Sapphire Dream

by Pamela Montgomerie

  “Say her. He ordered her killed. It wasn’t me.”

  Rourke ignored her. “Your mother was round with babe and too close to her time to travel. Your father was afraid to leave her side. So they sent you to Picktillum with your aunt.”

  Chills danced along her arms and scalp. “It wasn’t me. I don’t remember any of this.”

  “Don’t you? You followed me around that entire summer. You used to watch me carve my wee birds.”

  “It wasn’t me.” But she stared at him. She had remembered a carver.

  “The earl . . . learned where you were. My parents tried to protect you.” Anguish flickered in his eyes. “He killed them and set fire to the house.”

  Her stomach clenched until she thought she’d be sick. “And you saw this?”

  “Nay. I didna see it done, but I found their bodies as I fled through the castle, just before the fire. My father . . .” He clenched his jaw and turned his head toward the window as if escaping the picture in his mind’s eye. “My father had been beheaded.”

  Bile rose in her throat. The pounding in her ears moved to her temples. “Oh, Rourke.” She reached for him, laying her hand on his arm. “Not because of me.” It wasn’t. She wasn’t the one. But his words sparked old memories that began to swirl in her head, vague and shadowed. Memories of crying and smoke. And terror.

  Her hand went to her forehead as she squeezed her eyes closed against the images.

  “Hegarty saved us. I dinna ken where he came from or how he knew we were in trouble, but we were trapped and there he was. He saved you and your aunt. And me. I was ten.”

  She remembered. A blond-headed boy with a sharp tongue and no patience with her.

  Rourke’s hands rested limply on the bed beside him. His head tipped back to lean against the wall, eyes closed. “We were trapped in one of the cellars. Smoke was starting to seep in, but the earl’s soldiers were outside. There was no escape. Nor any way in, but suddenly Hegarty was there with us. He put his sapphire around your neck and tried to send the both of us and your aunt to safety. It almost worked.”

  He opened his eyes and lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I saw the world where you grew up, Wildcat. For a minute, maybe two. Bare-limbed women playing with small children in the grass while a strange, birdlike creature flew noisily through the air and swift coaches without horses chased one another along a hard-packed road.

  “I didna know where we were, only that it was a wondrous place. And then of a sudden I was back in the smoke-filled cellar of my home. We all were. The magic hadna been strong enough for the three of us. Hegarty yanked me aside and sent the two of you by yourselves. You never returned.”

  Brenna stared at him, not wanting to believe his words, but deep down she knew he spoke the truth this time. It fit too well with her scattered memories.

  She was from the past. “I didn’t know.”

  “Before he sent us the first time, Hegarty told your aunt to leave Scottish soil so that he couldna be forced to bring you home until you were grown and able to defend yourself. He told her to bring ye back to Scotland on your twenty-fifth birthday so that he could call you home.”

  Suddenly so many things began to make sense. Janie’s demand that Brenna wear long dresses, even though the other girls wore shorts and jeans. Her insistence on the most old-fashioned of manners. How many times had she said, “A lady does this,” or “A lady never does that.” And the doctors. She’d been afraid of them even when she lay dying.

  Brenna had loved Janie, but she’d hated her, too, fighting her over the unreasonable demands that made Brenna a laughingstock. Her stomach clenched with remorse as she remembered how, in the third grade, she’d taken a pair of scissors and destroyed the dresses Janie had painstakingly sewn for her by hand. She’d reduced Janie to tears that night and forced her to promise to buy her a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts.

  Now, far too late, Brenna understood. Janie had had an impossible task. If Brenna thought living in the past was hard, how much more difficult must it have been for Janie to live in the future? And more difficult still to raise a headstrong girl to be a lady of the seventeenth century, keeping her safe until the time was right to return her to her family.

  “My family.” Her heart lurched. “Are they still alive?”

  Rourke met her gaze. “I canna say. I told you true when I said I went to sea and never returned.”

  Brenna jumped to her feet. Thoughts tumbled through her head as chills coursed through her body. Her family was here. They hadn’t abandoned her all those years ago. She’d been as lost to them as they were to her.

  All this time she’d been trying to get back to the twenty-first century, when her home was here.

  And Rourke had known all along.

  She whirled on him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Ye are not safe here.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Anger sparked and flamed deep inside her. Anger that because of the Earl of Slains she’d been ripped from her home in the first place. Frustration that Janie never told her, left her thinking she’d been abandoned. And fury at the man in front of her for not being honest with her when he knew. He knew.

  “What right did you have to keep this from me? To decide I was going back. I’ve spent my whole life wondering why they never came for me, why they never tried to find me. How could you keep something like this from me?”

  “’Tis too dangerous for you here.” His words were slurred as if he’d been drinking, and she realized he was falling asleep again. He started to list sideways and she helped him lie down. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

  She stared down at him, hurt and confused. He would have sent her back without ever knowing her life was supposed to have been here. He had no right to make this decision for her. No right. He always thought he knew what was best for her. He’d tied her in the cave to keep her safe. Had tried to send her back to the future for the same reason. Maybe he thought he was acting in her best interest, but it had to stop. She was a grown woman. An intelligent woman fully capable of making her own decisions in either world.

