McCann's Manor (58 page)

"What the—?” she sputtered.

"Call them off,” Tarrh demanded in a low, steady voice.

"Tarrh, you are alive! When Sean and I found you missing from your chambers, we feared the worst,” she lied.

"If you want the dogs to be preserved,
call them off
,” he repeated.

"There is nothing you can do, Tarrh,” she said coldly. “They have their tasks already set before them. You
cannot
stop them."

"Loshan,” he spoke to the dragon that had been waiting for his next command, “you know what to do."

Moira caught her breath as she got her first glimpse of the giant magical beast. She shot a glance at Sean. Sean was obviously as taken aback by the dragon as she, shook his head sadly in return as Loshan was on the first dog in a heartbeat. The unearthly green colossus plucked the enormous male off the floor in his mouth, held it suspended above the floor, waited.

"I know your hounds mean a lot to you, Moira,” Tarrh said. “Release your spell and call the animals off and I will let them remain with you."

Moira visibly wilted as she watched the great beast dangling her pet in his mouth. The dogs, magical though they were, were no match for the dragon. The huge baneful lizard would crush the life from her wondrous pet, swallow him whole and set upon the second before she could to anything about it.

Loshan turned to face Moira, looked deep into her eyes, waited. “Myrrhic,” she whispered to the female who was standing in front of Kim, “'tis enough. Come to me."

The female instantly gave up her stance against Kim, trotted peacefully to her mistress’ side. Loshan carried the male to his mistress, set the great canine at her feet unharmed and backed away warily to stand beside his own master.

"You are as wise as you are beautiful, Moira. Bid them stay here and await your return—outside the pentagram, there,” he instructed, pointing to the side of the room behind Moira.

"Await my return?” she asked. “Where am I going?"

"Do as I say,” Tarrh replied. “You will have your answer soon enough."

Moira knelt, patted both animals affectionately and told them silently to go to the wall and wait for her. The male looked at her for a long moment as though questioning her command, then padded away behind her with the female on his heels.

"Now, you two move to the center of the pentagram; stand facing me, one on each side of the great crystal,” Tarrh told Moira and Sean. “There. ‘Tis good. I know you have blamed me for what happened to your father, Moira—and for that scar you bear. You could never believe ‘twas not my doing. But now, thanks to our friends here, I at last have the chance to prove myself to you."

Sean took a bounding step toward Tarrh before Tarrh stilled him by lifting his hand into the air, repelling him invisibly to his original position. “No need to object, Sean; all will be made perfectly clear presently. I have given this matter much thought and I have come to the conclusion I bear neither of you any ill will, truly. After the matter at hand is attended, you will be free to go where you will, together if that is still your desire, dear Moira. We are ready, Benjamin. Proceed. Loshan, my friend, mind the dogs until we return."

The Scottish highland evening was cool and still. The sun was just setting when the time travelers arrived at their destination. Inside, old Tye MacPherson was growing increasingly agitated as he paced back and forth in front of the windows of the grand room of his manor house. “Damn it, Peaitarrh McCann!” he howled, “'ye dona understand a word of what I have been telling ye. ‘Twas your own father who arranged for payment of the dower; I had nothing to do with it other than to agree with his wishes—and
this
is the way he wished it to be!"

"Now, take a breathing spell, Mac,” Tarrh said. “I merely asked why it was set up the way it is; I was
not
belittling the dower itself—
or you
."

"What was said is said, McCann; I
know
full well what ye meant! Ye have enough as ‘tis without me giving ye the rest of my possessions now. Ye shan't suffer for the wait. When I am dead and laid to my rest will be plenty of time for ye to have the rest of the dower."

"Mac,
I
have no problem with the dower,” Tarrh said calmly. “Moira expressed a wish to have the linens her mother saved for her to take home now ‘tis all. I merely asked—"

"Aye, ye
merely
asked because ye wanted me to feel like a miser; I know what ye are up to!” MacPherson shouted. “Your father warned me you would be this way about it."

"Becalm yourself, Mac,” Tarrh urged. “You know how it upsets Moira to hear you railing so."

