Time of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #12)

by Baker, Katy

Blair indicated for them to take cover behind a tree trunk. Georgie hunkered down next to him and peered out. Through the gloom beneath the trees she saw a group of armed men trooping by.

  “Who are they?” Georgie whispered. “Beaumont’s men?”

  Blair squinted, frowning. “Nay. They are wearing plaid. I canna make out the design. Nay, wait...” He trailed off suddenly. “Curse it,” he growled to himself. “What are they doing here?”

  Georgie couldn’t decipher details beyond the fact that the group was large and heavily armed. “What’s who doing here?”

  “They’re MacGregor warriors,” he said softly. “And they’re blocking our path back to the fortress.”

  “The MacGregors? Why would they be here?” Then it dawned on her. She turned to look at Blair. His shoulders were hunched, reluctance evident in every line of his body. “They’re looking for you, aren’t they? Brody said they wanted to find you, to give you their allegiance. It looks as though they didn’t take no for an answer when you turned them down.”

  “Then they are fools,” he growled. “I canna give them what they seek.”

  “Can’t you?” Georgie said softly. She laid a hand on his arm. “Blair, you have to stop punishing yourself for what happened to the MacGregor. It wasn’t your fault.”

  His eyes found hers and they shone with an old pain. “Of course it was. If it wasnae for my arrogance, hundreds of MacGregor warriors would still be alive.”

  “Or maybe Charles Beaumont would have destroyed all of them, instead of a few hundred, if you hadn’t met him in battle when you did,” she replied. “Have you ever thought of that? You think about who died. But have you ever stopped to think about who lived? About the men, women and children who escaped because of the sacrifice those MacGregor warriors made? You blame yourself for what happened, but it’s obvious the MacGregors don’t, otherwise why would they be going to such lengths to find you?”

  He hesitated then opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a voice spoke from behind them.

  “Lord above, ye are a bloody difficult man to track down when ye choose to be!”

  Blair spun, drawing his sword.

  Two men stood at the edge of the trees. One wore the MacGregor plaid but Georgie’s eyes were drawn to the second. He wore a plaid in the same colors as Blair’s and he had the same wheat-blond hair. Icy blue eyes flicked over them, coolly assessing.

  Blair stared in shock at the blond-haired man.

  “Father?”

  BLAIR BLINKED, HARDLY daring to believe his eyes. His father, Camdan MacAuley, crossed his arms over his broad chest. Into his middle years now, he was still an imposing figure with the arms and shoulders of a blacksmith and the fiery temper Blair had inherited.

  “Nice to see ye havenae forgotten who I am,” he said drily.

  Blair licked his lips and said nothing. He glanced at his father’s companion—obviously a MacGregor warrior.

  “What are ye doing here?” Blair finally asked. “And why are ye with the MacGregor?”

  Camdan raised an eyebrow. “Why am I here? I might ask the same of ye, son. Isnae it obvious why I’m here? Looking for ye since ye refused yer laird’s command to come home.”

  His father’s voice held that same snap of command that Blair had grown up with. In some ways he’d always be that recalcitrant boy in his father’s eyes, but he was a man now and had seen and done too much to be intimidated by his father.

  “Ye know why I came here. That hasnae changed. I canna return home, father. Not yet. Not until I’ve done what I came here to do—even if my laird commands it.” He met his father’s gaze steadily.

  Camdan cocked his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Aye, I thought ye might say that. I ran into my friend here several days ago, whilst trying to pick up yer trail. They’ve filled me in on what’s been happening up here and what Charles Beaumont has been doing.” His gaze sharpened. “And they’ve also told me why they’ve been looking for ye. It seems my impetuous son has become a leader whilst I wasnae looking.”

  Blair glanced at the MacGregor warrior. The man was young, younger than Blair himself, with sandy colored hair and the beginnings of a beard. He reminded Blair of someone, although he couldn’t quite place the resemblance.

  The youth stepped forward. “My name is Alex MacGregor,” he said, facing Blair squarely. “My father was James MacGregor. I think ye knew him.”

  Ah, now it made sense. James MacGregor’s son. Blair drew a deep breath and nodded. “Aye, I knew him. A good man.”

