by Sabrina York
She had no idea why this announcement made Dominic snap to attention, why it made his expression darken. He merely nodded to his brother, who, with one more disdainful glance at her, quit the shelter.
Dominic blew out a breath and scrubbed his face. Then he bent and collected her clothing. “You should get dressed,” he said. “If Liam has come all the way from Dar, the news must be important.”
Apparently their tryst was over.
But then, Declan had completely spoiled the mood.
Maggie dressed quickly and then took Dominic’s extended hand; he lifted her easily to her feet. He met her gaze and then pulled her into his arms again for another kiss. Though it was quick and far too brief, it was intense.
“You did promise no’ to leave,” he said.
She quirked a brow, unsure of his meaning. “I did.”
“Good.” Another kiss. “I really doona want to have to tie you up.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” she quipped. “Because I really don’t want to be tied up.”
With a grin he took her arm and led her out of the tent to the fire where the other men were waiting.
A tall, sandy haired stranger stood among them. A strange shiver shot through her as she studied him. She’d certainly never met him before, but there was a familiarity about him she could not deny. He turned to her and their gazes clashed and the certainty grew.
“Liam,” Dominic called, and greeted his vassal with a manly hug.
“My laird.” He nodded to Maggie. “And who is this bonny lass?”
“Maggie Spencer, of Seattle. A visitor from our clansmen to the west. Maggie, this is my cousin Liam MacBain.”
And suddenly, it hit her. Why he seemed so familiar. He looked much like the portrait of her grandfather’s grandfather hanging in the library of their home. Same hair, same eyes, same hard sculpted chin. He was Liam MacBain Macintosh.
Her ancestor.
The man from whom her entire family had sprung.
CHAPTER SIX
Liam brought important news indeed.
After they had finished with the greetings and catching up of minor news from Dar, he asked to speak with Dominic and Declan in private. Dominic did not like leaving Maggie unattended, but he had words with Ewan—exhorting him to see her fed and, more importantly, to keep her safe. Not that he thought she’d run. She had promised she would not.
Beyond that, he knew all his men would watch over her. After what they’d witnessed in his tent, by now they all knew damn well she was his. But still, he hated being separated from her, even for a moment.
He led Liam to his tent as Declan brought in another chair and they sat around the table. Dominic poured them each a whiskey.
“So, what is the important news, Liam?” he asked.
His cousin took a swig of whisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Verra good news, my laird. The MacPherson has agreed to your meeting. In fact, he has called for a convocation of the lairds to discuss concessions.”
That was good news. Macpherson had been the only clan chief resisting the formation of a Clan Chattan federation. Dominic had been trying to arrange a meeting to confer with MacPherson over the matter, but he’d been obstreperous.
“Aye. They’ve all agreed to meet the day after tomorrow at Urquhart Castle.”
Dominic’s brow wrinkled. An odd place for a convocation, though upon reflection, it was neutral territory. None of the rival clans could claim superiority because it belonged to the Black Comyn, who had no stake in this quarrel. “Who will be there?”
“Lairds from Cattanach, MacPhail, Shaw, Farquharson, the Ritchies, McCombies and Clan MacThomas.”
“And MacPherson.”
“Aye.”
He frowned. “The day after tomorrow, you say?”
“Aye.”
Dominic glanced at Declan. “That doesna leave us much time.” Urquhart Castle was a full day’s ride.
“We can leave tomorrow.”
“The three of us?” Liam asked, although there was no need to ask. Liam and Declan were his lieutenants.
Dominic nodded. “The men can finish up the hunt and head back home.” He would have liked to have had a more successful hunt, to fill the smoke room with meat, but it was still summer. There would be more hunts before the harsh winter set in.
“And the woman?”
He glared at his brother. He knew what Declan was asking and it irritated him. Hell, his brother’s continued insistence that she was a spy irritated him. “She’s coming with us.”
Declan snorted, but Liam, at least, knew well enough to stay silent.
“Let’s get moving,” he said into the silence. “There’s much to do if we’re to make it to this meeting in time.”
* * *
Dominic didn’t emerge from his tent for a long while, but when he did, all hell broke loose in the camp. Suddenly the men started rushing about, cleaning the pots and pans and packing them up.
“What’s going on?” she asked Ewan, because he was the only one who seemed inclined to speak to her. Still, he didn’t meet her eyes.
“We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Aye.”
“Are we going back to Castle Dar?” That thought was exciting. She’d only seen pictures of her ancestral home, and even then, it had been ruins. How thrilling would it be to see it in its glory? In person?
“The lads and I are heading back. But the laird is going west. And you’re going with him.”
She frowned and glanced at where Dominic was overseeing the salting of the venison. He lifted one of the carcasses and tossed it into the cart. His muscles bunched fabulously, snagging her attention. There might have been some drool. She was glad he was taking her with him, wherever they were going. “What’s in the west?” she asked.
“Urquhart Castle.”
Her heart stopped. Her head whipped around. She stared at Ewan. “What?”
