by Dee Davis
He took a step forward. And then another.
Then something hit him hard from behind. He stumbled forward as the horse screamed in fear and reared again, hooves flying through the air. He tried to turn to face his attacker, but instead he felt himself teetering at the edge of the cliff. Still reeling in fear, the horse pivoted and ran, the motion sending Bram backwards, arms flailing as he tried to find purchase, something—anything—to stop him from falling.
For a moment there was nothing but air, and then he felt the solid strength of an arm, fingers closing around his wrist as he was yanked from the precipice back onto firm ground.
Iain's face swam out of the mist. "Steady on. I've got you, now."
Bram released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Holy Mary, mother of God, I thought I was done for. You always did have excellent timing."
Iain grinned. "I aim to please."
"How did you find me?" Bram asked. "You can barely see your hand in front of your face."
"You've the mare to thank for that. We heard her all the way from the encampment. She sounded like a banshee. Which had to mean trouble."
"I'm afraid she ran off." Bram grimaced, turning slowly to search for the horse.
"Dinna fash yourself. Ranald and Frazier have gone to find her. And if they miss her for the mist, she'll no doubt find her way to the other horses." Iain frowned. "So what happened to spook the beast?"
"I canna say for sure. We heard rocks fall and then I'm fairly certain someone pushed me. Although it could have been the horse. You're right. She was a wee bit crazed. In truth, I had no idea we'd gotten so close to the edge."
"'Tis easy enough to lose your bearings in a fog like this." He waved at the swirling mist.
"I'm just happy that you found me in time. I dinna think I could have saved myself." His heart had settled back to its normal rhythm, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of how close he'd come to losing it all.
"I don't know." Iain shrugged. "I've seen you pull yourself from worse predicaments."
"Aye, but no' where I had to sprout wings."
Iain sobered, squatting down to inspect something in the muddy turf.
"What do you see?" Bram asked.
Iain shifted back, pointing at the ground. "It looks like it wasn't the horse."
Bram knelt beside his cousin, his breath hitching as he recognized the shape of a footprint. One that most definitely wasn't his.
Behind them something scraped against a stone.
Both men sprang to their feet, weapons drawn.
"Hold," Ranald called as he and Frazier emerged from the mist. "We come bearing gifts."
Bram sheathed his claymore, his pulse pounding again as he examined the man struggling between Ranald and Frazier.
"And who have we here?" Iain queried as he too sheathed his weapon.
"Canna say. The man willna talk to us," Ranald said, his eyes glittering with anger. "But I'm willing to bet he's no' here to make friends."
As if to prove the point, the man made a concerted effort to break free. But he was no match for Ranald and Frazier.
"To be sure, laddie," Frazier spat out, his grip tightening on the man's arm. "He's wearing Comyn colors."
Bram studied the man for a moment, noting the worn plaid. "Aye, but his eyes are dark and his hair a reddish brown."
"Not all of them are black haired and green eyed," Frazier grumbled.
"True enough," Iain nodded, his eyes too locked on the prisoner. "But whoever he may be, I'd be willing to bet he's the one who tried to push Bram o'er the cliff."
CHAPTER 19
"ARE YOU SURE THIS IS what you want to do?" Mrs. Abernathy asked, her forehead wrinkled in question.
"No." Lily shook her head, unwilling to be anything but honest. The older woman had been her rock for the past few days, and Lily suspected that before this was all over she'd be glad to have a dose of Mrs. Abernathy's wisdom. "I'm not sure of anything. But if there's even the remotest possibility that I can do something to save him, I don't see how I have any choice." She paused, sucking in a breath.
"I canna argue with you there, but I feel compelled to remind you that Bram himself wanted you to stay on this side of time."
They were sitting in Mrs. Abernathy's office, sipping scotch-laced tea, the Scottish answer to everything that ailed one, while Lily tried to make sense of everything she'd learned at Ridge Manor. Tigh an Droma. Her mind whispered the Gaelic almost as if it were familiar. Then again, maybe it had been. In another life.
