried there.”

  Lips pursed, Fergus opened them to say, “It’s thought to be buried all over Scotland. Why put your faith in this particular location?”

  “The map was drawn by one of the Knights.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why hasn’t the treasure been found, even accidentally?”

  “The land changed over time. That spot’s underwater now, but wasn’t in the 17th century.”

  A frown settled on his forehead and he gestured at the map. “Has Morley seen it?”

  She lifted her hands, palms up, in a helpless gesture that reflected her current state. “I don’t know.”

  He glanced at his mother as though she must validate every word Beezus spoke.

  An affirming nod from the seer who said, “Nor do I, but we must assume he has to be on the safe side. At the very least, he’s aware of its existence.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be,” Beezus attempted.

  “A lot of what’s happening wasn’t supposed to. And yet, here we are.” Fergus bent his head to study the drawing more closely. “I’m surprised Morley didn’t take this with him.”

  “I changed the hiding place last night when he was out. Just in case.”

  “That’s one point in your favor,” Fergus conceded grudgingly, and returned his scrutiny to Beezus. “Was the ultimate goal behind gaining the stole and curing your uncle to sneak back and dig for whatever the Templars buried on MacKenzie land?”

  Her throat tight, she choked out, “Uncle Ru lost everything in the economic collapse except the furnishings he brought here, with barely enough to live on.”

  Fergus didn’t relent. “How did one not particularly muscular young woman and tottery old man plan to dig for this treasure without Morley’s knowledge or assistance?”

  The unaccustomed bite in his tone knifed through Beezus. “Uncle Ru was expecting to be much stronger after the cure.”

  “Even so, such a venture would require considerable effort, pick axes and shovels for the dig. Were you acquiring horses or did the two of you plan to backpack the supplies?”

  “We hadn’t worked out all the details yet,” she allowed miserably. “But Uncle Ru must have decided we couldn’t manage on our own and told Morley our plans.”

  “A buff guy like him? I’m sure your uncle clued Morley in.”

  “Not with my approval.”

  “He didn’t need your say so. And what of the MacKenzies, Neil, Mora, and Calum?”

  If only she could slide under the couch and not have to answer. “We thought to claim friendship with them through my relationship with you.”

&n
bsp; The frost in his eyes froze Beezus to the core. “I didn’t realize we had one.”

  Oh the sting of that rebuttal.

  “And then what,” he bore on, “complete the dig without being noticed? Wouldn’t they wonder why you’d set up camp by the loch?”

  A condemned convict couldn’t have been more consumed with guilt. Cheeks burning, she said, “We thought to do it under cover of darkness, with flashlights and torches.”

  “And how would the guards miss these strange lights by the water? Hope they took them for fairies?”

  Beezus hated to admit the rest and turned pleading eyes to Mrs. Fergus. Equally unrelenting, she insisted, “Tell him yourself.”

  Sucking in air like one about to sink under water, Beezus blurted, “In the evening, we planned to drug their drink with sleeping pills to assure sound rest, and conceal our dig by day under a camouflaged tarp. We weren’t being greedy, just wanted enough valuable relics to regain Uncle Ru’s estate—”

  Fergus cut her off. “And if the guards found you out, what then? Kill them?”

  Horror twisting inside, she gaped at him. “Never.”

  He thrust his jaw near, his breath warming her trembling chin. “Morley would.”

  She had no defense for that. And repeating her insistence that Morley wasn’t part of her plans seemed futile.

  Mouth tight, Fergus didn’t speak another word to her.

  Never had Mrs. Fergus appeared so forbidding. “Just the watchmen, or were you planning to drug the entire castle?”

  “I thought only them.”

  “But you’re not sure, are you?”

  Beezus couldn’t swear it.

  “If Neil’s young wife were pregnant or anyone had health issues, what would these drugs do?”

  “I don’t know—I never meant any harm—” Beezus faltered.

  “Just what I’d expect from Morley, and worse,” Mrs. Fergus said quietly. “And that’s exactly what I expect he proposes, to be king of all he surveys. And now with the stole, he’s gained madness and immortality.”

  “Wonderful combination,” Fergus muttered.

  Beezus wondered if she’d lost all reason to let Uncle Ru persuade her to contemplate this insane scheme in the first place. “I’m so sorry, Fergus.”

  Ignoring her, he spoke to his mother. “What do I do now?”

  “Arm yourself with whatever you feel will serve you best, remembering your wits are your most reliable defense, and venture back through that portal. Hasten to Neil and Calum and make plans to intercept the MacDonalds where they least expect it before Morley brings the battle to you.”

  “And if Calum falls?”

  Pain crossed her farseeing gaze. “There’s no point in your returning home.”

  The sheen in both their eyes heaped coals of shame on Beezus.

  “But you’ll be here even if the house isn’t, even if I know nothing of Neil, even if my life is completely altered. I’ll still know my mother,” Fergus persisted.

  She heaved a weighty sigh. “My dearest boy, you won’t exist in the 21st century.”

  He stared at her slack-jawed.

  The astonishment on his face mirrored the disbelief welling in Beezus.

  “You never knew, because I never told you, but you’re also a MacKenzie descendent from Calum’s line. If he falls before bearing an heir to carry on, you won’t ever have been born.”

  Fergus swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell me Neil and I were related?”

  “Because your late father isn’t really your father. I thought it best to keep that a secret.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Neil’s father. We loved each other intensely, but briefly.”

  “After he’d married Neil’s mother.”

