Love Beyond Words: Book 9 of Morna’s Legacy Series

by Bethany Claire

  There were so many things he wanted to ask her, but he thought it best to start with the most pertinent question. They all needed to know why she was here.

  “Why…why am I here? Would you believe me if I told you that I’m not quite sure?”

  He shifted and then cried out as the pain in his side ricocheted down his body. His damn ribs were going to be a problem. He didn’t have time to lay in bed while they healed. He would have to call on the other men to use power they truly didn’t have to spare to heal him. There was so much they all needed to do to protect their home and people now that Timothy was gone.

  Before he knew it, Laurel’s hands were on him. Gently she leaned toward him, placing her arms underneath his. Her movement was so intuitive, so natural, that he didn’t question it as she spoke gently near his ear. The feel of her breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine.

  “Here.” She lifted him off the pillows, as she reached behind him to adjust them. “That doesn’t look like the best position for those ribs.” After a few moments of maneuvering, she released her grip and encouraged him to relax. “See if that is any better.”

  It was. He sighed as he relaxed into the greater support that was now built up behind his back.

  “Aye, thank ye.”

  Smiling, she resumed her seat next to him.

  “You’re welcome. I’m sure you were about to tell me no—that you wouldn’t believe me.”

  She was right. He didn’t.

  “Ye are not from this village. To come to our territory requires not only a long journey by horse, but also the short distance between this isle and the mainland by boat. Why would ye make such a journey if ye dinna know yer reason for doing so?”

  Laurel sighed and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she spoke to him. It was a casual position and one he’d never seen a woman rest in. He found it rather endearing.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  Laurel’s accent was one he’d heard before. He sensed that if he could simply place it, so many answers about the strange woman would fall into place.

  “Where are ye from, lass? Yer speech is uncommon, but I’m sure that I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

  Laurel’s expression lifted, as if his acknowledgment gave her hope.

  “Boston.” She hesitated and then continued. “In…in the colonies.”

  “Ah.”

  It came to him in an instant. Sydney. Laurel’s accent was much like Sydney’s. In truth, she was like Sydney in many ways. They shared the same speech, the same casual mannerisms so different from most women he knew. He expected that if he was given a chance to know this woman more, he would find that she was as loose with her speech as Sydney was, as well.

  Smiling, he thought of Harry’s claim that they’d found her in the stables. The assumption that was forming in his mind truly was the only explanation.

  “Are ye one of Morna’s lassies?”

  Laurel straightened and smiled as she pointed to him in her relief.

  “Yes. Yes, Morna. That’s what I was working up to, although I had no idea how you’d react. So you know her?”

  Even before Sydney entered his life, he’d known of Morna. From the way his grandfather had always spoken of her, he wondered if perhaps he’d been in love with the witch. Though, for the sake of his grandmother, he’d never asked him outright.

  “I’ve never met her, but she was a dear friend of my grandfather, and I know another lass she sent back.”

  Laurel looked immensely relieved.

  “Oh, good. That must be why she left instructions to ask for you. So, you will believe me when I tell you that she sent Marcus and me two nights ago? We landed in your stables.”

  “Aye, lass, I believe ye.” He chuckled as he thought of Sydney and all the other tales he’d heard of Morna’s time-traveling lassies. “Are ye being truthful when ye tell me ye doona know why ye are here? I’ve only ever known of one reason for Morna to send lassies through time. She means to see ye matched with another.”

  He wondered if perhaps it might be him, and it shocked him to realize that the idea wasn’t unappealing. God knew it had been too long since he’d taken a real fancy to any woman.

  “Nope. That’s not it this time.”

  He didn’t quite care for the disappointment he felt at her quick dismissal.

  “I know that’s her usual thing, but she assured me that it wasn’t this time. In all honesty, we didn’t have time to get much explanation from her. She sort of sent us back against our will. She used some excuse that I might be able to get some ideas for my next book.”

  Curious, he interrupted her.

  “Yer book, lass?”

  Her cheeks blushed bright enough that he could see it through the fog of his vision.

  “Yeah. I’m a writer. Or at least I used to be. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get myself to write anything.”

  He’d never known of a female to write before. Most didn’t even know how to read. With so many opportunities for women in the time these lassies came from, he couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for each of them to wind up here.

  “’Tis impressive, lass. What do ye write?”

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “It doesn’t matter. In truth, I don’t believe that’s the real reason Morna sent us back here. I think it has something to do with my frie…” She hesitated and changed her wording. “With my brother, Marcus.”

  Raudrich had yet to meet this Marcus, though he already knew what the receiving end of his fist felt like, and he didn’t wish to anger the man ever again.

  “Why do ye say that?”

  “Before I tell you, will you explain to me what the deal is with this place? I’d like to know how much of the legend is true.”

  He knew there were stories about him and the rest of The Eight throughout Scotland now, but it shocked him to hear that this woman—born centuries after all of them would be dead—knew anything about them at all.

  “Do ye mean to say that in yer time—whenever that is—ye knew of us before ye came here?”

