Robbie chuckled. “I don’t think he cares for that name. And he’s not white, he’s coal black.”
“But that’s only his baby fur,” she said, tucking him safely inside her shawl, then taking Robbie’s hand as he helped her down a steep incline. “There’s Father Daar.”
Robbie looked where she was pointing and saw the old priest striding toward them, his weathered staff looking more frail than he did.
“God’s teeth, I’ve been worried,” Daar said, stopping and glaring at Catherine. “Ya should have left her there!” he snapped. “She nearly got us all killed.”
“Be thankful she was with me, priest,” Robbie said softly. “Or you wouldn’t be having a tree to grow.” He took the root from his belt and held it up. “I couldn’t have found this without Catherine’s help.”
“Now who’s telling wild tales?” she whispered out the side of her mouth. “You’re worse than Ian.”
Daar’s entire countenance changed, and his glare turned into a huge smile as he rushed up to Robbie and grabbed the root. “Ya got it!” he cried, examining the root. “Aye, it’s a strong piece,” he whispered, closing his fist around it as he looked at Robbie with shining eyes. “I knew ya could do it, MacBain. I knew it. God’s teeth, what’s that?” he shouted, stepping back and pointing at Cat’s chest. “Holy Mother, ya brought back a demon.”
“He’s just a kitten,” Cat said, lifting her shawl to cover Snowball’s spitting face.
Daar pointed at her but glared at Robbie. “Ya drown that accursed thing,” he hissed. “It’s a panther cub, and if ya found it in Scotland, it only means trouble.”
Catherine turned away, as if to protect her charge from the priest’s anger. “Nobody is drowning him! He’s a present for Winter.”
Daar suddenly gasped again. “What’s that on her hand? And yours!” he cried, looking at Robbie’s left hand. He lifted his startled gaze. “Ya’re married?” he whispered.
“N-Not really,” Catherine said, drawing his attention. “Not in this time, anyway.”
Daar raised one eyebrow. “Did ya stand in front of a priest?”
“Well, yes, we did, but I didn’t say…”
She snapped her mouth shut when Daar waggled his finger at her. “It don’t matter when ya got married, girl,” he said. “As long as ya both live, the vows are binding.”
“But I didn’t vow anything. I couldn’t even understand what the priest was saying.”
Daar shook his head, his glare turning to a look of sympathy as his gaze moved from Catherine to Robbie, then back to Catherine. Only Robbie didn’t know who the priest felt sorry for, him or his poor, protesting wife.
“Catherine,” Daar said, stepping toward her. “Ya stood before a priest and accepted Robbie MacBain’s ring. That’s all the vows ya have to take.”
Robbie took her hand and led her toward his horse. “You worry about growing your tree, old man, and I’ll worry about my wife.”
Daar fell into step behind them. “Did ya see Cùram? Did ya have to fight him for the root?”
Robbie stopped and glared at the old drùidh. “Our paths never crossed. But be mindful you plant that root where it will be safe. I had to destroy Cùram’s tree to get it, and once he discovers what’s happened, he’ll likely be looking for revenge.”
Daar gasped, stepping back and clutching the root to his chest, his eyes wide with horror. “Ya killed a tree of wisdom?”
Robbie gestured at Daar’s chest. “Not completely. There’s still the root.”
“But to destroy all those years of knowledge, MacBain. All that energy. The energy had to go somewhere. Where did it go?”
Robbie shrugged. “I have no idea, priest, and I don’t care. I did my duty to protect my family, and now you will do yours and reverse your original spell.”
“Aye, aye, I’ll start right now,” he said, nodding and stepping back, his eyes still wide with both awe and a good bit of fear. “And I’ll hide it well,” he added, turning and beating a hasty retreat down the mountain.
Robbie looked over at Catherine, only to find her staring up a him with her own look of horror. “What?” he asked.
“He…he couldn’t decide if all that energy went into you, or if it cursed you,” she whispered.
