Ronan's Captive: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate Book 2)

by Stella Knight

  Rage surged through Ronan, and he had to restrain himself from charging forward and spearing Tarag through with his sword. Eadan seemed to sense Ronan’s anger and gave him a look of caution before he spoke.

  “My cousin has told me what’s happened in my absence. Despite yer treachery, I offer ye one last chance tae resolve this off the battlefield,” Eadan said.

  Tarag laughed, withdrawing his sword.

  “I offer ye this last chance to get off the lands we’ve claimed. We’ve paid off the farmers who toil these lands. They’re happy tae have us here, not absentee landlords like ye and yer clan from the south. Ye’re the ones who choose bloodshed. Or,” he added with a wicked smile, his eyes glittering as he once again focused on Ronan, “my offer from ye’re first visit stands. My Elspeth recently had an . . . accident, leaving me a widower and my bed cold.”

  Ronan froze, horror snaking through him. He doubted Elspeth had met an accident. Tarag had gotten the information he needed from her about Clan Macleay and killed her. The bastard was evil, down to his bones.

  “Give me that delicious golden-haired whore of yers tae enjoy,” Tarag continued, his eyes burning into Ronan’s, “and perhaps all will be forgiven.”

  This time, Ronan couldn’t quell his rage. He unsheathed his sword. His action was a signal to the other men the battle had begun, and Eadan shouted for their men to charge.

  Ronan’s focus was only on Tarag. He leapt from his horse and darted toward Tarag. Their swords clashed in midair as they began to fight.

  Around him, men from both sides clashed in battle, swords clanging, blades spearing through flesh, grunts and cries of fury and pain surrounding them.

  Tarag met each of Ronan’s sword clashes with his own. He suddenly reached out to kick Ronan, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  Ronan landed with such force the pain seared his insides. He scrambled for his sword as Tarag stepped forward, raising his sword, his face contorted with murderous fury.

  Ronan’s sword was just out of reach; he didn’t have time to ward off the blow. The only emotion that filled his chest was a painful, burning regret; regret that he would never see his Kara again, regret that he’d never told her how he much he loved her. I love ye, my Kara, he thought, as Tarag’s sword careened toward his heart.

  But all at once the sword was gone. Ronan looked up, startled. Eadan had knocked Tarag to the ground. He helped Ronan to his feet, handing him his sword as they charged at Tarag together.

  But one of Tarag’s men intercepted Eadan’s path, and Ronan was once again alone with Tarag, a surge of renewed strength flowing through him. He wanted to survive—not just for his clan and their lands. But for Kara.

  His momentary brush with death had forced him to realize that he needed to get back to Kara, to tell her that he loved her and wanted her by his side. For all of his days.

  Tarag growled, charging forward. Ronan dodged his blow, using the opportunity to kick out at Tarag’s knees. Tarag fell hard, but angled his sword toward Ronan’s chest. Ronan caught the sword with his bare hand, ignoring the scorching pain as his skin tore and bled.

  Holding Tarag’s sword with his bare hand, he raised his sword and sank it into Tarag’s chest. Tarag let out a pained roar, falling back onto the ground as Ronan removed the sword. Ronan stared down at the dying man, not looking away until the light left his eyes.

  He took no pleasure in taking another man's life, even a man such as Tarag, but a sense of relief filled him as Tarag drew his last breath. His death meant he couldn't hurt anyone—including his Kara—again.

  Ronan turned to join Eadan as he fought one of Tarag’s men, but many of Tarag’s men had seen their leader fall, and it turned the tide of the battle. Some continued to fight while others fled.

  It did not take long to defeat the rest of Tarag's men; the men of Clan Macleay were emboldened by Tarag's death, and soon the battle was over.

  A powerful surge of relief filled his chest; there would be matters to tend to in the aftermath, but the battle with Tarag was over. Only one person dominated his thoughts now. Kara.

  She may have already gone to Tairseach, back to her own time and from him, because he'd been too much of a fool to tell her he loved her.