“Urquhart Castle. There’s to be a meeting of the lairds.”
A meeting of the lairds? Her pulse thrummed. Sweat pricked on her brow.
It would not be a meeting. It would be a massacre.
Even though she knew warning him could ruin everything, certainly destroy any feelings of trust between them, she had to. She had to warn him.
She launched to her feet and ran—ran—to Dominic’s side. He stilled when she tugged at his sleeve. “I need to talk to you,” she said.
He grinned and bent to kiss her. “It will have to wait Maggie-mine. We’ve got a lot of work to do before we lose the sun.”
“Please Dominic. I need to talk to you now.”
“About what?”
“This trip to Urquhart. Please. It’s urgent.”
He studied her expression and his brow rumpled but he nodded to Harry who took up his spot. “What is so urgent?” he asked, brushing off his hands and following her away from the other men. To her annoyance, Declan followed too.
“We need to speak privately.”
“Right.” He headed for his tent.
Declan paced them. Apparently he did not understand the concept of the word private.
She stood in the door of the tent, attempting to block his way, but he just pushed past her.
“What is it, Maggie?” Dominic asked.
She flicked a look at Declan and frowned. “I would prefer to speak to you alone.”
Declan crossed his arms. “I’m sure you would.”
“Darling.” Dominic’s hands were heavy on her shoulders. “Declan is my lieutenant. Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him.”
Um, not really. Dominic might believe her—or he might not—but Declan would automatically leap to the dark side. He already suspected the worst of her.
Dominic folded his arms and shot her an encouraging smile. “Well?”
Hell. Declan or not, it needed to be said.
“You cannot go to Urquhart castle.”
Dominic blinked.
“I…what?”
“You cannot go. It’s a trap.”
Declan bristled. She ignored him.
“MacPherson is not willing to negotiate with Clan Chattan. He and Cameron are plotting an ambush.”
“What?” both brothers barked. It was rather intimidating, the pair of them glowering as they were.
“Why would he do that?” Dominic asked.
“If they take out the leaders of the clans, the confederation will fall apart.”
Silence rippled through the room. Dominic’s expression went hard. She hated the curl of disdain on his lips. “How do you know this?”
She read it in a book? “I…just know it.”
“So you are in league with the Camerons?” Declan, singing that same old song.
“If I were in league with your enemies, would I be warning you that they plan to murder you in your sleep?”
“You would if you were trying to trick us into missing the meeting.” Declan glared at his brother. “An insult to the MacPherson could also scuttle the confederation.”
“MacPherson never intended to join the confederation.” This she nearly shouted. “He never forgave Cattanach for not including him in the initial planning. He’s been colluding with the lesser clans to form a competing confederation.”
Dominic’s throat worked. “The…lesser clans?”
“MacGillivray, Davidson, the Macleans of Dochgarroch, Clan Macqueen, the Macintyres of Badenoch and the Clan Macandrews. The ones not related to Clan Chattan by blood.”
Declan stared at her, his nostrils flared, his lips working. “How…do you know this?”
How could she respond? “I just do.” The words scraped her throat raw. Because she could tell, not only had she failed to convince them, she’d increased their suspicions about her.
She hated the look on Dominic’s face. Hated the coldness in his gaze.
“Leave us Declan,” he said. It was a low growl, one not even his brother would defy.
But he did. “Doona listen to her,” he said. “Do you need any more evidence of what she is?”
“Leave. Us.”
With a huff, Declan spun from the tent. But with his absence, there was no peace.
Dominic’s expression was harsh, hard.
“Sit down,” he said. His tone was weary, but firm.
She sat. She had to. Her knees were about to fail her. She raked back her hair and sighed. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not true.”
“Do you? Do you know what I’m thinking, Maggie?”
Though it was difficult, she met his gaze. “You think I’m in league with your enemies.”
“No. That is no’ what I am thinking.”
She gaped at him. Her lips worked. “Then…what?”
“I’m thinking you haven’t been truthful with me. From the start you’ve lied.”
“I have never lied.”
“You’ve not told the whole truth, Maggie.”
This she could not deny. “I told you, it’s a crazy story.”
“I think you need to tell me. You need to tell me everything.”
She stared at him, her heart aching, her mind in a whirl. If she told him, he would know, for certain who and what she was. Not a spy or an enemy. But a lunatic.
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Maggie?”
“I told you the truth when I said I came from a place far to the west, but that’s not all.”
He sat back. Threaded his fingers. Studied her in steady silence.
“I…” Oh God. “I’m from the future.”
His expression did not change. Not by a flicker of an eyelash. That was how she knew he was holding himself in exquisite control.
“Hundreds of years in the future. The book I told you about, The Macintoshes of Dar? It’s a history book.”
Still no reaction. He sat there and stared at her, and she stared right back.
The silence unnerved her.
“I am not crazy.”
The pulse at the corner of his left eye ticked.
“I don’t know how it happened or why. But I am glad I’m here. I’m so glad I met you. So glad I can save you—”
“Stop. Just stop.”
