by Bess McBride
“I’ve watched you work all summer, Ann,” she said, surprising me. “You’re depressed. You’re sad. And you seem very lonely. You kept to yourself, which isn’t the same Ann I’ve known over the years. Something happened to you in Scotland. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
She indicated a small patch of grass under the browning leaves of a tall oak tree. I followed her lead and sat down. And I told her everything. I let it all out, including some accompanying tears I had been holding back for weeks.
She listened to me without interruption. I didn’t think I would have let her interrupt, at any rate. I needed to talk to someone safe, a person whom I could trust with the truth. Dylan was unreachable, and I needed to tell someone how much I missed John, about the empty spot in my soul that would never be filled. To love and lose was one thing. I had lost my parents, and they were irreplaceable. But I could visit them at their graves.
I didn’t know where John’s grave was, or if he even had one.
When I had finished, I wiped my eyes and peered up at Dr. Crandall from under my lashes, afraid of the expression I might find on her face.
She crinkled her weathered green eyes, smiled with even, white teeth and asked me a question.
“Did you try to find the dagger again?”
“What?” I asked, taken aback.
“The dagger. You found it once. Did you go back and try to find it again?”
Of all the incredulous comments I thought Dr. Crandall might make, this was not one of them.
“Well, no! I must have dropped it when I traveled through time. It wasn’t lying on the beach where they found me.”
“What if John buried it again where he found you? That’s what I would have done.”
A cold feeling came over me, and I struggled for air.
“Bury it? Are you saying that you think John would have buried it so I could find it and go back?”
“Like I said, that’s what I would have done. But then I’m an archaeologist. I dig things up.”
I rose slowly to my feet, though my mind raced. I hadn’t even tried to find the dagger. I hadn’t even tried!
“Oh, Dr. Crandall! What have I done?”
She stood with me.
“Nothing that can’t be undone, I suspect. Can I assume you’re off to Scotland and won’t be taking the teaching assistant position?”
I leaned in and kissed her, deliriously hopeful and happy.
“Yes and no! Not if I’m lucky! Thank you, thank you, Dr. Crandall!”
“Call a taxi! We need the van to get back.”
I turned and fled for my tent, stopping only to call for a taxi before stuffing my gear into my bag and running out to the road to wait for my ride. While I waited, I made airline reservations to the small airport at Stornaway, no small feat on my phone.
I had the taxi wait while I ran into my apartment to grab the shift and my passport. I looked around and could think of nothing that would be helpful if I could find the dagger and travel back in time.
I jumped back into the taxi and directed the driver to the airport. I e-mailed Dr. Crandall instructions to find the spare key to my apartment and what to do with my stuff if I didn’t return. She was the only one, besides Dylan, who would understand my possible, hopeful disappearance. I e-mailed Dylan as well, providing him with Dr. Crandall’s information.
Several hours later, I boarded a flight to London, connecting to Glasgow and then Stornaway. I tried to slow the pace of my heart, the fast-paced thudding, just to try to extend my life, but I couldn’t. Excitement gripped me, and I slept not at all.
Chapter Nineteen
I rented a small car at the Stornaway airport, in the absence of any available Land Rovers, and I drove the three hours to Dun Eistean. The car park was empty when I arrived, which suited me just fine. I certainly didn’t want anyone asking why I was digging around when there was no archaeological team on site.
On shaking legs, I crossed the footbridge. The tide was in, and waves swept through the ravine. Once on the island, I hurried over to the remains of the keep. I raced back and forth along the base of the tower, trying to remember where I’d been digging.
It was then that I realized I hadn’t even brought a trowel with me. With a few choice words at my stupidity, I dropped to my knees and started digging with my bare hands. I imagined the rental car probably had a tire iron for the spare tire, but I didn’t want to waste the time to run back to the car, nor did I think digging with an iron poker in a delicate archaeological site was a good idea.
As I worked, I listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below, the screeches of the seagulls, the wind as it blew over the tidal stack. I smelled the salt in the air, the ancient dirt beneath my fingers.
Given the absence of tools, the digging went painfully slow, as the dirt around the base of the keep was mixed with the clay that had been used to shore up the stone walls.
“John?” I called out. “I know you probably can’t hear me, but I’m digging my way to you. Is there any chance you buried the dagger again?”
I didn’t get a response.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before, John. And I’m sorry I waited so long. Please tell me you left the dagger for me. Please tell me you did.”
One of my knuckles struck a stone, and I winced. Then I hit another rock. I rubbed the dirt from my hands and looked at them. Blood oozed from several places where I’d scraped the skin off.
I sat back in frustration and pain to survey the base of the keep. I simply wasn’t going to be able to dig for long with my bare hands. I should have brought gloves with me but hadn’t even stopped at my apartment long enough to pack warm-weather clothing. All I had was the clothing I’d worn in hot and humid summer Virginia.
Tire iron it was! I ran back across the tabletop, across the footbridge and to the car. I fumbled and fiddled until I managed to get into the trunk. Pulling up a cover, I discovered the tire iron, and I lugged the heavy thing back to the tower.