He leaned over, kissed her worried lips, and pulled back just enough for her to see his smile. “I can promise you I’m not cursed, wife,” he said, and kissed her again when she gasped.
He did a thorough job of it, too, and then took hold of her hand and led her over to their clothes. “If we hurry, you can still make it home before the school bus comes,” he said, stripping off his plaid and slipping into his modern clothes.
“Today’s Saturday,” she told him, rolling the kitten up in her shawl and setting him on the ground. “Everyone’s probably still sleeping,” she added, gesturing for Robbie to turn his back so she could change her own clothes with a bit more modesty. “And you said I can make it home in time. Aren’t you coming with me?”
Robbie finished tying his sword and MacKeage plaid to his saddle and reached down and plucked the kitten from Catherine’s shawl. “I have to go to Gu Bràth first,” he told her, mounting up and tucking the cub inside his own plaid. “And I’ll give Winter her new little friend, explain to Greylen where Ian has gone, and ask him to call a clan meeting for this evening.” He held out his hand to her, moving his foot from his stirrup so she could mount up behind him. “And I would like you to schedule your day so you can come with me this evening.”
“To your clan meeting? But why?”
He patted her hand around his waist and started his horse down the mountain. “Because you were there. You can help assure them that Ian is happy.”
“But they’ll believe you. I don’t want to go.”
“But I want you to,” he said, stopping when he came to her horse. He reached around, lifted her off his saddle, and plunked her down on her own. He untied her horse’s halter and handed her the rope. “You needn’t bother with the bridle. Hell,” he said with a chuckle. “You could sleep for the ride home if you want. Sprocket’s only concern this morning is a bucket of grain and a nap in his stall.”
Catherine nudged Sprocket forward and started down the mountain. Robbie followed, wondering how to bring up his next concern. It wasn’t fair to ask anything else of his poor wife right now, considering all she’d been through, but dammit, until this one final matter was resolved, she would never be able to accept their marriage.
“I’ve been thinking, Catherine, that it’s probably time you invite Daniels to come visit his children.”
“What?” she cried, turning in her saddle to look at him. “Invite Ron to—are you crazy?”
He shook his head. “You and Nathan and Nora need to face your demon,” he softly told her. “Because until you do, the three of you will never be free.”
“So, you’re suggesting I just call Ron up and invite him to come see us.”
“Aye. Think about it, Catherine,” he said, moving his horse beside hers when the path widened. “To you and your children, Daniels is still the terrifying monster he was three years ago. But all of you have grown quite a bit in those three years, and maybe now you can see him for the pathetic creature he is.”
“There is nothing pathetic about Ron. He is a monster. And you want me to expose my children to him? My God, I nearly got killed trying to get us away from him.”
“That won’t happen again,” Robbie softly promised. “Because instead of having two well-meaning friends watching your back, this time you have me.”
“No.”
“And you have the boys.” He leaned over and touched her shoulder. “I’m just asking you to think about it, Cat. For your children as much as for yourself. Let Nathan and Nora see their father again and finally realize they have nothing to fear from him. Give them the gift of courage, Catherine.”
“You make it sound as if it’s all in my head.”
“Nay. Only a fool would be unafraid o
f something or someone trying to destroy them. But Catherine,” he whispered, grabbing Sprocket’s rope and stopping them both. “You have five guardian angels this time. Face your demon with us standing behind you, and show Daniels that he no longer holds any power over you or Nathan and Nora.” He reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “Your children can’t be free until they do. And neither can you.”
“I—I’ll think about it,” she whispered, urging Sprocket along the path ahead of him.
Robbie looked down and scratched his passenger’s chin. “What do you think, my little friend? Did I just blow it?”
The cub clamped his sharp little teeth over Robbie’s thumb and growled.
“Aye,” he whispered. “She’s mine.”
The first thing Catherine did when she got home was run into the living room and hug and kiss her children. And then she hugged and kissed them some more, until Nathan finally wiggled free, told her he was too big for that kind of stuff, and went back to watching cartoons. Nora just wrinkled her nose at Catherine and told her she smelled funny.