"Railing, am I? Well, if that is the way ye feel, I'll have to ask ye to leave this house."

"
Mac
—” Tarrh protested.

"Nay, I have spoken my final word on the matter,” MacPherson said, a bit more civil in tone as he saw Moira walking into the room. “Now be gone. ‘Twill be dark before ye get home as ‘tis."

"Father, is something amiss?” Moira asked.

"Aye, lass, but ‘tis nothing for ye to concern yourself over. Tarrh and I had a few words, ‘tis all,” MacPherson said, kissing his daughter on the cheek. “'Twill blow over, like as not."

Moira peered past her father's tightly knit brow into his dark eyes then at Tarrh who refused to meet her gaze. “I thought I heard angry voices in here. What is the fight about
this time
?” she asked.

"'Tis nothing, lass,” MacPherson said. “Tarrh and I are still friends; right, boy?"

"Aye, of course, Mac,” Tarrh affirmed.

"'Tis only, I have had enough of visiting. I would be pleased if the two of ye would go home now. I have shared enough of my finest brew for one day,” MacPherson said.

Moira was gravely disappointed. She had come here hoping to spend a few days with her father. He had been almost a stranger since her marriage to Tarrh and she missed him. The two of them acted as though they hated one another, after Mac had insisted she marry Tarrh instead of Ian Malcomb. She had never imagined her marrying McCann would lead to her estrangement from her father and she blamed Tarrh for that. He had come between her and her father just as surely as he had come between her and Ian. Perhaps Tarrh was less than what Mac had been hoping for in a son-in-law. Too bad he found that out only
after
they had sealed their vows, because
she
had known it all along.

She fought back the tears she felt welling in her eyes, crossed to the entry to get her wrap. Tarrh followed her, sullen and silent. Brooding his way to the door, Mac opened it, stood against the darkening sky between them and the exit a moment before he flung it wide and stepped aside. Moira felt like she was being escorted out of her father's life forever and she wanted to protest, wanted to say she was staying and that her
husband
could go and stay gone, for all she cared.

She said nothing, but tiptoed to place a cursory kiss on her father's lips and then turned abruptly away before he could see the tears she could no longer hold inside. She was unbearably sad as she walked out Mac's door. She had been the obedient daughter even to the point of marrying this stranger whom she could never love and this was her reward, to be eternally ushered farther and farther away from the father she adored and never to be with the one man she loved. Ian seemed lost to her forever and now so did her father. If she had it to do over, she would have run away with Ian when he asked her; going with Ian, even against Mac's will, she could have been no farther from her father than she was at this exact moment. And now she was carrying Ian's unborn child, a burden that would have brought her so much joy, if only...?

Outside, she heard a single rumble, scanned the sky in front of her but saw no impending clouds. From that moment everything became a blur for her. She felt herself being thrown down and to the side. Mac cried out to Tarrh to unhand her; then she heard Mac scream as though in agony before everything went dark for her. When she awoke, she was covered in blood and Tarrh was working feverishly over her. He picked her up and headed into the house with her as though trying to hide the crumpled body that lay just outside the door, her
father's
lifeless body. Tarrh had killed him! The miserable coward had
willed
the statue to fall off the roof just as they were leaving the house. Had he been trying to kill her as well?

"Put me down!” she screeched. “Father! Father! What have you done to my father, you brute?"

He held her fast, took her into the house though she fought with all her strength. Then she lost consciousness again....

It had been several days before she had been coherent again, drifting as she was, in and out of hysteria over the death of her father and the unbelievable pain she felt from the gash that left her maimed. Why had Tarrh forced her to witness anew this blackest moment of her life? She hated him all the more for bringing her here, wished he had been the one under that statue. Now she nearly suffocated with all the newly awakened venom she felt for him. “I
hate
you, Peaitarrh McCann!” she spat. “Why did you bring me here to watch this again? You are a thousand times worse than anyone else has ever been."