She shivered and took a gulp of her tea. "Bram doesn't know the significance of this," she said, holding up the ring on its chain. "He doesn't know who I really am."
And of course that was the really relevent fact. Lily was a Comyn. The great great to infinity cousin or some such of the very man who'd killed Bram's father. And to the Macgillivray way of thinking, most likely the great odd granddaughter of the murderer of his somewhat fewer but still many greats grandfather Graeme.
It was slightly insane on the face of it, but when one added in the fact that they were separated by over five hundred years, it made her head spin and her stomach roil. Or maybe the latter was the scotch. Hard to say for certain. But either way she felt sick.
And afraid. For Bram. For herself. Hell, even for Alec Comyn. He was kin, after all.
"What if I go there and Bram rejects me?"
"What if he doesn't?" Mrs. Abernathy queried, her gaze accurately reading the gist of Lily's thoughts. "After all, he loves you."
"You can't know that for certain. I mean, all you've got to go on are my crazy ramblings. For all we know I dreamed the whole thing."
"Well, then there's still no need to worry because everyone knows you canna truly be hurt in a dream." Mrs. Abernathy calmly refilled Lily's cup.
Lily sighed on a frown. "But I don't want it to be a dream."
"I know, child. I know." Mrs. Abernathy's eyes were full of understanding. "And I also know how very difficult this all is. 'Tis no' easy to trust in love even when it's standing right in front of you. And you and Bram are separated by over five hundred years."
"But he needs me," she pleaded, not sure if she was arguing with Mrs. Abernathy or herself. "If I don't go, he'll die."
"In truth, he's already dead, lamb."
Lily jerked as if Mrs. Abernathy's words were bullets. "But Jeff said that it was all parallel. Happening at the same time, so to speak. So don't you see? If I can get back, it might not be too late. There's still time."
Mrs. Abernathy's face broke into a smile, her eyes shining as if Lily was a star pupil. "As I've said before, true love takes a leap of faith. The only question here is whether you're willing to take the risk. And I think you just answered that in the affirmative."
"I suppose you're right, but what if I can't get there?" Lily reached for her teacup, her stomach still in knots. It was amazing her throat allowed her to swallow at all. "I mean, he's always been in the same place that I've been. And I can't very well camp out at the Comyns' manor on the off chance that we might manage to inhabit the same space at the same time. Reginald and Tildy were lovely, but somehow I don't think they're going to open their arms for a relative whose time traveling could put their entire existence in jeopardy. What if by saving Bram, that means that Alec must die? Doesn't that change everything?"
"It doesn't seem to work like that," Jeff said, stepping into the office, Elaine trailing on his heels. "We didn't mean to eavesdrop but—"
"I couldn't stand not knowing what had happened," Elaine finished for him. "I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not," Lily said, gesturing for them to have seats. "I'd have told you myself, but you weren't in when we got back."
"So you're really a Comyn?" Elaine asked, her eyes falling to the ring.
"It's seems so." Lilly shrugged and then filled them in on everything they'd learned at Ridge Manor. The painting, the ring, the legend.
"And I thought Katherine's story was crazy." Jeff shook his
head and settled back into the sofa cushions with a cup of tea. "This is truly one for the books."
"Or legends," Elaine added. "So you're going to go back."
"If I can." Lily nodded, realizing her decision had truly been made when she heard the outcome of the battle. "But as I was saying, I'm not sure how to achieve it. And even if I can, I'm a little concerned about what kind of damage I'll do if I… if I change things." She paused, chewing her bottom lip as she watched her friends. "You said that it didn't work like that. But I thought that things did shift when Katherine went back. Both there in her time and here in yours as well."
"Things did change. But only for the better—if that makes any sense at all," Jeff replied. "I alluded to it earlier when I first told you about Katherine and Iain. We believe that the way it all came out was in fact the right order of things."
"As if time had been stuck in the wrong loop. I remember. But still, it seems such a dangerous thing to do. I'm hoping to change the outcome of a battle. And in so doing, what if I inadvertently hurt other people? People I care about?"
Her thoughts turned to the Comyns. They were family. She might not know them well, but she certainly didn't wish them any harm.
