by Baker, Katy
“Ramsay!”
Jess knelt by his side, got her shoulder under his arm, and helped him to struggle to his feet. He gritted his teeth, sucking in breaths through his nostrils as agony threatened to make him black out.
“We have to get back to the inn,” Jess muttered.
She wrapped an arm around his waist, and they began walking down the street. The desperate fear that had lent him strength while he was searching for Jess had dissipated, leaving him weak and trembling. He hated it. He hated the way he had to lean on her. He hated the way he staggered, barely able to keep his feet. He hated the way the locals looked at him, with pity.
They reached the inn and lurched into the common room. The innkeeper glanced up from his seat and seemed about to speak but snapped his mouth shut when Ramsay glared at him. Ramsay indicated for Jess to precede him and then lurched up the stairs to their room where he collapsed onto the bed. The room began to spin.
Jess’s anxious face swam above him. “The apothecary told me what to do.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “It might hurt.”
He muttered something intelligible. Jess disappeared, and he heard the chink of a kettle, then a rasping sound as she ground something up. His thoughts wandered. Fractured images swam in front of his eyes: Irene MacAskill, Jess standing defiantly in front of Artair and Adaira Campbell. All these floated through his head. It was all connected somehow, the Fae, the arch through time, Jess’s presence here. But he could not grasp it. The connection floated just out of reach.
Jess knelt on the bed by his side. Her forehead was screwed up in concentration as she pulled up his shirt and started probing at his wound with her fingers. At her touch, a warmth spilled through him, chasing away the pain. He liked being touched by her.
“Ye are beautiful,” he muttered. “Ye know that?”
“And you are delirious. Hold still.”
Something bit into his skin, there was a sudden, sharp pain followed by the sensation of pressure easing. Something cool was smeared over his hip and the pain began to lessen. She wrapped his torso in clean, white bandages.
“Here, drink this,” Jess said. “It will make you sleep.”
I dinna want to sleep, he tried to say. I want to talk to ye, to tell ye that I’ve never been so scared as when I saw ye in danger. I want ye to know...everything.
But she pressed a beaker to his lips, and it was either swallow or choke. A bitter liquid ran down his throat, making him cough. His limbs were suddenly as heavy as lead. He struggled, fighting to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. Darkness dragged him under.
JESS WATCHED AS RAMSAY’S eyes drifted closed. His color was up, two spots of pink on his cheeks, but his breathing was even and strong. He looked strangely peaceful with one arm flung across the bed and his red-brown hair spilling over the pillow.
She chewed her bottom lip as her thoughts drifted back to what had happened earlier. The events kept replaying over and over, no matter how hard she tried to stifle them. It didn’t make any sense. How had she been able to anticipate those thugs’ moves like that? How had she known what would happen?
Not many left now with the power to see the inner world.
She passed a shaky hand over her face. This was crazy. She was a scientist. She searched for rational ways to explain the world. But she couldn’t find one for the events that had taken place in that court.
With a sigh, she knelt by the fireplace and lit a fire. Soon merry yellow flames were burning in the grate but the spring evening was still cold enough to make her shiver. Hugging her arms around her knees, she seated herself on the rug and stared into the flames. She’d not even had time to tell Ramsay about what she’d learned of Artair and his plans.
She stared into the flames as if she’d find the answers to her questions written there.
RAMSAY OPENED HIS EYES and blinked away sleep. He’d fallen into slumber on top of the blankets and the air in the room was cool enough to raise goose bumps across his exposed skin but something pressing against him on the left was keeping him comfortably warm on that side. He shifted his hip experimentally. To his surprise there was only a mild pain. His head was clearer too and the grogginess that had plagued him had vanished. He was ravenously hungry.
As he shifted, a murmur came from beside him and he turned his head to see that Jess was curled up against him—the source of the warmth. He paused, watching her. Her eyes were closed and a strand of hair had fallen over her face, rising and falling with her breath.
