He paused outside the door to his chamber, looking in at Kara. She slept on her back, her golden hair spread around her like a halo, the moonlight filtering in through the window illuminating her lovely features.
He’d told her the details of his plan, but he’d left out one thing. His desire for her to go to Tairseach and return to her own time. He knew Kara would push back—she still hadn’t found her family. But he believed her grandmother would want her safety above all else.
An ache pained him at the thought of losing her—through his death or by the expanse of time. He recalled his uncle’s words. Ye’ve met the lass who's changed everything for ye.
Ronan couldn’t deny his uncle’s words. She had changed everything for him. He no longer feared the responsibility of a family, a bride—as long as the bride was Kara. And if there was no danger, and she was from his time, he’d have no hesitation in asking her to be his bride. To live out her days at his side, as his lady, to make his cold empty manor into a home with her bright, shining presence. She'd embedded herself in his heart, in every part of him.
But that was why he’d let her go. He loved her enough to prioritize her safety from Tarag and his clan, to send her back to the time where she belonged, even though his life would be empty without her. Even though he loved her.
“I love ye, my time-traveling witch. My goddess,” he whispered to her sleeping form when he slipped back into bed, curling his body around her.
He'd just fallen asleep when a sharp knock sounded at the door. It was barely first light; the light outside the windows still dim.
Ronan sat up, his body heavy with fatigue as he padded to the door, swinging it open. Beathan stood there, beaming.
“Eadan has returned,” Beathan said. “He’s in yer drawing room.”
Moments later, Ronan stood opposite Eadan, while Kara sat in a chair in the corner.
He’d told Eadan everything—the threats, Elspeth’s defection, the meeting with Tarag, and Kara’s recent discovery that it was all a distraction to seize their lands. Kara had told him of the latter, describing her encounter with Tarag’s man at the tavern, and Eadan had stiffened in surprise at her accent. But Ronan told him with his eyes an explanation for that would have to wait—there were more urgent matters to handle.
Now, he waited tensely for Eadan to scold him, to tell him he should have sent for him sooner, that he’d take over from here.
“This plan of yers,” Eadan said. “What is it?”
Ronan blinked with astonishment. His cousin didn’t look angry. Instead, a glint of admiration shone in his eyes.
“I’ll call a meeting with the nobles; we need tae send as many men north as we can to launch an attack on Tarag and his men. I’m estimating it’ll take us a day—perhaps two—tae get enough men for that. While most of us march north, we need tae keep enough men here tae protect the castle and surrounding lands in case his men retaliate.”
Eadan gave him a slow nod, looking pleased.
“’Tis a sound plan. Ye handled this well, Ronan. Moireach told me what a fine job ye've done with the castle matters as well.”
Ronan looked at him, astonishment rendering him still. Eadan chuckled.
"Moireach has a stern manner, but he likes ye. He says he's seen the change in ye over these past few weeks, and ye've taken the responsibility well."
Relief and pride filtered in through the ever-present cloud of self-doubt and uncertainty that had plagued him ever since Eadan left him in charge. He tentatively returned his cousin’s smile.
Eadan turned his focus to Kara, approaching her as she stood. He bowed in greeting, his curious gaze pinned on her face.
“Ye have the same accent as my wife,” he said cautiously.
“I’ve heard,” Kara said, sliding a glance to Ronan.
“May I ask where ye’re from?” Eadan asked.
Kara looked at Ronan, and he gave her a small nod.
“I suspect I’m from the same place as your bride,” Kara said. “Or rather, I should say . . . the same time.”
Chapter 22
Kara stood stock-still, studying her fellow time traveler from head to toe.
On the surface, Fiona Macleay looked like a fourteenth-century noblewoman in the fine green gown she wore, but the way she spoke was pure twenty-first century American. Fiona took her in with an equal measure of astonishment, and Kara suspected she was thinking the same thing about her.
