by Lynn Kurland
Now that was the question for the ages. He had no idea how he was supposed to answer it. He could lie, he supposed, but what good would that do? He took a deep breath. The truth it would be.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I think you did."
She stared at him for several moments, then looked down at her feet. "Let's walk," she said.
"Of course."
They walked in silence for a very long time. Then she stopped. Thomas stopped, turned, and looked down at her. She was studying him as if she'd never seen him before.
"You could have been killed," she said quietly.
He shrugged with half a smile. "Perhaps."
"If all this is true," she said, but she didn't sound as skeptical as she had before, "then you took a very great risk."
"That, too."
"Yet that did not deter you."
"You were here. I had to come."
She nodded slowly, then turned and walked toward the place where the sea met the sand. Thomas watched her go, watched her stand with her head bowed and her arms around herself, watched her tremble.
And he wondered if she would manage to digest it all without losing it or breaking down.
He wondered what would be worse.
Then she put her shoulders back. She turned and walked purposefully toward him.
The look on her face made him realize that he was definitely not out of the woods yet.
"Prove it to me," she said, sticking her chin out. "Take me to your time. Let me see it for myself."
He smiled faintly. "Are you sure?"
She wasn't smiling. "Aye. I am."
He felt his smile fade, and he looked at her gravely. "Very well. I can't guarantee that what you'll see won't upset you."
"I am a MacLeod," she said. "I'll survive it."
He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I imagine you will. All right, we'll go. When do you want to leave?"
"Tomorrow."
He blinked in surprise. "Really? So soon?"
"Aye, so soon." She looked about her for a moment. "Does this beach still exist in your time?"
"It does. And, oddly enough, my sister's father-in-law is lord of Artane," he said with a nod over his shoulder toward Artane.
"In truth?" she asked, sounding impressed. "He must be very wealthy."
"Not as wealthy as he'd like to be, no doubt, but I imagine he does well enough." Thomas smiled. "He lets tourists tromp through his house now and then—"
'Tourists," she said with a shudder. "Passing unpleasant ... lot..." she finished uneasily. She looked up at him "Tourists?"
"People who pay you so they can come gawk at your possessions," Thomas said, trying to hide his surprise.
She was silent for a moment. "But how would I know anything about them?"
"Well—"
She shivered. "Let us go back."
"Iolanthe, please don't let that ruin your day," he said. "I've probably rambled on about tourists over the last few days."
She nodded but looked very unconvinced. "Tomorrow, Thomas. I need to know."
He walked reluctantly back with her over the dunes and up the way to the castle. He found himself suddenly very unwilling to leave the peace of the shore. The farther they walked away from the water, the more he realized that he was losing the tentative truce they'd managed to forge over the past week.
He caught her hand as they neared the drawbridge. "Io," he began, then stopped short at the look in her eye. "Oh, Iolanthe," he whispered.
She reached up and touched his face briefly, then let her hand drop. "I have to know, Thomas. Before I can do anything else, I have to know the truth. I have to see it for myself."
He understood. She wasn't going to start anything with him until she'd unraveled the truth of her past. Her future. He drew his hand over his face and wondered briefly if scaling Artane's outer wall several times with nothing but his bare hands and feet would be enough to distract him from the truth of his present.
He had, he suspected, lost her.
He wondered just what it would take to have her back.
Chapter 35
Iolanthe stood on the steps leading down from the great hall and looked at the packhorse that had been loaded with gifts that neither she nor Thomas had been able to refuse. She wore the clothing she'd been given upon her arrival, as well as a warm cloak around her that was finer than anything she'd ever seen in her life. That Artane's lord should bedeck himself in such finery didn't surprise her. That he should shower such luxuries on strangers was almost beyond belief. She could do nothing but marvel that there were actually folk in the world who lived their lives with generosity to others. It was certainly nothing she'd ever seen her father do. Yet how many examples she'd seen of it over the past se'nnight? Lord Roger and his gifts. His lady and her gifts.
Thomas and his greatest gift to her: the gift of her life.
She could scarce fathom it.
The door behind her opened, and she turned to watch as Thomas and Lord Roger descended the stairs. Thomas was dressed warmly as well, and she had to admit that the fine clothes suited him. The cloak sat well on his broad shoulders, and the cloth of his hose clung to his well-shaped legs. But it was his face that drew her. Despite her desperate desire to see his Future, to see for herself if the tale he told was true, all she truly wanted to do was go to him, rest her head against his chest, and never leave the peace of his embrace.
He looked down at her at precisely that moment. She suspected that her desire was unmistakably written on her face. He stared at her as if he could scarce believe what he was seeing.
Fool that she was, she could only smile weakly and quickly look away. Damnation, but this was her own fault.
She could have been going into his arms, safe and secure. She suspected that Thomas would have been amenable to whatever she suggested.
But she couldn't.
Not yet.
Not until she had seen the truth of his tale for herself.
"There came a man to my gates yesterday," Lord Roger was saying. "I didn't like the look of him."
She realized then that he was speaking the peasant's English. He wasn't looking at her, but she wondered if he were testing her.
