Immortal Desires (Well of Souls) (26 page)

"Nay. William is but a lad of seven. He'll be the new Laird and in need of a strong captain—as well as a trusted friend to guide him. I canna think of one better qualified than you."

Agony and conflicted thoughts stormed across Tomas' face. Ian understood but remained adamant.

"As you wish, my laird."

"Good man." Ian forced cheer into his voice and clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll join the others and sing to our victory on the morrow."

The battle the next day didn't last long, the victory instilling new energy into the Scots. Perhaps only Ian saw the darkness each time he looked to the English countryside but it was there, nonetheless, waiting for him to pass through. Honor dictated that he remain but he also had an obligation to see his clan survive.

Ian pulled Tomas and half of his warriors aside, all men with wounds that would hamper them in the coming fight without time to heal. Going back home now would allow them to mend and live to fight another day.

Each one filed past him on their way home, Ian stopping to have a word with them all. His heart lifted as he watched a raven soar overhead, letting his spirit ride the wings in a spiral upward toward the sun.

***

Highlands, September 1513

Deanna heard the old man yell that riders approached. Too feeble to fight, he still took his guard duty with pride, watching over the keep as best he could. Her stomach lurched now with the call, the baby seeming to roll in turmoil as her heart hammered. Today was the ninth. Could it be that Ian came home and changed history?

She ran toward the portcullis, ignoring the searing pain in her side. The riders came through, all sporting lengths of cloth with bloody stains tied around various parts of their bodies. Ian wasn't among them. Deanna choked back a raw edge of fear as Tomas approached her and knelt at her feet.

"My lady, our laird has sent us back to watch over the keep. He's gone on to Norham and bids you stay strong until he returns to us." He handed her a letter as he rose and Deanna reached for it with fingers too numb to do more than clutch it to her chest.

Tomas mentioned Norham but Deanna knew where Ian would be today. Flodden Field. A pain lanced through her belly and she collapsed on the ground.

She woke in her own bed as another pain seized her, the dampness of the sheet beneath her announcing the heartbreaking news. The midwife glanced at her in silence, pity on her solemn face, before the contractions forced Deanna to bear down.

Deanna heard a thin ribbon of sound and her hopes soared. She listened for another but only the thunder of blood roared in her ears. Her little girl hung limp in the midwife's hands, the tiny body never having a chance at life.

She knew then that Ian was lost to her as well.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Flodden Field, September 1513

Ian fought blindly, blood and sweat obscuring his vision. He didn't need to see. Proud Scotland's shining hope dimmed more with each passing moment, each body that fell to the ground.

A sword bit into his belly, the cold steel doing nothing to quench the searing agony burning within. Ian gazed into the face of his executioner—more scared boy than man. His knees gave way, plunging him to the dirt as the boy ran from the field, leaving his weapon behind.

"Deanna." His blood mingled with the grass; it bubbled on his lips. Ian centered his thoughts on golden hair, a voice whispering words of love in his ear. Fresh pain squeezed his heart as her words vanished with the sigh of the wind.

"I'm sorry I canna be there for you and our bairns. Forgive me." His breath hitched; the strain of filling his lungs too painful to bear any longer. The sounds of battle softened as he saw a tear drop from her blue eyes. "Don't cry for me, mo chridhe…"

Ian's eyes opened again to starlight, the field silent but for a few unfortunate souls still trying to flee their mortal existence. A man stood over him, his proud bearing untouched by battle.

"Who are you?" Unable to speak, Ian merely posed the question in his mind. The man heard him anyway.

"My name is Kyndeyrn but you may call me Robert. I'm in need of a warrior for a much bigger battle, if you're willing to accept the challenge." He held out his hand and Ian took it, rising without pain. One glance at the ground and he understood.

"You are here to lead me back to the Well of Souls? You are a Guardian?"

"Yes, I'm one of the Aeneas but I'm not here to lead you back. Come walk with me and I will explain."

***

Ian's soul took a jolt as his two paths merged into one. Heavy with sorrow, he remembered he'd already committed to this new destiny. There would be no future lives to live with Deanna, as he'd promised her. He was Immortal now, sworn to work alongside the Guardians.

They'd had so little time together, yet he cherished each and every moment he'd been blessed with. Deanna would go on through her cycle of lives without finding him in the world. Ian hoped she'd still find true happiness in the future, enough to ease his guilt at abandoning her.

***

Highlands, November 1513

Her hand fell to Ian's letter on the table and Deanna re-read his words by the light of the candle.

Mo chridhe,

I'm afraid you have the harder road to travel. Sometimes it takes more courage to live than to die.

You are stronger in spirit than anyone I've ever known. I know I can count on you to raise our children well. I'll be keeping watch over you and the bairns. Believe that as you believe in me.

We are soul mates and I trust with all my heart that we'll meet again one day. Until then, know that I love you with every fiber of my being.

Always yours,

Ian

She blotted the tears from the paper, careful not to smudge the writing lest his words be lost. Not that it mattered—they were etched upon her soul the first time she read them, forever imprinted in mind and heart.

It would be dawn soon. The headstones were being delivered today and she meant to be there for the placement. One for a tiny child who never experienced life, one standing over an empty grave for a man whose life ended much too soon.

***

Boulder, January 2013

Ian blinked as the pieces of his life fell into place, the memories final and complete. It left him at loose ends, dissatisfied. He had no knowledge of what had become of Deanna or his children after he left. Had she fared well after he died? What of the bairns? He didn't even know if his fourth child was a boy or a girl. So many questions left unanswered. His heart might well go up in smoke for the burning within his chest.