She had come to the castle with Eadan and Ronan after they’d revealed to him she was a time traveler. Eadan had looked only mildly astonished; given that he'd already encountered—and married—a time traveler. Kara guessed it would take much more to surprise him at this point. Ronan and Eadan were meeting with the nobles in the great hall, and Ronan had brought her to Fiona’s private chamber to introduce her, leaving them alone with a cryptic, ye both have much tae discuss.
“So. Should I go first?” Fiona asked with a wry grin, and Kara took an instant liking to her.
They sat on two chairs by the window as Fiona told her how she’d come to this time—discovering Tairseach, spotting a woman among the ruins, the tug of wind, her falling in love with Eadan, and her decision to stay.
Kara told her everything that happened since discovering Alice’s letter in her attic. When Kara finished, Fiona slowly shook her head.
“I know you’re probably wondering if I’ve any clue of how this all works, but I don’t. If a druid witch performed some sort of spell, if it was Tairseach itself . . . I don’t know. I wish I had answers. I’ve been here for months now, but sometimes I feel the need to pinch myself when I wake up,” Fiona said.
“But . . . you chose to stay,” Kara said. “Do you miss the twenty-first century? Indoor plumbing?” she added with a small smile.
“You get used to things here a lot quicker than you realize,” Fiona said. “And for Eadan, I was happy to give up all those things. As strange as this was at first . . . I feel like I’ve always belonged here. He’s the love of my life. Once I realized that, it made the decision easy.”
Kara studied her with envy. She loved Ronan but held no illusions he felt the same. He cared about her more than any of his other mistresses, and he desired her, but that was the extent of his feelings for her.
And even if he did love her, could she give up her life in the present day?
What life? she wondered. The life where you’re a jobless lonely journalist with no close family and few friends, where the man you love lives centuries in the past and is long dead?
“It’s not an easy decision,” Fiona said gently, noticing the turbulence in Kara’s eyes. “But if I could go back . . . I would have tried to get here sooner. My life was so empty and I didn’t realize it. I was searching for something in my own time, and I didn’t realize for what. Not until I met him. Traveling through time—its course corrected my path . . . and now I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
Fiona’s words echoed Kara’s past feelings. Hadn’t she felt the same in her own life? A gnawing emptiness she tried to fill with her job?
“Well, I’m not going anywhere until I find my family,” Kara said finally, getting to her feet. “I haven’t made any progress. I wonder about causality—did the fact that they died in my own time mean I’ve already failed?”
“I tried thinking about causality, but it made my brain hurt,” Fiona said with a chuckle. “Especially considering there may be magic involved in all this. I’ve just come to the conclusion that things are the way they were meant to be.”
“Which means . . . my family will die and there’s nothing I can do,” Kara said, alarm coursing through her.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. But I do think your presence in this time means something,” Fiona said. “From what you’ve told me, just you being here has helped Ronan figure out who's behind the threats to the clan. Maybe you’ve already put events into motion that will stop the conflict that kills them.”
Kara moved to the window, looking out at t
he bustling castle grounds. She hoped Fiona was right, but she couldn’t rely on guesswork. There had to be something more she could do.
“What if I’m missing something?” Kara mused aloud. “What if I’ve been looking in the wrong place? None of the land deeds or the rents mention a Suibhne or Orla. And Ronan’s sent messengers to nearby villages.”
Kara froze as a thought suddenly struck her. She whirled to face Fiona.
“What if they’re not in any of the villages? I know there isn’t much fertile ground around here, but are there isolated farms nearby?”
“From what I’ve seen, most people live in villages,” Fiona hedged. “Isolated farms are few and far between. But there are some.”
Kara’s heart picked up its pace; hope swelled in her chest.
“Maybe I haven’t found my family because I’ve been looking in the wrong places.”
She didn’t get a chance to talk to Ronan about her revelation right away. He, Eadan, and many of the nobles left the castle after their meeting. Luag told her they were gathering men from surrounding villages to head up north, and he wanted her to remain at the castle rather than return to the manor, there was more protection here.
