Muttering quietly so Gavin wouldn’t hear her, she tried to have a conversation, taking the side of herself and her friend. “Hi, Donna. Good to see you. You’re looking a lot like a fireplace.”
Twisting her body to one side, she replied. “Thanks, Heather. What’s up?”
“I’m supposed to steal a knife so Gavin MacGregor won’t murder Mungo Frazer in cold blood and then come home.”
“So what’s the problem? Do it.”
“The problem is from what I’ve just heard Mungo Frazer is actually the baddie and Gavin MacGregor is…well Gavin is a bit of a hottie.”
The door flew open as Gavin appeared, carrying armfuls of wood. “What’s a hottie?” he asked, dumping the wood in front of the fireplace.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“You were talking just then. I heard you say I was a hottie.”
She winced, feeling her toes curl with embarrassment. “You were listening to me?”
“No, lass. I couldnae help hearing you say that on my way back in. What’s a hottie?”
“Never mind. Can we get this fire going, please. I’m freezing.”
She was glad when he got to work laying out kindling in the ancient hearth. It meant he wasn’t looking at her with those piercing eyes of his and she had a chance to try and let her embarrassment fade.
Don’t ever talk out loud to people who aren’t there, she told herself as he struck a flint, sending yellow and white sparks down onto the kindling.
The sparks caught after a couple of attempts and soon a warming blaze was growing in the hearth.
Once he was satisfied the fire would survive on its own, Gavin turned to look at her. “I brought you a blanket from the horse,” he said, “Here.”
“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders. “Are you not cold?”
He shook his head. “I am used to it. Besides, it will be much colder come the winter.”
“Cold enough for even you to wear a cloak?”
“Maybe.” He was smiling at her and again she couldn’t stop herself sighing, warmth spreading through her that was not coming from the fireplace. “Are you ready to sleep?”
“Not yet.” A gust of cold wind blew in under the door and she couldn’t help shivering. At once Gavin was by her side, putting an arm around her, pressing his body to hers.
“I will warm you until the fire heats this place better,” he said, looking her in the eyes as she glanced across at him.
She could smell him and his scent made her insides jump and twist. The heat coming from his skin warmed her but far hotter was the feel of his hand around her side, holding her close. She felt safer than she ever had in her life, protected, as if no harm could ever come to her while she was by his side.
She felt as if she would never sleep, her brain too wired with thoughts of him. He sat staring at the fire, saying nothing.
“What happens tomorrow?” she asked, anything to try and stop the voice in her head yelling at her to kiss him. She ignored the voice. It could not be entertained.
“We find out who we are chasing and why they are not with the others.”
“What do you think’s going on?”
“I suspect someone is organizing the outlaws into a mercenary army. No doubt they are going to whoever is in charge of them to seek fresh orders.”
“What will you do when we catch up to them?”
“Find out who gives out the orders.”
“And then?”
He shook his head. “Too early to say. For now it is enough for us to hunt them.”
“What if we don’t find them?”
“We will.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I am. Now you must rest. We will need to be away at first light if we are to catch them.”
She felt his hand moving away from her, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss. She tried her best to ignore it but the sense of loneliness only increased as she lay on her side, trying to get comfortable on the paltry remains of an old straw mattress.
Gavin threw another log on the fire before slumping down in front of the door, sitting with his back against it.
“You intend to sleep like that?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“This way no one may enter without me knowing about it.”
She lay down again, feeling his eyes on her. The voices in her head came back with a vengeance. Go over there and kiss him. Invite him to join you. Tell him to sleep beside you. Tell him you are cold. Kiss him. Tell him to kiss you. Imagine what it feels like to have his lips on yours. That could happen if you tell him how you feel. Do it. Tell him.
“Goodnight,” she said quietly.
“Sleep well, lass,” he replied.
She didn’t.
The next morning she was up first. She had woken up several times in the night and by morning she was exhausted.
She sat up, planning to go look for the key. The first gray light of dawn was enough for her to see that Gavin still sat with his back to the door. How was she supposed to get out without disturbing him?
She looked at him closely, at once feeling the surge of warmth she’d felt the night before. Why did he have to be so handsome? It wasn’t fair. This was going to be hard enough as it was.
Think about the damage to your family, she told herself, trying to harden her thoughts. What mattered was that Gavin, handsome or not, had ruined her family for generations.
Think of the coldness of your parents, the fact that your family had it all but then lost it, all because of that man murdering your ancestor in cold blood. Go find the key. Stop swooning over him like a lovestruck teenager.
She groaned.
He opened his eyes, instantly alert. For a moment they stared at each other but then almost at once she looked away, ashamed to have been caught staring at him.
“We overslept,” he said, cursing loudly. “Come, we must be on our way.”
He was on his feet and pulling open the door a moment later. She joined him outside, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Dew covered the grass by the broch but it wasn’t that which caught her eye.