With an apology to all the archaeologists who had come before me or would follow, I started digging with the tire iron. Stiff dirt mixed with clay gave way easily, and I inched my way along the base, hoping and praying that a medieval dagger was about to present itself.
An hour passed, then another. I ignored the tears slipping down my cheeks. They were nothing but an inconvenience and no doubt caused by the wind and the pain in my knuckles and knees.
I had brought no water with me, and I licked my dry lips. My stomach rumbled, and my head hurt. I was jet lagged and a little loopy.
“Come on, John! Please tell me you buried the dagger for me to find.”
I dropped the iron and sat back again. What if someone had found it before they left the dig six weeks prior? How would I know? I hadn’t heard from Dylan. Would he even know? Yes, of course he would.
What if John hadn’t buried the dagger? What if this had been nothing but a wild-goose chase? I wanted to continue to ignore the tears, but they blinded me for the moment.
Rain began to fall, stinging my face as the wind whipped it around. I looked up to see storm clouds rolling in, swirling around the tidal stack. What was I going to do? Dig through what was rapidly turning into a torrential downpour?
I wasn’t done. I wasn’t giving up! I supposed I could go huddle in my rental car until the rain passed. If the rain passed. Dark clouds filled the sky, and it looked as if the storm was here to stay.
A flash of lightning startled me. I hadn’t heard thunder to announce it. I jumped to my feet, never a fan of lightning.
As I turned away from the keep to run for my car, another burst of lightning cracked almost overhead, and I tripped over the mound of dirt, turf and rocks that I’d dislodged. As I fell on my stomach, a glint of dull metal caught my eye. There, not a foot from my face, laid John’s dagger, nestled in between two stones in the wall.
I reached for it and then pulled my hand back.
Was I sure? Was I absolut
ely certain that I wanted to go back in time? Perhaps never to return again?
Another flash of lightning reflected on the metal. What was I thinking? Was there ever a question?
John had buried the dagger for me. He had wanted me to come back.
I grabbed the hilt of the dagger. The metal flared but didn’t burn. Lightning flashed again, and the world spun out of control as I lost consciousness.
****
“Lass,” a husky-timbered voice whispered near my ear. No longer cold, I felt myself cradled in a warm embrace. The storm was gone, and the sky appeared to be blue when I opened my eyes. I looked up into John’s face and smiled.
“John,” I whispered.
His arms shook as he held me, and I noted a dark intensity in his blue eyes. A tear slipped from the corner of one of his eyes, coursing down his cheek.
“Och, my love, I thought never to see ye again. When I awakened to find ye gone—” He stopped and shook his head. “They told me ye had simply vanished. I did no ken for over a day that my dagger had been lost.”
I watched speechlessly as he reached to take the once again gleaming dagger from my hand.
“Lost?” I murmured. Then he hadn’t buried it for me to find?
I tried to sit upright, but John’s muscular grip prevented me from doing anything but lying in his arms. We sat near the front of the doorway of the keep, in the same spot where he had first found me.
Where he had first found me, I repeated silently.
John nodded. “Aye, lost. But Andrew brought the dagger to me, and the pain in my heart lessened. For I had hope, ye ken, hope that ye would one day return to me. Andrew told me he had picked it up on the rocks where ye must have dropped it when ye disappeared.”
“Did you bury it for me to find?”
Another tear slipped down the side of his cheek, and he brushed at it impatiently and cleared his throat.
“Aye. I tried to rebury it in the same place where I found ye afore. I wasted no time and buried it the day after ye disappeared, when Andrew brought it to me. When ye did no come back, I thought ye had heeded my instructions to return to yer home, to yer time. And I cursed myself...cursed myself every day for sending ye away without telling ye how much ye meant to me, how much I loved ye, lass.”
John pulled me to his chest and buried his face in my neck.
“I love ye. I love ye, Ann,” he whispered near my ear. “I have no words to tell ye how happy I am that ye have returned to me.”
I dropped the dagger and wrapped my arms around the shaking Highlander. He lifted his head and kissed me deeply and resoundingly.
Over his shoulder, I heard shouts, and we turned to see Mary and the children running toward us, Mistress Glick, Andrew and Torq following.
“Ann!” Mary called out.
“We must continue this another time,” John said with a grin. He lifted me to my feet, looking down at my jeans and long-sleeved blue cotton button-down shirt.
“I see we must find ye some new clothing again, though I am loath to do so. I am developing an appreciation for yer style of garment.” He kept an arm around my waist as we turned to face the group moving toward us.
I laughed and accepted the length of plaid that Mary whipped from her shoulders to throw over mine.
“Ye look fair chilled,” she said with a knowing lift of an eyebrow. “I am so pleased to see ye returned from yer journey to England.”
The look that passed between her and John indicated that he must have told her about me.
“Aye, lass, welcome back,” Mistress Glick said.
I looked up at John, and he nodded.
“Only this circle of people ken where ye come from, Ann. I could no manage the secret, no with yer very public disappearance.” He bent to kiss the top of my head as I stared at what seemed to be hundreds of pairs of curious eyes but were only six people.