  “Guilty,” she admitted. “Why wound Neil with that knowledge, and you never really knew the man you assumed was your father. Besides, you take after my side of the family in appearance so the resemblance between you and Neil is slight.”

  The full weight of her disclosure bore down on Beezus.

  Fergus said numbly, “Then Neil is my brother?”

  “Half-brother, yes.”

  “But if I cease to exist here, what about there with him?”

  Tears glinted in his mother’s eyes. “I’ll do whatever I can to preserve you. I have some gifts, you know that.”

  “But you can make no promises,” he concluded.

  Mutely, she shook her head.

  Dear Lord. Beezus had jeopardized everything. If Calum fell, so would Fergus. What had she done, and how could he ever forgive her?

  He couldn’t possibly.

  With a withering look at Beezus, he said, “A pity I didn’t inherit your insight, Mom. It might’ve come in handy.”

  “It’s a curse as well as a blessing.”

  “‘With great power comes great responsibility,’” Fergus tossed back, and straightened his shoulders, not as broad as Morley’s but not as slender as the photograph Beezus had seen of him with flamboyant orange hair and the thick-rimmed black glasses he no longer wore.

  He’d been all about show back then. Something vital had changed him. It must’ve been that experience with Neil and Mora when he went through the portal two years ago.

  He swept his arm at his mother in a courtly gesture. “It seems I have several matters to attend to. Never fear, dear lady, I shall be back before you know it,” he added, with forced gallantry.

  Mrs. Fergus shook her head. “Not without a decent night’s rest and some preparation and not alone. I sense Beezus has an important part to play in resolving all of this.”

  Disgust hazed his eyes. “I’d rather take the geek squad.”

  “Ultimately, she will be of more use to you than your friends.”

  “That remains to be proven.”

  Beezus sank low on the couch. It shouldn’t matter that Fergus considered her the most selfish, conniving bitch in the world, but it did. Far more than she cared to admit. Now cold reproof had displaced those adoring glances he’d tried to hide and she’d secretly enjoyed.

  So be it, then. They still had a crucial mission to accomplish, and she much to atone for; her sins were grievous. She’d prove herself a valuable ally and far more competent than he thought possible.

  If only she didn’t still want that darn treasure. It was all she’d heard about for years, that and getting the old family home back. But if Uncle Ru died, did she really care anymore about his schemes and dreams?

  Not if she lost Fergus. Despair washed back over Beezus.

  His mother fixed those all-seeing eyes on her. “Take heart, child. The battle is not yet lost and can still be won.”

  Beezus didn’t see how, but determination surged in her. “I swear to you, I’ll die fighting to make things right rather than fail and live.” And in that moment she realized Mrs. Fergus knew full well.

  Fergus regarded her quizzically. “Brave sentiments for one who’s never actually been in battle with hardened clansmen led by a crazed Morley with bizarre powers.”

  “I’ll fight by your side. I vow it, by all that’s sacred.”

  The reproof in his face eased a little. “Before or after we shove the Red MacDonald back where he belongs?”

  Exasperation fired through her. “There’s no earthly way to have the last word with you, is there?”

  Then Beezus did the unthinkable, and in a sudden move neither of them expected, pressed her lips to his startled mouth. Fergus didn’t take her in his arms and kiss her back, but for a tantalizing instant he didn’t protest her impulsiveness either.

  “We shall see what you do,” he whispered against her lips.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hal! You’re bringing in Hal?” Fergus paced across the oriental carpet under the watchful gaze of the owl. The weak morning sun did little to lighten the gloom in the townhouse.

  His mother sat on the couch beside a pale, smudge-eyed Beezus hugging her steaming coffee mug like a life vest. She looked as though she hadn
’t slept a wink. Despite his annoyance with her, not to mention mistrust, a pang of pity ran through Fergus. The poor girl must feel utterly overwhelmed, and was genuinely dismayed over her sickly uncle. And now, this latest announcement from his mother.

  She wore on. “Hal Dubois is the only one of your geek squad, as you refer to them, with any real sense, and I’ll need someone at the MacKenzie house to help me.”

  “Do what, bury the body?”

  “That too. And soon. Unless we shove him back through the portal. Rather off-putting trying to sleep in the house last night. Throwing a sheet over him was a temporary measure.”

  Fergus couldn’t agree more, and neither of them had slept upstairs. Fortunately he could bunk down anywhere and snooze through anything. “I suppose we could use more brawn either way in dealing with that beast. And Hal’s not overly chatty, the ideal companion for hiding bodies. What else do you need him to do while I’m off saving the world, run point and oversee operations?”

  “We’re not the CIA.”

  “No. Our work is more important.”

  “True. Which is why someone else ought to know what’s going on here in the event that I—or you—require assistance.” The slight hesitation in her voice said it all.

  “You mean if we’re totally screwed and Hal has to step in as a backup keeper of the portal.”

  “I wouldn’t have worded it that way, but yes.”

  If possible, Beezus appeared even more pale.

  Fergus resorted to his biting wit. “Are you gonna teach him the secret handshake?”

  His mother let that remark pass and forged ahead like a crusader. “Hal also has practical uses. He can head up what you normally do in combination with my particular abilities.”

  “You do realize he only sees lights and shadows.”

  “And auras.”

  Their resident psychic would know.

  “He also has highly tuned hearing,” she said.

  “Like a bat?” Fergus challenged.

  “Not quite, but more than you or I.”

  “I suppose next you’re going to tell me he can sniff out scents like a dog.”

  She shrugged.

  “Wait a minute.” The corners of her eyes creased in confusion, Beezus asked, “Hal’s blind? But I chatted with him in your cyber circle.”