by Lynn Kurland
“It does not mean I agree with her decision, nor do I approve of her plan.”
“I never would have thought either was the case.”
Connor grunted at him. “Well? Any suggestions?”
“A longer sword and a few insights into your medieval persona might be a good place to start.”
Connor chewed on his lip for a moment or two. “It galls me to admit it, but in life, there was not much at all to recommend me.”
Thomas did smile. “There wasn’t much to recommend you last summer, either, but look what a charmer you’ve become. Vic’ll work on you.”
“You assume I’ll allow myself to be worked on.”
“It’s Victoria. Even I, as her jaded and skeptical brother, have to admit she’s gorgeous. And she’s just as bad-tempered as you are. I imagine you’ll take one look at her and fall madly in love.”
“Ha,” Connor said grimly. “I wish I could credit my mortal self with such good sense, but I cannot. Your sister will be fortunate indeed if she doesn’t see the inside of my dungeon before she can spew out her message to me.”
“Connor, my friend, give yourself some credit.”
Connor looked at Victoria’s brother for a moment or two in silence, then spoke. “Would you allow your lady to do this for you?”
Thomas McKinnon was, mercifully, silent.
Indeed, he looked as if Connor had jarred him quite forcefully in the gut. It took him several moments before he could recapture his breath.
“I see,” he said finally.
“Now you do.”
“I’ll work on her Gaelic; you work on her swordplay and landmark-reading skills.”
“I suppose I can do nothing less,” Connor said. “Unless I could find a way to thwart her plans.”
Thomas shook his head. “Don’t think it. Let’s go prepare her as best we can. The rest will take care of itself.”
“As it did during your trip to the past?”
“We’ll talk about that after it’s all over.” Thomas smiled. “I think Vic’s beginning to tax Ian’s patience and that’s saying something. Start making your list of what she should know and I’ll get with the language.”
Connor nodded and wished he could pour his whole heart into the idea. All he could think about was Victoria, alone and unprotected in the wilds of medieval Scotland. Or, worse yet, in the wilds of his hall, with him never the wiser and ready as he had always been to toss out of his hall anyone who displeased him.
The saints pity them both.
T o his surprise, the longer sword proved to be a great success. Connor stood in Jamie’s garden a day or two later and watched Victoria spar with Ian—Ian who was apparently the resident swordmaster to women who had lost all sense and were determined to pursue a course of madness. She was not only holding her own, she was forcing Ian to actually exert himself to maintain his dignity.
“Peace,” Ian exclaimed with a laugh. “This is a more delicate and refined fighting that I am used to and it taxes me greatly.”
Victoria dragged her sleeve across her brow. “Then go get your broadsword and hack at someone else for a while. It will make you feel better.”
Ian made her a low bow, swished his rapier through the air with a delightful sound, then took Victoria’s advice and sought out a different blade and a sturdier partner. Connor waited for Victoria to have a drink before he began peppering her with questions.
“How do you find west?”
She sighed. “Take a stick, mark the shadow. Wait fifteen minutes and put another stick where the shadow has moved to. Draw a line between the two. That points east and west.”
“And if it’s too cloudy for a shadow?”
“Pray.”
He pursed his lips. “And if ruffians come upon you?”
“Kill first, be polite later.”
He grunted. “And if your horse falls lame?”
“Connor, my horse will be fine. I will be fine. I’ll find your hall, tell you what’s up, and convince you to come back with me.” She smiled. “It’s all going to work out just fine.”
If only he could be so convinced. Well, at least her Gaelic wasn’t as dreadful as he had first thought. He would not mistake her for a Scot, but she was almost intelligible. Perhaps even fluency would come in time. He could only hope it wouldn’t come thanks to time spent in his dungeon, consorting with the other prisoners he had tended to toss in and forget about.