  Dead because of me. That familiar guilt punched him, clenching his insides.

  “What are ye doing here, Alex?” he asked, more roughly than he intended. “What do ye want of me?”

  “My father trusted ye,” Alex said. “And he was willing to follow ye into battle. I wish to do the same. I bring near three hundred warriors with me. All will swear to follow yer leadership if ye let them. Will ye accept our oaths?”

  Blair stared at the young man. “Why?” he said at last. “Why would ye do this after what happened to yer father and the rest of yer clan?”

  A quick look of anguish flitted across Alex’s face, quickly stifled. “My father died honorably in battle, fighting the enemy of our clan. And my mother and my sisters escaped because of it. For that, we have ye to thank.” He swallowed thickly. “I am the last direct heir to the MacGregor lairdship but I have no doubts about my ability as a military leader. I dinna have the skill nor the experience to lead us to victory. But I’m willing to learn from one who has. What do ye say?” He held out his hand.

  Blair glanced over his shoulder to see Georgie watching him with shining eyes. His father had his arms across his chest, a thoughtful look on his face. For a long time Blair had carried the weight of what had happened at the battle of Lannock’s Cross like a heavy medallion around his neck. Now Alex MacGregor, son of his mentor and friend, was asking him to do it all over again.

  Have you ever stopped to think about who lived? Georgie had asked him. How many would die if he agreed to lead the MacGregors into battle? But was that even the correct question? Should he instead be asking, how many more would live?

  Ye have a choice coming, Irene had told him.

  He felt as though a path was opening up at his feet, a path with a fork in it.

  My wayward son has become a leader while I wasnae looking.

  Maybe it was time to see if his father was right.

  He met Alex MacGregor’s gaze. Then he reached out and clasped his arm, wrist to wrist, to seal their bargain.

  “I accept. I’ll lead ye into battle against Charles Beaumont.”

  Chapter 15

  Georgie sat on a stool with a blanket thrown around her shoulders, eating a hearty bowl of stew. It was her second bowl. Or was it her third?

  This was the first proper meal she’d eaten since before her capture by Beaumont, and the energy she’d expended building the Great Arch had left her feeling ravenous. Blair, his father, Alex MacGregor and his captains, were seated on stools in a circle, discussing their plans.

  Georgie listened while she ate, and she couldn’t help glancing at Camdan. She’d been as shocked as Blair when she’d learned who he was. Camdan had the same corn-yellow hair and pale blue eyes as his son, and from the impatient way he was asking questions of the MacGregor captains, she could see he had the same temperament. Georgie wouldn’t like to get on his bad side.

  But for all that, he’d been warm and friendly when Blair had introduced her and when he’d learned of her time-traveling origins he’d vowed to do all he could to help Georgie find a way home. He’d taken the news of Georgie being a time-traveler in his stride, but she supposed when he had a wife who was one too, this wouldn’t be the shock it might otherwise be.

  “Two hundred and sixty seven,” Alex MacGregor answered to Blair’s question about how many men they could field.

  “And weapons? Shields? Armor?” Camdan asked.

  Alex shifted uncomfo
rtably. “Most of our supplies were lost when Dun Halas fell. Some of the men have swords, but most only have spears and home-made at that.”

  “Home-made spears willnae be much use against Beaumont’s trained soldiers,” Camdan pointed out, frowning.

  “We have a blacksmith at the fortress,” Blair said. “And can supply yer men with what they need.” He frowned, gazing out over the camp.

  It was a ramshackle affair and the MacGregor warriors who were sat around eating, dicing or watching the perimeter, looked ill-equipped and ill-prepared to Georgie’s untrained eye.

  Blair seemed to share her assessment. His expression was grim as he watched them.

  “It willnae be enough,” he said quietly.

  Alex bridled. “My people will fight bravely and well—”

  “I dinna doubt that,” Blair interrupted. “It isnae their courage nor their bravery that I doubt. It is their numbers. Even with my forces at Dun Hadraig, we dinna have enough to meet the combined forces of Beaumont and Campbell. I’ve seen what’s coming against us.”