So she spent most the day with Fiona, whom she grew to like even more. She realized that if she’d met Fiona in her own time, they would have become fast friends. They shared details of their lives in the future; Fiona told her about her friend Isabelle, that she hoped she’d received her letter and knew she was safe. Kara told her she hadn't seen a letter when she'd arrived at the castle in Tairseach; hopefully someone had discovered the letter and sent it to Isabelle. Fiona's eyes glistened at this, a relieved smile tugging at her lips.
When Ronan returned to the castle, it wasn’t until after supper, and she found him in his guest chamber. She approached, eager to tell him her new plan for finding her family, but froze at the dark look in Ronan’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“We couldnae gather many men for the march north on such short notice. I’m a feared we willnae have the numbers tae remove Tarag’s men from our lands. Kara . . . ye need tae return tae yer own time.”
A stab of hurt pierced her. She squared her shoulders, her mouth tight.
“I’m not leaving until I find my family. I was going to tell you—I think I’ve been looking in the wrong places for them. I want to check the farms in this area.”
“Ye can take Luag with ye, and then have him escort ye to Tairseach.”
“Ronan—”
“’Tis for yer safety, Kara. Tarag kens what ye look like; ye’ll be a target if I fall in battle.”
Pain spiraled through her at the thought of Ronan’s death. She took a breath and stepped forward, holding his gaze.
“Fiona stayed with Eadan. She’s staying now—I assume he’s not sending her away.”
Ask me to stay, Kara pleaded silently. Give me a reason to stay.
Something shifted in Ronan’s eyes, and he looked away.
“’Tis different with Eadan and Fiona,” he muttered. “They love each other and are bound through marriage.”
Kara blinked back a wave of tears, trying not to show how much his words gutted her. He couldn’t have made his lack of feelings for her more clear. She’d been foolish to hope he felt anything more.
“I’ve told Eadan and my men tae escort ye back tae Tairseach, with or without yer agreement, tae get ye back tae yer own time should I fall in battle,” he continued, still not looking at her. “And my men ken tae look for yer family. I’m keeping men in this area while we march tae prevent Tarag’s men from doing harm tae the locals. Once we’re gone, my men will make sure yer family is safe, and they’ll not give up the search until they’re found.”
“And—and what if the battle is a success?” she asked. She didn’t know why she was twisting the knife in her own heart, but she recklessly continued, “Will you still want me to return to my own time?”
“’Tis not yer time, Kara,” he said, his tone wavering. “And ye told me yerself . . . ye’re here for one thing.”
He searched her eyes, as if daring her to challenge his words. That was before I knew I loved you, she wanted to shout, but pride kept her silent.
“We’ll spend the night in the castle—there’s more protection for ye here. Tomorrow, while I march north, Luag will escort ye tae the farms. And then . . . and then ye’re tae return tae yer time.”
He hesitated before turning, but she reached out to grip his hand. If he was determined to send her away, she wouldn’t stop him. After she searched the farms and her family wasn’t there, what more could she do? She trusted that Ronan wouldn’t give up the search; Eadan and Fiona would help as well.
But she could have one last night with him. One last night to savor every part of him, to burn onto her memory, something she could hold on to across the chasm of time.
“Stay with me tonight,” she whispered.
He stilled, and for several taut moments she feared her would refuse her. But Ronan reached out to pull her against his chest, his eyes a storm of emotion as he lowered his mouth to seize hers. His kiss was fierce, his tongue probing her mouth as he stripped her of her clothes, only releasing her to remove his tunic and kilt.
He carried her to the bed, and even as sparks of pleasure raced through her, she kept her eyes open and on him, wanting to relish every moment of their last moments together. He kept his eyes trained on hers as well as he suckled on her breasts, before peppering kisses down her abdomen to taste her, moaning as she twisted and writhed on the bed, as if his tongue was a conductor and her body the orchestra, reacting to its every move. His mouth remained on her center even as she climaxed, keeping his golden eyes trained on her face, as if he too was memorizing and taking in every detail of her pleasure.
