The Parchment Scroll

by C. A. Szarek

  His aunt scowled as she took the seat beside the fireplace, despite the warm fire burning brightly. “Go get tha’ lass.”

  “Nay.”

  “Nay?”

  Hugh avoided her narrowed eyes, shifting on the chair. “She’s goin’ home, Aunt Mab.”

  “Did ye ask her ta stay?”

  A lump clogged his throat, but Hugh shook his head. He still couldn’t look at her.

  “Why no’?”

  He studied his boots until his temples throbbed, so Hugh closed his eyes.

  “Speak, lad.”

  “Nay,” he croaked.

  “Juliette is not Brenna.”

  He winced. He’d not heard her name said aloud in longer than he could remember. Preferred it that way.

  “And ye are not a laddie of nine and ten anamore.”

  “I was twenty.” The words came out fragmented. His chest was tight. Hugh sucked in a breath, then another, but it didn’t help.

  “It matters no’.” Aunt Mab’s gnarled hand gripped the top of the cane he’d carved for her. Her mouth was set in a determined line, but her eyes were kind when he finally had the guts to meet her gaze. “Ye werena ready to wed when Brenna MacInnes came to Armadale. Yet ye did yer duty ta yer clan and to yer stubborn da.”

  “And she died birthing my child, taking the bairn with her.”

  “God’s plan was different from ours. Ye felt Brenna’s loss fer a long time. We all did.”

  “I didna love her,” Hugh blurted.

  Mab grabbed his forearm and squeezed. She laughed, but it wasn’t unkind. “Laddie, ye didna get tha chance ta love her. She was taken so soon. Brenna was a lass of six and ten. No more ready fer marriage than ye were, no’ really.”

  “She did her duty.”

  “Aye, as we all do. ‘Tis how the world works, my lad.”

  Emotion choked him, and Hugh forced a nod, because he hadn’t cried—well, ever. And he wasn’t about to start in front of his aunt.

  “Yer a good laird, and a good man. But now ye have one more duty ta see to.”

  “I do?”

  “Aye, my lad. Ye’ve a duty ta yerself. And a duty to Juliette.”

  Hugh shook his head.

  “Doona’ give me tha’ nonsense. Ye love tha’ lass. Ye never intended to, I know tha’ well. It happened, and she loves ye too. So swallow yer pride and hie ta the MacLeods. Get her back. Ferget about the Fae, magic, and the distant future. Bare yer heart and wed tha’ lass.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Zombieism over took her as Cormac escorted her into the great hall. Her limbs were heavy, and each step forward made her gut tighter, until every breath crushed her lungs like a vise—oh, and her heart, too.

  No. Wait.

  She didn’t have a heart anymore. It was a black hole, burning her from the inside out. Jules wanted to crumble by the big hearth and give in to her hurt. Sob like she’d never cried before.

  He left me.

  Rode away like he had lightning up his ass.

  “Are ye well, milady?” Cormac’s deep voice made her jump. His long blond hair was loose today, and shifted around his shoulders. He was one of the few fair-haired MacLeods, and just as big and handsome as the rest of her sister’s clan.

  She met his dark eyes, so unlike Hugh’s, even though they were the same color. “I’m…great.” Liar. She forced a smile.

  Cormac didn’t believe her, but he didn’t call her on it, either. “The ladies are likely in tha solar.”

  Jules nodded. “I’ll find them.” She trudged up the stairwell, not waiting to see if the MacLeod guard waited for her.

  She fought doubling over as pain consumed her. She’d been shot before, but it hadn’t hurt as bad as she did right now.

  Her hand shook as she opened the closed door to the bright room, locking her knees so she wouldn’t fall over.

  “Jules!” Claire was alone in the room—thank God. “You’re back!” Her sister’s smile faded just as it was born. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Jules shook her head and took a seat.

  Claire moved away from the fireplace. She’d been rocking a cradle. “He’s fussy today; I don’t think he feels well.” She gestured to her sleeping son. “Just got him down for a nap.”

  “Where’re Alana and Janet?”