  One thing was certain now, a certainty that filled him ever since Tarag's sword had careened toward his heart—his life was not worth living without his Kara. And he needed to tell her. If there was still time.

  He turned, on the verge of telling his cousin he was going to Tairseach, when a horse suddenly charged onto the field. He whirled to face it, his sword at the ready.

  But Ronan stilled. He recognized the rider—it was a messenger from the castle. Panic gripped him and he raced forward.

  “Tarag’s men," the messenger said, out of breath. "They waited ’til ye and Eadan were away. They’ve set fire tae our lands.”

  Chapter 24

  Anxiety coiled around Kara, holding her tightly in its grip as she made her way through the countryside on horseback along with Fiona and Luag. They’d spent the morning venturing to isolated farms in the countryside, inquiring about a Suibhne and Orla.

  They’d come across three farms, and no one had heard of them. After the third farm, Kara began to fear she wouldn’t find her family after all, that the hands of fate were working against her, and what had happened in the past was impossible to prevent.

  But that wasn’t the sole reason for her anxiety. She was worried about Ronan, fighting against Tarag and his men in the north. What if he fell in battle? Grief speared her chest at the thought, and she tightened her grip on the reins of her horse. Alice’s letter had mentioned no battle nor its outcome.

  There’s still hope, Kara tried to reassure herself. For your family, and for Ronan.

  She glanced over at Fiona, who was silent and pale. She’d tried to maintain an upbeat façade, but Kara knew she was worried about Eadan.

  They approached yet another farm, and Kara braced herself for disappointment. There were only two other farms in the area after this one and then it would be time to give up her search.

  I tried, Alice, Kara said silently, grief and regret surging through her. I tried to find them.

  But she froze as a young woman exited the small cottage up ahead, clutching a bucket. She bore an eerie resemblance to a younger Alice—blond hair, fine features, green eyes. Kara’s heart picked up its pace and she allowed a sliver of hope to crawl through her. Could it be?

  Kara dismounted, handing her reins to Luag and hurrying toward the woman.

  “Orla?” Kara asked, her voice wavering.

  The woman stopped, lowering the bucket to the ground and eyeing her with curiosity.

  “Aye,” she replied, as Kara’s heart leapt into her throat. “Is there something I can help ye with?”

  Kara sat opposite Orla and her husband Suibhne, a dark-haired man in his late twenties with kind eyes, trying not to show the level of her excitement. In the corner of the small cottage, Fiona sat opposite their two young daughters, speaking to them in quiet tones. Luag stood outside the cottage.

  “Ye’re saying we’re in danger?” Suibhne asked, his brows knitted together in a frown.

  Kara had told them the same story they'd used with the other farmers: the laird of Macleay Castle had sent his wife, her companion, and their trusted guard instead of a messenger as his men had been called north to fight. They'd warned them of a possible attack on their lands from a rival clan while the battle raged in the north, and the farmers should evacuate for their safety. With the other farmers, Luag had done most of the talking so as to not draw suspicion or distrust at Fiona and Kara's strange accents.

  But this time, Kara did the talking. It was important to her that she deliver this news herself, accent be damned.

  “Yes,” Kara said, trying to keep her voice steady, when she wanted to scream, I came from the future to save your lives.

  “We just moved here days ago,” Orla said with a sigh. “We cannae afford tae move
again.”

  Kara stiffened with surprise. Not only had she not been looking in the right place for them, they hadn’t moved here yet. They must have just moved here before the fire that killed them—in the original time line. Not in this one, Kara thought with a rush of determination.

  "You don't have to leave permanently. Just for a few days until the threat is over,” Kara said. "Is there somewhere you can go?"

  “My cousin lives in Inverness,” Suibhne said, after a brief pause.

  Inverness. That was where the other branch of her family lived, the branch that she descended from.

  “Go there,” Kara urged. “I'll make sure the laird sends for you once it’s safe. You have my word."

  She stiffened, nervous that they'd argue with her and refuse, but they gave her reluctant nods.