A sudden surge of emotion welled. He remembered the sensation of utter terror yesterday when he’d seen that man about to hit her. He’d never experienced anything like it. Not on the battlefield. Not when he’d been tossed into the future. Not when he’d had a gun pointed right at his head. He would not let any harm come to her. He would die first.
He tenderly brushed away the strand of hair. He took in the curve of her eyelashes, the creamy richness of her skin, the way her eyelids fluttered slightly. He’d never met a woman like her before. She was extraordinary.
With an effort, he pulled his attention away from her. He swung his legs over the bed and placed his feet on the floor. Slowly, he stood, testing his weight experimentally. He was pleased when only a dull ache throbbed in his hip. Careful not to wake Jess, he padded from the room and down the corridor where he called down the stairs for the innkeeper to bring them some breakfast.
When he returned, he found Jess awake and sitting cross-legged on the bed.
“What are you doing out of bed?” she demanded. “You shouldn’t be moving around.”
“I canna stay abed, lass. There’s too much to do. And besides, I feel much better.”
She frowned at him suspiciously.
He held up his hands. “It’s God’s own truth, I swear.”
“Is there any pain in your hip? Or down the back of your leg?” She hopped off the bed, walked over, and reached up to place a palm against his forehead. “Your fever’s broken. That’s good.”
She looked up at him and froze, seeming to realize how close they were, less than a hand’s width between them. She removed her hand but didn’t back away. Ramsay’s fingers itched. He longed to reach out and pull her into an embrace. He longed to tangle his fingers in that luscious hair of hers and pull her into a kiss.
Her lips parted and a slow breath escaped her. “Yesterday, when you were fighting those men. I...I...something strange happened. I did something...” She fell silent.
“What?”
She hesitated then shook her head. “I...nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“When I saw those men had cornered ye I was terrified,” he said softly. “I couldnae bear it if aught happened to ye, Jess.”
“Welcome to the club,” she said with a wry smile. “Ramsay, I’ve been terrified since the moment Artair shot you. Terrified that you wouldn’t recover. Terrified you would die.”
He caught her hand and squeezed it. “That willnae happen,” he said gruffly. “I gave ye my word that I would protect ye, and I will.”
She didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was the creak of the stairs and the distant sound of dishes being laid out in the common room. He reached up to cup her cheek with one hand. She didn’t back away. Oh, Lord, she didn’t back away. He could feel her trembling slightly.
He moved closer, bent his head and kissed her.
Her lips were as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. Her scent was as intoxicating as he’d dreamed. It enveloped him and his mind went blank, lost in a sudden surge of desire that shot straight to his groin. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her hard against him and was rewarded when a soft hiss escaped her lips. Her arms went around his neck and then she was suddenly kissing him back, her lips like silk where they met his...
“Breakfast!”
The door banged open with a loud clatter. Jess jumped back as the innkeeper came barging in carrying a tray which he placed on the bed.
“That’s two extra silvers ye owe me,”
he announced.
“Ye will get yer money,” Ramsay growled. “Now kindly leave us be.”
The innkeeper shrugged, stomped to the door and left, slamming it behind him. With an irritated grunt, Ramsay turned to find that Jess had retreated to a spot in front of the fire with the tray. She busied herself examining its contents, and he got the impression she was avoiding looking at him.
He cursed the innkeeper’s timing. Damn the man! Desire coursed through him and he wanted to take hold of Jess and continue what they’d started. But he could tell from the way Jess busied herself with the breakfast tray that the moment had passed. He pulled in a deep breath and joined her by the fire.
JESS COULD SENSE RAMSAY watching her and tried to focus on the food laid out on the tray. Her heart was thumping. He’d kissed her. Oh God, he’d kissed her. She’d never experienced anything like the sensations that kiss evoked. For an instant she had been consumed by desire, by desperate need. She had wanted him so badly. She still did, and that scared her.
To her relief, Ramsay said nothing as he seated himself on the floor. He winced slightly but otherwise seemed much improved from the man who’d hardly been able to walk yesterday.