  Her sister’s eyes were full of excitement.

  It worked for Jules. Anything to keep the spotlight off her.

  “Alana is with Janet. Xander, too, I’d expect. Her back was hurting this morning, so I’m pretty sure it was the start of labor. Who knows, we might have a baby today!”

  She forced a smile she wasn’t feeling. “Oh, awesome.”

  Claire smiled back and nodded. “It’s a boy, like Angus said. He’s got magic, but we don’t know if he’ll be born with wings.”

  “Wings?”

  “Xander has wings, but not in our realm—at least most of the time. Janet sorta…recharges his magic, so he said sometimes his back itches, and once he woke with his wings. They disappeared again, but who knows, maybe the longer they’re together he might get them back. I know he misses flying, even if he’s too polite to talk about it.”

  “Weird.”

  Her sister smirked. “Right, like that’s the only thing weird around here.”

  “I need to go home,” Jules blurted.

  Claire squared her shoulders. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Wasn’t that always the plan? You’re fine. Happy, and all that. I know you’ll be okay now. I can go. I came, I saw. Got kidnapped. Twice. We said goodbye, he dropped me off and…” She shrugged, averting her gaze. Emotion choked her and she refused to cry in front of her sister.

  “Jules…”

  Jules shook her head and swallowed before she could look at Claire. Forced a smile. “I’m good.”

  “You aren’t.”

  Silence fell, but she couldn’t bring herself to confirm or deny. Her sister knew her too well to buy her bullshit anyways.

  “I really should get back. Dan and I were working a murder-suicide when I left, and—”

  “Hugh isn’t Brent.”

  Jules fought the urge to crush her eyes shut.

  She brought up my ex. Am I that transparent?

  She straightened her back and pressed her shoulders into the back of the chair until the wood bit into her skin. Ignored the breath she should take, but it wouldn’t make her head spin any less anyway. Jules met her sister’s green eyes. “God, no. How could he be? Four hundred years is kinda different.”

  Claire gave her a long look. “You know damn well what I meant, Juliette.”

  Jules cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why? Because Hugh does?” Her sister smirked.

  She frowned.

  Her sister leaned over and squeezed her forearm. “Just…don’t go back because you think you have to.”

  “I’m not,” she said. Too quickly, if Claire’s expression was any indication.

  She had to get back to her life, didn’t she?

  Wasn’t her partner giving her a hard time for staying in Scotland when he’d said he needed her to come back?

  Jules and Dan had cases to work. Bad guys to catch—not just the open and shut they’d been on when she’d had to take off for Scotland. They might not always get along, but they usually held it together enough to work together.

  That mattered more than the guy she’d fallen for didn’t it?

  Four hundred years in the past.

  Her life would be drastically different if she stayed.

  No more being a detective.

  She loved her job. Always had.

  Did she love Hugh more?

  Yes.

  Jules closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. Her everything hurt.

  “It won’t be today, anyway. Alana will be busy if the baby comes, and Angus will have to help open the rift in time. Human blood is necessary, evidently. Full-blooded Fae ca
n’t do it.”

  Great. Let the torture continue.

  “That’s fine,” Jules croaked. “It’ll let me spend more time with you and Lachlan. Say a proper goodbye, even.” By the end of her statement, her voice had evened out. Someone who didn’t know her wouldn’t even know something was wrong.

  “If I get a vote, I want you to stay.” Claire’s low voice tugged at her, but the pain didn’t fade.

  “What if I don’t know whose vote should count more…yours or mine? What if the person I want most to vote already let me go? He cast…his vote.” Jules swallowed the tears that threatened and cursed when Claire’s gaze offered concern…and love.

  She lost the battle. Her vision clouded and she had to look away from her younger sister. Again.

  Claire was up off her chair in two seconds, enfolding her in a warm embrace that just made Jules feel worse.

  “I love him,” she blurted.

  “I know.” Her sister’s answer was a whisper. No judgment.

  Jules crushed her eyes shut against Claire’s shoulder and squeezed her tight.

