Gareth

by Diane Darcy

  Ian was nodding. “I completely agree.”

  It felt good to have someone else, someone with an objective eye, talk of the fiasco aloud. Understand where their resentments lay.

  Ian shook his own head, disgust apparent on his face. “And the mismanagement of the battle, well they’d had months to determine where it should take place to have the tactical advantage. It’s shameful Charles Stuart would hobble his men in such a fashion and give them the disadvantage and bottleneck them during the battle. To place ye all before a bog, to block ye with a wall,” he shook his head again. “’Twas truly reprehensible.”

  “Yes!” Gareth exploded. “’Twas dishonorable and vile. We’d followed the man, believed in him, obeyed and marched at his whim. We were cold and starved by the aborted effort the night before. If ye’d have been there, waitin’ for the prince, awaitin’ the order to fight that never came—the sense of betrayal was overwhelmin’.” Gareth stared at naught, remembering. “I had my two brothers with me. I’d talked them into supportin’ the cause. Then when no orders were given. It was chaos…” Gareth shook his head to try and clear it.

  Ian exhaled sharply. “That’s rough. Much harder than losin’ yer own life, I imagine.”

  Lissa held out her hand and Gareth moved to take it, to sink beside her onto the couch once more. Clutching her hand he lay back and looked up at the ceiling. He swallowed. “In the final moments, somehow we broke through the line. We still thought we had a chance. My brothers, though behind me, died first. My mind was gone as I killed as many as possible, but they were too many. They reloaded more quickly than ye can imagine…”

  He reached for the pewter cross about his neck—then remembered it had fallen off in battle.

  Ian was silent a moment. “So ye have to go back, d’ye?”

  “Aye. To have my shot.” Gareth straightened so he could see Ian’s face. “The witch, Soni, has promised me a chance to face Charles Stuart and hopefully get a bit of revenge.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m not convinced she’ll be able to keep her promise. I’m hopeful, of course, but not convinced. Mayhap she’ll not be willin’ to help after I disobeyed her wishes.”

  “Ye said she was young.”

  “She’s but sixteen.”

  “She’ll have a soft heart. She’ll understand and forgive.”

  “As my family died off, can ye tell me how ye believe we’re related. By clan or by blood?”

  “Both. Ye came through Laird Brecken, my cousin and the man who became Laird after me.”

  A beautiful, red-haired woman entered the room and smiled warmly. “Hello, everyone. Sorry I couldn’t meet you when you arrived.” Her accent was American. “I was putting the baby down for a nap.”

  “My wife, Samantha.” Pride glowed in Ian’s green eyes as he held out a hand to the jeans-clad woman who moved forward to sink against his side, their bodies pressed together as Ian wrapped one arm about her and pulled her close. “And this is Lissa Stuart and Gareth MacGregor.”

  Samantha grinned at Gareth. “Which, of course, means you’re under my husband’s protection for as long as he can keep you there. He still thinks he’s Laird.”

  Ian jostled his wife and grinned. “Old habits….”

  She rubbed a hand along his black-stubbled jaw. “Very old habits.”

  They were still grinning at each other when Gareth asked, “Ye’ve a child?”

  “Aye.” Ian nodded, pride fierce and shining in his gaze. “Would ye care to see him?”

  All sorts of feelings welled up inside Gareth—joy, envy, relief. If Ian McGregor truly was related to him, a child meant some of their line, some of their blood, yet lived and would live on. Mayhap Gareth could move on more easily with that knowledge.

  His chest tightened as he squeezed Lissa’s hand. He turned away as tears moistened his eyes and he nodded. He cleared his throat twice.

