by Baker, Katy
Ross regarded the man in silence. Then he inclined his head. "Uncle."
"My God," Finlay breathed. "It is ye!"
He stepped forward and took hold of Traveler's bridle, gazing up at Ross with an unreadable look in his eyes. Ross fought the urge to duck his head and forced himself to meet his uncle's gaze steadily.
Finn turned to the guards. "Let him in. Come," he said to Ross, his gaze flicking over Lia. "I can see ye have much to tell."
Ross turned the horse and followed Finlay through the gates of Dun Ringill and into the main courtyard. Here a stable lad came running to take Traveler's reins and Ross dismounted before helping Lia down. She turned around in a circle, wide-eyed, taking it all in. Ross had to stop himself from doing the same. Everything was so familiar: the sights, the sounds, the smells. Here and there he spotted people he recognized: old Miriam, the cook, paused as she crossed the courtyard laden with a basket of vegetables and stared at him, mouth open. Hector and Robert, warriors in his uncle Camdan's war band, turned from their guard duty on the parapet and stared down at him, shock written across their faces.
Ross gritted his teeth, bearing the scrutiny in silence. No doubt by tonight the news that the errant MacAuley son had returned would be all over the castle and surrounding villages.
Finlay walked up to him. Of a height with Ross, he gazed steadily at his nephew for a long moment. He began to speak but Ross held up a hand, forestalling the storm of questions he knew would be coming.
"Uncle, this is Lady Emilia Shaw," he held out his hand and Lia stepped forward, looking nervous in Finn's commanding presence. "I've come here, not on my account, but on hers. I ask for yer aid on her behalf.” He dropped his voice, made sure they weren’t overheard and added, “She is like my mother and aunts."
Finn's eyebrows shot up at this revelation. He looked at Lia and then back to Ross. "Seems I was right. Ye do have quite a story to tell." He gave Lia a bow. "Welcome to Dun Ringill, Lady Emilia. My name is Finlay MacAuley, brother to our laird, and Steward of Dun Ringill in his absence."
Lia gave him a small smile. "Hi."
"Come," he said briskly to Ross. "Yer mother will skin me and hang my remains on the battlements if I keep ye from her any longer."
He strode towards the castle’s great doors. Ross indicated for Lia to precede him and then followed behind. He felt eyes on him all the way across the courtyard and could only guess at the whispers that were being spoken behind his back.
Once, he would have ridden into the courtyard and been greeted by a dozen people. The guards would have hailed him from the battlements, the servants would have ducked their heads in greeting, the laborers and the workers would have touched their forelocks in respect.
Now all he got was silence and stares.
He stepped through the doors. The Great Hall lay to his left and from within he heard the sound of somebody talking in Latin and the scritch-scratch of quill on parchment. Ignoring the Great Hall, Finlay led them up a series of winding steps to the floor above and to the door that Ross recognized as the laird's solar. He knocked perfunctorily and then opened it.
"My apologies for the intrusion but there is somebody here ye will wish to see."
He pushed the door open and indicated for Ross to enter. Ross gave Lia a reassuring nod and then led her inside. Finlay followed, closing the door and then leaning on the wall beside it, his arms crossed.
Ross found himself in his father’s study. A round room set in the tower on the castle's eastern corner, he had rarely been allowed in here when he was a child. Only when he was older and began learning the responsibilities of leadership had his father given him access to this room. It was dominated by a large table set under the window. Bookcases lined the walls filled with ledgers and scrolls and rolled up maps. On a small table by the fireplace sat a set of brass weighing scales.
Three people occupied the room. A woman in a rich brocade dress sat behind the desk, in conversation with two well-dressed men that Ross guessed must be merchants. The conversation broke off as Ross stepped into the room and the woman paled, eyes going as round as coins. She rose slowly to her feet.
Lady Thea MacAuley, Ross's mother, looked older than he remembered. There were lines around her eyes and mouth and her once-lustrous hair had streaks of gray in it. But despite that she was still a handsome, vigorous woman, who carried herself with easy authority.
