by Willa Blair
Abby eased the door open and gingerly limped outside, carefully pulling it shut behind her. With one hand on the wall of the cottage for support and guidance, she made her way slowly around back. The moon was bright and she stood very still, looking around and listening closely to see if she could discern anyone nearby. All was silent. She laid the fur on a stump and sat on it, stripping off her boots, socks, pants, and shirt, ignoring the pain in her wrist and knee. She pulled the long white garment over her head. It covered her from her neck all the way to the ground, and she removed her underwear, making a bundle of all her clothes and tying it closed with the legs of her pants.
She wrapped the fur around her and looked around for someplace to hide her bundle. There was a pile of rubble several yards away. It would have to do; she couldn’t walk any farther on her injured leg.
She maneuvered the bundle underneath the rubble, hoping there were no spiders that would end up crawling on her in the dark, and rearranged the stones and wood to cover it completely. She didn’t know how she would explain her lack of clothing, but she would come up with something.
She carefully made her way back to the cottage and slipped inside. Conall opened his eyes as she entered, but made no move to get up. She limped to her pallet on the floor and sank gratefully onto it, covering herself with the furs and trying not to whimper from the pain.
Abby’s head pounded like a bass drum. There was just too much for her to think about. Her stomach growled, and she remembered the food that had been left for her. She found it in the dark and ate hungrily. It was surprisingly good, even cold, and she felt much better.
Setting aside the empty bowl, she laid back on her pallet of furs. The reality of her situation came crashing down upon her once more. She was trapped in a time not her own, with no explanation as to how she got there. Alannah seemed kind, but the man who had brought her here would not be kept waiting long for his answers.
What would he do to her? Would she ever see Ian again? How would he possibly find her? What about Adam? She didn’t think he could survive another devastating loss so soon after the death of their parents.
The tears began flowing in earnest, and she started to weep, burying her face in the furs so as not to wake Alannah. She curled into a fetal position, the movement sending shooting pain through her injured leg and causing her to cry harder.
She hated herself for being so weak, but here in the dark, she could give in to her fears and her pain, knowing it would help her be strong when morning came.
Something soft grazed her hand, and she opened her eyes to see the wolf beside her.
He nuzzled his big head under her hand and snuggled his body close to hers, his warm body a surprising comfort to her.
As her sobs faded into hiccupping breaths, she absently stroked the soft fur and finally passed into the dark oblivion of sleep.
CHAPTER 5
Robbie slammed on the brakes, nearly sending his father and brother through the windshield. They were at the foot of their driveway. “1578? Da, have you gone completely daft?”
Ian stared at his father, fury rising within him. He took a deep breath and tried to get his anger under control.
“I asked you to help me find Abby. You told me you could help. You told me we had to leave there, and that you would explain. I didn’t want to leave there, but I listened to you, because you have never led me wrong before. How is this helping? Telling us some bullshit story about time travel and crazed horses? Tell me, Da, how will this get Abby back?”
Duncan did not look surprised by his sons’ reactions. “Robbie, lad, drive us up to the house. Ian, I know that what I have just told you sounds unbelievable. You need to trust me. You could have searched that whole area until you dropped dead from exhaustion, and you would not have found Abby. She’s not there. At least not ‘there’ as it is now.”
Robbie stopped the trailer in front of the barn, and the men continued their heated discussion as they unloaded the horses and bedded them down.
“So you’re trying to tell me that Abby stepped into some kind of time warp?” Ian’s voice was almost hysterical with disbelief.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, son. There’s something there, in that very spot by the loch; some sort of gate in the mist that leads to another time. It was there over 30 years ago, and it was there this afternoon. If you can go through it, you stand a chance of finding her. If not, I fear she might be lost forever.”
Robbie, who had been uncharacteristically silent up until now, finally spoke up. “Okay, say this is all true. Why couldn’t Ian go through this time gate when we were looking for Abby just now? We must have crossed over that very spot more than once.”
Ian looked at his brother in shock. “Are you actually saying you believe this? We need to be calling the police, not arguing about time travel! Maybe someone took her—some crazy fan that saw us together or something!”
Robbie placed a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Ian, we didn’t see any other footprints. There was no sign of anyone else there. Besides, you turned your back on her for a split second. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, aye. But it makes much more sense that Abby stepped into a bloody time warp,” Ian snarled.
Robbie’s only reply to that was a sharp glare as Duncan spoke. “Robbie’s right, lad. No one else was out there.” Before Ian could argue, Duncan continued.
“Honestly, I’ve no idea how and why the gate works. For whatever reason, it wasn’t the right time just then. Maybe Ian was meant to hear my story first, to be as prepared as possible to go back to another time. I believe with all of my heart that when he returns to that spot, he will succeed in finding Abby.” He turned and left the barn, leaving his sons to follow, Ian still shaking his head in disbelief.
****
Laura was waiting for them on the front porch. Duncan had called her from MacNab’s, informing her that they had not found Abby and they would be returning home to make plans. Ian stalked over to her, unable to tamp down his anger.
