Time Bound

by Lora Andrews

  But then what? If Caitlin couldn’t get out of the car, she couldn’t save herself.

  Or Ewen.

  Or apologize to her parents for her asinine behavior.

  She was going to throw up. She’d ignored her father’s calls. The last words she’d spoken to her mother were, “Stay out of my life!” Ha! Spoken? No, more like snarled before she’d marched out of their house. She’d been so pissed and so unbelievably tired of her mother’s incessant need to meddle in her life. “You’re rushing into this adoption sweetheart,” she’d said. “Take a bit more time. Don’t make another mistake.”

  Like her marriage.

  They thought she had rushed into that, too.

  They’d been right.

  Shoving her head between her knees, Caitlin breathed in three counts, then exhaled for three more. She concentrated on the sound of the air entering her diaphragm, because the alternative was the panic attack that would take control of her mind. Then all sorts of crazy thoughts—torture, rape, or worse yet, she’d be delivered into the clutches of a human trafficking network—would hijack her common sense.

  The blond woman glanced at the SUVs in the road, then accepted a card the guard with the black eye handed her. She nodded at whatever he was saying, her face sympathetic. With one last glance, she turned and headed back into the house.

  The door opened, and two of the man’s guards heaved Ewen’s body into the car. He landed on the bench seat, face pressed down into the leather, his right limbs dangling off the cushion. The second slam of the door jarred Caitlin from the shock of seeing him lying on that black leather bench—lifeless.

  The car lurched into motion, and for the first time in twenty-three years, Caitlin let herself believe monsters were real.

  SIX

  Ewen awoke, face down, lying inside another SUV. Nausea rolled through his gut. God’s teeth. Did the occupants of this foul world spend every waking minute trapped inside these bluidy contraptions? With a grunt, he shoved off the seat. Pain sliced his ribs when he positioned his back against the cabin wall.

  “Are you okay?” Caitlin moved to sit beside him. Her cool fingertips touched his knee.

  “Aye.” The gesture sent an uncomfortable sensation cascading through his chest. He wasn’t accustomed to a woman’s kindness, let alone an outpouring of empathy from a beautiful woman he believed was linked to his disappearance from Ardgour.

  She pulled her hand from his leg and leaned back into the seat. Her eyes were red and swollen. “I’m so sorry, Ewen. I didn’t see them coming.” There was blood on her cheek and cuts on her arms.

  “Are you hurt?” The same wounds dotted his bare legs and feet.

  “I’m okay.”

  O’cae? He ignored the foreign word. “I recall the crash and smoke, a black vehicle careening toward us, but not much else.”

  “The airbags deployed, but you were hit pretty hard.” She ground her thumb into the center of her palm and shook her head. Her dark hair fell around her face. White dust marred her clothing, her chest, and the tight black fabric stretched across her thighs.

  “Have they made their demands known?”

  “No, they haven’t said anything. And there’s no way out.”

  He eased back against the cushion, wincing at the pain in his chest. The right side of his face stung like he had been slapped. He prodded the bone with a finger. Sore, but not broken.

  “It’s a burn. From the airbag.”

  A burn would explain the irritation prickling his side, but air bag? The language barrier would be his undoing. Between the ringing in his ears and the gibberish coming from her mouth, he barely understood a word she’d said. Communication would prove tricky—a liability in his dealings with both Caitlin and whoever had masterminded the attacks.

  He’d have to remedy that, and soon.

  “I am so sorry. I saw the headlights and froze.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.” Her hands flew to her mouth to smother a sob.

  Ah, hell. He could charge into a throng of enemy soldiers without fear, without hesitation, but the sight of a weeping lass tore him up inside and turned him into a helpless babe.

  “Doona cry. You did all you possibly could. We’re alive, and that is all that matters now.”

