Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) (11 page)

“It was 1544.”

Again, Moira’s vision started to blur. She let go of Shona’s hand.
Ye will not pass out!
She chanted the words over and over in her head, clutched tight enough to her legs tucked up to her chest that she could feel the imprint of her nails on her shins. “1544?” she croaked. “As in the medieval times.”

Shona nodded. “Just about. Technically the Renaissance era.”

Her sister held up her hands in surrender when Moira was about to protest at her issue with the wording.

“What ye’re telling me is that there is such a thing as time-travel?” Her head fell back and she stared up once more at the swaying tree branches, feeling the warmth of summer breeze on her skin. Seemed like all that science-y stuff that she’d feared earlier was actually the explanation they were going to toss her way. “And I’m supposed to believe that the three of ye are time-travelers.”

Shona nodded. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I could barely grasp it myself, but as soon as we landed in the park—naked I might add—my memory was fully restored.” Shona glanced at Ewan.

“Ewan, ye’re taking this rather well,” Rory said.

“Aye.” Ewan raised a brow, an obvious challenge to get him to say more.

“How?” Rory asked him.

Moira found herself keenly interested in whatever answer he could come up with, especially if it meant she didn’t have to say anything.

“This was not my first time,” Ewan murmured.

“Nay?” Rory said.

Ewan shook his head. “I first traveled to Gealach many years ago. I was an adolescent at the time, taken in by the folks at the castle when I landed on the shore—though I didna remember until arriving in Edinburgh, with Shona, that it was a plane crash that brought me to the past. And—” He swiped his hand over his face. “Fuck me… ’Tis no wonder Lady Emma kept saying I reminded her of someone. I’m her brother. And it explains Rory’s sudden disappearance, the man would never have been found.”

“Bloody hell,” Rory said. “That’s a long time to go without knowing who ye are. Brother to Lady Emma wife of the Guardian?”

Ewan nodded.

Who was Lady Emma?

This all felt like a dream as Moira’s gaze swiveled in slow motion from one to the next of them. “Um, hey, so this is my first time here, and I don’t know Lady Emma or the Guardian,” she started. “And I’m kinda feeling in the dark.”

“Ohmygod…” Shona said, shaking her head, seeming to ignore Moira. “I knew Emma was a time-traveler. But ye, Ewan, I had no idea, why didn’t ye tell me? We’ve shared everything.”

“I thought it was enough when we were in Saughton to let ye know I’d not traveled before. Ye were in such a panic.”

“Why would time make us forget? So we could cope with our new world?” Shona asked no one in particular. “That wouldn’t make sense, because Rory and Moira both have never forgotten.”

“I suppose, it was necessary until time was ready for us to once more travel.” Ewan yanked a fallen limb the rest of the way off a tree and began breaking off the tiny branches that covered it.

Shona dropped her face into her hands. “This is my fault. The moon, the herbs, the stone.”

“But, we’ve found Rory and your sister,” Ewan offered, dropping the branch and coming to rest his hand on her back.

“Hello?” Moira waved her hand feeling as though she were completely invisible. “I’m so completely lost right now guys.”

Rory settled down beside her, tried to put his arm around her, and even though she knew it was simply to comfort her, she shrugged him off. He took the hint, but didn’t stray from his seat next to her. The sad thing was, she
did
want his comfort, she just couldn’t make herself take it.

“I need a drink,” she murmured.

“I think I can help with that,” Ewan said. “There’s a tavern around here that I’ve visited afore. We’ll need to get off the road, besides.”

Shona groaned. “Not
that
tavern.”

Ewan wiggled his brows wickedly pricking Moira’s curiosity all the more. This dream, or hallucination, or even reality, whatever it was, was pretty interesting. Perhaps if she just went with it, continued to follow these apparitions around, she’d eventually wake up and have a good laugh at her overactive imagination. What was that old saying?
If ye can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em
.

“I want to know what
that tavern
means,” Moira teased, shocking everyone present.