  “I would. I surely would.”

  ~~~

  Lissa’s fingers ached as she clenched and unclenched her hand, but she’d have died before saying a word about it. Gareth needed her, and she’d been glad to hold his hand through all the revelations.

  She followed behind as they all walked up the staircase. She hadn’t understood everything they’d said as they’d switched between Gaelic and English, but she’d understood the gist of the conversation. Her stomach seemed to roil with anxiety. It had been a lot to take in.

  Two warriors discussing a battle one of them had been in.

  Medieval and modern decor carried on to the upstairs, with stone accent walls, more sconces lit with electricity and antique furniture. As a researcher, she couldn’t help but wonder how much was authentic to the medieval period and what was replicated. But authentic or not, it all looked beautiful.

  Samantha led them into a lovingly decorated nursery and stood before a crib. She smiled down at the sleeping baby, pride in her expression as she glanced at them. “He sleeps like the dead this time of day, so you don’t need to worry about waking him.” She gestured them forward as she moved into her husband’s arms.

  Lissa couldn’t resist and peeked into the crib, her fingers gripping the rail tightly. The baby was sound asleep on his back, arms spread, tiny fists slightly relaxed. He had his father’s dark hair, and his lips suckled occasionally. He was darling. Lissa smiled at Samantha. “Oh, he’s adorable. How old?”

  “Just over six months.”

  When Gareth looked down at the sleeping baby, his face filled with such emotion Lissa glanced away to give him some privacy.

  “Look at that chin juttin’ out. He’s a MacGregor, for sure.” Gareth’s voice was low and rough, and he cleared his throat. “What have ye named him?”

  “He’s named Michael for my grandfather,” Samantha said.

  Lissa rubbed Gareth’s back, then moved away. She was breathing too fast. She just wasn’t sure what to think. If she could accept Gareth had been a ghost, why couldn’t these two be time travelers as well? Perhaps next she might walk outside and greet an alien or two.

  Samantha crossed the room. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

  Lissa nodded. “Ever since I met Gareth, it’s been a lot to take in. And now this,” She gestured toward the other woman’s husband. “It just keeps getting crazier.”

  Samantha laughed. “Welcome to my life.”

  Lissa rubbed her temples with both hands. “Say I suspend disbelief. I mean, I’ve already pretty much done that, anyway. How is any of this possible? You time-traveled to medieval Scotland and brought your husband back with you? Did I misunderstand?”

  “No, that’s it in a nutshell. You can drive yourself crazy trying to find answers, but I’ve found it’s just better to go with it.” Lissa followed Samantha’s gaze to where her husband, hand on Gareth’s shoulder as they both looked at the baby, quietly spoke Gaelic again, discussing whatever it was ancient warriors discussed. “You never know how much time you have.” She glanced at Lissa again. “So live life, be wild, laugh, touch, kiss. Take whatever crumbs life sees fit to bestow. That’s the way we see it, anyway.”

  “That’s good advice.”

  When the baby squeaked, Samantha led them all out of the room and quietly shut the door before leading them downstairs again. Just as they reach the bottom of the stairs. The doorbell rang.

  Samantha glanced back at her husband. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “Nae, I’m not.” He strode past them to answer the door while they waited behind him in the foyer.

  “Is there a Lissa Stuart here?”

  Lissa’s mouth fell open as she hurried to the door to see Mason Baldwin, tall, dark, and too handsome for words standing there. Talk about aliens roaming around outside. “Mason, what are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

  He smiled, and it truly was a gorgeous smile. Based on looks and ambition, Mason truly might be a leading man one day. Just not hers. “It wasn’t hard. Your iPhone led me right to you.”

  She
threw her hands up in the air and made a sound of disgust.

  She should have bought an Android.

  ~~~

  Gareth’s gray eyes widened as a big, muscular man gathered Lissa up in his arms, his biceps bulging.

  He crossed to the couple, pulled Lissa away, and easily shoved and tripped the man to the ground where he stared up at Gareth, mouth gaping like a fish.

  He pushed Lissa behind him and waited for the other man to get up and fight…and then he waited some more. “Are ye to lay there all day, then?”

  “Why did you do that?” The man’s expression remained stunned and he actually looked hurt, as if Gareth had wounded his feelings.

  Gareth made a sound of disgust before turning to Lissa. “Who is this man?”

  The other man finally found his voice as he sputtered. “Who am I? Who are you?”

  Gareth ignored the man. “Lissa?”