  She nodded. “Yes. There are books written about you, even a documentary.”

  He had no idea what a documentary was.

  “A documentary?”

  “Nothing. I just want to know the real story, then I’ll tell you my suspicions about Marcus.”

  It was such a long story—one that would take him far more energy to tell than he had now. And it would be easier to show her anyway. He needed sleep and to speak to all of the men alone. They’d yet to grieve Timothy together, and they needed to form a plan on how they would begin the search for the next druid.

  “I’ll happily tell ye, lass, but not just now. Might I find ye later? I promise ye I’ll tell ye all of it then.”

  She stood and smiled. She had the prettiest smile—warm and friendly—and it had a slightly mischievous look to it that made her even more alluring.

  “Okay. I’ll hold you to that. You need to rest anyway. It was lovely to meet you, Raudrich.”

  As she left him, he couldn’t help but think about how unexpectedly lovely it was to meet her, as well.

  His life suddenly felt very different, like with one simple introduction, things would never be the same.

  Good or bad, he didn’t yet know.

  Chapter 17

  I’d wanted to speak to Raudrich alone in the hopes of getting the real story about this castle and the interesting men within it without Marcus being present. If even part of the story I’d watched with Kate was true, if the book was to be believed, Marcus’ reason for being here would have a lasting impact on the history of this castle and territory. I knew Marcus well enough to know that he wouldn’t be receptive to such news.

  He loved his life back in Boston—even with the recent downturn in his freelance photography business. While I was his best friend, he had many others, as well. And he was even closer to his family than I was to Kate. He was a m
odern man. He didn’t share my same passion for all things old. Scotland didn’t seem to call to his soul like it did mine.

  Was it possible that Marcus was indeed a druid? Did he have powers just waiting to be brought to life inside of him? If so, I knew he was entirely unaware of it.

  I found myself wishing that I’d taken the time to actually read the book that had fallen from my shelf. In the surprising turn of events that occurred that night, I’d not thought much of the book as we packed to leave. I regretted being so thoughtless now.

  At some point in history, the supposed curse on this land must have been broken. For if not, I imagined the Eight Lairds would still split the land equally in my own time. From what I’d read online about visiting the castle in modern times, this wasn’t the case. What I didn’t know was at what point in history the curse was broken. Was it soon—as in the following weeks while Marcus and I would be here? If so, perhaps it was possible that Marcus could become one of The Eight, help to break the curse, and then return home. But, what if the curse was to live on in this land for another generation or two? If that was the case, and Marcus was destined to be one of The Eight, did that mean he would have to stay here forever?

  I’d said nothing to Marcus about any of it, and I had no plans to until I had more information at my disposal. To do so would only make him more eager to find a way to return home. Something I seriously doubted would be possible until we’d fulfilled whatever Morna believed we were meant to.

  Besides, so far I’d seen no indication that any of The Eight were capable of magic. I knew it was very likely that once Raudrich was rested enough to tell me the truth, I would learn that much of what had become legend in my own time was untrue.

  Since I knew I would be waiting around impatiently for Raudrich unless I found something to occupy my mind and time, I decided to go in search of some writing materials. While no clear story was yet in mind, I could at least start taking some notes and see where my brainstorming might lead.

  Most of the castle corridors were quiet, much like the day before. The men of this castle worked hard, and it didn’t surprise me that I had difficulty finding one of them about.

  After searching most of the second floor, I made my way downstairs where I could hear the faint sound of voices from a dark corridor I’d yet to explore.

  Remembering Harry’s directive that we were free to roam as we pleased, I followed the noise to the top of another stairwell. Two voices—one I recognized as Calder’s—were speaking down below.

  Not wishing to eavesdrop, I called out to them right away.

  “Hello? Is it all right if I come down?”

  The voice that wasn’t Calder’s answered back. “Aye, o’course. Calder and I were just trying to find the source of the foul smell down here. Mayhap ye could help us?”

  I could smell nothing from where I stood, but as I made my way down into the dank storage room, the scent of rot reached me. I pinched my nostrils closed to block it.

  “Wow. That is rather bad, isn’t it?”

  Maddock stood at the entryway to the small storage room and held up the lantern so I would have some light as I descended the last few steps.

  “Aye, lass. I keep telling Calder ’tis likely that moisture got into one of our barrels and ruined food, but his imagination has run away from him. He believes something more nefarious is at work.”

  I looked over at Calder to see him staring at Maddock with annoyance before turning angry eyes toward me.

  “This is yer fault, lass. Ye have no business here. ’Twas clear enough from the moment I met ye that ye were a liar. Now ye have placed us all in danger. Ye and yer brother—if he truly is that—need to leave. Now.”

  Stunned, I stepped back against the cold wall behind me. I knew Calder was wary of our presence here, but until now, he’d at least been cordial. Something in his eyes was different now, and I didn’t like his gaze at all.

  Before I could say a word, Maddock stepped between me and Calder.

  “Shut yer mouth, ye rude bastard. We doona even know what the source of the smell down here is. ’Tis a natural occurrence, I’m certain. Doona place this on her. Time away from polite society has ruined yer manners.”