"I think things will work out the way they're supposed to," Elaine explained. "I mean, if Katherine hadn't gone back to Iain, then Jeff and I might never have gotten together." She shot a look in Jeff's direction—her eyes full of love. "And my niece, Anna, would never have been born."
"Not to mention the fact that Jeffrey and Elaine wouldn't own Duncreag."
"But that meant you lost it, Mrs. Abernathy," Lily prompted.
"Aye, but as I said before, I gained a family." She smiled at the assembled company. "The point here is that maybe there are forces at work beyond what you can ken. And if that's so, then you've got to find it in your heart to believe that what will be will be."
Lily smiled. It might be a lot of purple prose, but damned if it didn't make her feel better somehow. She swallowed. "Even if I accept all of that, there's still the matter of getting back at all. And then once I'm there, how in the world am I supposed to find Bram? I mean, I know where Tigh an Droma is, but it's not like I can catch a bus or rent a car. You and Bram both, Jeff, warned that it's a far more dangerous time."
"It is. But I know that Katherine will help you. And I—" He broke off and turned to look at Elaine. For a moment it was as if the world shrank, containing only the two of them, and Lily felt like the worst voyeur, but then Elaine squeezed her husband's hand and nodded.
"Jeff will go with you."
"But you can't," Lily protested, her heart rising to her throat. "You have your life here. You have each other."
"I'm not going to stay. I'm just going to help get you there. I've done it before. For Katherine. And I know I can do it for you." He smiled. "Or at least with you. And I'll stay to help you find Bram."
"But what if…" She trailed off, looking at her new friends with what she knew was complete incredulity.
"That's the beauty of having someone you love," Elaine soothed. "It's how I'll get him back. Our love is like a beacon. A way for him to find his way home. He's linked to the past through his sister, but he's tied to the present because of me."
"But still, what if something goes wrong? I can't let you do this. You don't even know me."
"Well, first off," Jeff said, his tone brooking no argument, "I'm not going just for you. If Bram loses this battle—if he dies—then it's quite possible that Iain will be in peril as well. And if there's something I can do to save my sister's husband, then you can be damned sure I'm going to try."
"And second off," Elaine continued, her hand on Jeff's knee, "you are family now, Lily. If for no other reason than because Duncreag holds the same magic for you that it did for Katherine. But you know that it's more than that. You belong here. You can feel it. And so do we."
Tears sprang to Lily's eyes. She'd lost so much. And somehow managed to gain even more. "I can't… I don't… it's just that…"
"We're all in this together," Mrs. Abernathy finished for her. "And unless we get a move on, it will all be for naught."
"So we're going now?" Lily hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. And she surely hadn't expected to have a partner in crime.
"No time like the present," Jeff said.
"I assume you'll be wanting the wee sgian dubh?" Mrs. Abernathy queried, already pushing to her feet.
Lily raised a brow in question. "Sgian dubh?"
Elaine nodded. "'Tis a wee knife. It belonged to Iain once upon a time. Jeff used it to go back before. And you've got the ring, but more importantly, you've got Bram's brooch."
Lily reached into her pocket, the metal cat cold against her touch. "So we go to the cottage?"
Jeff shook his head. "I think we'll have better luck here at Duncreag. In Katherine's old room." His gaze met hers, his eyes flickering with determination. "It's your room now. That's where I crossed over before. And where you saw Bram the night of the attack at Iain's Duncreag."
"So we just go there, hold our talismans and we're transported?" she asked, certain it couldn't possibly be that easy.
"Well, it takes concentration. And I suspect as Mrs. Abernathy said, it'll only happen if that's the way it's supposed to be. But it's our best chance, I think."
"So this is it." She turned to face Elaine and Mrs. Abernathy. "I'm really leaving."
"Going home, is more like." Mrs. Abernathy beamed, pulling her into her arms for a warm hug.
Across from them, Jeff looped an arm around Elaine, the two of them walking from the room, gazes locked on each other. As if in so doing they'd forever be bound. But then again maybe they already were.
