Caitriona’s head tilted back further and further as the tall redhead towered over her. Not once did she unlock eyes with the Broun lass. But she did allow a long silence to follow the definitive words. When at last she spoke, Caitriona simply said, “Then so it will be.”
Arianna, who clenched a piece of meat in one hand and a flagon in the other nodded. “Good then. That is settled.”
When she again sat next to Stephen, the Broun lad only shrugged, a genuine grin on his face. “‘Twas always with good reason I chose exile.”
Alan watched Caitriona, wondering about her response. When she too smiled, he felt tension uncurl from his shoulders. Without doubt, if there was ever a good group to be on such an adventure with, this was it. None took things too seriously until things became truly serious. Then the right person stepped forward.
If he and Caitriona stood a chance, they were right where they needed to be.
Adlin MacLomain seemed for the most part, pleased. Granted, Alan could see that though he struggled for answers, if Mildred was calm so too was he. Then, as all seemed resolved, the air seemed to shift.
“They are coming,” Adlin said softly. “The Sinclairs.”
Alan slowly picked up his sword. Stephen did the same.
Hopefully, if what Adlin said was true they would not need their weapons. But Alan would not be without them. Highlanders were ruthless warriors all and not well known for trusting others. Nobody moved a fraction as men emerged from the forest, swords drawn, arrows aimed and wizard’s right behind. The Sinclairs superseded even the Stewarts and MacLomains with their sheer numbers, strength and magic. Very few could compare. Alan’s gaze slid only enough to lock with Caitriona’s. “I love you.”
She blinked once. That was enough.
Nobody breathed as the Sinclair’s moved closer. Their plaids were defined and stark as more and more surrounded them. Why did they come now and not the eve before? Alan would have to ask later. Only Adlin knew. As such it was appropriate that the MacLomain spoke first, his voice low and respectful. “We come in the name of Alexander Sinclair. Friend always, he assured us shelter here.”
One man stepped forward. He was tall, strong, and full of power. His eyes skipped over them until they landed on Caitriona. It seemed, for a moment, that she recognized him but when her eyes turned downcast Alan was not so sure.
Obviously the Sinclair in charge, he strode up to their fire with unerring confidence. Older than Alan by a few years, this man had only strengthened with age. He held a claymore in one hand, an ax in the other. Magic simmered just beneath his cautious regard. Alan didn’t blame him in the least. Strangers on his land, three of them wizards, one a potential demi-god, this lad intended to maintain a strong presence. Slowly, the lad walked by them all. Eventually he stopped and focused on Alan. He looked up and met the hard look. Too long did the highlander search his eyes.
What did this Sinclair want with him?
But it seemed, in the end, it would be Caitriona who captured his attention. Alan held his breath as the Sinclair stood in front of her and then crouched. Though he made no further movement, his light eyes stared into hers. “Caitriona?”
Before she could respond, Alan’s arm was across her chest. He made no move closer to the Sinclair but said, “I may not kill all but I will many, including you, if you come any closer.”
Though clearly aware of Alan, the man’s eyes never left hers. “Is it you?”
She put a gentle hand over Alan’s. “Nay, ‘tis impossible.”
The Sinclair nodded, a slow grin forming on his face. “Did we not travel together many years ago through the whole of Scotland with a feisty MacLomain?”
Caitriona’s eyes filled with water. “Nay, Iosbail MacLomain was far worse than feisty. A hellion, indeed.” She smiled. “Alexander Sinclair, I never thought I would see you again.”
Alexander’s eyes finally turned to Alan. “I willnae hurt her. She is my friend.”
Their eyes held for several long moments. It was no easy thing trusting anyone when it came to her. Caitriona nodded and said, “Aye, all is well. We are friends.”
Alan studied her eyes one more time before reluctantly removing his arm.
The Sinclair wasted no time but pulled Caitriona into his arms and said, “‘Tis good to see you, lass!”
Grinding his teeth, Alan sat back and watched. His need to shove the man aside overwhelmed him but there was no harm intended. It was clear to all she knew him.
Alan stood slowly, as did they all. Alexander pulled back from Caitriona, smiling. “You have not aged a day.”
“One or two,” she conceded and stared up at him. “Less than you but time has treated you well.”
He grinned and pulled her in for another embrace. Alan was about to share his thoughts on that but Adlin shook his head. While it seemed to take far too long it was mere moments later that Alexander pulled away. Aye, he motioned for his surrounding warriors of over two hundred to lower their weapons and his fifty extra wizards to pull back their magic. Good enough. The threat was gone. But still there stood a man as tall and strong as him with his eyes on his lass.
That, to Alan, meant no threat had been removed at all.
Alexander Sinclair, very well aware of Alan’s tension, proceeded to keep her at arm’s length. “Tell your friend I mean no harm. It seems my warriors standing down are not enough.”
Caitriona looked at Alan and realized that he didn’t fully understand what transpired. She took his hand and said, “I am so sorry, I just never expected…” Her words trailed off but she soon regrouped. “Alan, this is Alexander, chieftain of the Sinclair clan.” She looked at the Sinclair. “Alexander, this is Alan, chieftain of the Stewart clan. But more importantly, he is my love.”