“Iolanthe and Elizabeth are working on some clothes for me,” she said with a bright smile. “I think I should probably go try them on. Later, I should walk and see if I can recognize all the edible plants Patrick told me about. He’s Jamie’s brother, you know, and quite adept at eating all kinds of things you wouldn’t think you could.”
Connor sighed. Aye, he knew Patrick and had found him to be just as lethal and fierce as his older brother, though perhaps a little more jovial. Connor wasn’t surprised by Patrick’s resourcefulness. He had been surprised, however, at the pleasure he’d taken in conversing with both MacLeod brothers.
Miracles never ceased, apparently.
“Do you want to come with me later?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said with a sigh. “I will await you in the meadow.”
“Great,” she said brightly and turned to walk across the garden and into the hall.
She didn’t look afeared by what she intended to do.
That troubled him.
But he said nothing about it as the afternoon wore on. He took no notice of her excessive cheerfulness as she scouted out things she could eat in a moment of need. He even managed to ignore her exaggerated yawn after supper, as if the day had been just so full of delights that she could do nothing but seek out her bed and recover. He watched her go.
She was acting.
Poorly.
It did not bode well, somehow.
After supper, he found himself sitting alone before the fire in the great hall. He wasn’t without companionship for long, though. James MacLeod joined him after the household had gone to sleep. He sat down in a chair opposite Connor and stared into the fire for quite some time.
Connor marveled at the strangeness of it all. To think it had taken him seven centuries to realize that he could befriend clansmen he would have killed without thinking during life. He had to admit that in Jamie’s case at least, he would have made a mistake.
“Well?” Connor said. “What do you think?”
Jamie looked at him. “What do you think?”
“What I think isn’t fit to utter.”
Jamie’s expression didn’t change. “’Tis a very great risk she takes for you.”
“I begged her not to.”
“And it no doubt takes a goodly bit of humility on your part to accept that risk.”
“More than I possess.”
Jamie smiled faintly. “I daresay I can understand that. I cannot say that I wouldn’t feel the same in your place. To have my woman do for me what I could not . . . it would be difficult.”
“It galls me deeply. I have no means of protecting her when she goes.”
“Can you now?” Jamie asked.
“In some small measure, aye,” Connor said.
“But you cannot wed her, give her children, or see to her as you would wish.” He smiled gravely. “You are in an untenable position, my friend. If you allow her to do this thing, you cannot protect her. If you do not allow her to do this thing, you cannot give her what your heart desires.”
“She will go over my protests.”
“Will she?” Jamie mused. “Despite her determination, I daresay she feels somehow that you disapprove of her choice. It robs her of the benefit and comfort you might offer her and I suspect it keeps her from throwing her whole heart into her training. In spite of your pride and because of your affection for her.”
Connor found that it was quite some time before he could rid himself of all the uncomplimentary things he wanted to call James MacLeod. Because of his words. Because he had it
all aright.
He sighed. “I fear for her.”
“Then prepare her for the worst. We both know how dire her straits could become.”
Connor nodded wearily. “I will.”
“I had a thought earlier,” Jamie began.
“Another one?” Connor asked sourly. “Have you not bludgeoned me with enough of them already tonight?”
Jamie smiled easily. “I was thinking that if you would care to write down your memories, I could aid you in that. I did the like for Iolanthe and it was of great comfort to her.”
Connor considered, then shook his head. “I couldn’t read at all in the past, so words will not serve me if I come to the Future. Nay, I’ll simply be forced to rely on my superior intelligence and flexible imagination.”
“And hope you lose your sword on the way through the gate?” Jamie asked with a hint of a smile.
“I’ll be far less tempted to use it that way, I suppose,” Connor agreed.
“Well, then perhaps we will find another way to stir your memories when Victoria brings you home.”
“If she manages—”
“I would cease with that sort of talk if I were you,” Jamie interrupted sharply. “It will do nothing to give your lady the confidence she needs.”
Connor sighed gustily and rose. “Thank you, my laird, for the advice and the censure. I will take both to heart.”
