by Dee Davis
"And then followed me to Iain's."
"After making sure your own people believed it was you who'd betrayed yer clan." His smile was twisted, almost feral, his eyes glittering with hatred. "If the attack on Duncreag had worked, I'd no' have had to come at all. But someone had to make sure you were taken care of."
"Murdered, you mean." Bram shifted, looking for an opening as he realized it must have been Frazier who let Murdoc go and that the old man had most likely pretended to be injured earlier in an attempt to lure Bram into a trap. Only his cousins' timely arrival had spared his life.
"Aye," Frazier was saying. "With you dead, everything will finally be as it should be."
Frazier lunged again, but Bram managed to dodge the blade, this time answering with a thrust of his own. He felt the knife slice through the man's plaid but knew he hadn't managed to draw blood.
Frazier danced back, his agility belying his age. With a quick twist, he freed a second blade from his boot and advanced slowly, his eyes dark with rage.
Bram reached for his claymore, cursing himself when he felt the empty scabbard. In the heat of his desire to see Robby, he'd left it in the copse of trees where he'd been talking with Alec. Still, he was younger and stronger than Frazier.
Frazier attacked again, using both knives to advantage, forcing Bram to retreat slightly, the two of them still circling. As Frazier moved toward Robby, Lily stepped closer, clearly wanting to protect the injured man, but in so doing she'd also put herself in range of Frazier's knife.
With an angry roar, Bram lunged forward, intent upon saving her from harm, but it was too late. With a snarl, Frazier kicked out at the injured man, who fell to his knees and then grabbed Lily by the hair—yanking her in front of him. It took every bit of control Bram had to force his hand to stop the forward motion, to keep from stabbing Lily.
Her eyes widened as Frazier moved one of the knives to her throat, the other still waving in Bram's direction. "Put away yer knife, or I'll kill her," Frazier growled.
Bram's gut churned as he tried to find a way out. He couldn't let Frazier hurt Lily, but as soon as he put the knife down, they were all as good as dead. If Robby still lived, that was. Bram could see his friend collapsed on the ground beside and slightly behind Frazier and Lily.
"Let her go," he asked. "It's me you want, not her. I promise I'll drop the knife when you release her."
"Ye always were a man to think with your cock," Frazier taunted. "And a Comyn bitch at that. Yer father is no doubt spinning in his grave."
"My father is dead because of you." He slowly inched forward, knife still in hand.
"Yer father deserved what he got." Frazier tightened his hold on Lily, a thin trail of blood forming across her neck where he held the blade. "Tried to turn me out to pasture. Said I was past my prime. Told me he had no more use for me. As if I were no better than an aging plow horse."
"And so you betrayed him." Bram's attention was still locked on Lily as he tried to keep the old man talking.
"Nay. He betrayed me. I chose to follow someone who recognized my worth."
The true meaning of the conversation he'd once overheard regarding Frazier became clear. His father had rejected Frazier. Turned him away. And the old man sought revenge. But in so doing he'd taken so much more. "It wasn't just my father, Frazier; it was your clan. Your people. You disgust me."
The man snarled again, his grip on Lily tightening. "I'd remind you that I'm the one holding yer lady."
"She's no' mine." He hated the flash of pain in Lily's eyes, but if his denial could save her life then he would not regret the words.
"Dinna lie to yerself, lad," Frazier growled. "I can see it in yer eyes. Ye want her still."
"You said it yourself. She's a Comyn." He inched forward, praying for an opening to strike.
"Aye, that she is. And once I dispose of you, a bonny prize for Malcolm."
"Malcolm?" Surprise flittered through him, but then was quickly replaced with brutal realization. "My uncle? This is all his doing?" It made sense in a twisted sort of way.
"He's only taking what is rightfully his. And I'll be at his side. But first I need you dead." The blade cut further into Lily's skin. "Drop the knife or I slit her throat."
Bram's gut tightened, his heart thudding in his ears. It was an impossible choice. And either way the odds were that Lily would die. Then from just beyond Frazier, Robby pushed to his knees, his face twisted with pain, but his eyes determined. The older man failed to notice, his attention still focused solely on Bram.
