by Baker, Katy
Jess thumbed through it idly, not paying attention, then stopped as something caught her eye. Towards the back of the book was a diagram of a circular object. It had a hole in the middle, markings around the edge and looked exactly like...
Jess’s heart began to thump. She carried the book over to the window and laid it down on a table, open at the page with the diagram. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the keystone, placing it on the table next to the book.
Her eyes widened. They were the same. Lady MacSual had drawn the keystone and below it had written a series of mathematical calculations with each of the keystone’s symbols as a starting point.
This made no sense. Why would Lady MacSual have been in possession of the keystone?
The covered painting she’d first noticed last night hanging above the fireplace caught Jess’s eye. She walked over to it. Beneath the painting an engraved brass plaque had been fixed to the wall. Jess leaned forward to read it.
Rosa MacSual. Beloved wife of Baldwin MacSual, 9th Laird of MacSual.
She gaped. Rosa? Wait. What?
I lost her, Laird MacSual had told her. Just as I lost my children. Three sons lost to war and the child my wife was carrying when she disappeared.
Why did Irene choose ye? Ross had asked. She doesnae do aught without a reason.
Her hand crept to the locket hanging around her neck and gripped it tightly. No. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. She was shaking, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.
With a shaking hand, Jess reached out, gripped the cloth that covered the painting and yanked it. The silk came away easily, pooling onto the floor. Jess stared, mouth hanging open, eyes wide with shock.
There was no sound in the room other than the thumping of her own heart.
She turned and bolted to the door.
“I’VE HEARD ALL THESE arguments before,” Laird MacSual said patiently. “Ye bring me naught new. Ye say Benneit MacGregor canna be reasoned with but ye havenae even tried. I willnae send my people to war until I have at least tried the route of peace!”
“Tell that to the folk of Arndale,” Ramsay growled. “They’ve experienced MacGregor’s intimidation first hand whilst ye’ve hidden here, safe beyond the forest. Ye think they reckon MacGregor can be reasoned with?”
“Arndale’s governor sends me reports weekly. He’s confident the MacGregor thugs ye speak of were not acting under the laird’s orders.”
“Then he is a fool!”
“Save yer breath, cousin,” Blair growled. “We are wasting our time here.”
Ross held up a hand to silence them and leaned forward. “Why did ye summon us, Baldwin? The tone of yer message suggested ye might have changed yer position. From what I’ve heard so far, ye havnae. Are ye wasting all our time?”
Baldwin MacSual leaned back in his chair and laced his hands together across his chest. He stared at them, his gaze shrewd and assessing.
“Jessica Maxwell claimed there was more going on here than I understood. I hate not understanding. She said that Benneit MacGregor was involved in something dark but wouldnae say more. I was hoping ye gentlemen would enlighten me.”
Ramsay glanced at Ross who shrugged fractionally. What did they have to lose? Even if MacSual didn’t believe them they’d be no worse off than they were now.
Ramsay sighed. “My laird, how much do ye know of the Fae?”
MacSual raised a bushy eyebrow. “The Fae? Why would ye ask such a thing?” His voice sounded a little suspicious but not incredulous as he would’ve expected if the laird thought such an idea ridiculous. Ramsay got the impression that MacSual suspected more than he was letting on.
“Benneit MacGregor has made an alliance with someone who studies the dark paths. His name is Artair Campbell. Ye must know the rumors that circulated about Benneit MacGregor’s grandmother and what she was involved in.”
MacSual’s expression darkened. Something flashed in his eyes. “Aye,” he growled. “I know all too well the machinations of Elspeth MacGregor. But why bring her up? She’s dead. She disappeared long ago.”
Ross leaned forward suddenly. “I remember now. Wasnae there some sort of strife between ye and Elspeth MacGregor? Didnae ye accuse her of witchcraft? And then didnae she disappear at the same time as yer lady wife? I remember my father telling me the story. It was the talk of the Highlands for a time.”
“Elspeth MacGregor was a witch!” MacSual hissed. “And would have been found guilty if she’d had the courage to face trial. Instead, she fled, no doubt through use of her foul sorcery!”