Ross forced himself to meet his mother's gaze as she stared at him. She didn't speak and a heavy silence filled the room. The merchants, puzzled at this sudden intrusion, glanced from Thea to Ross and back again.
"Leave us!" Thea snapped.
"But my lady," one of the merchants began. "Surely we need to discuss the tin shipment we have coming in from Cornwall—"
"I said leave us!" Her voice cracked like a whip.
The merchants scrambled to their feet, made hasty bows, and hurried from the room.
Thea glanced at Lia, Finn, and back to Ross. She placed a hand on the table as if to steady herself.
"Years," she said at last, her voice hoarse. "Years I’ve waited for this moment. Years I’ve prayed to every god, angel and spirit that you would come back to me." She moved around the desk and came to stand in front of him.
A head shorter than her son, she had to crane her head to look up at him. Her fists clenched at her side and for a second Ross thought she might slap him. He wouldn't stop her if she tried.
But then she let out a strangled sob and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.
"My son," she whispered. "Oh my God, Ross."
Ross stood rigid. He'd expected anger. Condemnation. A storm of accusations. That would have been easier to deal with than his mother's relief.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her. Lord, she smelled the same as he remembered, the soft mingling of lemon and lavender from the soaps she made herself.
Thea released him, pushed him to arm’s length and looked him over.
"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Why have you been gone all this time?"
And there it was. The question he’d known would be coming. The question that everyone already knew the answer to. He shook his head.
"That doesnae matter," he said hoarsely. "I willnae be staying. I have come only to ask aid for my companion." He stepped back to stand beside Lia. "This is Emilia Shaw. Irene MacAskill brought her here."
Thea's head came up at that, her nostrils flaring. "Irene? You saw her? When? Where?"
"Many days ago and many miles from here. I had always thought the stories ye told me of Irene were exaggerations but now I realize the truth of them. Mother, Lia came through an archway from yer home. She's from twenty-first century America."
Thea's gaze snapped to Lia. "How is this possible? Irene hasn’t been seen in years! Tell me everything!”
Lia glanced at Ross, a question in her eyes.
"It's all right,” he said. “Ye can tell them the truth. Like I told ye, my family are well acquainted with Irene MacAskill and time-travel."
Lia took a few breaths. "It’s true," she said to Thea. "I stepped through an arch on a building site I was working on. To be honest, I think it was Irene that arranged for me to be there in the first place. When I emerged, I ended up here, in this time. Hundreds of years away from where I was meant to be." She still sounded incredulous as though she could barely believe it herself. "If it wasn't for Ross, I would have ended up being burned as a witch the moment I arrived."
"My God," Thea breathed. "I can’t believe it. Another time-traveler after all these years." She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts then stepped forward and took hold of Lia's hands. "My son did the right thing in bringing you to me. I understand first-hand how frightening and disorientating this must be. Jeez, I spent the first few days in this time thinking I must be hallucinating."
"Mother," Ross asked. "Will ye give Lia sanctuary? And find a way for her to go home?"
"Of cours
e,” Thea replied. “Did you really need to ask?"
Ross breathed out slowly. Good. That was good. Lia was safe. He felt lighter suddenly, like a heavy medallion had been taken from around his neck.
"A crofter told us my father isnae here," he said. "Where is he?"
"Edinburgh," Thea replied. "He, Camdan, and your aunts rode to the king's court over a month ago."
"The king's court?" Ross asked incredulously, remembering the dislike his father had for the court and what he saw as the king's interference in clan matters.
"Yes. Things have been...difficult this summer. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as you’re cleaned up and rested. I’ll have one of the servants show Lia to a guest room and your old room is as you left it. Although it will need a bit of airing—"
"Nay, mother," Ross cut in softly. "Ye know I canna stay."
Thea rounded on him. Her eyes blazed. "I know no such thing! Damn you, Ross MacAuley! You walk in here after all these years and expect me to just wave you on your way? I'm your mother, dammit! You owe me more than that!"
He met her gaze squarely. When he was young that glare would have reduced him to tears. But he was a man now and too much had happened for him to crumble under her ire.