Then she noticed the others were staring as though transfixed, toward the roof of Mac's manor. Time seemed to have stopped when the statue fell from Mac's roof, as though someone had reproduced it on canvas. She had lived out the rest of the scenario in her mind as she had remembered it, but the statue was still in midair; her father was frozen on the front steps of his house. Tarrh had pushed her out of the way, then jumped to the side himself. She noticed something else then—a cloaked figure on the roof of the house. Her heart was in her throat as she peered up at the form, knew in an instant the energy of the man who had unseated the statue from the top of the house.

"Ian!” she howled, spinning to face the man she loved. “How
could
you?"

Sean tried to back away as he kept his gaze toward the ground. “I-I did not mean to hurt Mac,” he stammered. “'Twas McCann I was after. You must believe me—I never meant to hurt you
or
Mac."

She followed his retreat, eyes narrow and cold. “You killed my father; you let me believe it was Tarrh; all this time, knowing I would kill the man responsible for my father's death, you
lied
to me, let me make everyone suffer for something
you
did,” she accused.

"You were happy believing ‘twas McCann who put an end to your father's life; it fueled your hatred of him. You
wanted
to hate him, remember, my love?” Sean indicted.

She shot him an icy stare, pointed her finger at him. “Never call me
your love
again,” she commanded. “You do
not
love me—you never did. How plainly I can see that now. Had you loved me, you would have told me the truth all those years ago. You could not have continued to lie to me all this time if you loved me. You wanted my father's estate, did you not? Then you saw the chance to double your fortune by keeping me waiting for you until Tarrh was dead as well. How clear it all is now."

Sean cowered at her blistering words, for they stung like poison darts. She would kill him now, he thought. Had she not sworn vengeance on the man who killed her father? “Moira, I
do
love you. I myself thought it was only about wealth and power until last night. Have you already forgotten our words of love?” he asked.

"Enough!” she shouted. “I also have a confession for you, my
love
,” she said with a sarcasm that stung. “I was carrying your child when that statue fell on my father and me. You murdered your own child that day, Ian. You killed all the hope I had in life; I wanted to have that baby; ‘twas the reason I loathed Tarrh, because I thought he killed my father
and
my baby. Now I learn it was you all along, filling my heart and head with your senseless gibber of love, only to snatch it all away from me in an instant. Are you proud of yourself?"

Sean shook his head sadly. “I-I did not know; you should have told me you were with child. Believe me, I would never have done anything to endanger a baby—” he pleaded.

"Believe you?” she asked. “I shall
never
believe anything you say again. You are a liar and a murderer and you have made a murderer of me as well; you are a demon. I should have listened to my father; he saw through you and all your lies; ‘twas the reason he would never agree to my marrying you. He
knew
you were no good!"

Sean was beginning to look for a way out of his predicament as he backed a few more steps away from Moira and the others. He had to run, had to save himself. If he stayed here another instant, Moira would kill him for sure. The sad part was that he did
truly
love the woman, but he had discovered it too late. His chance to prove his love had passed; now he was only a liar and would ever be so in her eyes. Best to run while he had the chance and never look back. He would miss her—damn, he would miss her and he would miss the passion only she sparked in him. He turned and ran as hard as he could, but stopped dead in his tracks when he realized the terrible truth. The man he was now didn't exist in this time, only the man he
had
been. This new terrible revelation dropped him to his knees. Running would do him no good, he realized as he turned around to see his worst fears becoming reality.

Moira threw her arms into the air, began a loud chant that filled the hills with echoes of her intention. She meant to pull him from the roof of Mac's house and break him into pieces below, the same way the falling statue had burst into pieces when it crashed down on Mac. He had recognized the true danger too late; now all he could do was watch in horror as the drama unfolded. In seconds he would cease to be here because he would have died in the past with Mac.

"No,” he called out softly, too softly for anyone to hear. “Please, do not do this thing."

He watched as Moira grasped at the air, grabbing it as though it were his cloak and then he saw his screaming, writhing form fall through the breeze and all at once, he was inside that pitiful creature, clawing, fighting, crying in terror as he came speeding to the earth. The pain was intense, a white-hot searing explosion of agony that gave rise to a brief burst of vibrant colors and ended with blackness, the color of his love's robe.