  The question of how long, he kept to himself. The fact he lived bothered him. Caitlin’s abductors had seemed determined to kill him during the clash in the clearing. After the impact, Ewen had been at their mercy, unconscious and vulnerable, an easy kill. So why keep him alive now?

  She rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. Movement blurred against the darkened glass. Trees lined each side of the roadway. A wide path of grass expanded between opposing lanes of the black tarlike surface. Metal conveyances—some small, some large, and colored in every shade of the rainbow—raced by in a frenzied march. There were too many to count. It was enough to make his head spin.

  “Do you recognize this land?” he asked.

  She peered outside. “We passed the Route 24 on-ramp a little while ago, so we’re not heading toward Boston, or Logan Airport, thank god. We’re nearly out of Dartmouth now, so I’m guessing New Bedford.”

  Bedford was a Sassenach territory near London, but he must have heard wrong. “Did you say Bedford?”

  “I can’t imagine they’d take us to the Cape, but if we cross the Sagamore Bridge…”

  His skin chilled. He’d made the assumption he was no longer in his time. So why did it bother him to learn that he’d been displaced to a location fifteen days south of Ardgour? Fifteen days traveling alone on his fastest horse. God’s bones. If he’d doubted magic’s involvement before, the evidence was laid out before his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Caitlin asked.

  “How far are we from the Great Ouse?” Pinpointing his location would be the first step in gaining control of the situation.

  “Um, the Great Ouse?”

  “Aye, the River Ouse.” He looked through the darkened glass and up toward the sky. They traveled east from the sun’s placement. “Are we north or south of the river?”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, her skin paling before she looked down to her lap.

  Bluidy hell. “We’re no’ in England.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Ewen looked out the window. Behind the tree line, strange walls shot to the sky with colorful images plastered across their faces. Rooftops poked between the foliage, displaying more of the unusual structures he’d glimpsed upon his arrival.

  “Where then?” he asked.

  “Massachusetts.” She bit her lip, watching his face as she spoke. “In the US.”

  Numb, Ewen nodded. The information meant nothing to him. The vehicle deaccelerated and came to a stop at a fork in the road.

  Caitlin’s attention went to one of the posts topped with a strange symbol. “An airport? Oh, no,” she said, her voice shrill. “We’ve got to get out of here. Help me, please. There has to be something we can do.”

  “We wait.” He flattened his body against the seat. The doors lacked the metal latches he noticed embedded in Caitlin’s carriage. The seats were sparse and the darkened glass lined the cabin. There would be no escape until the vehicle halted.

  “They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?”

  He could not lie to her. “Perhaps.”

  “Great.” She sighed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  There was that word again. “O’cae?”

  “Yeah, as in all right? Are you all right?”

  He was correct in his assessment of their situation, but something told him that wasn’t what she queried.

  “I’m asking you if you’re feeling well.”

  “Aye.” He pressed his head back against the backrest and closed his eyes. “Aye, I am.”

  “Are you sure? You’re still bleeding from earlier.”

  Ewen looked down at his shirt and snorted. “It is minor. I’ve suffered worse.”

  “But�
�”

  “Dinna fash yourself. If I were near death, I would not be arguing with you.”

  “Men. You all think you’re invincible.” She twisted her mouth and glanced out the window.

  He grinned. “We’re not?”

  “Only in your dreams, warrior.”

  Ewen laughed. “Aye, perhaps you’ve the right of it, lass.”

  A small smile crept upon her lips.

  Even with her red rimmed eyes and the fine dust splattered across her clothing, she was lovely. But could he trust her? Although his instincts told him she was as much a victim as he, experience had taught him to be wary of a bonny lass with a pretty smile. Things were not always what they seemed when danger and a beautiful woman intersected.

  Case in point, the sorceress in the field.

  Caitlin sighed. “What do they want with me? I lead a boring life. I work more than I should, and when I’m not working, I’m home or spending time with my family.”

  He cocked his head and studied her face. “That remains to be seen. For now, you’re safe.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’ve experience with such matters.”