  “As much as my husband will cringe about it, I’m okay with it. He saved my baby. He can’t be that bad.”

  She pulled back and flashed a watery smile. “No, he’s not. He’s a good man. A good leader of his clan. He…cares about them.” I just wish he cared about me.

  “Surly like my big sister?” Claire grinned and wiped Jules’ tears away.

  “That’s why we worked,” she whispered. She forced air into her lungs.

  “Go get him.”

  Jules reared back. “What?”

  Claire’s green eyes bored into hers. “You’re gonna have to go back to Armadale and get him, big sis.”

  She shook her head. “I-I-I—”

  “Did you tell him you love him?”

  “No.”

  “You said you wanted to go home from the start. He doesn’t know you want to stay.”

  “I don’t know if I want to stay.” Jules swallowed. But she did know. She just couldn’t say it. Not even to Claire.

  I can’t lose Hugh.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m gonna be selfish here. I’ll beg you to stay. I don’t want to lose you, Jules. I want you to stay. I want my kids to know you. I want to see you regularly. I need my older sister. I won’t lie. Life’s hard. You go to bed at night sore from working your ass off all day, and you wake up early to do it all over again. There’s nothing fun like TV and movies, but there are books. Some interesting ones, too. There’s not much time to be bored, anyway. And when you have a big, strong, hot husband, the nights are better than any movie, anyway.” Her sister grinned.

  Jules couldn’t help but smile. “It’s different for me and Hugh than it was for you and Duncan.”

  “How?”

  “Duncan loves you.”

  “Hugh loves you.” Claire’s retort had her stomach flipping, but Jules shook her head.

  “Not that he said. He’s still got a thing for his dead wife.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She arched a brow at her sister’s hard tone and shook her head. “This is crazy.”

  Claire laughed and Jules’ eyes snapped to her face. “Something funny?”

  “Nah. I just thought you’d be beyond the ‘this is crazy’ stage. You’ve been here for a while.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve gone nuts then. I went back in time to find my sister, and ended up kidnapped. Then I fell in love with my kidnapper. I need a gold medal for Stockholm Syndrome, or just a good shrink. Especially since I’m contemplating staying here.”

  “You are? Yay!” Claire clapped.

  Jules mock-glared. “You do realize you’re not helping.”

  Her sister beamed. “Yup.”

  “Just leave off, okay, little sister? I don’t want to talk about this.”

  Smile fading, Claire cocked her head to one side. “Not talking about it doesn’t change a damn thing.”

  “No, but it’ll make me feel better.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No it won’t.”

  “I really don’t like you sometimes.”

  “Comes with the territory. Sisters and all that.”

  Jules smirked, she couldn’t help herself.

  A baby’s cry sliced through the air. Lachlan was sitting in the small cradle, his little hand clutching the side as he hollered, tears streaming down his chubby little cheeks.

  Saved by the kiddo.

  Claire waggled her finger in Jules’ face as she pulled away. “We’re not done with this.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hugh cringed as his aunt’s words refused to stop haunting him. He wanted to stab something.

  He growled and nudged Dubh into a canter. His stallion obliged and he leaned down, tempted to close his eyes as chilly air kissed his face.

  The wind kicked up her scent that must still be clinging to him, his clothing, and even his damn horse.

  At another time, if loss wasn’t crushing him, he might’ve laughed that Juliette had the guts to steal his stallion right out of MacDonald stables when she’d run away. She wasn’t a fool. His lass would’ve known he would come after her.

  And come after her he had. Then walked away. After Mab’s plea, Hugh had packed a bag and left again, without another word. Hadn’t been home since.

  Jesus. Has it already been three days?

  Hugh had taken Juliette on the beach—no. He’d made love for the first time in his life.

  But was it?

  Perhaps he’d made love every time he’d lain with Juliette. He’d never held a woman so tightly the whole time—let alone afterwards. Overnight. Keeping her in his bed had been right.

  Now she was gone.

  Would he know the moment she went forward in time?

  Would he be able to feel it somehow?