The man again assessed him long and hard before he finally said, “I see she has the right of it then.” He held out his hand in greeting. “Welcome, Laird Stewart.”
Alan, however discontented, took the proffered grasp, if for no other reason than to smooth the way for them all. The Sinclair measured his grasp as he did his. Their eyes again held. Truth be told, there was no ill intent there, just happiness. This man did care for Caitriona.
Alexander returned his attention to Caitriona. “How is this possible?”
She shook her head. “I dinnae know.”
Adlin, having remained silent, finally spoke up, his voice soft. “What year is it?”
Alan hadn’t thought to question that. But why would he?
Alexander turned his attention to the MacLomain, his regard warm. “‘Tis 1104, Adlin, far in your future but only a few short years since I last saw you, my friend.”
Adlin studied him unsure. “Aye, so you say, but I have only now met you.”
The Sinclair nodded and looked between Caitriona and Adlin. “‘Tis a strange thing how time travel works.” He once more locked eyes with Adlin. “But know this, if ‘twas not for you I would not have been able to love your sister so well.”
“My sister,” Adlin murmured. It seemed he contemplated that a bit too long before he cocked a brow in question. “Iosbail? Truly?”
“One and the same,” Alexander assured.
Adlin looked him over again, his blunt response not intended to ease the conversation. “What, precisely, made you so different from all the others?”
Caitriona gasped. Alan shook his head.
Alexander shrugged with an adventurous twinkle in his eyes. He said without quam. “If only I knew.”
The MacLomain thought about this for a moment before he nodded. “Though I know I sent her in your direction I had to be sure. It seems you really did know her.”
Caitriona frowned. “She was courageous, forthright; never for a second did she allow any man to rule her. That for starters is enough!”
Adlin and Alexander looked at her. Their brows arched in mutual resignation.
Nothing more was said as the Sinclair warriors faded away and Adlin set to gathering up his belongings. Alan
realized that nothing more would be said about Iosbail for now. It seemed she laid a distinct and somewhat self-righteous path that the men in her life did not question.
“Alan,” Caitriona urged, pulling at his sleeve. “We must set to travel.”
There were still a great many questions left unanswered but for now it seemed the Sinclairs were gathering them up. He said to those around him, “Does it not bother anyone that you have traveled back a century in time?”
Arianna looked at him and nodded at Caitriona. “Did I not tell her earlier that we are on this journey together?” Her jaw grew firm. “Let us all be on this journey together.”
“It must have happened through the tree,” Adlin said softly. “Fionn controls this.”
Fionn. Of course. Frustrated, Alan again found himself cursing the gods. They had a habit of taking without asking. When he looked at Caitriona she simply nodded and agreed with Adlin. It was a hard thing being pulled through time without understanding why. Now they were to follow the Sinclairs without question. Aye, there was an alliance between her and Alexander and one evidently between the Sinclair and Adlin but was that enough to comply?
“Please,” Caitriona murmured, her eyes intent on his. When he scowled and made no movement she said, “Do we not need to move forward? To find the rock?”
Alan searched her eyes. In exchange, they offered reason.
“Well?” She asked.
To agree was one thing, to support her wholeheartedly, another. “Are you sure, lass?”
“You know I am.”
Alan watched as everyone gathered up their items. He could choose not to and make everything difficult or comply and follow Alexander Sinclair. Adlin certainly seemed willing. That should say something. But the MacLomain meant little when compared to Caitriona’s good opinion. If she trusted the Sinclair chieftain, so too would he.
Still, it was a trying thing to pick up his satchels and fall into the trail of Sinclair’s.
What he wouldn’t do to have his own clan surrounding him. If he had but one Stewart warrior in front of him, it would make this misplaced trudge into the forest easier. But he did not have a Stewart, only himself…and Caitriona. Because if there was one thing he would see by this journey’s end, it was her as a Stewart, his in all ways possible.
“‘Tis a hard thing to relent even if for a better cause,” Stephen said gently, falling in beside him.
They had not been given a horse. Then again, the chieftain did not ride either. Alexander chose to walk with Adlin. Caitriona and Mildred walked together. Arianna seemed most content walking along the outer edges, a watchful eye on the Sinclair warriors.
“Never once did I say I relented,” Alan said. “But if Caitriona trusts him so too shall I.”
“She does,” Stephen consented. “But does that make your way easier?”
Alan ran his hand over the hilt of his blade. The Broun knew. “Nay, it doesnae.”
“Now we are both misplaced in time. But we are never alone, aye?”
“Nay.” His gaze shifted to Stephen. “We are not.”
Stephen nodded but made no further comment. None was needed. They could find themselves in a thousand different positions in a thousand different times, still they had developed a certain loyalty, perhaps even friendship.
They traveled a good deal of the day. The sun always remained due west. The forest had long since thinned and the mountains more ferocious with their ever taller peaks. Yet still they traveled. The more they did, the more comfortable he became. This land was of the Stewarts.
This was Highlander land.
He was home…but not.
When the way thinned and all fanned out, he was surprised to suddenly be in the company of Alexander Sinclair.