Only then did he lift her so that she straddled him, sinking her down onto his erection. She began to undulate on him as he reached up to grab her breasts, his breath coming fast and hard between clenched teeth.
“My witch; my Kara,” he gasped, as she rode him, reaching down to grip his broad shoulders, the movement of their bodies building to a crescendo of pleasure.
She cried out as her orgasm tore through her, and he reached up to grip her waist as his own climax roiled through him. Their bodies remained locked as they shook and trembled their mutual release.
She sank down onto the bed next to him, breathless, remnant love and desire coursing through her.
Ronan pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, whispering words that broke her heart.
“I’m only sending ye away for yer safety. Live yer life, my Kara. I’ll never forget ye.”
“And I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she looked up to meet his eyes.
I love you, Ronan of Clan Macleay. Always.
Chapter 23
As Ronan rode away from the castle, he tried not to think of his golden goddess. Her soft skin against his as he made love to her, the pain in her eyes when he urged her to go back to her time.
It was first light the next morning, and he’d slipped out of their bed as she slept, unable to bear saying a final goodbye to her. He’d done that with his body and mouth the night before, trying to show her how much he loved her, how much she’d affected him.
’Tis for the best, he told himself. She needed to return to her own time, free of clan conflicts and the threat of Tarag.
He’d come close to telling her he loved her the night before. But he’d kept the words to himself. If he told her how he felt, she may have considered staying in a dangerous time she didn’t belong.
“Yer thinking of Kara,” Eadan observed, pulling him from the tumult of his thoughts.
Ronan glanced over at his cousin who rode along his side. A small contingent of men rode behind them as they made their way north.
“I’m always thinking of her. I’ll always think of her,” Ronan said, keeping his voice low so that the men around them couldn’t hear. “But it does
nae matter. She’s returning tae her own time. I donnae ken how ye convinced Fiona tae stay, but I’ll not do that tae her.”
“I told Fiona tae go back as well. She refused. Ye should’ve told the lass how ye feel.”
“She doesnae belong in this time. ’Tis not safe,” Ronan replied, shuttering his pain away. “She’s going tae Tairseach today and returning tae her time.”
Eadan fell silent. Ronan was grateful his cousin didn’t press the matter. But still, thoughts of Kara remained during their journey north, and it wasn’t until they reached the outskirts of their northern lands that he forced her image from his mind, stiffening at the sight of Tarag and his men.
He counted roughly one hundred men gathered with Tarag; only slightly more than their contingent of seventy men. They weren’t as outnumbered as he’d feared, but unease still darted through him at the sight of Tarag’s men, who'd dismounted from their horses and stood posed for battle. Ronan had fought before, in small skirmishes during other clan conflicts, and he’d fought Dughall’s men alongside Eadan, but this battled seemed more ominous.
Because it's the first battle ye've spearheaded, he realized. When he'd fought in the past, it had been at the behest of Eadan or some other clan noble. This was the first time his leadership had called for fighting. He could only pray that the men who'd followed him and Eadan into battle would emerge victorious.
As they drew closer, Ronan froze. A dead man lay sprawled across the flank of Tarag’s horse.
Keeping his gaze on Ronan, Tarag mounted the horse and rode across the broad field to meet them. The dead man was James, the same man Kara had flirted with for information.
Dread filling his gut, he and Eadan rode ahead to meet Tarag in the center of the field. When they reached Tarag, he shoved James’ body to the ground.
“Ye didnae think I would figure out who revealed our secrets?” Tarag demanded with a sneer, his focus on Ronan. “But I have tae admit . . . ’twas clever getting yer whore to ply my man for information. Donnae fret, after my men take out yers, the punishment I have in mind for yer Kara is a pleasurable one.”
Ronan's Captive_A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 12