  Calder stepped very close to Maddock, and his tone was filled with venom as he spoke. “Look around, Maddock. Open every storage barrel. Ye will find the same as I did. I spent all morning searching. Nothing is rotting. ’Tis Machara’s anger rising from her tomb. Ye know as well as I that it willna be long before she begins to act out. Timothy’s death was enough to strengthen her. A lassie’s presence will give her even more power. I doona care if the rest of ye are so lust-crazed that ye are willing to damn us all just so ye can stare at a woman for a few days. She’s not worth it, Maddock. I might understand if she were pretty, but ye all know she is not. She’s got more padding on her than half our pigs. Ye are all ignorant fools, and I willna placate a one of ye.”

  If he’d said such insulting words directly to me it would’ve been bad enough, but the fact that he was saying it about me—right in front of me—somehow made it worse.

  I’d never been small or particularly slender. I was tall for a woman, and my stature would never be described as delicate. I was undoubtedly thicker—curvier—than what modern-day media would have people believe was “beautiful,” but in truth, I was no larger than the average woman. For much of my life, it had been my greatest source of insecurity, especially since Kate’s perfect figure had been the envy of every girl we knew growing up.

  For me, those thirty extra pounds were something that ate at my confidence and led me to believe that I deserved less of everything than I did. Less money, fewer friends, less love, fewer experiences. It took me most of my twenties to get to a place where I could see that every self-depreciating belief I held about myself was a lie.

  Perhaps someday I would lose the weight. Perhaps not. Either way, my size fourteen jeans were still the least interesting thing about me.

  At least, I thought I’d evolved enough for such words not to hurt me. Calder’s words made me think differently. With his few thoughtless sentences, it felt like high school all over again—like standing in the locker room hearing the jeers and whispers of anorexic-looking brats. I had half a mind to tap him on the shoulder and then shove his balls halfway up his ass with my knee for being such an asshole, but while I was still reeling from his words, Maddock grabbed Calder by the throat and threw him up against the wall with so much force that I wouldn’t have been surprised if his head was now cracked and bleeding in the back.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

  “I doona know what has gotten into ye, but fear has made ye someone I’m ashamed to know. Get out of my face before I break yer neck. If I see ye anywhere near Laurel or Marcus for the rest of the time they are here with us, I shall see ye sent away from this castle for good.”

  I could see by the look in Calder’s eyes as Maddock stepped away that he knew his threat wasn’t an empty one. Leaving Calder trembling against the wall, Maddock took my hand and quickly ushered me back upstairs.

  The moment we were in the light-filled grand corridor of the castle, Maddock looked at me. Whether it was intuition or my quickly-reddening face, he knew I was about to cry.

  “Come here, lass.”

  Even once we’re grown, we all carry wounds that when poked cause us pain.

  In a few hours, I would be fine, but for now, I couldn’t deny how hurt I felt.

  I allowed Maddock to pull me into his arms as I wept.

  Chapter 18

  “What do ye mean Calder is gone? Do ye mean to the village? When will he be back? He knows ’twill require all of ye to heal me.”

  Maddock’s jaw was clenched, his eyes narrow. Raudrich was half-surprised that steam wasn’t coming out of his ears. Maddock was one of the most calm and centered men among them. Raudrich had never seen him so angry.

  “No, I doona mean to the village. His horse and satchel and every personal item he had are
no longer in the castle. I followed him to see if he would truly go through with it, and he has. He loaded himself and his horse on a boat and left the isle completely. He has abandoned his post here and us along with it.”

  Raudrich couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They couldn’t afford to lose another man.

  “And why dinna ye stop him?”

  Maddock’s tone was entirely without remorse. “If that arse of a man wants to leave us, then good riddance to him. I thought I knew him. ’Twas clear to me earlier today that I dinna know him at all. He is not the sort of man we need here with us. If ye’d heard what I heard, ye would’ve not only let him leave, ye would’ve taken him down to the shore and thrown him in a boat yerself.”

  “What did ye hear?”

  Just as Maddock opened his mouth to answer him, Harry, Ludo, Quinn, and Paton entered his bedchamber. Nicol was still sleeping, as he did every day until dinner.

  “Maddock, we hoped ye were already in here. Where is Calder? We’ve much to discuss while Quinn’s stew cooks away in the kitchen.”

  Raudrich barely listened as Maddock told the rest of them what he’d just told him. His mind was now too busy wondering what this would mean. Was it even possible for one of The Eight to leave, to break their bond of their own accord? It had never been something they’d had to worry about before now. If there was a way for Calder to remove his magic from its bind to the isle, what would happen when The Eight became Six?

  He was deep in thought when Quinn reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “Are ye here, Raudrich? Did ye hear a word we said?”

  “No.” He shook his head as he shifted in his bed. It was impossible to get comfortable with the ache in his ribs. “I dinna. I’m sorry. Calder’s departure means bad things for all of us.”

  Quinn nodded as they all gathered around his bed.