  Silence fell at his words. Georgie pushed her bowl of stew aside, suddenly too unsettled to eat. After all they’d endured they could not let Adaira Campbell and Charles Beaumont win. She knew Blair was right: they couldn’t beat them with force of arms, especially because Adaira’s men were likely to have guns. But there had to be a way. There had to be.

  Think, Georgie, she told herself. Think. You caused all this when you built the Great Arch for Beaumont. If you hadn’t done that none of this would have happened.

  She froze.

  If she hadn’t built the arch.

  An idea came to her. It was dangerous. It would risk making everything a whole lot worse. But there was a chance, just a chance, that it could work.

  “I know how to stop Beaumont and Campbell,” she said, shooting to her feet. The men looked up at her in surprise. “But we have to get back to the fortress. Now.”

  BLAIR WAS RELIEVED to come in sight of home. The ride here had seemed eerie, like a dream. To his side rode his father, his left his new ally, Alex MacGregor, in front of him sat Georgie, the woman he loved. And behind him, spreading out wide in either direction, was an army that had pledged their allegiance to him.

  Blair shook his head. He would never have believed all this possible, yet here he was. He thought again of Irene MacAskill’s words.

  There is always a way back, but ye must make that choice willingly, aware of what it will cost ye. Are ye willing to make that choice?

  Is this what she’d meant?

  When they came in sight of the fortress gates, they found a reception party waiting for them. Brody, Clara, Sean and Aibne sat on horses in a line directly in front of the gate. At this distance, he couldn’t make out their expressions.

  “Looks like we’re expected,” said Camdan.

  Blair glanced at his father. He rode his horse expertly, guiding her with a nudge and a touch, and he appeared relaxed. Even so, his hard eyes scanned the terrain ahead, alert for danger.

  “Aye,” Blair agreed.

  He took a deep breath and then nudged Trouble forward, urging him ahead. Brody and company waited in silence until he and Georgie were maybe twenty paces away, then Clara gave a cry of joy and heeled her mount out to meet them. After a second, the others followed.

  “Georgie!” Clara cried. “Blair! Thank the Lord!” Her face was flushed, and she was grinning with relief. “We were so worried, weren’t we, Da? When we discovered ye both gone we didnae know what to think! Da and Sean were all for riding straight to Beaumont’s castle and launching an assault, but Aibne told them to wait, that ye’d come back, and here ye are!”

  All this was said in a breathless rush. The lass dismounted and before he could stop her, Georgie slid down from Trouble’s back and ran to her, the two friends embracing warmly.

  “Aye, somebody had to keep a cool head,” Aibne growled. “Seeing as neither our commander nor his second in command seem capable of doing that.”

  Brody glowered at him for a moment before turning that glower on Blair. Then his glance took in Camdan, Alex, and the MacGregor men behind. He shifted in his saddle.

  “I suppose there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for ye disappearing without a word and then turning up with a MacGregor army in tow?”

  Blair winced at his friend’s tone. There was real anger in Brody’s voice. “There is an explanation,” he replied, meeting Brody’s gaze. “But it couldnae be called a reasonable one. I’m sorry for leaving without telling ye—again.”

  Camdan nudged his horse forward. “Again? Sounds like my son hasnae outgrown his impetuous nature while he’s been away.”

  Brody regarded Camdan. “Nay, he hasnae, no matter how hard I try. Ye could say it’s in his blood—and I know whose blood he inherited it from.”

  Camdan grinned. “It’s good to see ye again, old friend.”

  Despite himself, Brody grinned back. “And ye, Cam. And ye.”

  The two men clasped hands, and the tension suddenly lifted.

  “I’ll explain everything once we’re inside,” Blair said. “Gather everyone in the hall so I can speak to them. Beaumont has joined forces with Adaira Campbell. They will be heading this way. We have to begin preparing for a siege.”

  “YE ARE SURE YE HAVE to do this?” asked Clara for the third time. “There’s no other way?”

  Georgie straightened from where she was packing her knapsack and regarded her friend. Clara’s face was lined with worry, both from what Georgie had told her she and Blair were going to do, and from the army that had been spotted quickly approaching from the south. Even with the added MacGregor forces, they would be hard-pushed to hold out against Beaumont and Campbell’s army for long. Georgie just hoped it would be long enough.