She could not. “If you go, you will die. You and Declan. All your men. Everyone dies there. All but one Macintosh—”
“Maggie. Stop.”
“I am not lying.” She put out a lip, although she knew pouting was pointless. “I am from the future. How else would I know you’re building a new chapel in Dar? Or of the granary fire last spring?
“Those things are hardly secret.”
“Would I know you lost your dog in a hunting accident? Or that you commissioned a tapestry in his memory?” He remained stoic and unresponsive. “Dominic, I know many things. I know a great rain will come in the fall. The flood will kill hundreds. The resulting famine will nearly destroy your clan in the winter.”
“Are you saying my people will die?”
“If you die, yes. Without your leadership, they are doomed, Dominic. Doomed.”
“It is a concerning story indeed. And impossible to prove…until it happens.” His lip curled. “Convenient, that.”
Ah lord. How could she convince him? Despondent, she opted for babbling historical facts. It was all she had, after all. “Listen to me. I am telling you the truth. Consider this. I know that with the death of Queen Margaret, Scotland has been in turmoil with no one to succeed her. I know next year, with the support of King Edward, John Balliol will become King of Scotland.” His nose twitched as though he didn’t care for this news. “But he won’t be king for long. When he revolts against Edward, a full-fledged rebellion breaks out against England, led by William Wallace.”
His brow quirked. “Wallace?”
“Do you know him?”
“We’ve met. He’s a good man.”
She sighed. “It doesn’t end well for him. But at least they made a movie of his life.”
“A movie?”
“Never mind. Point is, I know lots of things, Dominic. Things that have happened and things that are coming. And I’m not evil or crazy or touched. I have to believe God sent me here for a reason. And I have to believe it is to save your life. Please don’t go to Urquhart Castle. Please don’t walk into an ambush.”
“I willna.”
She nearly collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank God.”
“Now that you’ve warned us, we shall be on our guard.”
Well, fuck.
She reached over, set her hand on his and sighed. “I know it’s hard to believe. But it’s true.”
“I know you believe it’s true.”
She could see it in his eyes. “I’m not mad. I can prove it to you if you give me a chance.”
“Prove it?”
“It’s August, right?”
He sighed. “Aye.”
“What is the date?”
“Maggie—”
“Please, Dominic.”
“It is the 22nd of August.”
“On the 25th, just three days from now, there will be a partial eclipse of the sun.”
“What is that?”
“The moon will move between the earth and the sun. For two minutes, maybe a little more. But you will be able to see it in the sky. Would that convince you?”
“We doona have three days. We need to leave tomorrow.”
“But if it happens, if you see it, will you believe me?” Oh, please. Please. She didn’t know why she needed this so desperately, why she needed him to believe her, but she did.
“All right. If the moon blots out the sun, I will have to agree that you have some knowledge of the future.”
Yes! Thank God. All she had to do was keep him alive for three days. And then he would know she was telling the truth. But he was determined to leave in the morning.
She had to make sure he did not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dominic’s mind reeled as he stood and left his tent. Left her. He
needed to walk. He needed to think. He could not do so in her presence.
How could he have been so wrong about her?
His heart told him she was the one he’d been waiting for. The woman he’d always dreamed of finding. A perfect connection, a delicious oneness…
But her story was insane.
What was more insane was the fact that a part of him didn’t care. Part of him wanted her no matter what—which was frightening indeed. He was the laird of his clan. His people’s survival depended upon him, on his decisions, on his good judgement.
How could his desire for her, for any woman eclipse his responsibility to his clan?
Perhaps Declan was right. Perhaps she had bewitched him, stolen his sanity. She had touched him for certain, touched him deeply.
Because even as he was confronted with the undeniable evidence that she was unhinged, he wanted her. Trusted her. He suspected the unfamiliar feeling churning in his heart and soul—the hunger, the need, the blind yearning—might be love.
He hoped that did not indicate a lunacy of his own.
If he were sensible, he would listen to his brother. Send her back with the men to Dar and have them lock her away in the dungeon until he could discover the truth about her.
Indeed, the idea had merit.
Especially since she insisted they were headed for an ambush.
That thought sent a cold bolt through his gut. If they were walking into some violent clash of clans, he did not want her there. He could not guarantee her safety should a melee erupt.
Aye. Perhaps he should send her back to the castle.
Where she would be safe.
With this decision made, his soul ceased its churning, and he turned his mind to other things. Part of her story resonated within him. He’d never trusted MacPherson. Something about his beady eyes, his flickering attention, that half smile that never seemed sincere.
He’d been voluble about his disgruntlement when Dougal Dall, chief of the clan, had not included him in the initial meetings. There were rumors of his efforts to form a competing confederation amongst the clans who had been excluded from the alliance. That part of her story held water. Indeed, it validated the concerns that had been swirling in his mind about MacPherson. And her assertion that the bastard was collaborating with their enemy? That rang true as well.