by Baker, Katy
Nothing. Everything. A million things, none of which I can explain.
She threw up her hands, indicating the surrounding camp. “It’s all a little... bewildering. All of this—meeting Ross, meeting all of you, being thrust into the middle of a war. Coming to this valley that seems so familiar...that I’m sure I’ve seen...Oh never mind. I’m rambling. I feel like I’m drowning and I don’t know how to swim. Does that make me sound stupid?”
“Nay,” Maggie replied softly. “It makes ye sound human, like the rest of us. We’re all scared.”
“You?” Jess said incredulously. “But you’re so confident!”
“Think ye so?” Maggie said with a snort. “Or mayhap I’m just better at hiding my worries than most.” Unconsciously she brushed the burned side of her face. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that courage isnae about not being scared, it’s about being scared but still doing what ye must.”
“And what if you don’t know what that is?”
“Ye’ll figure it out.” She tilted her head and regarded Jess. “Ross says ye mean to fight the MacGregor with us. That makes us comrades. And I hope, friends.”
Jess smiled wryly. Yes, she could really do with a friend right now. “Friends. I would like that.”
Maggie smiled in return. “I’ll leave ye to rest. If ye need aught, stick yer head of the tent and bellow. Somebody will come.”
“Stick my head out of the tent and bellow. Got it.”
Maggie walked over to the tent flap. With a nod of farewell, she left.
Jess let out a long breath and sank down onto the sleeping pallet. It held a mattress stuffed with straw that was only a little softer than the ground. Kicking off her boots she lay down and stared up at the canvas ceiling. The events of the last couple of days kept going round and round in her head. Ramsay had a brother. A twin brother. Why hadn’t he told her about him? Or his mother and sister-in-law being from the twenty-first century? Or the truth about his relationship with Artair Campbell?
Ramsay MacAuley was our ally, but he betrayed my sister and I, as he betrays everything. As he will betray ye.
Artair Campbell couldn’t have been telling the truth. Could he? She just didn’t know anymore. As he betrays everything. She blinked, willing the tears not to come.
But they came anyway.
Chapter 12
RAMSAY MOVED STEALTHILY through the forest. He stepped so softly that he left no footprints behind and walked so carefully that he knocked not one branch or leaf out of place, slipping through the gloom like a ghost. He’d excused himself from his brother’s presence under the pretense of going scouting, but in truth, he’d been desperate to get away.
He was overjoyed to see Ross again, of course. For years, as he’d lived his life in the twenty-first century, so far from everything he knew, he’d dreamed of one day finding a way to return and reuniting with his family. It was that burning desire that had led him to do what he had. To the actions that led to his shame. Now, he had everything he’d dreamed of. Yet it felt hollow.
As he’d watched Ross talking to his men—MacAuley warriors all of them—he felt like an outsider. He knew none of the warriors that rode by Ross’s side and none of them knew him. They looked at him askance, this man who looked so like their beloved leader. He sensed their distrust. They didn’t know him. He was an outsider.
So he slipped unseen out of camp and into the solitude of the forest.
He made a circuit of the woods that surrounded the mouth of the valley, senses alert for any threat. He slipped through the line of pickets that Ross had set to guard the approaches to the campsite and headed towards the eastern edge where the felling had begun. He found no trace of MacGregor forces.
He paused by the wide trunk of an oak. A huge behemoth, it spread its branches over an acorn-strewn patch of ground. The tree was probably hundreds of years old. What had it seen in its time? What changes had come over this landscape whilst it had stood sentinel here? Did it remember a time when the Fae had walked the land?
The Fae. They played with the lives of mortals without a thought for the consequences for those caught in their net. And yet if he could have his time over, he would make the same choice because without Irene’s bargain, he would never have met Jess.
Her face floated in his vision. That look she’d given him as she’d left Ross’s tent still haunted him. It had been full of distrust. Ah, Lord, the memory made his heart ache. And yet, perhaps it was better that she distanced herself from him. That way she could return to her life in the twenty-first century and forget all about him. Aye, it was better this way. Cleaner.