Did Robert know the rest of the history? Seized with a sense of urgency, Ian sought out the Guardian, determined to find out, one way or another.

"You're asking questions that no mortal ever finds out," Robert chided him when Ian stated the reason for his visit. "Think about it. When a mortal dies, he has no way of learning what happens to the loved ones he leaves behind."

"Yes, but no mortal is alive in the same way that I am," he persisted, even though he admitted the truth of Robert's statement deep in his heart. "I have to ken that Deanna fared well."

"And if you find that she didn't?"

Ian sank into a chair, his legs giving way as he hit the cushion hard. In the back of his mind, he'd been certain she had. The thought that she'd met with disaster hadn't even occurred to him. He groaned and held his face in his hands.

"I didn't say she hadn't. I only asked if you'd considered it. Obviously, you didn't." Robert moved over to the bar in his office and poured them each a drink, handing Ian a glass. "I had a plan in mind to take you back to the moment of Deanna's death, as long as you were prepared to accept the circumstances."

Ian's head jerked up. He saw the crooked smile on Robert's wily face. "Why didna you mention that before?"

"I had to make sure you were ready. You never used to question me so much."

Ian growled low in his throat but didn't respond to the taunt; instead, he studied the drink in his hand before letting the liquid burn away the fear that clogged his senses.

"When do we leave?"

"Right now…if you're ready."

Ian stood up, ignoring the shockwave that lashed at his spine. "I am. Let's do it."

***

Highlands, June 1560

The keep was much as he'd left it, all those years ago, but he didn't recognize any of the people crowded into the hall. Had Robert brought them to the right timeframe?

"What year is this?"

"You don't have to whisper." Robert glanced over at him and chuckled. "No one can see or hear us. The year is 1560, June to be exact."

The date stunned Ian. It was forty-seven years after he'd died—forty-seven years that Deanna had spent alone. Or had she? He shoved the jealous tendril of thought away. She'd had every right to remarry. The mental picture of her in bed with another man chafed, though.

Who were all of these people? He looked around, pleased to see so many bairns running to and fro. Could some of them actually be his descendants?

"Where's Deanna? I must see her." The urgency to gaze upon her face one last time overrode everything else. He started up the stairs, sure that she must be in their room.

The chamber also held many people, all crowded around the bed. He only had eyes for the woman lying beneath the covers, her hair grayed and face lined with the many years that stood between them. She was still beautiful to Ian and he sighed, wishing he could touch her face one last time.

A man who looked to be in his mid-twenties bent to kiss her cheek, speaking softly in Gaelic and calling her "grandmother." The man turned and glanced sharply in their direction before shaking his head, as if to dislodge his thoughts. Ian held his breath. It was like looking in a mirror. This was a grandson of his and Ian's heart swelled with pride.

His eyes strayed around the room. A woman with streaks of gray in her golden hair looked so much like Deanna that she could only be Issa. Another man standing at the head of the bed had to be one of his sons, though he couldn't tell if he was William or Alec.

"Ian." Deanna's voice. He jumped and Robert patted him on the shoulder.

Her soul rose from the bed, solidifying as she walked toward them. Unfettered by a body worn with years, Deanna appeared as she did when he first met her. She moved differently though, with more confidence and the grace of a warrior.

While he was still taking all of this in, she brushed her lips against his before turning to Robert.

"I've had many years to puzzle over your involvement. You must be a Guardian."

Robert smiled at her and bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"May I have a few minutes to show Ian his descendants before you guide me back to the Well?"

"Take as much time as you need," Robert said. "There's no rush."

Ian clutched at her hand, determined to make the most of these precious few minutes. If they had eternity, it wouldn't be long enough.

Chapter Fifty-Three

The young man turned again to gaze in their direction, this time stepping toward them. His eyes locked onto each one in turn, a quirk of the mouth forming before he tilted his head in greeting and strode back to join the others.

"That's your grandson Ian, named after you," Deanna said. Ian heard the wealth of love in her words as she spoke. "He's the Laird here and William's oldest son, with two babes of his own."

"We have great-grandchildren as well?" Ian's head swirled with all of this new information.

"Four of them so far. William died five years ago but Issa and Alec are right over there. In total, we had ten grandchildren—seven of whom are still living. I've had a full life and many years of happiness because of them."

"What of our fourth child? I dinna ken if it was a boy or a girl." Ian felt Deanna's fingers tremble in his hand.

"Come. I'll show you—if it's all right?" She asked the question of Robert and he nodded. They made their way unseen down the stairs while Deanna explained the younger Ian's reaction to them earlier.

"Ian is a powerful druid, as was William. He once told me that it was a result of the Immortal magic that I was steeped in." Deanna laughed, the sound tugging at Ian's emotions. "William always made me sound like a pot of tea. I guess some of it combined with your Druid magic in our children and gave them an extra boost."

They'd walked outside by this time and Deanna led them into the graveyard. She pointed out his own headstone but Ian ignored it and knelt in front of the small one beside it.

A sense of desolation blew in with the wind to chill his heart. This precious child, born too soon, on the day of his death. The torture Deanna must have gone through, losing both of them at once.

"I am so sorry, mo chridhe. I should have been there for you."

She laid a hand on his bowed head, fingers trailing through his hair as she'd done so many times in life. The pain of losing her forever…he didn't think he could bear it.