"Ye have my gratitude for aiding Lia," Ross said stiffly, "and I'm glad ye are well. But I canna stay."
"Why not? This is your home!"
"Nay, it isnae. Ye know that."
Thea glared at him. Ross wasn't sure whether she wanted to strangle him or burst into tears. He hated himself for causing her this pain but what choice did he have? He could not stay.
He felt Lia's eyes on him as well, burning into his back like hot coals. He didn't look at her. If he did, he feared he might buckle, might cave into his mother's wishes and remain here, just to be near Lia. But that would be a lie. There was no life he could offer her.
"Mother, please," he said in a low, soft voice, holding out a placating hand.
"Mother nothing!" she snapped. "I'll have the guards tie you up and toss you into a cell if I have to!"
Ross opened his mouth for an angry retort but Finlay stepped smoothly between them.
"Ye canna force him to stay if he doesnae wish to," he said quietly. Then, when Thea seemed about to explode again, he turned to Ross. "But yer mother is right. Ye owe her more than turning up here and then just disappearing again. Ye owe her an explanation, at least. Might I suggest a compromise? Stay the night. Take some rest, food, and then ride out in the morning, if ye must. Then at least yer mother can spend some time with her only son."
Ross flinched. Only son. Had Finn chosen that phrase deliberately? He found himself watching Lia. He felt the desperate need to ride out, to resume his quest, but he felt a deeper, more desperate need to remain by Lia's side.
He rubbed his chin and then let out a long sigh. "Aye, ye are right. I will stay tonight and ride out in the morning."
Finlay nodded and Thea inclined her head slowly, as if not trusting herself to speak.
Ross took a deep breath. "I have other news as well. Father should hear this. Why has he gone to court?”
It was Finlay who answered. "Cam and yer father have gone to petition the king for aid. Yer aunt Beth went with them to consult with some of her lawyer colleagues in Edinburgh, yer aunt Eleanor to purchase medical supplies."
He shared another look with Thea and then continued. "We have been plagued by raiders from across the sea all summer. After over twenty years of peace they have begun raiding again."
His eyes were shadowed, and with good reason. Like Ross's father, Finlay had sold his soul to the Fae in order to save his people from such raids. It must slice him to the bone to know that the same danger threatened his people once again. "Now that autumn is here and the sea too rough to allow the raiders to make the crossing, yer father and uncle have gone to seek the king's aid in repelling the raiders when they come again next spring."
When they come again next spring. Ross thought back to the marks they'd seen on the beach and the campfires. Suddenly it all slotted into place.
"God in heaven!" he breathed. "They're still here! They haven't gone back to Ireland at all!"
"What are ye talking about?" Finlay asked, frowning. "Who is still here?"
"The raiders. They havenae left at all."
He quickly told Finlay and Thea what he and Lia had found on the beach. As his tale unfolded their expressions grew grim.
"How many?" Finlay asked when he'd finished his tale.
"I dinna know," Ross replied. "We saw evidence of only one ship but from the number of campfires I'd guess it holds at least fifty men. Ye know the raiders dinna travel alone. If there was one ship, there will be more."
“Maybe this lone ship was left behind when the others returned to Ireland?” suggested Thea. “Perhaps it was damaged and they put in at the beach to make repairs?”
Ross shook his head. “Then why was it north of here? If it was on its way back to Ireland, it would have put in along the coast to the south. Nay, it was in that spot deliberately—a desolate area of coastline where they might hide out.”
Finlay rubbed at his chin. "I dinna understand this. We've had no reports of raids along the coast since the end of summer nor any sightings of strange ships. If there’s a fleet hiding out somewhere how would they have remained unobserved all this time? And if they havenae been raiding, how are they supporting themselves?”
Ross shrugged. “Perhaps they’re surviving on the plunder they took over the summer.”
“To what end? Now that the autumn storms have kicked in they canna cross the sea. Their escape to their homeland has been cut off. Why would they do such a thing knowing that they have no way home?"