So why did it feel like a knife piercing his gut?
Footsteps behind him.
Ramsay spun, pulled a dagger, and pressed its sharp edge against the throat of the man coming up behind him. He blinked in surprise. It was Archer, Ross’s lieutenant. The man glanced at the blade pressed against his throat.
“Bloody hell,” he said conversationally. “Your reflexes are even faster than your brother’s.”
Ramsay narrowed his eyes at the man. He appeared to be alone. After a moment, Ramsay pushed him away and sheathed his dagger.
“Why are ye following me?”
Archer spread his hands out. “What was I supposed to do when I saw you sneaking off into the woods? Let you go and make your report to your bloody MacGregor masters?”
Ramsay’s hands curled into fists. He fought the urge to strike the man. “I am no MacGregor spy.”
Archer cocked his head. “No, I realize that. I’ve been following you for the last half hour and all you’ve done is wander round the woods. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were lost.”
Ramsay raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for yer concern but I know my way back.”
“That isn’t the kind of lost I was talking about. I mean you seem lost up here.” He tapped his head.
Ramsay regarded the man. John Archer had once been one of the most notorious outlaws in the Highlands. He was a wanted man for killing a lord that had tried to rape a tavern lass and for that the common folk loved him. Now he was one of Ross’s most loyal followers. The world had moved on, leaving Ramsay behind.
“What do ye want, Archer?”
“To make sure my people are safe.”
“Ye dinna trust me.”
He shrugged. “Ross trusts you. That’s good enough for me. But I know a damaged man when I see one. I was that man, for many long years. When I look at you I see a man torn in two. Something eats at you, Ramsay MacAuley. And I wonder, can we trust a man like that? When battle comes will a man like that stand against the tide or will he crumble?”
A snarl pulled at Ramsay’s lips. “Are ye calling me a coward?”
Archer smiled, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “No, my lord. I’m saying that whatever it is that you’re carrying around your neck, whatever it is that’s driven you to seek solace out here alone, you need to deal with it—for all our sakes.”
He inclined his head and walked off. Ramsay watched him go. The man’s words had unsettled him because he knew they were true. How could he expect to do what was needed in the upcoming battle when he was at war with himself? It was time he dealt with it, whatever the consequences.
So be it.
Squaring his shoulders, he started back towards the camp.
JESS STARED OUT OVER the valley. It was dropping cold and despite her thick cloak, she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. Lights were beginning to bloom in the village, the windows of the manor house, and at the top of the tower that rose from one corner of the compound. Somebody was up there, perhaps watching her even as she watched them.
She couldn’t shake the nagging sense of deja vu that plagued her whenever she looked at this valley. Why did this place seem so familiar? It tugged at her memory but the more she thought about it, the more it floated out of reach, like a dream that fades on waking.
Over in Ross’s camp, a big campfire had been lit and many of
the soldiers were gathering around it. Ale was being passed around and she could hear laughing and joking. Yet she stood alone on the edge of camp, outside the ring of the campfire’s light.
She suddenly felt very alone. Ross’s people enjoyed an easy camaraderie, forged through bonds of loyalty and shared experience. What did she have? Nothing. No family to call her own. No place to belong.
And Ramsay was lying to her.
This was not her time. Not her place. She felt it more keenly than ever before. She felt adrift. Ramsay had become her anchor, but now? Now she felt the sands shifting beneath her feet.
Why am I here? she thought. What am I doing?
Why did Irene choose ye? Ross had asked. There must be a reason.
If so, she had no idea what it was.
A twig snapped. Jess turned as Ramsay emerged from the gloom beneath the trees. She hated the way her heart skipped at the sight of him. She hated the way her treacherous feet took a step towards him before she could stop them. She lifted her chin and waited for him to approach.
He halted a few paces away. He was haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair tangled. When had he last slept?
“We need to talk. Ye must have many questions.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you think?”