“And yer wife?”
Laird MacSual slammed his palm onto the table. “I willnae discuss this! What has it got to do with aught?”
“Naught, perhaps,” Ramsay replied. “Only that Benneit MacGregor has become embroiled in the same dark sorcery of which his grandmother was accused. On his land lies a stone archway, a relic from the ancient times. He and Artair Campbell believe it is a doorway to the Unseelie Court. They plan to open that doorway and gain the power of the Unseelie. That is why we must march against them. There is no other way.”
MacSual had not flinched at mention of the Unseelie and it was clear he’d heard the term before. He stared at Ramsay, unblinking, and Ramsay held the man’s stern gaze.
Then the laird waved his hand. “Bah! Children’s stories and wild tales! Ye expect me to go to war over such a thing? Nay, lad. I’ve had my belly full of war. I was riding to battle before ye were even a twinkle in yer father’s eye! I willnae put my people in danger. Do ye hear? I willnae!”
Blair surged to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards. His blue eyes blazed with anger. “Then yer people will die! Is that what ye wish?”
“Sit down, young pup,” MacSual growled. “Before I have ye dragged out of here. Last time I looked it was Baldwin MacSual, not Blair MacAuley who ruled here.”
Blair didn’t move. He glared at MacSual with fury blazing in his eyes. His hand twitched towards his sword hilt.
Ramsay reached out to stop him doing something rash. “Cousin, sit down before—”
The door burst open suddenly, crashing back against the wall. Ramsay spun just as Jess surged into the room. She was followed by a distraught servant.
“I’m sorry, my laird,” the man said. “I told her ye were in session but she wouldnae wait.”
MacSual waved away his apology. “Lady Maxwell?”
Ramsay rose slowly. At the sight of her a tingle slid down his spine. It was either unease or excitement, he couldn’t tell which.
“Jess?”
Her hair was a little disheveled, and she was out of breath as if she’d been running.
“It’s all been planned from the start,” she said breathlessly. “It’s a trap. All of it.”
At her words, Ramsay’s skin prickled. She seemed troubled, her eyes wide, her skin pale. He reached a hand towards her but she backed away.
“Come with me, all of you. Now.”
“Come with ye?” MacSual asked. “Come with ye where?”
“The observatory. There’s something you have to see.”
MacSual laughed. “My dear, if ye wish to discuss some astronomical theory I’m sure it can wait—”
“Do as she says,” Ramsay cut in. There was something in Jess’s posture, something in her urgency, that made that prickle at the back of his neck intensify.
MacSual frowned and then sighed. He pulled himself to his feet. “As ye wish.”
Jess led the way, all but running ahead of them as they left the manor house and crossed the courtyard to the observatory. Ross and Blair had puzzled looks on their faces but they’d both seen too many strange things in their lives to question Ramsay’s judgment.
Jess hurried up the stairs and Ramsay had to take them two at a time to keep up with her. She moved liked she had the very Devil chasing at her heels. Lord, what had happened to spook her so?
By the time they reached the top they were out of breath and Blair had to help Laird MacSual up the fi
nal few steps and into a chair in the round room at the top of the tower so he could catch his breath.
Ramsay glanced around. So this was Laird MacSual’s famous observatory, where the man studied the heavens. It was an impressive room, lined floor to ceiling with books and maps and with four large windows set into the curving wall through which Laird MacSual could observe all four cardinal points. It was warmed by a fire burning in a hearth, above which hung a painting. Jess was pacing up and down below that painting, biting her lip.
“Jess?” he asked. “What is it? What’s happened?”
She paused, looking up at him, her beautiful eyes troubled. He felt the almost overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and hold her close. To tell her that all would be well. But there was too much left unsaid between them. It was a chasm he could not cross.
“Right,” wheezed MacSual. “Would ye mind telling us what this is all about?”
Jess spun to face him. “Laird MacSual, what happened to your wife?”
“Is this some sort of joke?” MacSual snapped, rising from his chair. “Ye have dragged me all the way up here to ask me this?”