  And she knew the first thing she had to do. She had to find out what had happened to her family.

  Her parents might still be alive. The man she’d remembered holding her in the storm might still be here. A wary excitement trembled within her. Twenty years she’d been gone, and this place wasn’t exactly conducive to long life. Especially with the Earl of Slains around.

  But they might still be alive.

  And she’d bet money Rourke’s uncle would know.

  She smoothed the blanket over Rourke’s hips, then left him as she went to discover the truth about her family. As she hurried down the passage to the stairs, her heart pounded with futile rage at the fates. Fates that had torn her from everything she’d known, not once, but twice.

  She found Rourke’s uncle in a neatly furnished anteroom off the dining room where they’d eaten that first night. The walls were wood-paneled and hung with tartans and swords as was the dining room. A large desk dominated the room. It was a man’s room. A war room.

  Uncle James was alone, sitting at the desk, a mound of books in front of him when she rapped at the doorframe. He looked up and saw her, then stood.

  “Rourke?”

  “He’s good. He woke up and sat up for a few minutes, but he’s asleep again.”

  Relief softened the lines around the older man’s mouth.

  “I need to speak with you,” Brenna said.

  He smiled and motioned her in.

  Brenna turned and closed the door, then crossed to where he stood, clasping her hands tight in front of her. “What do you know about the Camerons?” Now that the question was out, her heart spasmed with fear that the news would be bad. Surely she hadn’t come all this way only to find out she was too late?

  “The Camerons, eh?” He offered her one of the chairs, but she shook her head. She was too wound up to sit.

  H
er fingers twisted around one another, agitation winding her tight as a drum. “What do you know about the Earl of Slains and the prophecy, sir?”

  “I ken all there is to know, I wager.”

  “Are Brenna Cameron’s parents still alive?”

  The question startled him. His eyes widened, then narrowed with suspicion. “And why would you be asking, lass?”

  Her eyes blurred with tears. “Please. I need to know.”

  James watched her for long minutes as if trying to make sense of her. Slowly his expression cleared and when he spoke, his voice was warm.

  “Last I heard, aye. Alex Cameron was hale. But Ena . . .” He shook his head sadly. “She died in childbirth a long time ago.”

  Brenna blinked hard, clearing her vision. She knew that. In the deep recesses of her memory, she remembered. It’s why she’d never waited for her mother to find her. She’d always known her mother was gone.

  But not her father. “Where is he now?”

  James gave her a small, gentle smile. “I imagine he’s home, Brenna. Deveron House. He’ll be muckle glad to have you home, lass.”

  Home. Brenna covered her mouth against the tide of emotion that welled up and overflowed. He was alive. Her father was alive. Waiting for her.

  Tears slid down her cheeks and she began to cry, great gulping sobs. All the loneliness for so many years, all the times she’d wondered why he never came for her. Now she knew.

  She felt the press of a handkerchief into her hand and blinked to find James standing beside her, his expression soft and kind.

  “Och, lass, ’tis a wondrous thing, your return. He knew you’d be back. I do not ken how, but he knew when you were grown you’d return.” Inexplicably, he began to laugh. “I remember you well. You were a wee bit of a thing with a heart like a lion even then. You’d taken a liking to my nephew and near drove him to distraction. You followed him everywhere.” He looked at her quizzically. “Where have you been, lassie?”

  Brenna wiped her tears on the handkerchief. “It’s a long story.” The understatement of the year. “I have to get to my father.”

  “ ’Tis several days’ ride. I’m sure Rourke will take you once he recovers.”

  Brenna shook her head, knowing what she had to do. “I’m not waiting for him. He’s not coming with me.” The thought of leaving him broke her heart, but it wouldn’t be any easier if she waited. For either of them. Rourke wanted to return to sea. By leaving now, she’d be freeing him of any lingering responsibility he might feel for her.

  Besides, if she waited for him to wake up, he’d only start making decisions for her again. He’d probably insist she stay here, safe, while he sent someone for her father or went to get him himself. No, she wasn’t playing that game anymore. This was her life, her father, her family. And while it would break her heart to leave him, it was better this way. No good-byes. No having to listen to his false promises to come back for a visit. No chance of giving away just how desperately she didn’t want him to go.

  Brenna gripped her elbows against the pain of leaving him and looked at his uncle. “Can I borrow a horse? And maybe a guide?” If only she could call for a rental car and pull up MapQuest.

  “Yes. Of course.” James frowned. “Brenna, I’ll not keep you here against your will, but I do not think you should leave while the lad sleeps.”

  “I want to leave right away. I’ve been waiting to see my father for far too long already.”

  “But Rourke . . .”

  “He’s going back to sea.” The man’s expression turned pained and she reached out to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been the one to tell you that.”

  “You cannot know what he intends.”

  “He told me he wants to go back to sea. But either way, it doesn’t matter. If you know who I am, you know the Earl of Slains is still looking for me. Rourke’s lost too much because of me already. He’s a good man. An honorable man. And I’m afraid he’ll stick by me out of some misplaced sense of duty when all he wants to do is leave. I don’t want that. It’s too dangerous.” She met the older man’s eyes, willing him to understand. “If he dies because of me, it’ll kill me.”