“Eat,” Jess mumbled, indicating the tray. “You need to keep up your strength.”
For a while they ate in silence. To her surprise, the meal was good. There was thick, hot porridge to go with the bannocks as well as ale and cheese. Ramsay ate ravenously, obviously starving, and she took that as a good sign.
She watched Ramsay, deciding how best to broach a subject she’d been dreading.
“There’s something I need to tell you. About what happened yesterday.”
He looked at her, a spoon of porridge halfway to his mouth. “Aye?”
She swallowed, remembering the scene she’d spied through the window. “As I left the apothecary, I stumbled on a meeting. Artair Campbell was there, talking to some of Laird MacGregor’s men.”
Something dangerous flashed in Ramsay’s eyes and he dropped the spoon onto the tray with a clatter. “He’s here in Arndale?”
She nodded. “Or he was yesterday, anyway.”
“Whereabouts? This is our chance to catch him!”
“No, it isn’t,” she said, holding out a hand to stop him springing to his feet. “Listen to me. He will have gone by now. They were moving out as I left.”
“Why didnae ye tell me this sooner? We need to find him!”
She fixed him with an annoyed glare. “Considering we ended up fighting a bunch of MacGregor thugs then you collapsed from an infected bullet wound, I think it only reasonable I had other things on my mind, don’t you?”
He blew out a breath and then raked a hand through his hair. “Aye, ye are right. My apologies. Tell me everything, lass. Everything ye saw. Everything ye heard. Even the slightest detail might be important.”
Jess recounted all that had happened since she’d left the inn yesterday. Ramsay listened intently, saying nothing. When Jess finally fell silent, he rubbed his chin.
“So he plans to ally with Benneit MacGregor, a man, by all accounts, who is as mercenary as himself.”
Jess didn’t like the sound of that. “Then how are we supposed to stop him? There are only two of us. Maybe we should find those people the refugees talked about? What were they called? The Woodsmen? That man on the road said they were fighting against MacGregor. Maybe they would help us.”
Ramsay glanced at her sharply. “Nay. I willnae go to the Woodsmen.”
“But if Artair has enlisted MacGregor maybe we—”
“I said no!” he snapped.
Jess frowned and crossed her arms.
Ramsay held out a hand. “I’m sorry. I didnae mean to snap. But before we consider how we stop Artair Campbell, we need to figure out what he’s after. The question is why would he ally with Benneit MacGregor? What does he hope to gain by such an alliance? What could Benneit MacGregor have to offer?”
“Maybe he’s after protection,” Jess answered. “He’s as much a stranger here as I am.”
“Perhaps.” He did not appear convinced. “But there is always a more subtle plan at work where Artair Campbell is concerned.”
“How do you know that?” she asked. “You said you knew him in the twenty-first century but you never told me how. And Adaira seemed to know you pretty well too.”
He turned away, an expression flashing across his features so fast she almost missed it. Could it have been shame?
“We dinna have time for this,” he replied gruffly. He climbed to his feet, and began pulling his shirt over his head, refastening his plaid, and buckling his sword around his waist.
Jess frowned. He was avoiding her questions. Again. She quickly finished her bowl of porridge, piled the dishes onto the tray, and climbed to her feet.
Downstairs they found the common room busy with patrons. Ramsay tossed a few coins onto the bar and then led the way out into the stable yard. He instructed a stable hand to ready the horse and in no time they were mounted and Ramsay guided Bluebell out into the streets. In the pre-dawn gloom the town appeared even more despondent than it did yesterday, with beggars huddled up against walls and skinny dogs roaming for scraps.
Jess shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her. She was glad to be leaving this place behind.
Chapter 9
BENNEIT MACGREGOR. Ramsay mulled the name over as he and Jess left Arndale behind and took the northern road towards MacGregor lands. He knew the man by reputation only. As a bastard he would not normally inherit his father’s title but when Laird MacGregor’s true-born children had all died—some at the hands of their bastard brother if rumor was to be believed—his father had legitimized him and made him his heir. Now the old man was dead and Benneit was free to do as he wished.