“All will be well,” Jamie said, standing and taking Connor’s hand. “She is strong.”
“Headstrong,” Connor muttered, then he looked at Jamie quickly. “It is a fine attribute that will aid her well in her task.”
Jamie laughed. “Well said.”
Connor nodded absently, bid Jamie a good e’en, and went on his way. His first thought was to escape from any more of Jamie’s piercing truths, but he soon found himself climbing the stairs and walking down the passageway to the chamber where he knew Victoria slept. He put his ear to the door and listened.
Within was the sound of quiet weeping.
“Ach, by the saints,” he said, then knocked.
Victoria opened the door shortly thereafter, blowing her nose. “A cold,” she said, then she realized it was he. “You knocked.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you unnecessarily.”
“You did that from day one.” She stepped back a pace or two. “Please, come in.”
He went inside and perched on a very feminine-looking chair. He waited until Victoria was seated nearby before he took a deep breath. Her cheeks were tearstained and her eyes very red. He cursed himself silently, then sighed. “I am here to apologize,” he said.
“Apologize?”
He scowled at her. “You needn’t sound so surprised. I am capable, you know.”
She smiled wanly. “Then by all means, go on.”
“I have not been enthusiastic about this plan of yours and it has no doubt hampered your efforts. You are sacrificing everything to save my sorry arse and instead of gratitude, I’ve shown you an appalling lack of succor.”
She stared at him in astonishment.
“Well,” he said defensively, “I have.”
“I’m not quite sure what to say.”
“Say, ‘My, what a flowery bit of rubbish that was,’ and let’s get on with your preparations. I suggest a good night’s rest tonight, for on the morrow we train in earnest.”
A tear or two ran down her cheeks. “Thank you.”
He waved her thanks away. “’Twas nothing. Least I could do. I would recite verse for you, as well, but I don’t want to reduce you to tears again.” He stood. “To bed with you, woman. I’ll guard your door outside.”
She nodded. He supposed if she could have, she might have clasped hands with him, or even gone so far as to have kissed his cheek.
He made her a low bow and disappeared before he could consider either of those things further.
He took up a post outside her door and forced away his worry. There was, in truth, little else to be done and no pleasing alternatives to consider. If Victoria was successful in saving his life but he refused to go to the Future with her, he wouldn’t be a restless spirit haunting Thorpewold and he would lose what little he had with her.
But if he didn’t allow her to try, he was quite certain he would lose her just the same. It was easy at present to suppose that she would stay forever, but the truth was, there would come a time when even the most stoic and committed of wenches would want a real man in her bed.
Nay, he would have to let her go, even if only for that small possibility that she might succeed.
He could only hope he wouldn’t be a complete horse’s arse when she showed up at his gates.
That was a probability of which he was all too certain.
Chapter 27
Victoria stood several feet away from what they had affectionately come to call Farris’s Fairy Ring and took three long, slow breaths. It was what she did before performances to still her nerves. It was those quick breaths that tended to get her in trouble, but the long ones—no, those were the life-saving, heart-calming ones. Unfortunately, they weren’t working all that well at present.
Damn. She should have taken Moonbat Murphy up on those yoga lessons while she’d had the chance.
Yet another thing she wished she’d done that she hadn’t.
In her defense, she had done several things over the past six weeks that she never would have dreamed she would manage. She had learned to ride a horse and eat grass, thanks to James MacLeod’s very handsome brother Patrick. She had brushed up her rapier skills and acquired a decent bit of knife skill, thanks to Jamie’s dapper and jovial cousin Ian. She had acquired an entirely new understanding of medieval Highland politics, thanks to James MacLeod himself.
She had also learned more than she’d ever wanted to about Jamie’s infamous map with Xs marking the time gates scattered over Scotland and northern England. She’d asked him how he knew where those Xs were located and where they led.
He’d only smiled.