“The Stewarts have long been our friends. They aim for the throne now but it doesnae make them our enemy.”
His lineage had always possessed royal blood. He supposed that their ambitions varied from century to century. “My clan was strong even then…now.”
“Aye, indeed,” Alexander concurred.
They said nothing for a time. Alan preferred silence. Especially from someone he’d only just met. But nearly a hundred years from now, Alan would call this man’s descendant a friend. There was something to be said for that. He had long been debating if he wanted Alexander to know what he knew, which was a good deal. At last, he decided it best to share. If he really was the great man many said he was.
“I have heard about you, Alexander,” Alan said. “For a king, you choose a desolate corner of Scotland from which to rule.”
“I wondered if you had. But then I can only speculate what they will say about me so far into the future.”
“Always that you much preferred to be here with your clan than at court. Such a thing made you very popular with the clans but less so with the politicians.”
Alexander chuckled. “Can you blame me?”
“Nay, but what do I know of being a king? ‘Tis no position I would want.”
“Nor was it one I wanted. But in the end, I realized I could better serve this country by not turning my back on her. ‘Tis not the politicians who make her who she is, but the verra clans that first established here.”
Alan respected his words. It was an easy thing to recognize his own jealousy upon meeting him. Not for his rank, but wholly for Caitriona’s fondness of him. Even if Iosbail was Alexander’s, where was she now? “They said you never took a bride, that your love was all for Scotland.”
“Did they?” Alexander grinned. “If only they knew. While this country might have a portion of my heart, she doesnae hold the majority. That will forever belong to Iosbail MacLomain. She is my greatest secret, the true strength behind my power.”
Alan nodded, his mind drifting to Caitriona. No lass could help him lead the Stewarts better. “What is a great country without a great lass?”
Before the Sinclair could answer he was called away. He again shook hands with Alan. “We will speak more later, Laird Stewart. Remember, you are kin. The Sinclair’s are as much yours as they are mine.”
Alan watched him vanish into the horsemen ahead. Alexander was everything the stories around campfires said he was. Yet, it worried him further that such a man would become part of this journey, part of this prophecy. An arch wizard and a king said much about how very important the outcome of this.
“How much longer do you suppose we’ll be walking?”
Genuinely startled, he glanced at Mildred, who now walked alongside. She seemed well enough. Of all of them, she was truly the furthest from home. Alan smiled warmly. “Not much. The sun nearly sits.”
Her gaze skirted between his and the endless stream of men on horseback. “He always tries to fix things.”
Of course, she referred to Adlin and prophecy and what it might mean for them. “If any could fix a thing ‘tis him.”
Mildred worked at a smile. “Yes. But does he always fix them?”
He was about to respond when she said, “Don’t answer. I know better. Are you okay?”
There was his thought out response, and then there was the one he gave her when her clear blue eyes met his. He shook his head. “I have been better.”
She took his hand, an unexpected gesture. “It’ll work out. It has to. At least we all have each other. That’s better than being alone.”
Alan didn’t know why this futuristic lass, with her simple act of holding his hand, made him feel a bit better. He suspected it was the very thing about her that Adlin needed. She overthought, as did her MacLomain, but not to the point that she obsessed. Mildred saw what was coming and simply worked through it.
Most women and men could not be so decently uncomplicated.
Such a simplistic notion and basic logic required too much patience and forgiveness for most.
“I’m off to walk with him now.” She gave Alan’s hand one last squeeze and faded into the crowd.
Soon after, Caitriona was by his side. “Mildred is a good lass. Sh
e was worried when you were speaking with Alexander.”
He took her hand, grateful to have her close again. “Why so?”
“Because she understands what you and I are going through, being thrust around in time, meeting people we never thought we would.” Her inquisitive eyes slid to his. “And because she knew you were jealous of Alexander. That it probably wasn’t often that you met another lad who was in many ways your equal.”
“My equal?” Alan laughed. “If such can be said about a king and a chieftain.”
“I believe she meant in stature and nature.”
“That would not make me jealous, Caitriona.” But he wasn’t above being honest. “I am not used to feeling so strongly about one lass. I must learn to respect your friendships with other lads.”
“And I too must do the same with you and the lasses.” She smiled, color staining her cheeks. “I am sure when I finally make it to your castle; there will be many who are curious about me.”
Warmth rolled through him. The thought of having her with him there filled him with anticipation. He would dress her in the finest clothes by day and have her without those clothes, well ravaged, in his bed every eve. Gone would be the days of having a new lass every night. Now there would only ever be one. A wife. His wife. Caitriona.
Aye, he would marry her.
A wave of lust made his groin tighten. The time could not come soon enough.
But it would come.
It had to.
When the sun crested halfway down what was left of the trees, a slow incline of rock had them traveling upward. He smiled. Often, he’d visited this place in his youth. Good memories all.
“Oh, ‘tis beautiful,” Caitriona said as they crested the hill.
The Sinclair castle was as impressive as ever. It had always been statelier than most in the Highlands. Then again, this clan was one of the wealthiest. Easily twice the size of the Broun’s holding the Sinclair castle had two moats and two drawbridges. Its outer wall walks higher with far more clansmen at arms.
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