  "If you don't mind, we'll wait while you pack. I can help," Kara offered. She wouldn't feel at ease until she saw them evacuate with her own two eyes.

  “’Tis kind of ye tae offer, but we can pack our things. We donnae have much in the way of belongings,” Orla said, giving her a polite smile. As Suibhne rose, Orla lingered at the table. "Ye seem familiar. Do I ken ye somehow?"

  I'm your distant cousin from the twenty-first century.

  "No," Kara replied, smiling. "I'm from the south of England. I have a familiar face, I suppose."

  Orla gave her one last look before turning to help Suibhne gather their things.

  Kara and Fiona left the cottage, standing outside with Luag while Suibhne and Orla packed. She listened to the soft tone of Orla’s voice as she spoke to her daughters, the bell-like laughter of the two young girls.

  Tears pricked at her eyes; tears of relief and gratitude. In another timeline, they would have died violently in a fire. Fiona seemed to sense Kara's undercurrent of emotions and reached out to grip her hand. Kara squeezed it, relieved that there was another time traveler in this time, someone who understood the implication of what was happening.

  “The laird will make certain your farm is looked after while you’re gone,” Kara assured Suibhne and Orla, moments later, after they'd loaded their few belongings onto their wagon. They sat perched on the wagon with their horse, ready to go. “He'll send for you once it's safe."

  Suibhne gave her a nod of gratitude, while Orla kept her eyes trained on Kara's as they rode away. Kara could tell that Orla somehow sensed they were linked. You have no idea, she thought.

  "I did it, Alice," Kara whispered, as if her grandmother could hear her across the chasm of time. "We did it."

  But the tension in her body lingered. Her family was safe, but Ronan’s fate remained uncertain.

  They mounted their horses and made their way back to the castle. But as they made their way down the dirt road, Kara stiffened. She could smell acrid flames in the air, and alarm skittered through her.

  Fire.

  Chapter 25

  At Kara’s side, Fiona and Luag tensed—they’d smelled the flames as well.

  “Stay behind me!” Luag shouted, kicking the sides of his horse as he rode out ahead of them. Kara and Fiona exchanged nervous looks before trailing him down the dirt road.

  Kara’s heart thundered furiously as they rode. Was this the fire Alice had written about in her letter? She had saved her family—but what about the other lives in this area?

  They kept riding in silence, their horse’s hooves pounding the ground and their frantic breaths the only sounds. The scent of smoke grew stronger, becoming overwhelming as they reached the outskirts of the village.

  Fiona gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Kara froze, taking in the sight before them.

  Several buildings in the center of the village had been set aflame—a couple of merchants’ shops and the tavern. A dozen men were dousing the fire with buckets of water while other men evacuated villagers from the surrounding cottages.

  Luag dismounted and tied his horse to a post, shouting for them to stay here out of harm’s way while he helped the men douse the fire.

  “Doesn’t he know me by now?” Kara grumbled, dismounting from her horse. She wouldn't sit still while a fire raged; she could at least help evacuate the villagers.

  Fiona dismounted as well, and they both hurried to the edge of the village square. The frightened villagers streamed out; many seemed to recognize Fiona, giving her grateful smiles.

  “If you’ve nowhere to go, come to the castle,” Fiona told the villagers, raising her voice so they could hear her over the chaos of the fire. “We’ll let you know when it’s safe to return.”

  Fiona turned to Kara, lowering her voice. "Is this what your grandmother said would happen?”

  “Yes,” Kara said slowly, her eyes going to the fire, which seemed to be dying thanks to the joint efforts of the men dousing it with water. They must have gotten to it quickly before it could spread. “But . . .it happened differently in her letter. She mentioned the fire taking place in the middle of the night—that’s what local records indicated.”

  A chill went through her as she imagined the damage that would have done—such a fire taking place in the middle of the night. Especially if it spread to the countryside, killing those living in isolated farms. Like my family, Kara realized in a daze.