"Is there anything you want me to say to Valerie?" Mrs. Abernathy asked.
The words pulled Lily away from thinking of her friends, her mind drifting to the past, and the woman who'd somehow known that this was her destiny. "Tell her what's happened. And that I love her. And that I'm happy. Or at least that I'm trying to be. I think she'll understand."
Mrs. Abernathy nodded. "Of course she will. She only wants what's best for you. And she'd be the first to tell you to grab it with both hands while you've still got the chance."
Tears filled Lily's eyes. "And tell the Comyns... well, tell them…" She trailed off.
"I think they already know. People forget that we Highlanders aren't afraid to believe in a little magic. They've seen the portrait, after all."
Lily blinked, understanding slamming home with a powerful thrust. "You don't think the painting was of Tyra. You think it was of me."
Mrs. Abernathy shrugged, her own eyes suspiciously bright. "I think anything is possible. Especially when love is involved. Now go on with you. Jeffrey will be waiting."
*****
"I canna get the man to talk," Ranald said, walking into the clearing where their men were making camp. "I tried most everything I know. But he'll say naught but his name. Murdoc Macniven."
"Macnivens have pledged themselves to the Comyns, no?" Iain asked. Frazier and Bram both nodded in assent. "And do you know the name?"
"Nay," Bram said. "But then I've no' had interaction with Alec Comyn or his clan until that night at Dunbrae. Frazier? What say you? Have you heard of the man?"
All eyes turned to the old warrior, who was sitting on a log, absently twirling a stalk of thistle. He frowned for a moment, then lifted his gaze to encompass the others. "I'm fairly certain he's the son of Dougan Macniven. Dougan was Alec's father's man. His captain, if I'm remembering true."
"And did you see either of them during the fighting at Dunbrae?" Iain asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.
Frazier shook his head, his eyes full of regret. "No' that I remember. 'Twas nigh impossible to see anything o'er much. The fighting was fierce." The older man looked to Bram for confirmation.
"Aye, that it was," Bram agreed, images of the carnage echoing through his mind. "I dinna see faces, only swords and shields. And honestly, I dinna know t
hat I'd recognize Alec Comyn himself if he'd stopped for me to take a look."
"It was worth asking," Iain replied with a shrug.
"Do you have reason to doubt Macniven?" Frazier asked, tossing the thistle aside.
Iain considered the idea on a frown. "I canna say that the man has a reason to lie. But none of this feels quite right to me."
"Aye." Bram nodded, considering the thought. "Why take a chance on his own? If Alec knows we're on the march then why wouldn't he just attack us in force?"
"'Tis possible this Murdoc was merely a scout," Ranald replied. "But when faced with the opportunity to throw your scrawny arse off a cliff it presented an opportunity too tempting to resist."
"Scrawny, eh?" Bram eyed his cousin with disdain. "That's not what you were thinking the night I saved your hide from the Macsween brothers after you bedded their sister."
"Ach, a comely lass she was, too." Ranald smiled at the memory. "And I canna fault your timing, cousin. But there's still some question as to whether I truly needed rescuing. I was holding my own, after all."
"Aye, from the bottom of a pile o' Macsweens," Bram responded.
Ranald eyed him ruefully then, after a moment's bluster, threw back his head and laughed. "They were rather a lot of them," he admitted with a shrug.
"Five, if I remember right." Bram waggled his eyebrows as Iain and Frazier joined in the laughter. There was something comforting about remembering their past. As if the bond he shared with his cousins could help to ease the pain of all that he'd lost.
"Well, as far as I see it, the world might have been a better place if you'd just let the Macsweens teach him a lesson or two. Might have humbled the man a wee bit." Iain shot Ranald a benevolent smile, but his eyes still glittered with mirth.
"Humble or no', there's nothing like knowing your friends have your back," Frazier said. "'Twas the way of it with your father and me, Bram. But times change. And now Seamus is gone." Something dark passed across the old warrior's eyes, but then he shook his head as if banishing the memories. "And now… it seems I'm at the mercy of nature's call." The man shrugged, his grizzled face breaking into a grin.