Jess crossed to the table, picked something up, and held it out. Ramsay realized it was the keystone. “Have you ever seen this before?”
Laird MacSual squinted at the piece of stone and then his eyes widened. “Where did ye get that? It belonged to my wife! It was an heirloom of her family.”
“What happened to her?” Jess said, her voice stricken. “Please. It’s important.”
“I’ve already told ye. She disappeared.”
“Did you ever find out what happened to her?”
MacSual shook his head. “We never found her body but she must have perished. If not, she would have found her way back to me.”
“What if she couldn’t?” Jess asked. “What if she was taken so far away that there was no way to get back?”
Ramsay frowned. “Jess. What are ye saying?”
She glanced at him then back to Laird MacSual. “Your wife’s name was Rosa wasn’t it? Rosa MacSual, it says it here under the painting.”
“Ye had no right to uncover that!” MacSual said. He’d gone pale. “Cover it. Please. It’s too painful to look at her.”
“But you must,” Jess said. “We both must. Oh God, we both must! Laird MacSual, is the painting of your wife, Rosa, who disappeared many years ago. Is it?”
“Aye, damn it!” MacSual snapped. “What is this all about?”
Jess reached up and lifted off the locket she kept hanging around her neck. She was trembling. She approached MacSual, holding the locket out to him and snapped it open.
“Look. Please.”
With a puzzled expression, MacSual took the locket and examined it, holding it close to his face. Ramsay had never seen someone’s expression change so completely. MacSual flushed first pink then white, all the blood seeming to drain from his face. His mouth went slack with shock, his eyes going as round as pennies. He gasped and his hands began to shake.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Jess was pale too. She lifted a shaking hand to point at the painting. “That is Rosa MacSual, your wife.” She pointed at the locket in MacSual’s hand. “That is Rosa Maxwell. My grandmother.”
Ramsay moved up beside MacSual and peered over the old man’s shoulder. Inside the locket was a photograph of a woman, standing with the backdrop of a valley behind her. There was no mistaking it. The woman in the photograph was the woman in the painting and the valley behind her was this valley, where Laird MacSual made his home.
MacSual passed a shaking hand over his face. He staggered back and sat down abruptly. “How is this possible?”
Jess drew in a deep breath. She took a step towards MacSual and staggered herself. Ramsay darted forward and caught her elbow to steady her. She gave him a small smile and clung to him. Oh Lord, it was good to touch her.
She swallowed. Closed her eyes. Opened them again and spoke to Laird MacSual. “I’m a time-traveler. I came here from the future through a Fae portal. I think your pregnant wife disappeared because she passed through a similar portal into my time by activating this keystone which she must have subsequently lost. Once in the future she gave birth to your daughter—my mother. I...I...think you are my grandfather.”
Ramsay could not have been more stunned if somebody had clubbed him over the head with a hammer. Laird MacSual looked poleaxed. His mouth worked, but no words came out.
“What?” said Blair into the sudden silence. “She’s a time-traveler? Why did nobody tell me?”
“Hush, cousin,” Ross said. “Listen.”
Laird MacSual hadn’t taken his eyes off Jess. His lips formed the word ‘granddaughter’ but he made not a sound. Then all of a sudden a great, heaving sob wracked him. He hunched over, squeezed his eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Jess made to go to him but Ramsay held her back, sensing that the laird needed space.
MacSual wiped a hand across his face, struggling to master himself. “I suspected,” he rasped. “Lord preserve me, I suspected.” He glanced up at Jess then around at the rest of them. “Ye want to know the truth? Oh, Lord, I havenae spoken about it in years. I’ve tried my best to forget but I canna. Rosa’s disappearance was my punishment. For my sin. Everything that happened to her was my fault.” He began sobbing again.
Jess looked up at Ramsay, her face stricken. Her grip on his arm tightened, and he dared to put an arm around her, holding her close. She leaned into him, her weight and warmth feeling wonderful against his side.