To her left something was sticking out of the ground. While Gavin untied the horse she quickly knelt down and sighed with relief. It was the key.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, raising her eyes to the heavens.
She grabbed the key and then went to shove it in her pocket only to remember she was no longer wearing her jeans, she was in the dress the clan had given her. Gavin turned and waved her over.
The key weighed heavy in her fist as she approached him and before she could say anything he had taken hold of her hands.
“I want to say something to you,” he said, frowning as she kept her fist clenched. “What’s this you’ve got?” He forced her fingers apart, spotting the key at once. “What is this?”
“I found it over there,” she said. “I thought I’d keep it as a souvenir.”
“As a what?”
“A keepsake, a memento of the night we spent here together.”
He picked up the key, looking at it closely, his expression changing, as if he was about to say something. Then he smiled, handing her the key back. “We should be going.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve a bag or something I can keep this in?”
“Aye.” He tapped the saddlebag on the side of the horse. “That do for now?”
She thought about refusing but realized there was no reason she could give that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. “All right,” she said at last, placing the key in the bag as Gavin held it open. “Don’t let me forget it’s in there.”
“I would never forget that key,” he replied, his voice sounding strange. “We should be on our way. We are falling behind.” He helped her up onto the horse before joining her. “Must give him some water first,” he said as they set off toward the loch.
Once there the horse drank its fill and they did the same, Heather copying Gavin, cupp
ing her hands to scoop up mouthfuls of icy cold crystal clear loch water.
When they were all done, they set off in earnest, heading up the mountain pass, Heather trying to ignore her rumbling stomach and how dirty she was starting to feel.
How did these people cope without showers? She felt like running back to the loch to get clean despite how cold it had been.
One more thing to ignore, she told herself as they climbed gradually up the mountain pass, the slopes on either side of them getting steeper, the sun vanishing from view. Focus on getting the knife and then get home and you can take all the showers you want.
“What’s that over there?” she asked, noticing something to the left of them.
Gavin looked where she was pointing. “I see nothing.”
“Look, there.”
He turned the horse in that direction. “Smoke,” he said a moment later. “I could not see it for the morning mist. You have keen eyes.”
“Why would there be smoke up here? What is there to burn?”
“I sense a darkness to this,” he replied, slowing the horse down. “We must be cautious.”
As they grew nearer to the source of the smoke Heather’s sense of foreboding grew. There was something ahead of them that was bad. She could tell it deep inside her bones. Whatever was there was evil.
All of a sudden she wanted to turn back. She didn’t want the knife. She didn’t care what happened to her ancestors. She just wanted to grab the key and go home. If there had been a door nearby she would not have hesitated to use the key and return to her own time, get as far away from here as she could.
But there was no door. She was on the back of a huge horse and getting closer to the smoke all the time. The light became darker despite the rising of the sun. It was as if they had entered a forbidden space, somewhere people were never supposed to go.
“What is up here?” she asked quietly, not liking how nervous her voice sounded.
“There should be only rocks.”
“You’re not telling me something. What is it?”
“There are some who think this mountain pass is where the barefoot man came from, rising up from a crack between the rocks, coming out of the bowels of the earth to haunt the highlands long before the clans even existed.
“What barefoot man? I’ve never heard of him. Who is he?”
“It doesnae matter. He is dead and buried thanks to my father and there are now few who remember him despite the harm he did to the world.”
“Who was he?”
“I dinnae ken. A man? A demon? Something darker, something older maybe. All I ken is that it cannae be him up ahead of us and yet this darkness is as it used to be described. I pray he has not returned.”
“We should go back.”
He stopped the horse. “You are afraid?”
“Aren’t you?”
He climbed down to the ground, looking up at her. “You can ride back if you wish but I intend to find out what is ahead. The tracks of those who came from the outlaws came this way. I will find out what’s going on up there.”
“Come back with me. We should both go. I’ve a horrible feeling about what’s up there. Please.”
“I cannae do it. As laird I swore an oath to protect my clan.”
“Even if that oath gets you killed?”
He nodded.
She looked at him and then at the wisps of smoke up ahead. She felt terrified. She wanted nothing more than to be back at home, talking to Donna about her wedding, about work, about anything at all if it meant never feeling this scared again. “I will not leave you,” she said at last, the words out before she even knew she’d said them.
“Then we leave our ride here and proceed on foot.”
She nodded, getting down with his help. “I feel so scared,” she said, unable to take her eyes from the smoke. “Why do I feel so scared?”
“There is nothing wrong with feeling fear,” he replied, taking her hand in his. “As long as that fear does not cripple you from taking action.”
She looked down at his hand, the spell of the smoke broken. The feel of his fingers entwined with hers made her feel better at once.
“Come on,” he said. “You can do this.”
“The question is why am I doing this,” she said to herself as they made their way quietly along the pass for twenty yards.
“This way,” he said, pausing to look at the ground. “See the tracks going along this sheep trail? They lead to the smoke.”