Ewan was the first to recover. “Ah-ha, ye’re much like your sister. Let us go then, and be entertained.”

“I refuse to be entertained,” Shona said sarcastically, then leaned toward Moira. “It’s a brothel more than it is a tavern.”

A real, live, historical brothel? Oh, now this was getting good. “Take me there. I insist,” Moira said rather jovially.

Again, there was silence for a moment or two, and each of the three stared at her with blank expressions. Was this when she’d wake up? Was this when the room would finally reappear around her and she’d hear her alarm waking her up for her run with Dickie? Well, if it was, then she would cancel on him. If anything, this wicked dream had taught her a thing or two, one of which was he was not the right guy for her.

“Well?” she said, climbing to her feet and holding out her arms in exaggerated exasperation. “I’m ready to get the party started.”

Shona stood, too, and pressed the back of her hand to Moira’s forehead. “Are ye certain ye’re feeling all right?”

“Never better.” She beamed a smile at Rory. “What say ye, Highlander, should ye like to dally at the tavern?”

That made Rory come close to peer into her eyes and check her for fever, too. “She’s in shock,” he said.

“Aye,” Ewan agreed. “A walk through the woods and a stiff whisky ought to help. ’Haps a nap while we figure out what day it is, and if the word is out that we’re missing. And ye—” He pointed at Rory. “We need to get ye off the road. There are many people searching for ye.”

Moira’s gut clenched. This didn’t sound good.

“Aye. Henchmen, too.” Shona shivered.

Moira did the same.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

“Dammit.” Rory studied the woods around him as if expecting one of the henchmen to make himself known, then he, too, yanked on a fallen limb to create a walking stick.

“What happened?” Shona asked. “I know ye didn’t do what they’ve been saying ye did.”

“What are they saying?” Rory asked.

“Murder. Betrayal.” Ewan’s gaze was steady on Rory, his eyes assessing and Moira got the sense that if he’d been born in present day—well, if he’d
stayed
in present day—he would have been a great addition to MI6.

“They’re wrong about murder. I’ve never killed anyone who didna need killing.”

“That’s not exactly a good answer.” Shona rolled her eyes.

“Battle, lass.”

“And betrayal?” Moira said, her eyes welling with tears. She bit the inside of her cheek, fearing the answer.

Rory seemed to struggle for the words, the muscles in his jaw clenching and a vein beginning to throb in his neck.

“We’ll discuss it more at the tavern, away from the road,” Ewan said. “If anyone sees us, he’ll be recognized.”

They all agreed without consulting Moira, not that she expected them to; in fact, she ignored them, her mind reaching and failing to grasp the newness of her reality. Whatever her little ghostlike friends wanted to say was fine by her. She’d changed her entire attitude about this situation. She was here for the fun of it until she woke up. Hell, already she’d learned she wanted to break up with her boyfriend. Maybe she’d learn a thing or two more about herself before the dream was over.

They started toward the woods with Ewan saying he was pretty certain he knew where the road was from the glen. Moira shook her head. Definitely a dream, because not one of them questioned his sense of direction in a circle of land where all the trees looked the same.

As they walked, Shona talked more, rambling on, with barely a breath drawn, and Moira listened, nodding, as she was certain she was supposed to do. “…Rory had been missing for two years. It was hard to move on without him, but I fell in love. We wanted to have a child. We went out to a clearing, where there is a magical stone, and we began to… pray. Ye see, at the time, I didn’t know exactly who I was. I couldn’t remember much of anything other than how Rory had helped me settle here. As far as I’d always known, I was from the Highlands, born in the 1500’s, except for these flashes of memory. Over the years, I became half-certain that I had somehow come from another place, and half-certain I was going mad. When Rory disappeared, I made do on my own, odd healing jobs for people in need, and eventually made it all the way to the castle as a healer. I suppose, our little tea and spice shop helped with the knowledge I had. I’d spent the last five or six years thinking I was a trained healer by trade. That perhaps I’d come from a family of healers. Can ye imagine? I mean, maybe we do. Perhaps somewhere down the long line, the Ayreshires were great healers. Maybe even wizards.”