  Or had she already gone?

  Dubh slowed to a walk on his own, but Hugh didn’t correct his gait. Misery dominated his mind—and his wretched heart.

  He hadn’t loved sweet, reserved Brenna. As Mab had mentioned, Hugh hadn’t really had the chance. She’d been taken from him.

  Now the woman he wanted…the woman who’d stolen his heart…the woman he did love had taken herself from him.

  His gut roiled.

  A part of him wanted to rush Dunvegan’s walls, demand they release her. Then again, they weren’t holding Juliette against her will.

  She was where she wanted to be.

  The other half of him dreaded it was already too late. It had been three days, after all.

  His heart missed a beat and Hugh leaned back, crushing his eyes shut. He held Dubh’s reins so tight his knuckles throbbed, but his fingers wouldn’t loosen. He sucked in cold air—if he didn’t force a breath, his lungs were going to seize, refuse to expand.

  The rustling of fabric had his head whipping around. He stared down the beach, then watched the waves crash into the shore. Other than moving water, he saw nothing.

  Hugh glanced down, but the MacDonald tartan under his arse was flat to Dubh’s wide back where his body wasn’t covering it. The wind had died down, and his stallion was slowly walking over rocks and sand. No urgency from his mount.

  He froze and tugged Dubh to a stop. Narrowing his eyes, Hugh scanned the area before and behind him. The rustling sounded again, and he tilted his head to the side, trying to discern the direction.

  Hugh dismounted and drew his claymore.

  Something’s wrong.

  He saw the billowy skirts of the lass running before his eyes took the time to study her frame.

  Long dark hair flowed around her form as she ran toward him. She held the fabric high, her ankles and bare feet showing as she ate up the distance between them.

  The Irish lass.

  Bairn thief.

  He tensed and darted away from Dubh. His stallion tossed his head and snorted as if he sensed tension, but he didn’t wander as he shifted from hoof to hoof. Dubh was a
s restless he had been the first time they’d run into the halfling. Perhaps his mount was sensing magic.

  The lass saw him and started chanting something in Gaelic, but he couldn’t make out more than inflection. Her words went up and down in a cadence he’d never heard the likes of before.

  Pain barreled into his stomach and raced up and down his limbs. Hugh cursed and dropped his claymore to the sand as his grip refused to hold. His fingers burned as if buried in fire and his joints jerked of their own accord.

  “Nay!” The shout was ripped from his lips and he fought the pain, moving to the lass instead of away. Every muscle seared as if the fire crept over his body, slowly consuming him from the inside out. Sweat was born on his brow and rolled down his temples onto his cheeks. It stung his eyes and made his lips itch, but he couldn’t raise his hands to wipe his face.

  Still she ran at him, but Hugh struggled against the agony. He threw his head back and roared. He panted, chest stabbing at him as he tried to breathe normally.

  When their eyes met, an evil smile spread over her full mouth. She slowed. Now the lass was only a few feet from him.

  Hugh fought the buckle of his knees, straightening his legs, arms, and back with all his might. He hollered again, hoping to God someone heard him.

  Dubh screamed but Hugh couldn’t turn to see if the lass was harming his beloved horse.

  “Fall, big man,” she commanded. The Fae halfling spread her palms wide, fingers open, and motioned downward.

  Hugh’s legs refused his order to hold him upright. He gave a final roar as he hit the sand against his will. White-hot pain flared into his knees and thighs.

  She laughed, flashing a maniacal grin. The lass increased her chants and started circling his body.

  True fear gripped his gut with both hands as pain crippled him. Hugh doubled over.

  I am going to die.

  Juliette’s face flashed through his mind and he was glad she was already gone. So she wouldn’t—couldn’t—see this.

  The world started spinning, then tilted on its axis when he toppled over.

  The lass flipped her palm, and Hugh’s body responded as if commanded, splaying him on his back. Pebbles bit at his shoulders and spine. He grunted, but he couldn’t move, not even his head. He could only look up at the sky. Twilight was just starting to descend, the moon barely visible.