Neither child mentioned missing her last evening or this morning, apparently quite content to have the boys babysit them. Nora did mention that she ate too much ice cream but that Gunter had stopped the truck on the side of the road so she could throw up, that Rick had held her shoulders, and that Cody had washed her face with water from a brook. Nathan piped up, apparently listening to them as much as the cartoons, and said it had been ditch water, not brook water.
Gunter came tiptoeing downstairs just then, stopped on the bottom step, and smiled at Catherine. “Did you have a good vacation?” he asked. “What book did you read?”
“A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court,” she said, standing up and heading into the kitchen. “You should read it sometime,” she continued over her shoulder as he followed her. “It’s quite an adventure.”
“Why don’t you go take a shower?” he suggested, waving her away from the coffee maker. “I’ll cook breakfast this morning.”
Catherine headed to her bedroom but stopped at the door and looked back at him. “Be careful, Gunter,” she whispered. “You just might turn into one of the good guys.”
“Where’s the boss man this morning?”
“He’ll be along shortly. He had to go to Gu Bràth first.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Catherine wanted to smack herself. Gunter’s dark eyes suddenly lit with the knowledge that he’d been right yesterday afternoon.
Catherine sighed and walked into her bedroom, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing over. She stripped off her dirty clothes, which were still damp from having spent the night lying on the summit of TarStone, and turned on the shower, stepped under the hot spray, and moaned at the joy of hot indoor plumbing.
She thought about her fantastical journey and how impossible it was. She lifted her left hand, blinked through the spray of water at her wedding ring, rubbed her finger with soap, and tried to take it off.
It still wouldn’t budge.
She’d been gone for less than sixteen hours but had spent three days in thirteenth-century Scotland. She’d eaten some indescribable food, been nearly stolen five times, and caught in the middle of a war. She’d stood before a priest and gotten herself married to Robbie, she’d watched her new husband start fires at will, and her right thumb still had teeth marks from a panther cub bite.
So, if it hadn’t been a dream, what had it been?
Magic, Robbie had told her.
Okay, maybe it was magic, but what did that really mean?
It meant that Robbie could not only kiss her socks off, but he really could talk to owls, travel through time whenever he wanted, and start fires without matches. It meant…it meant that she was in really big trouble.
She was in love with Robbie MacBain, either despite the magic or because of it, and how it had happened or why it had happened didn’t matter—it was as real as the ring on her finger.
But face Ron Daniels? Now, that was a nightmare. Why would Robbie think she’d want to ruin the peace she’d found here with him by leading her ex-husband straight to them?
Because as long as she feared Ron Daniels, she could never be Robbie MacBain’s wife.
Darn it, she hated it when guardian angels were right.
Gu Bràth really was a castle, though only the outside bore any resemblance to the MacKeage keep from eight hundred years ago. Inside, the craftsmanship and attention to detail not only were stunning and opulent but somehow still managed to be cozy. And this modern version had indoor plumbing, bulbs blazing in every nook and cranny, and central heating.
Catherine sat in the corner of the huge dinning room, her hands clasped on her lap, feeling like an interloper among the four Scotsmen, their wives, and Winter MacKeage sitting at the table—that is, until Robbie pulled her to stand beside him at the head of the table and introduced her as Catherine MacBain.
Greylen MacKeage, the rather imposing man sitting at the foot of the table, was the only one who stood up and welcomed her to the family.
Everyone else just gaped in shock.
Michael MacBain slowly stood and stared at his son.
“Catherine came with me when I took Ian home,” Robbie told him, wrapping his arm around her trembling shoulders. “And now she knows everything.”
Michael moved his gaze to Catherine, still not saying anything, still not smiling or frowning or showing any emotion that she could see.
“And she accepts it. And me,” Robbie added, squeezing her shoulders, apparently expecting her to dispute his bold claim.