Finally, MacSual mastered himself. “Ye asked about Elspeth MacGregor—Benneit’s grandmother. Aye, I knew her. I knew her very well.” He passed a hand over his face. “When I was a young man I was...involved with Elspeth MacGregor although she was Elspeth MacDonald then. She was wild and beautiful. I couldnae resist her. But she was always hungry for power and chafed at the role that the Good Lord had assigned to her as the eldest daughter of Laird MacDonald. Not for her to step aside and watch her brothers inherit. Not for her to be content to marry and raise children. She wanted more. She craved power and when this was denied her she became embroiled in unspeakable things. She turned to the dark ways and tried to embroil me in them too. I left her and she cursed me. She cursed me to lose all that I treasured in the world. One by one, I would lose all those I loved.
In time she married Laird Andrew MacGregor, and I hoped that it would all be forgotten. I met my Rosa, my beautiful learned, remarkable Rosa. Ah, God, I didnae think it was possible to love any woman the way I loved her. We shared many interests: history, science, astronomy, and we spent many nights together up here watching the heavens. She gave me three strong sons and was expecting a fourth—one we hoped would be a daughter. I couldnae have been happier.
But it wasnae to last. I was roused from my bed one night and told I had a visitor. It was Elspeth MacDonald—now wife to the MacGregor. I barely recognized her. She was dark and twisted, full of spite. She said she had come to enact her curse. She took out a corn dolly and threw it into the fire. With God as my witness, I swear that corn dolly screamed as it burned. Then she left. I denounced her for witchcraft to the church and she was arrested. There had been other rumors, ye see. Over the years tales had circulated about what she was involved in. It was rumored that she held her husband, Laird MacGregor, in thrall and that she was the real power in that clan. She would have been brought to trial only she escaped and fled.
I told Rosa everything. She said she wouldnae let Elspeth threaten her family. I didnae realize what she meant. I thought she was talking figuratively but she wasnae. Rosa was fierce when it came to protecting her family. Fierce, and brave and reckless. One afternoon, when I was out patrolling my lands, she stole out of the castle and went after Elspeth MacGregor. She never came back. Neither of them did. Naught was seen of either Rosa or Elspeth again.”
“She lived,” Jess breathed. “Both her and my mother. For many years. She made a lif
e for herself and her daughter.”
“Tell me...” MacSual’s voice faltered for an instant. “Do they still live? My wife and daughter?”
Pain swept across Jess’s features. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “No. My mother died when I was six. I was brought up by my grandma but she died five years ago.”
MacSual closed his eyes and took several steadying breaths. Then he came to stand in front of Jess. “Yer name,” he said. “Maxwell. It is an English derivation. Do ye know the Gaelic version? MacSual. I dinna believe it. I have a granddaughter.”
He held out his arms and Jess walked into his embrace. “Grandfather,” she whispered, as if trying out the word. “I have a grandfather.”
He pushed her to arms length. “Ye even look like her. I thank the Lord for sending me such an unexpected gift. And I will repay Him tenfold.” He fixed Ramsay, Ross and Blair with a stern gaze. “I will ride to war with ye, sons of the MacAuley. I will do it to ensure Elspeth MacGregor’s grandson doesnae go the way of his grandmother. I will do it for my people—and for my granddaughter.”
Chapter 14
JESS GAZED OUT THE observatory window at the valley below. Despite the rain that lashed the landscape, a group of MacSual children were playing with a small dog that was yapping and running around their feet. Excited barking and raucous laughter echoed up to her. A stout woman came out of a house and marched towards them, hands on hips. She yelled for them to come in out of the rain and the children turned and pelted towards her, the little dog running on ahead.
Jess smiled to herself. The MacSuals were good, honest people. My people, she thought. I’m one of them. I am Jessica MacSual, granddaughter of Laird MacSual of the Highlands.
This was going to take some getting used to.
And yet, in a strange way it all made sense now: why she’d felt so at home as soon as she’d arrived in the Highlands. Why she’d recognized this valley the moment she saw it. What about what had happened in Arndale when she’d seen all those possible futures? Was that a legacy of her grandmother as well?