  “Then it looks like you’ve already changed history,” Fiona whispered, giving a polite nod to an elderly woman and her husband as they walked past.

  Kara stilled, allowing Fiona’s words to settle. Ronan’s men were monitoring the surrounding countryside to prevent any more fires or damage Tarag’s men could try to start. Her eyes went back to the fire, now dying even more quickly with the joint efforts of the men.

  Her actions in this time may not have prevented Tarag’s men from acting, but she changed the timing of their action, which saved lives. She didn’t know which of her actions had caused this—getting the information from Ronan’s man, insisting that Ronan investigate Dughall’s allies—but they had changed the events in this time.

  She’d done what she came here to do. She’d honored Alice’s wish and could make her way back to Tairseach as Ronan had directed, and return to her own time.

  To a time where Ronan didn’t exist.

  Grief seized her heart at the thought, and she closed her eyes.

  "You did it, Kara," Fiona said with a concerned frown, misinterpreting her tears. “You stopped the—”

  "It's not that," Kara whispered. "It's . . . Ronan. I love him."

  Fiona's expression softened. "I know."

  "You know?"

  "I was once in the same position as you," Fiona said, smiling, "and I think you already know what decision you're going to make. Your heart has already decided for you.”

  Kara swallowed, tears blurring her vision.

  Fiona was right. The moment she realized she loved Ronan was the moment she knew in her heart she would stay in this time. And she felt, deep down, that she’d already done all she could in her own time. With Alice gone, there was nothing for her there. Perhaps, if Ronan and Eadan agreed, Clan Macleay could use someone with her investigative skills.

  She would stay where her heart was, where a part of her already felt she belonged. Here in this time. With Ronan.

  "And look," Fiona said, her eyes lighting up as she looked at something past Kara's shoulder. “Right on cue.”

  Kara turned, and her heart leapt into her throat. Ronan approached the village on horseback with Eadan and several of his men. Other than his hand, wrapped with a piece of torn plaid, he had no noticeable injuries.

  The wave of relief that swept over her was so great she nearly sank to her knees.

  Ronan spotted her at the same time she did, and his entire face lit up. She stumbled toward him without realizing it as Ronan dismounted and strode toward her in several large strides, pulling her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers.

  Kara clung to him as the world around them faded away, and she returned his kiss. Ronan was here, in her arms, alive.

  When they finally broke apart, Ronan
rested his forehead on hers.

  “Tarag is dead. The battle is won," he whispered, and another surge of relief filled her. “Kara, I ken I told ye tae return tae yer own time, but please. Donnae. And not just because Tarag is dead. Because I love ye.”

  Kara's heart soared. She pulled back, blinking up at him. She needed to hear the words again.

  "What?"

  “I love ye, Kara. My witch from a time that has yet tae come,” Ronan whispered. “I—I ken its selfish of me tae ask ye tae stay,” he continued, taking her hands and pressing them against his chest. “But I love ye with everything I am. I want tae spend the rest of my days with ye at my side. Stay. Yer a part of me, and without ye I'm mere shadow." His voice wavered, his golden eyes shining with tears.

  "Ronan . . .” she whispered.

  He stiffened, as if bracing himself for her refusal. But she smiled. Wide.

  "I love you too. And I'm not going anywhere."

  Stark relief filled his eyes, and he swung her up in his arms, pressing his lips to hers.

  He set her back down to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eadan and Fiona standing arm in arm, watching them with smiles. The fire had died down completely, and many of the villagers were giving them curious looks.

  But right now, her entire world was Ronan. Ronan pulled her close into the circle of his arms, his golden eyes pinning hers.

  “Will ye marry me, Kara? Will ye be my bride?"

  "Yes," she said, beaming. “With all my heart, yes. But first . . . there's something I need to do."

  Hours later, Ronan's arms were secure around her waist as they rode toward Tairseach. Fiona told her it looked the same in this time as it did in present day, but it was still startling to see the very same village she'd driven her car to weeks ago.