She’d felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Elizabeth. Good heavens, no wonder the woman only rolled her eyes when she heard Jamie was off on another adventure.
But that education from Jamie had paled in comparison to the conversations she’d had with Connor. Who would have thought he had survived such a brutal world? It made her wonder, quite briefly, what she was thinking to even consider going back to that world.
By herself.
Taking the risk that she might wind up in some other world and get stuck there without friends or family.
She shook aside those thoughts before they overwhelmed her. She was doing what she had to do. And if she was successful, it would all be worth it. She refused to consider what she would do if she failed.
She thought again about all the things she had learned from Jamie about the time gates, more particularly the gate before her. According to Jamie, the Farris Fairy Ring was a gate of a most peculiar potency, leaving the time-traveler with many options for destinations. She hadn’t asked him how he knew this, though she could bring to mind a handful of times during his stay at the inn when he had been AWOL.
Testing out his theories, apparently.
Well, if the gate was as powerful as Jamie claimed, it would take her where she wanted to go. Or, at least, it would if she could manage to stop the colossal argument going on behind her so she could concentrate and give it a try.
She took a firmer grip on the horse Mrs. Pruitt had rounded up for her and turned to look at the altercators.
“I will,” Connor said, his hand twitching toward his sword as he glared at Thomas.
“And I say you shouldn’t,” Thomas returned in frustration. “It’s crazy!”
Victoria cleared her throat pointedly. “Will you both just be done!” she exclaimed. “I can’t listen to either of you any longer!”
Connor and Thomas exchanged a final glare before they turned to her.
“We’re discussing,” Connor said.
“I think y
ou’ve discussed enough,” she said shortly. “Thomas, let Connor do what he wants to do.”
“Vic, he can’t come with you. It doesn’t make any sense. What is he going to do, defend you from his mortal self?”
“I am going,” Connor said. He moved to stand next to Victoria. “I will at least see her safely to my hall. I can likely do nothing for her after that, but I will do what I can for her until that time.”
Thomas threw up his hands in despair. “This is nuts, but I’m officially done fighting it.” He looked at her and scowled. “You’re as prepared as you probably can be and if you have this foul-tempered nut tagging along with you, you’ll probably be just fine. But it doesn’t make sense for him to go back to a time when he was alive.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“It’s spooky, that’s why not.”
Victoria walked over to give her brother a tight hug, then followed it up with a shove. “Get out of here. I’ll be back in a day or two. I’m sure it won’t take long.”
“One could hope,” Thomas said. “Now, what are your three key phrases again?”
Victoria sighed. “ ‘I’m not a witch,’ ‘I don’t have much Gaelic because I’m French royalty,’ and ‘There’s a fairy ring down the road I think you really need to come look at.’ ” She looked at her brother. “Good enough?”
“Perfect.”
Victoria peered over the top of her horse to look at Connor, who stood on the other side. She wasn’t all that sure about the advisability of taking him back to a point in time where he was alive, either, but he didn’t look to be in the mood to be argued with. “Ready?” she asked brightly.
“Very,” he said, apparently trying to sound enthusiastic.
Victoria took stock once more of her supplies. She had camping gear, extra clothes, and food strapped to the horse. She was wearing a backpack with essentials, in case of emergency—though she was planning on things going smoothly. An extended stay was not really in her plans, though she supposed it was possible that Connor would take one look at her and invite her to be his guest for an indeterminate amount of time.
Stranger things had happened.
Well, there was no time like the present to get on with it. She nodded to her brother, nodded to Connor, took a firm grip on her reins, and pulled her horse into the ring. Once she was standing inside that spooky bit of fauna, she focused her thoughts on Connor and everything she’d learned about his fourteenth-century self. She willed herself to see the land he’d described as his holdings to the south, where only the brave went after dark because of the harrowing tales associated with the area. She even closed her eyes for good measure, not because she thought it would help, but because it seemed like the right thing to do.