He led the way, still holding her hand. The smoke still rose in thin wisps. The closer they got the less white the smoke became. It turned purple, sparkling and shimmering in the morning light in a way that caught and held the gaze. Heather couldn’t stop staring at it as they got ever closer to the source.
They reached a ridge and then stopped. Lowering himself to the ground, Gavin motioned for her to do the same. He crawled forward until he could peer over the top. She joined him a second later, the fear inside her returning in force as she looked at what lay in front of them.
A dip concealed a hidden valley in the mountainside. At the far side was a cave entrance and sitting beside it on short squat rocks were three men and an ancient woman. The men were cruel looking with fierce swords strapped to their sides.
The woman was so frail she looked like she might collapse in the slightest breeze. And yet at the same time there was a strength of evil to her that made Heather shudder. She wore a black cloak with a hood from which straggly white hair sprang. She was talking to the men, pointing at each of them in turn.
In the middle of the group was a small fire onto which she regularly tossed things from a pile beside her. At first Heather thought it was a woodpile but then she almost gagged. It was lumps of meat, enough remaining of the animal for her to suggest it was once a wolf. The head had been placed on a rock as if it were one of the party.
Further away three horses stood, shuffling nervously, the smell of blood troubling them.
As each chunk of meat was tossed onto the fire, a purple flare of smoke rose. The crone’s fingers mingled with the smoke, twisting and turning as if she controlled it even though that was impossible.
“It is her,” Gavin said, drawing his bow. At once the woman looked up and though he was well hidden it was as if she saw him, vanishing into the cave a second later.
The three men were up and running toward Gavin and Heather before he had time to notch an arrow.
He grabbed Heather and shoved her away before firing the bow. The arrow struck the nearest man and he fell at once. The others ran on, they were seconds away.
“You must flee,” Gavin said. “I will give you time.”
“I can’t ride,” she replied, tugging at his arm. “Please, come with me.”
Her pull on his arm sent his next arrow high. The men scrambled up the side of the gully, almost upon them.
“Come on,” Heather said, grabbing his hand. Together they sprinted down to the horse. They made it just in time, climbing on as the two men swung swords at them.
The horse galloped down the mountain pass, leaving the two men far behind. “Who were they?” Heather asked over the sound of the horse’s hooves.
“Outlaws,” Gavin replied. “Clan men would not be so stupid as to chase on foot with their horses ready nearby. The tall one was Jimmy the Snout, I did not ken the others.”
“And what about the woman. You acted like you knew her. Who was she?”
“The barefoot man’s mother,” he replied. “I thought she had vanished into whatever darkness she came from. Now it all makes sense. She is mustering the outlaws together. She must be controlling Mungo somehow. I should have guessed. I must warn my men. Be warned, war is coming, Heather Frazer. I just hope we are ready for it.”
8
They rode hard, Lairdkiller thrashing the ground as they raced back toward the rest of the MacGregor men. They didn’t make it back that day.
Each time they had to stop to rest the horse felt like an eternity. Ga
vin barely spoke to Heather, he was too lost in his own thoughts. Even when he gathered berries for them to eat, he simply handed them over and continued thinking.
He did not like the fact he had taken her into such a dangerous situation. The sight of the outlaws coming toward them with their swords drawn filled him with a sick dread and anger. They could have killed her.
She was special. He had an inkling of that even before he saw the key. Seeing it in her hand simply confirmed what he already suspected. Could it be possible? Could another woman have come back from the future?
He shuddered to think of what might have happened to her.
He knew from the moment he saw the old crone that he had to get back to his men, had to warn them of what was coming.
He should not have brought her. She was a distraction.
He recalled the stories his father had told him, the stories that had been passed down through the generations. The barefoot man sweeping through the highlands more than a hundred years earlier. Women coming from the future to help the MacGregors at key points in their history. Help them defeat the devil in human form.
Six silver keys marked with the letter M, each one opening a door to the past at just the right time. At first he thought the stories were just meant to entertain him but he saw the seriousness in his father’s eyes. Could it be true?
Each generation had its own key. Now he’d seen one with his own eyes.
The tales of the old crone were patchy but one had been confirmed by his initial encounter. She would not be easy to kill. From the very moment he thought about drawing his bow, she was already up and moving. She knew he was going to try and fire an arrow straight into her heart before he even knew he was going to do it. How was that possible?
He vowed to talk to Heather about the key when they were safe. It was not a conversation he could start yet. First, he needed to get back to his men.
They made it to the spot where he’d split up from the others. Following their trail he reached an empty clearing. Two sets of tracks led in two different directions.
“Where is everyone?” Heather asked.
“The outlaws went east,” he replied. “My men have returned that way to the castle. I must speak to them.” He turned his horse away from the empty clearing.
The Key to His Castle: A Clean Time Travel Romance (Clan MacGregor Book 5) Page 8