“Da’s gone completely daft! I asked for his help finding Abby, and he told us this bullshit story about time gates by the loch, saying he came here from 1578! Now we’ve wasted all this time listening to him, and Abby could be anywhere—” He broke off his tirade at the expression on his mother’s face.
“Ian, you should listen to your father. He knows what he’s talking about.”
“What? You believe him?” Had everyone lost their minds?
Laura reached out and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. “You must trust your father. I’m sure he’s told you all he can for now. When this is over, and our Abby is safely returned to us, then he’ll tell you the whole story.”
“I can’t believe this.” His body shaking from anger, betrayal, and fear, Ian pulled away from his mother and stormed into the house, the others following in his wake. Robbie went over to the liquor cabinet and removed a bottle of Macallan, pouring a generous amount into a tumbler and holding it out to Ian.
“I don’t want it.”
“I don’t care. Take it anyway. You need to calm down.”
“Calm down? How the hell can I calm down when Abby vanished into thin air and instead of offering some helpful advice, Da tells us about a portal to another time?”
“Ian, standing here yelling won’t help you bring Abby back either, so why don’t you just listen to what he has to say?”
Robbie held the glass until Ian finally accepted it, draining the glass in one swallow.
He couldn’t deny that he did feel somewhat calmer as the whisky infused his body with its soothing warmth. He sank into a chair and looked up at the concerned faces of his family.
He sighed in resignation. “All right, Da. Convince me that you’re not bloody insane.”
Duncan looked at Laura, who smiled encouragingly. “I’ll be right back,” he said, hurrying out of the room. While he was gone, Robbie refilled Ian’s glass. He took it automatically and downed it in one gulp. I
t was refilled and knocked back just as quickly. Ian held the glass in front of him, squinting at it like it was from another planet.
“Damn it, Robbie! Enough! I need my wits about me.” Duncan returned to the room holding a cloth-wrapped bundle smelling of camphor. He laid it out on the table and began to unwrap it. It was a leather saddlebag.
Duncan looked expectantly at his sons, who looked at each other, shrugged, and blinked at their father. “Take a closer look, lads.” They leaned forward and inspected the saddlebag, which was obviously handmade from an animal hide. Duncan carefully lifted the flap and withdrew a faded plaid. “This is what I was wearing when I came through the mist. It’s faded because the dyes used in the sixteenth century were made from plants and lose color over time, much more so than the dyes used now.”
He reached into the bag again and took out a sheathed dagger. “The handle on this dirk is made from the antler of the first stag I killed, hunting with my da when I was ten. The saddlebag was made from its hide. My uncle had them crafted for me. See here, on the handle of the dirk? There’s an engraving.”
Ian peered at the handle, reading the Gaelic words aloud. “Donnchadh Mackenzie, 1568.”
Duncan sighed. “Listen, lads. I know you don’t believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me either. But Ian, you must put aside your disbelief if you wish to find Abby and bring her home. You must know that I wouldn’t lie to you about such a thing.”
Ian carefully sheathed the dirk and met his father’s eyes, so like his own. There was no deceit in them, only earnest pleading. He sighed. It would make a great fantasy movie: time travel, gates in the mist. Duncan’s story seemed so completely daft. But Ian had never known his father to be anything but honest.
Besides, thinking back on it now, he could recall his father saying things over the years that had sounded…odd. He was leery around new technology, though he’d happily put the Jag through its paces a time or two. Man’s love for speed evidently had not changed much over the years. Duncan’s insistence that they all learn swordplay and Gaelic made a lot more sense now, too. If there was any chance that Duncan’s children might have found themselves going through what he had, at least they had been provided with the tools they would need to survive.
“All right, Da. I believe you, though I’ll hold you to your promise to tell the entire story later.” Duncan’s relief was palpable, as was Laura’s. “So what do I do now? How do I find Abby?”
****
Several hours later, Ian lay in his bed, tossing and turning, the covers tangled around his legs. It was no use. He was heartsick and beyond exhausted, yet sleep would not come. He extricated himself from the bedclothes, pulled on jeans, sneakers and a fleece sweatshirt, then left the house.
Ian made his way down the path to the star-gazing rock where he lay on his back, his head pillowed on his arms. He stared up at the brilliance of the night sky, his heart aching as he remembered that the last time he had done so, Abby had been lying beside him.
Abby. Would he ever see her again? His throat closed up as he thought of the fear she must be feeling as he lay there under the stars, a short walk from the safety of his home. He’d wanted to rush back to Loch Ness that very evening, but Duncan and Robbie had finally convinced him that doing anything after dark would be pointless and dangerous. Instead, he would go in the morning, and unlike his disturbing dreams, when the mist came upon him, he would welcome its cold embrace instead of shrinking away from it.
Duncan had told them that it was June when he had come through the mist. It was now the second week of June; Abby had gone through the portal at roughly the same time of year as Duncan. Duncan also theorized that if Ian brought the dirk and other items from the past, it may help him find the portal.
He would not let himself even dwell on the possibility that he might not go to the same time period. He just couldn’t accept that Fate would be so cruel as to allow him to go back in time, but not to the right time as Abby. Ian closed his eyes, and pictured her in his mind.