  “Oh. He’s…um…he’s someone I work with. He’s an actor. Mason Baldwin. Why did you push him down?”

  “I dinnae care for the man. He’s forward and discourteous. And he’s followin’ ye about without yer permission.” He shot the man another glare, daring him to get up. Ian had weapons on his walls and Gareth considered them. A sword through the belly might have the man rethinking his actions in the presence of a lady. Or perhaps a dirk to the face.

  The man, Mason, started to sniffle! “Lissa, don’t you want me here?”

  Gareth stared, baffled by the man’s attitude. He lay like a dog, belly up, muscles loose. He obviously wouldn’t give much of a fight, if any at all. Gareth glanced back at Ian who stood, hand over his mouth, as if fighting laughter. “Are men so different now?”

  Ian shrugged. “I expect they are the same since the beginnin’ of time. Some fighters, others not.”

  Lissa edged around Gareth to help the other man stand. She struggled under his weight and Gareth had to force himself to stillness so as not to knock the man to his back again.

  “Mason, I did ask you to go home.”

  Gareth pulled Lissa from the other man and into the protection of his arms. “I’ll ask again, who is he? Or rather, who is he to ye?”

  “Does it really matter?” She sounded sad.

  A sharp pain pierced his chest as he took her meaning. He was leaving, probably within hours, so he’d no answer to give that would please her.

  He wasn’t to stay with her, was he? So her connection to this man didn’t matter, or rather, it shouldn’t.

  He looked at Mason, then glanced back at Ian, whose wife was now secured within his arms. Jealousy seared him. He glanced at the weapons once more. As they were in the presence of ladies, perhaps his fists would do well enough for a cur who showed such lack of spine. A few bruises and cuts might even make the man less attractive. If he was to be the man in Lissa’s life after he was gone, Gareth would not waste this opportunity to beat the man. To show Lissa…

  To show Lissa what? That he would have been a good protector if he’d been able to stay with her? Did he want to leave the girl with the regrets he was feeling so intensely? He released Lissa once more to gently urge her behind him.

  She clung.

  The other man had the body of a warrior and a very pretty face. If this was the sort of man that attracted Lissa, then she certainly wouldn’t want himself, made up of scars and grimness as he was. He wasn’t a fit match for her sunny nature and soft heart.

  Samantha moved away from Ian. “Perhaps we could simply invite our new guest inside and offer him refreshment?”

  “’Tis naught, sweetlin’. Gareth was simply tryin’ to have a conversation with Lissa’s new friend.”

  Gareth scowled at him. This was senseless. He needed to leave before Lissa’s tender heart was hurt. “I thank ye for yer hospitality, Lady Samantha.” He nodded at Ian. “Laird.”

  Hands clasped behind his back, Ian nodded once. “If ye’re able to come back, ye are welcome here, anytime, for as long as ye like.”

  He knew he wouldn’t be back. He had an appointment with a witch. No doubt if he started walking to Culloden Moor, Soni would pluck him up along the way.

  He released a stunned-looking Lissa, moved past Mason, bumped the other man’s shoulder, and walked toward the tree-lined drive.

  He had no place here, and anyway, it was time for him to do the right thing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lissa headed out after Gareth. “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t answer but continued on, the space between them growing.

  She hesitated, stopped. “Do you want a ride?” She called after him.

  “Come on love. Let him go.” Mason was at her side, whispering desperately in her ear and clutching her elbow. “It’ll be more fun with just the two of us and, after all, I came all this way.”

  She jerked her elbow out of his hand and stopped. “And why, exactly, did you come all this way?”

  She was still looking at Gareth. With his long stride, he easily walked away, gaining distance. After he’d shoved Mason to the ground, she’d been unhappy with him, but now all she felt was a sense of panic. That and irritation over the fact Mason wouldn’t leave her alone.

  Mason was frowning. “To be with you, of course,” his voice wheedled.

  “Of course, my foot. You’re just hoping I’ll recommend you for the movie Perry is making. That is the extent of our relationship, end of story.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll admit I do want that. I want it a lot. But that doesn’t mean my feelings for you are any less real.”