But Catherine couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. Not with Robbie’s father staring at her.
He was Angus MacBain’s son? There wasn’t an ounce of resemblance between them. Angus hadn’t been over five-foot-eight, compared with Michael’s six-foot-three or -four frame. And the old warrior’s eyes had been hazel green, not gray like Michael’s. And Angus’s hair had been bright red, not deep auburn. Heck, they even carried themselves differently. Michael had a quiet but lethal awareness about him—just like his son.
And just like Greylen MacKeage, come to think of it.
“It’s done, Papa,” Robbie whispered, drawing his father’s attention.
Michael finally spoke, but he spoke in Gaelic.
Catherine stiffened, but Robbie only squeezed her shoulders again and answered his father in English.
“Daniels will be dealt with,” he said. “When my wife is ready to do it herself.”
His wife wanted to crawl into a crack. Why was he bringing up her ex-husband in front of all these people?
Libby MacBain stood up, gave her husband a pointed glare, walked to the head of the table, and pulled Catherine out of Robbie’s embrace and into her own arms. “Welcome to the family, daughter,” she whispered. “Michael and I are both overjoyed that Robbie has found such a special woman to love.”
Catherine was suddenly pulled from Libby’s arms and all but smothered in a fierce but surprisingly gentle embrace. “Aye, my son chose well,” Michael told her, kissing the top of her head. “I’m thinking you’ll be able to handle him. I welcome ya to my family, Catherine.”
And with that resounding endorsement, Catherine found herself being passed from hug to hug, getting well-wishes and welcomes from Morgan and Sadie MacKeage, Callum and Charlotte MacKeage, Greylen and Grace, and finally Winter, who seemed to be the only one of Robbie’s cousins at the meeting.
“Robbie told me you suggested I call him Snowball,” Winter said, peeling back the front of her vest to expose her passenger. “But he doesn’t seem to like it. I’m going to get to know him better before I name him. Thank you for bringing him to me.”
Catherine scratched the cub under his chin. “It was just a thought, because he came from Snow Mountain.”
“Aye,” Winter said as she tucked him away, her eyes suddenly turning sad. “I wish I could have gone with you.” She looked up at Robbie with accusing, tear-filled
eyes. “Or at least known, so I could have said good-bye to Ian.”
“But Ian did say good-bye,” Robbie told her as he turned to face the others. “He visited with all of you this past week, did he not? But he couldn’t say anything because I swore him to silence.”
“But why?” Callum asked.
That was when the conversation moved from Catherine to Ian and then on to Daar. Relieved, Catherine returned to her chair in the corner and listened while Robbie explained why he had traveled back in time and why he hadn’t told them he was doing so and why it was important for the old priest to have his powers restored.
But it was when she heard Robbie promise that as long as he lived they would all be safe from the magic, no matter how strong the drùidh became, that Catherine finally realized what she’d gotten herself into.
She truly had fallen in love—not with a guardian angel but with a true Guardian ordained by providence. And from what she was hearing, she was going to be so busy watching his back she wouldn’t have time to worry about looking over her own shoulder.
Yes, it was time to face Ron Daniels.
Chapter Twenty-three
The only problem with inviting Ron to come for a visit was that nobody knew where he was. Catherine had called the parole officer assigned to him, several of his old acquaintances, and even his old precinct sergeant, only to run into dead ends.
She had finally told Robbie about her decision but that she couldn’t find Ron, and after he’d kissed her until her toes had curled, he explained that he had his own connections and quickly put out the word that Daniels’s ex-wife wanted to see him.
That had been four weeks ago, and there was still no ex-husband darkening her doorstep.
As for being Catherine MacBain, Catherine had told Robbie she couldn’t just say they were married and expect Nathan and Nora to understand. So she’d spent the last four weeks sleeping in her bedroom downstairs and planning a wedding where she would not only know what she was vowing but would get to say “I do” sometime during the ceremony.
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