He winced at her sarcasm and then folded onto the ground beside the tent with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on his knees. “Will ye sit?”
She hesitated but then sat down, pulling her cloak around her.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Artair Campbell? Or that you have a brother? Whenever I asked you about Artair you refused to answer. When I suggested seeking out the Woodsmen, you cut me dead. What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s...complicated.”
“Oh. Complicated. Is anything you’ve told me the truth?”
He said nothing. For a long time he stared off into the darkening woods. Then he let out a breath. “I havenae lied to ye. But I’ve left out so many pieces of my story it amounts to the same thing.” He raised his head and his green eyes glinted like emeralds in the darkness.
“I didnae tell ye about my family—or about Ross—because I thought it wouldnae be an issue. I didnae think I’d see him again.” His voice was hoarse and full of pain.
“Why not?” she asked. “Coming home after being stranded in a different time for all those years? I thought seeing your family would be the first thing on your mind.”
“Aye, it was. And I would have liked naught more than to ride to Dun Ringill but it wasnae that simple.” He looked up, met her gaze. “I made a bargain with Irene MacAskill. I had to travel to the twenty-first century and guard the secrets of time. This is why I have to stop Artair and Adaira Campbell. This is why I didnae tell ye about my brother. By coming back here, I have broken my bargain with the Fae. I have no idea what the consequences of that might be.”
“I don’t understand,” Jess replied. “How could you have broken Irene’s bargain? It was her who brought us both here.”
“Was it?” he asked bitterly. “Or was it the work of the Unseelie? Was it a ploy to get Artair into this time in order for him to open the gate?”
“You can’t believe that,” Jess breathed.
He shook his head. “I no longer know what to believe. But that’s not all. Artair was right about me, Jess. I am not the man ye think I am.” His expression was haunted. “Ye shouldnae have trusted me.”
A sliver of cold slid through her, as if an icicle had stabbed her through the heart. “What are you trying to tell me?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Just like Artair said: I am a liar,” he said in a hollow voice. “I am a thief.”
Jess swallowed thickly. She had to force out words through a knot in her throat. “And a murderer?”
“No!” he cried. “Never that! Lord, Jess, dinna ye know me better than that? After all we’ve been through?”
She passed a hand over her face. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Aye,” he breathed. “And that is my fault. Ye have to understand, Jess, when I first went to yer time I was lost and alone, full of bitterness and regret. I blamed the Fae for all that had befallen me, and I allowed that bitterness to become anger. To my shame I lost my way. I forgot everything I’d been taught, every oath I’d taken and all I could think about was finding a way back. I fell in with bad people.” He stopped and met her gaze. “I fell in with Artair and Adaira Campbell. I am the one who told them about the portals through time, just as Artair told ye. I am the one who instigated their quest to find one. So you see, Jess, it wasnae the paper ye wrote that started all of this. It isnae yer fault that Artair Campbell is here, threatening the Highlands. None of this is yer fault. It is mine.”
With each word Ramsay spoke, the icicle in Jess’s heart sank a little deeper. Ye canna trust him, Artair had warned her. And he had been right.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” she whispered.
A stricken look crossed his face. “Because I didnae want to be that man anymore. Whilst I worked with the Campbells I did bad things. Robbery. Intimidation. But I came to my senses. Ye have to believe me!”
“Tell me,” Jess croaked.
He nodded. “I came to my senses when we broke into a museum one night trying to steal a Fae relic Adaia claimed would help us open a gateway. We found no such relic, but we did find an elderly security guard. He tried to stop us and Adaira shot him. Just like that. No questions asked, no mercy offered. And then they left him bleeding on the floor. I took the security guard to hospital and waited with him for three days until he regained consciousness. And ye know what? He thanked me.” Ramsay laughed bitterly. “He thanked me for saving his life, me, the person who had put him in that position in the first place. But the incident made me remember who I was. After that I vowed to do all in my power to stop the Campbells. I vowed to keep my bargain with the Fae and protect the secrets of time.”