“Even the children?” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
“Aye, the children saw ye vanish. John had to tell them something. We chose the truth,” Mary said. Torq moved to stand beside her, and I noticed a ring on her finger.
“Did you get married?” I squeaked. “Congratulations!”
“Thank ye,” Torq said.
“Just last week,” Mary said with bright-red cheeks. “And when can we expect an announcement from the both of ye?”
“What?” I stammered.
“I have no yet asked the lady, Sister!” John said in an exasperated voice. “Ann has just returned. Give us a moment to catch our breath.”
“Aye, the lad is right. We can no rush things. The lass looks as if she could use some food and drink. I will bring ye some.” Mistress Glick nodded with a bright smile and pulled Andrew away.
“Thank you, Mistress Glick,” I said, still stunned that so many people readily accepted that I was a time traveler, especially sixteenth-century Scottish Highlanders.
“As ye wish. I dinna want to be the last to ken, Brother. Welcome back, Ann.” Mary smiled, and she, Torq and the children turned away.
I looked up at John, suddenly shy and highly curious.
“They seem so calm about me,” I said inarticulately.
“They have kent ye traveled from the future for a long time. They have grown used to the idea, and mourned with me that ye did no, or could no, return.”
John dropped his hand from my waist and turned away to look out to sea for a moment. I saw the muscles in his jaw working, as if he struggled with some strong emotion.
“John? What is it? What’s wrong?”
He turned to me and laced his hands behind his back.
“Why did ye no come sooner, Ann? Did ye struggle with the notion of returning? To me? To the past? Have ye come back to stay, or will ye leave again? I can no promise ye that clan feuding will cease, but I can promise ye that I will protect ye. Angus Macleod will no take ye again. Can ye live with that? Can ye trust me to protect ye?”
He pressed his lips together, seemingly to stem the flow of questions. It seemed as if he had a lot of those. I hadn’t realized John was in doubt of my love for him. Though I’d told him over and over silently, I’d never said the words aloud.
I moved close to him and put my hands on his chest.
“I love you, John Morrison, and I have from the first moment I met you. I didn’t come back sooner because, for the better part of six weeks, it didn’t occur to me that you would rebury the dagger. I thought the dagger was lost too.” I swallowed hard. “I know clan feuding will continue, but I also know that you will live to have five children, hopefully by me, so I don’t think Angus Macleod will take me again. I can live with that, and I trust you with my life.”
At my first words, John put his hands on my shoulders. Now he bent to me and pressed his forehead against mine.
“And I love ye too, Ann Borodell. Are ye here to stay? Will ye marry me?”
“I’m here to stay, and I will marry you, John Morrison. Yes, please.”
The stones of the Highlander’s Stronghold towered over us as John folded me into an embrace that promised warmth, passion, respect and undying love. And that was enough for me.
Books by Bess McBride
Time Travel Romance
My Laird’s Castle
(Book One of the My Laird’s Castle series)
My Laird’s Love
(Book Two of the My Laird’s Castle series)
My Laird’s Heart
(Book Three of the My Laird’s Castle series)
Caving in to You
(Book One of the Love in the Old West series)
A Home in Your Heart
(Book Two of the Love in the Old West series)
Forever Beside You in Time
Moonlight Wishes in Time
(Book One of the Moonlight Wishes in Time series)
Under an English Moon
(Book Two of the Moonlight Wishes in Time series)
Following You Through Time
(Book Three of the Moonlight Wish
es in Time series)
A Train Through Time
(Book One of the Train Through Time series)
Together Forever in Time
(Book Two of the Train Through Time series)
A Smile in Time
(Book Three of the Train Through Time series)
Finding You in Time
(Book Four of the Train Through Time series)
A Fall in Time
(Book Five of the Train Through Time series)
Train Through Time Series Boxed Set
(Books 1–3)
Across the Winds of Time
A Wedding Across the Winds of Time
(Novella)
Love of My Heart
Historical Romance
Anna and the Conductor
The Earl’s Beloved Match
(Novella)
Short cozy mystery stories by Minnie Crockwell
Will Travel for Trouble series
Trouble at Happy Trails (Book 1)
Trouble at Sunny Lake (Book 2)
Trouble at Glacier (Book 3)
Will Travel for Trouble Boxed Set (Books 1–3)
Trouble at Hungry Horse (Book 4)
Trouble at Snake and Clearwater (Book 5)
Trouble in Florence (Book 6)
Will Travel for Trouble Boxed Set (Books 4–6)
Trouble in Tombstone Town (Book 7)
Trouble in Cochise Stronghold (Book 8)
Trouble in Orange Beach (Book 9)
Will Travel for Trouble Boxed Set (Books 7–9)
Trouble at Pelican Penthouse (Book 10)
About the Author
Bess McBride is the best-selling author of over twenty time travel romances as well as contemporary, historical, romantic suspense and light paranormal romances. She loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.bessmcbride.com, as well as connect with her on Facebook and Twitter. She also writes short cozy mysteries as Minnie Crockwell, and you can find her website at [email protected].