  She walked over and laid her hands on Clara’s shoulders. “There’s no other way. But trust me, if this works, it will stop Charles Beaumont and Adaira Campbell in their tracks.”

  “But...but...it’s so dangerous,” Clara said. “What if ye get hurt?”

  “It’s you and your father and Sean and Aibne and everyone who is staying here who face the greatest danger,” she said, a pang of worry twisting her guts. “You have to hold out. You have to make sure they don’t get inside the walls. Otherwise all this will be for nothing.”

  A cold knot of fear formed in her stomach as she thought of the Great Arch lying in the crypt beneath this place. If Adaira Campbell got her hands on that...The thought didn’t bear thinking about.

  Clara swallowed and lifted her chin. “We’ll hold,” she said. “We’ll hold as long as ye need us to.”

  Georgie smiled. “I know you will.”

  There was a knock on the door. It opened to admit Blair, Brody, and Camdan. Blair nodded to Georgie. “Ready?”

  She took a deep breath and swung the knapsack over her shoulder. “Ready.”

  Together the five of them made their way through the castle and to the entrance to the east wing. Blair hesitated for only a moment before he unlocked it to let them all inside. Brody and Clara paled a little as they followed Blair through the crypt and came out into the room that housed the Great Arch.

  “Lord help us,” Brody breathed. “I wouldnae have believed it if I hadnae seen it with my own eyes. And ye say that thing will take ye where ye need to go?”

  Georgie nodded. “It will. At least, I hope so.”

  Of necessity, they’d told Camdan, Brody and Clara about the Great Arch and what it could do, although Georgie had been careful not to mention time travel in front of Brody and Clara. They might accept the idea of Fae magic, but adding time travel into the mix might have been taking it a step too far.

  Camdan approached Blair. He stared at his son, saying nothing. His eyes glittered, and Georgie could have sworn she saw tears in them.

  “Be careful,” he rasped, his voice full of emotion. “Ye are my only son. I expect ye to come back from this alive and whole. That’s an order.”

  �
��I’ll do my best,” Blair said with a wry smile.

  Camdan nodded and pulled his son into a tight embrace.

  There was a heavy silence. Each of them knew what rode on this. If she and Blair didn’t succeed, or if Aibne’s wall repairs didn’t hold, or if Beaumont and Campbell’s forces breached the gates, it would be over. There were so many things that could go wrong. The plan they’d come up with gave them only a slim hope, a fool’s hope really, but it was the only one they had.

  Brody and Clara gave Georgie a quick hug, and then Blair came over and held out his hand for her. She swallowed thickly, then took it. Together they walked to stand under the Great Arch.

  It towered over Georgie like a huge, hungry mouth that would swallow her whole and spit out her bones.

  Ye think ye can tame me? it seem to whisper. Ye think ye can bend me to yer will? Foolish mortal!

  She felt small and insignificant in front of the ancient Fae construct, and for a second, doubt almost sent her crashing to her knees. She couldn’t do this. Who did she think she was to even conceive of such a plan? It was idiocy. She was just a stonemason. Who was she to believe she could stand up to the Fae?

  But Blair’s grip wouldn’t let her fall. He anchored her, as he had from the moment she’d met him. She turned her head to see him watching her steadily. His sapphire eyes burned with determination.

  “I believe in ye, lass,” he said. “Ye can do this.”

  She nodded, buoyed a little by his confidence. Slowly, she took a step forward. Now they were almost directly beneath the first of the concentric arches. In truth, she had no idea how to do what she’d promised, she just hoped her hunch was right and this would work as it had when she’d first come here.

  When yer choice comes, will ye take it? Will ye have the strength to walk a new path?

  Surely, this was what Irene MacAskill had brought her here for?

  Georgie took a deep breath, reached out her left hand—her right hand still tightly clasped in Blair’s—and placed her palm flat against the stone of the arch. Something shot into her hand, a heat that made her gasp, and she almost took her hand away but forced herself to keep it exactly where it was. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into that space of calm she always felt when working with stone. She let everything else fall away: her surroundings, her thoughts, the danger approaching the castle. There was nothing but herself and the stone. Herself and the stone.