  And she knew it was true. She wanted him to go back to sea. Far from the Earl of Slains and his soldiers.

  “So you’re taking the decision out of his hands.”

  “Yes. When he wakes up, tell him . . . tell him I’ll never forget him. But I can take it from here. We each need to get back to our own lives.”

  James pressed his lips together unhappily, then nodded. “I will ready provisions and an escort. How soon do you wish to travel?”

  “An hour? I need to change back into the clothes I came in.”

  “Nay, lass, the gown is yours. I will have your maid prepare others as well. I’ll not have you arriving at Deveron House looking like one of the servants.” He smiled sadly. “Your father will be most pleased to have you returned to him.”

  Her father. In a couple of days she’d be with him again at last. The thought was as fragile and extraordinary as a snowflake, even as the thought of never seeing the pirate again felt like a solid chunk of ice in her heart.

  She thanked Rourke’s uncle, and returned to Rourke, who remained exactly as she’d left him, sound asleep.

  Standing over him, looking down at his beloved face, she could barely breathe. How was she ever going to live without him?

  But it was time she took control of her life again. She’d spent her childhood tossed about like a leaf in a storm and long ago sworn she’d never depend on anyone but herself.

  She’d relied on Rourke because she’d had to.

  But no more. She’d learned from the lessons of her past, learned to take care of herself. Her world may have changed, but not that. Never that. She was through being the leaf.

  The time had come to be the storm.

  Rourke woke, unsure of the day or time, but feeling alert and strong as he hadn’t the last time he’d opened his eyes. The sun was bright. He could tell that much as he sat up and untangled his legs from the blanket.

  His gaze searched for Brenna, but the chamber was empty save for himself. With a sinking feeling, he remembered their conversation when he’d last woken. He’d told her nearly everything. And she’d not been pleased.

  He needed to explain. She had to understand why he’d kept the truth from her. Why he’d tried to send her back. The prophecy would destroy her, even now, for the Earl of Slains would not give up until she was dead.

  He dressed quickly, then strode toward the door. The wildcat was not an unreasonable woman. She’d understand once he had a chance to explain. Then she’d sail with him away from Scotland.

  Far from the reach of the Earl of Slains’s sword.

  Rourke stormed into the Laird’s Hall as the midday meal was being served. The scent of roast lamb mingled with that of fresh-baked bread, making his stomach clench with hunger. But his thoughts were not on food.

  His uncle saw him and smiled. “You have awakened at last.”

  Rourke’s gaze scoured the long table. “Where is she?” He’d found her bedchamber empty. The lass had few enough possessions, to be sure, but naught remained. Nothing. It was as if she’d never been here. Even the soap from the washstand was missing.

  James rose from the table and motioned him into his private chambers, then closed the door behind them. “Brenna left this morn for Deveron House with an escort of four men.”

  Rourke stilled. “Ye know who she is.”

  “When she came to me to ask after Alex Cameron with tears in her eyes, I kent the truth, aye?”

  “Why did you let her go?”

  James squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I suggested she wait for you, lad, but she was ill-disposed to do so.” He opened his eyes and pinned him with a gaze as pale as his own. “She seemed to think you are heading back to sea.”

  “I am.” The words rang hollow to his own ears. “I was. God’s blood, I dinna know what I’m doing.” He turned, agita
ted. “She’s displeased with me. I failed to tell her she might have family still alive.”

  His uncle was silent for several moments. “Why is that?”

  “She’s not safe here. I wished to send her back to where she’s been living. Back where the Earl of Slains couldna reach her.” At first, he’d only sought to distance himself from that damned prophecy, but over the course of the days since Hegarty brought her back, that had changed. Brenna had changed him. “I sought to protect her, Uncle.”

  Because she’d stolen his heart.

  His uncle nodded, his eyes warm. “As she seeks to protect you.”

  Rourke stilled. “What do ye mean?”

  “She knows the earl will continue to hunt her. She doesna want you killed when he finds her.”

  “Brenna said that?”

  “She said as much, though ’tis not the message she asked me to convey to you.”

  “What message?”

  “She’ll naught forget you, but you each have lives of your own to live.”

  “Bloody hell.” His chest began to ache. He rubbed it as he paced. “She should have waited for me.”

  “She was anxious to see her father.”

  Rourke’s gaze snapped to his uncle’s. “He still lives?”

  “Aye.”

  “What of her mother?”

  “Her mother died in childbirth years ago. Before the fire. Indeed, word had reached Picktillum that very morn. Brenna, the wee lassie, took it poorly. I remember watching her fly from this room after your father broke the news to her.”

  The morn of the fire. He hadn’t known. And suddenly the events of that morning made a horrible kind of sense.

  “Alex Cameron has never given up hope of his daughter’s return, Nephew.”

  Rourke eyed him with confusion. “He knows, then? That she was sent . . . away?” Had Hegarty gone to Deveron House to talk to her father? He’d never said.

  “Aye. He knows. He expected her to return when she was grown, but he’s been expecting her for nigh on ten years. Alex has feared her lost to him.”