Ewan stopped suddenly in his tracks, probably because he was lost. His face had paled.

But the question he asked next had Moira once more trying to pinch herself awake.

“Did ye say Ayreshire? As in the Earls of Carrick? As in Turnberry Castle, as in descendants of Robert the Bruce?”

Chapter Nine

“What are ye saying?” Rory asked. Forget the danger of henchmen looking for him; the fear for Shona and Moira in Ewan’s eyes was enough to raise the hair on the back of his neck.

Though he’d never met Ewan before, he’d heard of the man plenty. Tales of his prowess on the battlefield as well as with the lassies were heard all over the Highlands—though Rory was pleased to see he’d settled down with Shona, and was no longer pursuing his female conquests.

Ewan was second-in-command to Laird Logan Grant, Guardian of Scotland and protector of Castle Gealach. And though there was a price on Rory’s head, he thought he could trust this man.

“I’m not saying anything yet,” Ewan said, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground in thought, then he glanced back up at Rory. “Do ye know the tale?”

He gave a curt shake of his head. “Not all. Tell it.”

“We need to keep moving,” Ewan said. “I’ll tell it over whisky, after ye explain the accusations against ye.”

Nobody argued, especially not Rory, because bits and pieces of a tale he’d heard as a child were coming to his memory, and if what he recalled had an ounce of truth, then… Well, he didn’t want to contemplate the gravity of their current situation.

At all.

Moira slipped her hand into his. “Isn’t this a lovely jaunt?” she asked.

Rory frowned. “Ye’re not acting yourself, lass. What’s wrong?”

She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, but it didn’t feel genuine. “Why should there be anything wrong?”

“Because a quarter hour ago ye were screaming obscenities. Now, ye seem as chipper as a drunk lass on May Day.”

“What’s May Day?”

“Come now, ye know what May Day is.”

“Oh, right. We celebrated that with a bonfire didn’t we? And ye tried to get me to dance naked around the flames.”

Rory chuckled. “Almost had ye, too.”

Her head snapped off his shoulder. “Well, I guess I can tell ye.” She waved her hands in the air. “This is all a dream, so I’m going with it.”

“Going with it?” he questioned. The phrase was not familiar to him.

“Yes. I’m playing along.” Her smile was vibrant, but her eyes were dazed.

Rory was worried about her. She was truly in shock. “Lass, this is no game. Ye and your sister could be in grave danger.”

That made her laugh. “Let me guess, there are bandits in these woods.”

“Aye.”

“And wild animals that would want to shred me to bits.”

“Right again.”

“Oh, stop it. Let’s go get drunk.”

Rory stopped moving. Hands on her shoulders he forced her to look at him. “This is no dream, lass. And if ye refuse to believe me, then at least pretend to take caution. My time… it is not as ordered as yours.”

Her smile faltered, eyes shuttered. “Ordered?”

“Ye have police that can come at the drop of a hat. Ye have shelters and things like electricity, showers, and hospitals. We’ve not got that here.”

Her face paled, and she looked ready to faint again. “Nay, nay, nay,” he said hurriedly. “Ye’re not going to do that again.”

“Rory?”

“Aye, love?”

“Why is this happening?” Her voice sounded so small, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and protect her forever.

“I dinna know. But we’ll find out.”

“I want to go home now. This isn’t fun.”

“Lass, I think ye are home.”

She glanced around. “I would feel like I was home if I was.” She shook her head. “And I don’t.”

Rory pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her into his arms. She sank against him, her fingers digging into his shirt as though she’d find anchor for the rest of time. He was more than happy to be that anchor.

For years, he’d been an outsider, not one to belong. It was only when he was with Moira that he felt at home—in this time or hers. As long as she was by his side, he knew he was on the right path.