****
The ground was soft beneath his bare feet. He opened his eyes, and saw that although it was still dark, the sky before him was getting lighter. He knew sunrise wasn’t far off. He squinted down at his feet and realized he was standing in a patch of heather. He felt a presence beside him, and turned to his left. In the early light of dawn, he could see the curtain of her hair, blowing gently in the breeze. He could just make out her features, as familiar to him as his own—the oval face with its smattering of freckles, the blue-gray eyes, the dimpled cheeks. He could see the white flash of her smile, and he held his hand out to her.
“Come here, mo cridhe.” She took his hand and allowed him to draw her closer. It was bright enough now for him to see her, and he smiled. She was wearing a soft blue dress, and her feet were bare like his. He glanced down at himself and saw that he was wearing a green-and-blue plaid over a white shirt. This puzzled him for some reason, but then she stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, and he was no longer capable of thought.
He pulled her close with one arm as his other hand tipped her chin up so he could gain better access to her mouth. Her hands came up around his neck so she could entwine her fingers in his long hair, as she always loved to do. Their tongues met and danced together, desire coursing through his body as he pulled her closer. He opened his eyes to look at her, and saw that she was watching him, her face aglow with golden light. The sun burst over the horizon in an explosion of magnificent colors.
He turned her away from him and draped her hair over her shoulder to bare her neck. He put his arms around her, drawing his hands down the front of her body in a long, slow caress, and then stepped back slightly so he could untie the laces at the back of her dress.
She turned slightly, pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him with increasing passion as he undid her laces. His mouth left hers so he could slide the dress off her slender shoulders and down her arms, letting it pool on the ground at her feet. She stepped out of it and turned to face him. He met her eyes and then his gaze traveled ever so slowly down the length of her body, bathed in the golden light of the sun, smiling as her skin flushed pink beneath the intensity of his gaze.
****
Abby rolled over in her sleep, unconsciously pushing the furs off of her as her dream became more and more heated.
He stood before her in the heather, the early morning sunlight lighting his face as his piercing gaze slowly traveled the length of her body. Without taking his eyes off her, he undid the brooch holding his plaid at his shoulder, unbuckled his belt, and dropped the length of fabric from his lean hips. He knelt down for a moment to spread the plaid on the purple heather, and then straightened.
His eyes held hers as he loosened the laces at the neck of the shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. Her mouth went dry as she stared at his beautiful body. His long wavy hair tumbled in midnight waves around his broad shoulders and down his back. His emerald eyes sparkled beneath his fine black brows and sooty lashes, and his strong chin was shadowed with the beginnings of his beard.
Her eyes roved over his tanned, muscular chest and his washboard belly. She let her eyes drop even lower, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw just how much his body desired her own. She heard him suck in a deep breath, and realized she had unconsciously licked her lips as she stared at him. He lunged forward, grabbing her arms and pulling her to him. He held her so close that every time he throbbed against her, her own body pulsed in response.
He lifted her off the ground and turned so he could lay her down on the makeshift bed in the heather. He worshiped her body with his mouth and hands until she was writhing beneath him, and she clutched at the plaid as the world melted around her.
She looked up into his green eyes as he leaned on one elbow alongside her. In a move that surprised them both with its speed, she pushed him over onto his back and crawled atop him. Now it was her turn.
****
Ian shifted on the b
oulder, moving his right hand from beneath his head to rest on his belly. His eyes fluttered back and forth beneath his eyelids.
Her body lay over his like a living blanket. She held his face between her soft hands as she kissed him, her tongue stroking his. He submitted willingly to her touch, desire burning within him as she kissed her way down his heated body. He allowed her to caress him with her lips, tongue, and hands until he could bear it no more, and then he reached down, grasping her arms and dragging her body up the length of his. He needed to be inside her more than he needed his next breath. He lifted her up and…
The shriek of an owl jolted Ian out of his dream, his eyes snapping open, his hands falling empty to his sides. The warmth of Abby’s body lying against his was replaced by the chill of the boulder beneath him. The stars above were all but gone as night melted into dawn. His heart pounded; his breath burst from him in ragged gasps. Every nerve ending in his body sizzled with desire for her.
But she was not there.
****
As the dream faded, Abby whimpered in her sleep, tears streaming from her closed eyes. She shivered as if she truly was deprived of the warmth of Ian’s body against hers, and she rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around herself to try and get warm. Conall opened his eyes and whined softly, sensing her distress. He sidled closer to her, and she instinctively snuggled up against the wolf’s warm body, falling back into an exhausted slumber.
CHAPTER 6
Ian stepped out of the shower, thankful that the hot water had eased most of the aches in his body from lying on the cold boulder. He still felt like a team of Clydesdales stepped on him, however, and when he looked in the mirror, he was quite alarmed to see what stared back at him. His face was deathly pale, with dark circles under bloodshot eyes. He looked like a ghoul. He imagined what his legion of female fans would think if they saw him now, and laughed humorlessly at the thought.