With a quiet gesture, Robby signaled his intent. He'd startle Frazier and hopefully in so doing draw the man's attention and give Bram a chance. It was a risk. But when his gaze darted to Lily, she seemed to understand—giving him a nod as she shot a glance in Robby's direction.
For a moment, it seemed the world held only the two of them, and then Robby moaned, simultaneously rising to his feet, holding a large stone as a weapon. Frazier swung around, knife at the ready, his grip on Lily loosening enough that she managed to bring a sharp elbow to his ribs.
Frazier grunted and threw her forcibly into the rock on which she'd been sitting. Fighting against the panic that shot through him at the sight of her slamming to the ground, Bram focused on Frazier, charging as the man made a move on Robby. Robby threw the stone and it glanced off Frazier's shoulder with enough force to cause him to stumble. But the effort had cost his friend, and Robby collapsed back onto his pallet.
Blood lust surged as Bram leapt on the older man, driving him to the ground. One of Frazier's knives skittered away, beyond the lean-to. But he still held the bigger of the two. They grappled with each other, rolling on the ground, each trying to avoid the other's blade.
Bram managed to slice across Frazier's face, but it was no more than a surface wound. He twisted, trying to find a better angle as both men continued to struggle. Then Frazier managed to grab Robby's stone, slamming it into Bram's knife hand. Pain lanced through him, and reflexively his hand opened, his knife falling to the ground.
Frazier managed to roll on top of him, his knife descending for the kill. Bram grabbed his opponent's hand, trying to push it back, to fight against what suddenly felt inevitable. He should have died that night at Dunbrae. But for the fluke of Robby's finding him, no doubt he would have. And now, everything had been for naught.
He kept his grip, but felt Frazier's knife slipping lower. And then lower still.
"Let him go." Lily's voice was harsh with emotion—anger and something else he couldn't quite put a name to.
Above him, he could see her standing with his knife held against the side of Frazier's throat.
"I'll kill him afore ye can kill me, I reckon," the older man said.
"Maybe so," she replied. "But you'll still be dead."
It was a stand-off. One that very well might end with his death, but even so he had to admire her fortitude. The woman had bollocks.
Frazier held his position for a moment, and then loosened his grip. In less than a moment, Bram had seized the advantage, rolling the man beneath him, his own weapon now pressed to Frazier's throat. Lily sprang back, lifting her hand to her mouth as she watched him with wide, terrified eyes.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't slit your throat here and now?" The idea was more than appealing. Rage swelled through him. Anger for his father. His clan. For Robby and for Lily. Damn the bastard all to hell.
He clenched the knife, moving in for the kill.
"Hold," Iain said, appearing off to Bram's right, the barked word a command.
"Why?" Bram snarled, looking up as Alec, Ranald and Jeff rushed up beside Iain, their expressions fierce, their claymores at the ready.
"Because, as much as you want him dead," Iain continued, "it's better off for us if you let him live. At least for now." He shot a contemptuous glance at Frazier. "There's much he can tell us."
For a moment, Bram's blood lust was stronger than even his cousin's logic. But then reason reasserted itself.
He needed to know the truth. All of it. With a sigh, he removed the knife and pushed to his feet.
Ranald and Alec moved to contain Frazier and haul him away. Iain knelt to see to Robby. Without thinking, Bram turned to find Lily, only to see Jeff leading her away, his arm around her shoulder. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have feelings for her at all. But he did, damn it. He did. Comyn or no'.
Bram sucked in a breath, and forced himself to turn back to Iain and Robby. "How is he?"
"Breathing. Which for the moment is a good sign." Iain pushed to his feet, signaling for Geordie, who was hovering nearby. "Did he say who is behind all of this?"
"Aye," Bram said, struggling with the weight of Frazier's pronouncement. "'Tis my uncle."