  Her brows shot to her hairline. “People wanting you dead?”

  “Aye, that too.” Too many times to count in fact, but it had been years since he’d suffered a good wallop to the chest. Not since he’d lost his grip scaling the damn castle walls on a drunken dare. That night he’d lost a pouch full of coins to Ian.

  A twinge to the heart. He had friends and family. People who would search all of Ardgour for him. Loved ones he might never see again. He cleared his aching throat and swallowed the bitterness fate had dealt him.

  “Back at the clearing.” Caitlin paused and raised her thumbnail to her lip.

  He tensed. Would she think him a heartless killer? For reasons he couldn’t explain, her opinion of him mattered.

  “Just…thank you. You didn’t have to defend me, but you did. This”—she threw a hand in the air—“is a lot to take in, and I’m not ready to die. Not like this.”

  The last sentence fell from her mouth. The need to comfort her rose in his chest, tempting him to utter reassuring words—words that would wipe the worry from her face. “You’ll not die this day.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “We’re locked in a moving car, heading god knows where.”

  “This is a temporary impediment.” He leaned forward. His chest ached with each inhale of air. “If they wanted you dead, you’d already be dead and not pondering why they’ve kept you alive.”

  “You know that’s not exactly what I need to hear.” She played with the pendant at her neck. “My grandmother was Scottish, and every time I stressed or worried over something, she’d say, ‘Éasca anois, mo chridhe.’” Easy now, my heart. Caitlin smiled. “She also said I talked too much, and I do, especially when I’m nervous, but that’s a story for another day. God, I miss her.”

  “Your seanmhair is Scots?” Distracted, Ewen watched the back and forth movement of her fingers at her chest, so close to the rise and fall of her breasts. She dropped the pendant inside her shirt and sat on her hand.

  “My grandmother was a MacEwen, a descendant of the MacEwen’s of Otter. Have you heard of them?”

  A sharp flush of anger swept through him. Aye, he’d heard of them. He had a history with one MacEwen in particular. He gave her a slight nod.

  “My grandfather always said she was too stubborn to be a MacEwen, or a Walker, her married name, and insisted it was Cameron blood pumping through her veins.”

  Ewen laughed, picturing his sister-in-law, Mari. “Aye, your seanair’s a wise man. My bràthair wed a Cameron lass, and she is as stubborn as the night is long.”

  It had taken a fierce woman to hold his brother’s heart. The alliance with the Camerons was meant to strengthen the clan, a fragile peace his brother’s enemies would seek to destroy. Unease swept through his chest. Had the sorceress felled a scouting team, or had Ewen simply engaged the first wave of an attack against the keep?

  Caitlin cleared her throat. “You’re Scottish then, from Scotland?” Color flushed her cheeks, brightening her pale skin to a pink hue. “Of course, you’re from Scotland if you’re Scottish. What I meant to ask is where in Scotland are you from?”

  “My clan is from Ardgour, on the western shores of Loch Linnhe.” His adopted home—the people he chose to call kin.

  “Oh, I think I know where that is. Scotland is beautiful. I visited last year. I walked the MacEwen ruins. Life within those castle walls must have been something in its heyday.”

  “Castle MacEwen lies in ruins?” Nay, it could not be.

  She nodded. “I also toured the original Toward Castle. The grounds are gorgeous.”

  The blood drained from his face. Like tar gone dry, her words froze in his ears, and nothing else registered but the one statement. “You toured the ruins?”

  “Do you feel worse?”

  “No.” His heart knocked in his throat. “Did you say the Lamont keep no longer stands?”

  “Yes. The castle was attacked and destroyed by the Campbell’s in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, I believe.”

  “Christ.” Ewen ran a shaky hand through his hair. What had the fates dragged him into this time?

  SEVEN

  A haunted look crept onto Ewen’s face.