"Oh?" asked Thomas, sounding only mildly interested. "What did he want?"
"He claimed he was searching for a woman who had been stolen from him, a woman he'd purchased as his bride." Lord Roger smiled pleasantly. "Said she was a Scot." He looked at Iolanthe. "I supposed she was an unwilling bride," he said.
In Gaelic.
That he could speak her language made her wonder quite quickly just what she had said to Thomas in whispers at the supper table. She felt herself coloring before she could stop it.
"Well, my lord," she managed, "I would say you deserve the truth."
Lord Roger shook his head with a smile. "Never fear, Lady Iolanthe. I sent him away unanswered and unsatisfied."
Thomas cleared his throat. "My lord, ours is a delicate situation."
"So I gathered, my friend."
"And he is a poor liar," Iolanthe said, nodding toward Thomas. "But this much I will say for him: He rescued me when that man would have slain me in cold blood. And for that I owe him my life"—she took a deep breath—"and my loyalty. So, I would ask you to look on him with compassion and know that what he has done, he has done for me."
"Ah, a romance," Lord Roger said, clapping Thomas on the shoulder. "Never fear, Thomas, I am not angry. I would have done the same in your shoes. And I did not tell this to you or your lady to shame you. I like to trot out my languages where I can. There are so few here to be impressed by my skill."
"I am impressed," Iolanthe said weakly. "Truly."
Lord Roger smiled at her, then sobered as he turned to Thomas. "Be aware, my friend, that Lord Charles is very angry. He will not rest until his pride is assuaged."
"He should be hanged," Thomas said. "He's murdered dozens."
Lord Roger nodded. "Aye, we know. But we've yet to catch him at it, and he
covers his crimes all too well. Rest assured, I will watch him more closely." He looked at Iolanthe. "My only wish now is that we had the time for your entire tale. I feel certain 'tis something quite unlike anything I've ever heard before."
Iolanthe could only smile faintly. If the man only knew!
"Thank you again, my lord," Thomas said, "for your most generous hospitality and these gifts. Truly, it is more than we can ever repay."
Artane waved a dismissive hand. "You've given me an idea or two for my steward and provided me with hours of pleasant conversation. I consider myself well repaid. If you've a need for shelter in the future, know that my hall is always open to you."
Apparently Thomas wasn't above considering that as a possibility. Iolanthe wondered, judging by his willingness to accept that possible invitation, if he was all that confident in his ability to land them in the Future.
But that didn't stop her from following him out through Artane's massive gatehouse and up the road heading north. What else was she to do? Strike out on her own? And go where? Home, to her uncaring father and corrupt siblings? Without Thomas?
Thomas reined in his horse and looked at her. "Just a few miles north. We'll be there by noon."
Perhaps the true question was, even if she'd had a choice, would she have chosen to remain with this man?
It wasn't a question she could answer with any sort of detachment. He had saved her life, and for that she was grateful. He had given her the most peaceful week of her life at Artane. He was taking her back to his Future with him, to a time when she might meet those of her kin who were certainly more affable than her sire.
"Io?"
She nodded, hoping that she was answering aye to something she meant to, for she hadn't heard a thing he'd been saying.
Perhaps thinking too long on anything was ill-advised. What she wanted was to be at her journey's end, then sit and think.
She wanted to be home.
But not her home in 1382.
The sun climbed steadily in the crisp, autumn air. Iolanthe was uncomfortable taking such an exposed road, but Thomas seemed to think it was the fastest way and perhaps the safest. At least they would see an assault coming.
Maybe 'twas her blood that spoke to her and told her that the forests were a better path. How much easier to hide when one had the cover of trees.
"Thomas," she said, feeling as if she'd voiced her opinion on the matter more times than he cared to hear, "I do not like this road."
"Just a little farther, Iolanthe. I'm sure of it."
Now, had he had Duncan's ability to find a road through a briar patch, she would have refrained from further comment. She was almost positive he hadn't spent his life honing his tracking skills in her Scottish forests. He seemed to know mostly where he was going, but who couldn't find their way on a well-traveled road?
Then again, it wasn't as if he'd led them astray ... yet. She simply didn't want to find herself on the end of the sword before they realized he'd led them in the wrong direction.
She took a deep breath for a final attempt.
"Lord Charles might see us," she said.
Thomas reined in his horse, opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He pointed to the left.
"There," he said.
She looked, but saw nothing but a clutch of rocks. Was the man truly losing his wits?
"Jamie said it was three miles north of Artane, near the coast. A group of rocks that looked like a horse."
Iolanthe turned her head this way and that, trying to see the same. What she saw before her was a group of rocks that looked unremarkably like a group of rocks. There was no horselike shape there that she could see.
"Let's try it," he said, urging his horse forward. "What have we got to lose?"
"Our heads?" she muttered, but she followed him just the same. At least the rocks were close to a copse of trees. If something untoward happened, they would at least have a tiny bit of shelter. At the moment, she was willing to humor Thomas any way he pleased. Anything to be off that cursed road.