CHAPTER 28
LILY PUSHED THROUGH the brush with only moonlight to steer her. In the distance she could hear the sound of laughter. Either Comyns or the Mackintosh men, neither of whom seemed willing to talk with the other, regardless of the fact that Alec had satisfied both Iain and Bram that there had been no attacks from his people on either Bram or Dunbrae.
If Frazier Macbean was to be believed, the fault lay with Bram's uncle Malcolm. Lily ducked beneath the low-hanging branch of a rowan tree. Not that that knowledge had seemed to resolve anything. In point of fact, it had only seemed to make Bram angrier and more determined to exact revenge.
Not that he'd shared any of his feelings with her.
For a moment, before Frazier attacked Bram, when he had questioned Bram's allowing Lily to stay, she'd believed Bram might actually stand up for her. But then he'd issued those hateful words. "Lesser of two evils." Lesser of two evils, her ass.
She shoved a length of overgrown ivy out of the way, mumbling beneath her breath. But then when Frazier had held her captive, she'd seen something in his eyes. And felt a spark of hope. Until he'd declared for all to hear that she wasn't his lady. Not that she wanted to be anymore. If he wanted to be ruled by some centuries old blood feud, so be it.
Of course, none of that explained why she was out here in the dark looking for the stupid man. It's just that she couldn't help herself. She wanted—no, needed—to be certain he was all right. It had all been rather a lot today. For all of them. But for Bram most of all. His trusted advisor had turned out to be a traitor. And his best friend, though seemingly returned from the dead, still had a long road to recovery. Add to that the fact that his uncle had apparently orchestrated his father's death and well, it was more than most men could handle. Even Bram.
Not that she was excusing him for remaining angry about her heritage. For God's sake, it wasn't as if she'd known she was related to Alec. And now it turned out the man wasn't even the enemy Bram had believed him to be. Although based on the conversation around the campfire earlier, she wouldn't exactly call them bosom buddies either.
She sighed and skirted a large lichen-covered boulder, the fungus shining silver in the moonlight. At least the blasted mist had dissipated. She paused for a moment, trying to get her bearings. According to Iain, Bram had gone to the river, and if she stood perfectly still she could hear the rushing waters in the distance.
Damn the man. Why couldn't he have just confronted her head on? Instead of glaring at Jeff and avoiding her altogether. It would have been funny—except that it wasn't. His rejection hurt. It was like Justin all over again. Except this time she wasn't willing to let it go without a fight. Maybe it was too late. But as far as she could see, she hadn't come all this way just to give up at the first little hurdle.
She blew out a breath, admitting that it was more than a small obstacle. But it wasn't something that couldn't be overcome. Not if they truly loved each other. She had his freakin' pin, after all. Her hand covered the brooch on her borrowed plaid. The fact that he'd left it behind had to mean something. Right? And it wasn't as if she didn't have a bone to pick with the man. He'd left her behind. After promising that he wouldn't. Sort of. If she could get past that, surely he could deal with the fact that she happened to carry Comyn blood.
If the prophecy had any reality at all, surely he'd see that her having the ring meant everything. If nothing else, it proved poor Tyra's innocence in the blood bath that had occurred so long ago. She'd kept Graeme's ring. Cherished it so much that she'd passed it down to their child, who'd passed it on to his or hers, like the freakin' shampoo commercial, until it wound up in Lily's hands. So that she could travel through time, fall in love with Bram and make things right again.
If she wasn't living this, she'd laugh at the complete absurdity of the idea. She stepped over a fallen log, grateful to hear that the sound of the water was much closer now. Her body still ached from the stupid journey to get here, not to mention riding the damned horse across rocky terrain. And then there was the major cut across her throat thanks to some crazy-ass Highlander with a revenge fantasy against Bram's father.
At least he was under lock and key—or at least burly Comyn and Mackintosh guards. Her heart stuttered at the memory of Bram grappling with Frazier on the ground, the damn knife descending as Frazier tried to ram it home. Thank God they'd managed to stop him before anything had happened to Bram.