Ramsay shifted uneasily in the saddle. He didn’t like it. An alliance between Benneit MacGregor and Artair Campbell could only spell trouble for the Highlands and made his mission all the more imperative. Yet the question remained: why did Artair need Benneit MacGregor?
Once they left Arndale behind they saw no more refugees, but this wasn’t to say the roads were empty. In fact, they were busier than Ramsay expected and he had to pull the horse off the path several times to make way for groups of armed men hurrying into MacGregor territory. Each time he watched the groups warily, hand on his sword hilt, expecting trouble, but the men seemed intent on their destination and gave him and Jess little more than a cursory glance.
“Why is the road so busy?” Jess asked. “Who are all these men?”
“MacGregor warriors,” he answered grimly.
They traveled in uneasy silence and camped that night in a copse of trees well hidden from the road by a dip in the land. As they sat on either side of the fire, Ramsay chewed on his travel rations but barely tasted any of it. Jess stared into the fire, seeming lost in thought. The firelight made her hair gleam and brought a faint blush to her cheeks. Despite himself, Ramsay couldn’t stop his thoughts returning to the kiss he and Jess had shared that morning. Oh, Lord it had felt so good. He wanted to do it again. He yearned to take her in his arms and kiss her into submission. He yearned to...
Jess finished her food and pulled her knees up to her chest. “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“We should reach Dun Halas in the early afternoon.”
“Dun Halas?”
“MacGregor’s stronghold. If Artair has gone to meet with MacGregor, that’s where we’ll find him.”
“His stronghold? You mean a castle?”
“Aye, I mean a castle.”
She hugged her arms tighter around her knees. “I can’t imagine we’ll be very welcome there. What will we do? Ride up to the gates and demand this Laird MacGregor hand Artair over? I can’t see that going down very well.”
Ramsay’s jaw tightened. “We’ll think of something.”
Jess’s hand gripped the silver locket around her neck. It seemed to be an unconscious gesture she did whenever she was w
orried. “Think of something,” she breathed. “I hope so but right now all I want is sleep. Good night.”
Ramsay smiled. “Good night, Jess. Sleep well, lass.”
He woke Jess early the next morning and after a hurried breakfast they set out. They traveled along busy roads until the road reached the brow of the hill and they found themselves looking down onto a broad plain. A loch sparkled to the east and a large, squat castle perched on its banks. Something shimmered around the castle’s base and it took a moment for Ramsay to realize that he was looking at row upon row of tents.
“No wonder MacGregor is so confident,” he breathed. “He’s gathered a damned army!”
From this distance Ramsay could only guess how many fighters must be down there but he suspected it was a far larger force than anyone thought. Laird MacSual, the target of Benneit’s ambitions, wouldn’t stand a chance.
If MacGregor managed to annexe MacSual lands into his own and force the MacSual clan to become vassals of the MacGregors, it would bring Benneit MacGregor enormous power, including the wealth of the MacSual mines. Where would MacGregor turn next? Would he dare challenge the power of Ramsay’s father?
He cursed under his breath. How was he supposed to find a way into Dun Halas when it was surrounded by armed men? The gates would be closed to traffic.
Jess looked over her shoulder at him. “You know, this could be an opportunity.”
“An opportunity? How? It seems to me there is a sea of armed men between us and Artair Campbell. He couldnae have planned it any more fortuitously. What better way to stop us reaching him than surrounding himself with MacGregor warriors?”
“Or maybe it’s the perfect cover. With so many people around, who’s going to notice a couple more? Who’s going to ask questions? We can slip in unnoticed.”
“No,” he said. “We’re not going into that camp. I willnae put ye in danger.”
She rolled her eyes. “What choice do we have?”
It was one thing to follow Artair across open country. It was entirely another to challenge him when he was surrounded by armed men. But he also knew Jess was right. There was no other choice.