  She studied his heartfelt expression and rolled her eyes. The guy had definitely made the correct career choice. “Mason, other than intense irritation, I have no feelings for you, so your point is moot.” She glanced toward Gareth, growing smaller in the distance, and her heart clenched. If he could walk away so easily, why was she chasing after him?

  Mason still chattered away, his baritone voice and movie star good looks only irritating her all the more. Gareth had terrorized her, kidnapped her, and forced her to go along with his plans. What, exactly, was she doing pining after him?

  Mason took her hand in his. “Come on,” he gave her his best smile. “It’s Scotland in the summertime. Let’s take this chance to get to know one another better.”

  She wrenched her hand away. Turned, and ran back to the car. He had terrorized her. He had kidnapped her and forced her to go along with his plans.

  And now he was just walking away? Without so much as a word of farewell? An apology? A kiss?

  Over his dead body.

  ~~~

  He had to get away. The realization he’d no claim to Lissa was killing him. What had he been thinking? That they’d live a long and happy life together?

  She’d burrowed under his skin. Somehow, he’d let her in, absorbed her sweetness, the way she smelled, the taste of her lips and become… possessive.

  He wished he could have what Ian had. He wanted Lissa for his own. Wanted to watch her grow round with his babe. Wanted a home with her. Wanted…everything.

  But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?

  The man—Mason—was obviously a friend to her, and perhaps more. He’d certainly seemed to think they were more. He could give her a home, children, everything.

  Though he couldn’t protect her.

  The thought of the large, muscled man, his belly exposed like a frightened dog, made him gnash his teeth in fury. Perhaps in this world of soft men, she didn’t need protection. Then he remembered the young men, their weapons at the ready. If Gareth hadn’t been there, then what? He pictured Mason on the ground, his belly exposed, as they robbed Lissa and perhaps did worse.

  He heard her call after him, could hear anger in her tone, but kept walking.

  She shouldn’t be alone. After he was gone, she should have someone. Perhaps Pretty Man’s failings would make her remember Gareth with fondness. So it was good he hadn’t picked up a weapon, driven a sword into the man, or slashed his face with a dagger. Though he did wish
he would have punched him in the face at least once. Maybe twice.

  Lissa stopped calling after him.

  He refused to look back. She’d no doubt given up on him. Mayhap she’d realized the same things he had. That they could never be together. Did she even want to keep him? Or perhaps she truly did wish to be with Pretty Man.

  He didn’t know why the witch hadn’t appeared to him yet. If giving Lissa up to another man wasn’t the most selfless thing he’d done in his life, he didn’t know what was. He was owed his shot at Bonnie Prince Charlie, and he was going to get it! He’d at least have some joy before he passed on to the hereafter.

  His fists clenched.

  Giving Lissa up should count as ten good deeds at the very least. He should get ten shots at Charles Stuart.

  And if the witch refused to appear, to give him his due, he’d simply walk all the way back to Culloden Moor and confront her there.

  Again, he had to force himself not to look back.

  Lissa was better off without him.

  ~~~

  Lissa’s hands gripped the steering wheel and she leaned forward, scanning the road in front of her.

  Gareth was so not getting away with this!

  She glanced in her rear-view mirror to see Mason following in his rental car. He’d tried to get in her passenger seat, but she’d locked the door and given him a grim smile.

  Better luck next time.

  She hadn’t said the words aloud, but she’d hoped he’d read the expression on her face, and maybe he had, because he’d hit the trunk as she’d hit the accelerator.

  She was glad she wasn’t the only one frustrated by the situation. She blamed him. Chasing off her Highlander? Just so he could get a part in a movie? Of all the nerve!

  And Gareth. He was a jerk, too. Did he think he could just drag her around for two days, and then disappear without so much as a by-your-leave? He’d convinced her to join him, to fall in with his plans. Convinced her he was an immortal ancient ghost and she was safe with him, in his care, protected. Sudden tears moistened her eyes. He’d kissed her, depended on her, and convinced her she had growing feelings for him. He’d pulled those feelings out of her!