  What the hell had she said to scare a man like him? Unless the castle ruins she mentioned were places known to him. Places that were as real to him as her home was to her. Places that still existed in his reality.

  No, that was…impossible. That would mean…

  The man had fallen out of a blob suspended in midair. Everything that had happened to her since the moment they’d met was impossible. Yet here she was, traveling to an undisclosed location, with a man in a yellow tunic.

  Her temples throbbed.

  “What of Buannachd Mhòr?” he asked. “Or Duart Castle? Know you of these?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  Ewen sat forward. “Try to remember, lass.”

  He seemed so…lost. So alone. Caitlin wished she could give him something, anything that would wipe the look of desperation from his eyes, but her research had been limited to the MacEwen clan, and the Lamonts by association.

  “I’m sorry, Ewen. Those locations are unfamiliar to me.”

  “Aye, then there’s hope.”

  Outside, the area grew more industrial in nature. Semi-trailers jutted out of metal warehouses. Overgrown brush and debris littered the road as the vehicle passed beneath an overpass. The man beside her sat quietly. He was beautiful...not movie star gorgeous, but beautiful in a way that was wild and rugged and dangerous.

  He cleared his throat and winced when he shifted his weight. “I must warn you, a scheme such as this one is not carried out without forethought and planning.”

  “Okay.” She sucked in a breath. Maybe she didn’t want to be forewarned.

  “Think on who would have the most to gain if something were to befall you.”

  She almost laughed. “I’m no heiress. Not on a teacher’s salary.”

  He ran a knuckle along his well-defined jaw. “It was a stone the man asked you to render, was it not?”

  “What if they’ve confused me with someone else? That has to be it. Once they realize their mistake—”

  “You best pray it is no error.”

  Because if it were, she was as good as dead.

  Ewen reached out and cupped her hand. Warmth traveled up her arm and pulsed with a life of its own. Her gaze flew to his face. There was no reaction. Only concern as he lowered his face to hers.

  “It was your name they called. It is you they seek. There is naught I can do to soften this harsh truth. This conveyance will cease its travel. There will be an interrogation, of that you can be certain. Have you this stone?”

  She slid her hand from his grasp and massaged the skin. “Define stone. If they’re looking for a valuable gemstone, then the answe
r is no. Beach rock? I’ve got a whole collection, but that’s not exactly something a person would kill for, is it?”

  “So you have no knowledge of this stone, or why these men would pursue you?”

  “No.”

  “They will threaten to harm me to coerce you into submission. It creates vulnerability in a captive. Do not yield, no matter how dire the circumstances.”

  Oh great, more good news. “Now do you believe I’m not a witch?”

  “Not even a wee trace of it in your blood?” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  She was suddenly conscious of how little space there was between their bodies. “Nope. Not a trace.”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “’Tis sorry I am then.”

  “Me, too.”

  His smile melted away, replaced with a scowl that took root between his piercing eyes. “If an opportunity arises, break away and run. It is your best means to escape the harm that threatens you. The time for bravery is long past. Your aim now is survival. Do you understand? When the time comes, run as fast as your lovely legs will take you and don’t look back.”

  Wrapping her arms around her chest, she leaned her head against the coolness of the glass as the landscape slid by. Her life paralleled that moving landscape. The adoption, her family and friends, all were within her grasp, but as the miles piled on, and the distance grew, they fell farther and farther away, and soon, they would be out of sight and out of her reach. She couldn’t let that happen. She had worked too damn hard to get her life back on track. She had too much to lose and everything to live for.

  “I have to get back. I have things I have to finish.” Things she had to set straight. First with her parents by telling them she loved them despite their inability to understand her motives where Jadiel was concerned. And then there was the little boy who’d stolen her heart.

  She’d never be able to do those things locked inside this damn SUV. She struck the door then turned her attention to the barrier that separated her from their captors up front. Hand fisted, she prepared to swing at the glass with all her strength, but Ewen grabbed her wrist before she could land the first strike.