Thomas dismounted and led his horse and the packhorse toward the rocks. Iolanthe slowly slipped down from her horse. Thomas was looking about them, apparently searching for some kind of sign that this was the proper place.
"Well?" she asked.
He shrugged. "The gate in the forest near your house is just as unassuming. We'll just have to wait. I'll think about the Future, and you think about staying with me. That should do it."
He closed his eyes. Iolanthe assumed he was concentrating, not napping, so she did the same and willed herself to remain with Thomas.
It was, surprisingly, not an unpleasant thought.
They stood thusly for what seemed to her a goodly amount of time. Half an hour? Half the day? She couldn't have said.
She cleared her throat finally. "Thomas?"
"I know," he said grimly. "I know."
She looked around her. She felt thoroughly uneasy. "We should go."
He nodded. "We have two choices, then. We can go south to Falconberg and try the faery ring there, or we can go farther north."
"Did Jamie give you directions to these places?"
"He did. This was one of the ones he wasn't sure about. Falconberg he said would definitely work."
"And the spot farther north?"
"He had no personal experience with it. Just rumors."
"As with this place," she stated.
He nodded. Then he looked around. "Do you think Charles knows about these gates?"
She snorted. "How could he? Angus had no idea of them. The only way he would have learned about them was from me, and I can assure you I said nothing."
"I'm sure you didn't," Thomas agreed.
"Besides, the secret he's after isn't that one."
Thomas pursed his lips. "The jewels in the fireplace?"
"You know about that, too?" she said faintly.
"Yes." He looked around them uneasily. "Did your father know?"
"Nay, just me." She smiled briefly. "So perhaps Angus hadn't guessed amiss to send me with the English butcher."
"I suspect," Thomas said, "that no one found those things until Jamie did. His keep looks very good—and no wonder. He's probably had the money to hire people to do his remodeling for him." He sighed. "Let's go. We'll try north."
"Where is Falconberg?"
"Lord Roger said it's almost two week's travel south. Even with all our supplies, I don't think that's what we want. Not if another hour can get us where we're going."
"I am losing my faith in your landmarks."
"We don't have a choice, Iolanthe. Either we try, or we stay here. To tell you the truth, I'd be perfectly happy to spend the rest of my days at Artane with you on the beach, but that doesn't answer many of your questions."
She had no choice but to agree with him. She swung up into her saddle. "North it is. Lead on, Thomas."
He mounted as well and kept hold of the packhorse. "This will work."
She nodded. One could hope.
They had gone only a pair of miles before Thomas was again leading them off the road to a clutch of rocks that looked very much unlike the new-breed animal he claimed they resembled. But she'd promised herself that she would have faith in him, so she did her best.
Then she heard the shouts from the way they'd come. She looked back along the road and saw the dust being kicked up.
"Ruffians," she said, jerking her horse's head up.
"Wait," Thomas said, grabbing her reins. "Just wait."
Iolanthe could scarce believe that he'd brought her all this way and at such peril to die in such a foolish manner.
He reached over his horse and grabbed her hand. "Concentrate on me," he commanded urgently. "Believe, Iolanthe."
She stared into his eyes and wished with all her heart that she might live long enough to have faith in him. She stared into his pale blue eyes, felt the warmth of his hand around hers, strong and sure, and did her very best to believe that he could do what he sa
id.
After all, hadn't he saved her from certain death?
He blinked, then hesitantly looked over his shoulder.
And then he smiled.
Iolanthe looked back the way they had come. She had to blink several times just to make certain she wasn't imagining what she was seeing. Or wasn't, actually.
The ruffians were gone.
And then a sound so horrendous and terrifying surrounded her the moment before it exploded and receded into the distance. If she'd had any wits left, she would have screamed in terror, much as the horses were. As it was, she could only manage to keep herself in the saddle and watch as Thomas did his best with his two beasts.
She looked at him and wondered if he was just as terrified.
But the fool was grinning madly.
"Military jets," he said.
"Military jets?"
"It means we're in the right time, give or take ten years. It's close enough."
She looked around her. "Where are we?"
"About fifteen yards from the A1," he said, pointing to the road nearby.
It was only then that Iolanthe noticed that although the horrendous noise had abated, there were other kinds of noises nearby—noises that were reminiscent of a sword slicing through the air near your ear or a bolt buzzing past your face. Only these were scores of times more powerful.
"Cars," Thomas said.
Iolanthe followed his arm and marveled that it didn't shake. Her hands were shaking so badly as she held the reins, 'twas a wonder her horse didn't bolt.
"Cars?" she managed.
"The things with wheels," he said.
He pointed to shiny boxes that flew past with a speed she had never in her life imagined.
She was powerfully tempted to get off her horse and lie down until the nightmare passed.
"Iolanthe?"
She looked at him and tried to smile. She failed.
"It'll be okay," he said.
Well, he at least looked vastly relieved. And if this was his time, then surely he could see to their needs.
So she took a deep breath and nodded. "Where do we go?"
"Back to the inn," he said, looking around him with a frown. "Now how to get there."
"You don't know?" Maybe she'd been too hasty in crediting him with being able to see to them.