"Unless they’re not planning on going home," Lia said suddenly. Her forehead was creased as it was when she was thinking. "Unless they planned to overwinter here all along.”
Finlay frowned. “Their tactic has always been to raid, take what they can, and return home. Why would they change now?”
“We’ve no idea what’s going on in Ireland,” Thea said thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s strife over there that means they can’t return home.”
“Even if that was true it still makes no sense for them to stay here. They risk losing their ships to the winter storms. Ye canna live aboard a ship during a Highland winter—they know this.”
“No,” Lia agreed. “They’d need a base. A place where they’ll have stores and supplies, one that—if they could take it—they could defend against attack.” She looked up suddenly, met Ross’s gaze. “A place that’s been weakened because it's laird has ridden to Edinburgh."
Thea gasped as the import of Lia’s words sank in. “No way!” she breathed. “They wouldn’t dare!”
Ross glanced at Finlay. His uncle’s gaze was troubled. “It adds up,” Finlay breathed. “Logan and Camdan took much of our strength with them when they rode out.” He looked first at Thea and then at Ross. “We have to face the possibility that Lia is right. The raiders are planning to attack Dun Ringill."
Chapter 13
Lia took a sip from her cup. It was some kind of tea but with a bitter undercurrent.
Seeing her expression, Thea laughed lightly. “Ah, I recognize that expression! I guess I must have looked like that quite a lot when I first decided to settle down here.”
“Sorry,” Lia said. “It just tastes a little strange. I guess I’m too used to coffee.”
Thea’s face took on a dreamy expression. “Ah, coffee. Oh, how I miss it. No matter which merchants I speak to, nobody seems to have heard of it. You mark my words, one day I’ll find some merchant from South America who knows what I’m talking about and then everyone better watch out! You’re drinking mint tea with a drop of whisky added. Cook thought it would be good for you. One thing I’ve learned about Highlanders is that they seem to think whisky is the cure for everything.”
Lia laughed. Thea had a laid back way about her that put Lia at her ease. The two of them were seated
in comfy chairs by the fireplace in the laird’s study. Ross and Finlay had left to organize scouts to search for evidence of the raiders along the coast.
Thea took a sip from her drink and then leaned forward. “So,” she said, getting down to business. “Irene MacAskill brought you here?”
Lia nodded. “One minute I was on the building site, the next minute I was standing on the moors in the middle of nowhere with not a soul in sight.”
“Did she say anything? Before you went through the arch?”
“A lot of prattle about finding my true path and the like. It didn’t make any sense then, and it doesn’t make any sense now.”
Thea nodded. “That sounds exactly the sort of thing Irene would say. But nothing she does is without reason although it might seem so at the time.”
“Ross said you’ve had dealings with her before.”
Thea sighed and put her cup down on a small wooden side table. She arranged her long skirts then looked at Lia. “You know what she is, right?”
“Ross said she’s one of these ‘Fae’.”
Thea nodded. “One of the good ones. She’s been a friend to the MacAuley clan for many years. It was she who brought me here, and then both Bethany and Eleanor after me. Without her, the curse that lay over Clan MacAuley would never have been broken and I would never have met Logan.” Her expression softened as it always did when her husband was mentioned. It was obvious she loved Ross’s father deeply. “But she’s not been seen in the Highlands for twenty years. So why has she turned up again, bringing another time-traveler with her, at exactly the same time as the raids from across the sea start again?”
“Um...I don’t know,” Lia replied. “Coincidence?”
“There are no coincidences when the Fae are involved,” Thea said. “She must have a purpose in mind for you.”
“A purpose?” Lia snorted. “I understand nothing of this time: its ways, its customs, its people. What use can I possibly be? Ever since I arrived I’ve been nothing but a burden.”
In the twenty-first century she was independent, driven, and dammed good at her job despite the mistakes she’d made in the past. But here? If it hadn’t been for Ross, she would likely be dead by now: burned as a witch, robbed by bandits, or lost on the moors. Irene had talked of destiny and finding her right path but ever since she’d come to this time all Lia had felt was lost.