Silence fell. It stretched between them like a chasm. From over by the campfire Jess heard conversation and the crackle of the fire but between her and Ramsay all was still. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea what to feel.
Ramsay looked the same. He sounded the same. But with this revelation she realized he was no longer the man he had been this morning. The ice encasing her heart began to harden.
He leaned forward, his eyes imploring. “Jess, listen—”
She held out a hand to stop him. “No. Don’t say anything.”
Footsteps sounded and Maggie appeared out of the gloom. She halted, looking from Ramsay to Jess, obviously picking up on the tension.
“Chief is asking for both of ye,” she said. “The messenger has returned from the house. There’s news from Laird MacSual.”
Ramsay climbed slowly to his feet. He didn’t look at Jess. “Then we better not keep him waiting.”
HE AND JESS FOLLOWED Maggie back to Ross’s fire. Jess walked by his side but there was a distance between them that felt as palpable as a brick wall. Jess didn’t look at him, and although Ramsay longed to speak, longed to explain, longed to make everything all right between them, he kept his mouth shut.
Up ahead, many people had gathered around the campfire. Ross was in conversation with a man who had his back to Ramsay. Ross spotted him and Jess approaching and waved them over.
“Thought it best ye hear this report,” Ross said. “Despite his best efforts, our charming envoy hasnae brought us the news we’d hoped.”
The envoy turned and Ramsay gasped, taking an involuntary step backwards. The young man before him had the wiry look of a youth only recently grown to maturity. A light stubble dusted his chin and pale blond hair framed ice-blue eyes.
“Blair? Is that my unruly young cousin grown into a man?”
Blair broke into the disarming grin that had allowed him to get away with much mischief when he was young. “The one and only. So it’s true! I wouldnae have believed it if I hadnae seen i
t with my own eyes. Ramsay? Lord above, am I drunk and seeing double or is that really ye?”
Ramsay laughed. “I canna vouch for yer sobriety cousin, by ye aren’t seeing double.”
Blair MacAuley, eldest son of Ramsay’s uncle Camdan, looked him up and down, shaking his head, then clapped him on the shoulder. “This calls for a celebration! Whisky all round!”
“Not until ye have told us yer news,” Ross said, stepping forward.
“Aye, my news,” Blair said, a scowl flitting across his features. “Seems ye were right about MacSual, Ross. He canna be persuaded. He thinks he can negotiate with MacGregor. The old fool!”
“Easy,” Ross said, crossing his arms. “He’s been laird of these lands since before ye were born. Show some respect.”
“Respect? What respect do ye think Benneit MacGregor’s men will show when they rip through this valley? What respect do ye think they’ll show when they break into the manor house and drag Laird MacSual out into the mud? Lord, Ross, the man willnae listen to reason and it’s his people who will pay the price!”
Blair’s furious tirade reminded Ramsay of his uncle Camdan. Like his father, Blair was a hot-head, quick to anger but also quick to laugh. Ramsay laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder to calm him.
“Why dinna ye tell us exactly what happened?”
Blair nodded. “Aye. Maybe ye can make more sense of it than I can. I met with Laird MacSual in that tower of his. Refused to come down, even for such an important parley, so I climbed all those damned steps to go see him. He listened very attentively, was unfailingly polite, allowed me to talk myself into the ground, and then—very politely—thanked me for coming and asked me to leave! He willnae do it. He willnae fight.”
“He’s frightened,” Ross said. “He’s seen much of war. He’s frightened of what this will mean for his people.”
“Frightened?” Blair scoffed. “He’s a laird! Would my uncle hide behind his walls? Would my father? Nay, if ye ask me he’s more interested in his stargazing and his pointless studies than he is in saving his own people. He has more books up in that tower than a monastery and the walls are covered with star charts. Kept on staring at them and going on about how he plans to map the heavens. We’re wasting our time here. We should ride out and meet with MacGregor with or without MacSual’s aid.”