If she lost him…
And that then was the crux of the matter. When Justin had dropped her like a hot potato, she'd accepted it as fact. And if she were honest, she'd had absolutely no desire to chase after him, despite the injury to her pride. But with Bram it was completely different. She was willing to follow him anywhere.
Even through a medieval woods in the middle of the freakin' night with nothing to guide her but the sound of falling water and a wash of moonlight.
Double damn the man.
She burst through a stand of pine trees to find herself in the middle of a small clearing, the river curving as it rushed on its merry way. And there, sitting on a large boulder near the bank, was the man of the hour. She froze, her anger vanishing in the wake of stronger emotion. Need and desire. She wanted this man like she'd wanted no other. And the idea scared her to death.
He lifted his head, the shadows of the night keeping his expression hidden, but she could see the light in his eyes. And for a moment, she imagined that he had been wishing for her as much as she had been wishing for him.
"Go away. I dinna want company."
So much for fantasy. But his response was enough to banish her fear. He wasn't going to get away that easily. At least not without the two of them attempting to talk things over.
"I don't care what you want," she said, her voice ringing out across the little clearing as she closed the distance between them. "We have things to say to each other."
"Yes. I'm a Macgillivray and you're a Comyn." He pushed to his feet, anger sparking in his eyes, and she had to force herself not to take a step back. He towered over her.
She let out an inelegant snort, and took another step closer. "Big freakin' deal. It's not like we have any control over who our relatives are. The only thing that matters here is us. And if you're still angry because I didn't tell you, I would have if you'd given me the chance."
"With thirty-odd Comyns looking on."
"Again, not in my control. Besides, it's not exactly like you've been Mr. Honesty. You swore you wouldn't leave me. Twice, in fact. And yet at the first opportunity that's exactly what you did."
"I did that to keep you safe."
"And look how well that worked out." Even as she said it, she knew that the point was actually his. But damned if she'd admit it. "At least I never lied to you. When we were first together I didn't know I was related to your Alec."
"He bloody well isn't my Alec. He's yours."
"I've known the man less than forty-eight hours. I'd hardly say that makes him mine."
"Then what about Jeffrey St. Claire? The two of you certainly seem to be close." They were standing toe to toe now.
"He's a friend. A married friend, I might add. And for a man who doesn't care about me you certainly sound jealous." The idea sent a warm shiver racing through her. That and t
he fact that his breath was fanning her face.
"I'm no' jealous. You can flirt with whomever you please."
"Then it pleases me to flirt with you." Not that she was exactly doing that at the moment—more yelling at him like a fishwife.
"I'll no' have a woman I dinna trust in my bed." He poked her in the chest with his finger, his ice-blue eyes narrowed in anger.
"I'll not have you in my bed period until you apologize for the way you've been acting. I came through time for you, damn it." The minute the words were out she felt a rising bubble of hysteria. God, she was living a freakin' movie. And unfortunately if she was playing the part of Kyle Reece, it didn't bode well for happily ever after.
His frown deepened. "So now you're laughing at me?"
"No." She shook her head, sobering in an instant. "I was reduced to quoting movies."
"Quoting what?" He was bellowing now.
"Nothing. Just something from my time. It doesn't matter. Or maybe it does. Maybe the whole point here is that I came through time for you. Just a few weeks ago I lost my entire family. I was completely alone in the world. And then something wonderful happened. I met all these amazing people. Mrs. Abernathy and her husband, Jamie. Elaine and her husband, Jeff. My cousins Reggie and Tildy. Not to mention Katherine and Iain. And Robby and Alec. Suddenly I have more family than I can count. But most miraculously of all, I found you. And nothing, not even your biases and fears about my relatives, is worth standing in the way of that."
He growled deep in his throat, then opened his mouth in protest, but she laid her fingers over his lips. "I don't want to have to choose between you and Alec. But if you make me choose, then I choose you. And I'll choose you every single time. I came through time for you, Bram Macgillivray, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you push me away because of some stupid blood feud between your family and mine. Just because you think you understand what happened all those years ago doesn't mean you have the right of it." She reached beneath her plaid to pull the ring free.