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

by Baker, Katy

  Beaumont saw the line of his gaze. “So that’s how ye did it,” he snarled. “Ye got into the winch house. Is that bitch with ye? Is she involved in this as well?”

  Blair’s breath hitched. If Beaumont should look inside the winch house and find Georgie...he had to distract him. With a snarl, he leapt at the man, risking his footing by darting down the steps.

  Beaumont anticipated his attack, snapping up his blade in a scything riposte that brought the weapons together with a clang. But this was what Blair intended. Beaumont hadn’t noticed Blair’s other hand whipping out low, landing a punch into his stomach that made him grunt in pain.

  Before the man could recover, Blair danced back a few steps. Beaumont straightened, glaring at him. His face was red with fury. “You will not touch me again,” he growled.

  “Willnae I? Over confidence has always been one of yer faults, Beaumont. Perhaps that’s why ye’ve lost Dun Halas.”

  Beaumont hissed and lurched towards him. Good. In his anger, he’d forgotten about the winch house. Blair just needed to keep luring him up the steps, keep him away from Georgie.

  Beaumont’s attack turned frenzied as Blair kept dancing out of reach, leading him further up the steps. Glancing over his shoulder, Blair saw that some of Beaumont’s guards were running towards them along the parapet.

  “Leave him!” Beaumont bellowed at them. “This bastard is mine!”

  Blair reached the top of the steps and stepped out onto the broad parapet that spanned the wall. From here he could see the battle raging throughout Dun Halas. There were far more MacAuley and MacGregor colors than Beaumont ones visible now.

  “Give it up!” he growled at Beaumont, trying one last time. “Ye can still save yer men!”

  “Never!” Beaumont snarled.

  He launched himself up the last few steps onto the parapet and they began trading blows, the clang of their weapons loud enough to cut through the whine of the wind. Blair glanced over his shoulder, saw that he was slowly being backed against a corner of the curtain wall. He felt the stone brush his back and realized he had nowhere else to retreat to.

  Beaumont, seeing that Blair was trapped, broke into a cruel grin. He grabbed his sword two-handed and ran at Blair, howling a cry of rage. Blair didn’t step forward to meet the charge. Instead he waited until he could see the whites of Beaumont’s eyes, then he bent his knees, got his arms around Beaumont’s waist, and heaved with all his strength.

  At the last second Beaumont realized his error. He tried to grab hold of Blair, of the crenellations, aught he could. But it was too late. Beaumont went tumbling over the wall.

  There was a long drawn out scream.

  And then silence.

  For several seconds the only sound was the harsh rasp of Blair’s breathing. But then another sound intruded: the clatter of weapons being thrown to the ground and the blare of a horn.

  He turned to gaze down at the bailey. Beaumont’s men were busy throwing down their weapons and being rounded up by MacAuley and MacGregor warriors. A tide of relief swept through Blair so strongly that for a second his legs went weak.

  It was over. It was finally over.

  He hurried down the steps to the winch room. Georgie and her father were peeking cautiously out.

  “Are ye all right?” he asked anxiously.

  Georgie stepped out to meet him, looking him over worriedly. “Don’t worry about us. What about you? Dear God, Blair when I saw you fighting Beaumont...”

  “I had to practically hold her down to stop her running out to help you,” her father said with a half-bemused, half-annoyed look.

  “Well I’m glad ye did,” Blair replied. He laid his hands on her shoulders and gazed down into her eyes. “He’s gone,” he said softly. “Beaumont is gone. As is Adaira. Beaumont’s soldiers are surrendering. We’ve won, Georgie. We’ve won.”

  She rested her forehead against his chest, sagging with relief. “Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and allowed himself the luxury of doing nothing but holding her close, enjoying the smell of her, the feel of her body against his.

  He heard footsteps on the steps behind him and turned to see Brody and Camdan hurrying towards them.

  “Blair?” his father asked, his eyes sweeping across Georgie and her father. “Lord above, lad, I canna tell ye how glad I am to find ye whole. Was that Beaumont I saw ye fighting up on the battlements?”

  “It was.” Seeing the questioning look in his father’s eyes, he held up a hand. “It’s a long story.”

  He looked over his father’s head at the mass of warriors filling the bailey and the tall figure of his uncle Logan commanding the detention of the Beaumont prisoners. He shook his head.

  “I dinna understand. What are ye all doing here? How did ye know to come now, at this precise moment? And what is uncle doing here?”

  “What do ye mean?” Brody asked with a frown. “We’re here because ye commanded us to come. Here.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled parchment which he handed to Blair.

  It was a letter, written in his own hand, leaving precise instructions that his men, with the aid of the forces he’d asked his uncle to send, were to march on Dun Halas on this day, at this exact time, and to join forces with Alex MacGregor who had MacGregor warriors waiting to the west of the fortress ready to join their cause.

  He scratched his head. “I dinna understand. I dinna remember writing this.”

  “That’s because you haven’t written it yet,” Georgie said softly. “But you will, just like you’ll write that letter to your uncle and then use the Great Arch to place them exactly when and where they need to be.”

  Blair shook his head. Ah, Lord, he’d never get used to the convoluted effects of time travel.

  “My lord?”

  He turned as another man approached. He was young, eager-looking and wearing the MacGregor plaid. “I’m Alex MacGregor, and I—”

  “I know who ye are,” Blair interrupted.

  “Ye do?”

  “Aye. We’ve met before.”

  “We have?”

  Blair waved a hand. “It’s a little...complicated.” He looked the young lad in the eye. “Dun Halas is yers. It belongs to the MacGregor now, as it should. Welcome home, Laird MacGregor.”

  The lad looked stunned. His mouth moved although no words came out.

  “Careful, lad,” Camdan said drily. “Ye’ll catch flies.”

  Alex smiled then shook his head, looking around at Dun Halas as if unable to believe his people finally had their ancestral home back. Then he drew a deep breath and turned to Blair.

  “We couldnae have beaten Charles Beaumont without ye. I willnae forget that. And my first act as laird of the MacGregor is to bestow Dun Hadraig fortress on ye. The place, and the lands around, are yers if ye want it.”

  Blair blinked, surprised. Then he grinned. “Aye, my laird. I would like that very much.”

  Alex nodded, sealing the agreement, and then they all turned and walked down into the bailey. Blair took Georgie’s hand, keeping her close. A strange, hollow feeling was creeping up on him. Over the far side of the bailey, through the narrow gate that led to the inner bailey, he could see the outline of the arch through time looming like some executioner’s gallows. Now that they’d beaten Charles Beaumont and Adaira Campbell there was no reason for Georgie to stay. That arch would take her home. Away from him. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

  At the bottom of the steps they were met by Georgie’s team of masons. Led by Aibne, they clustered around them and Aibne even lifted Georgie into a bear-hug before setting her on her feet again. Georgie introduced her father to Aibne and once they each found out the other was a master mason, they were soon deep in conversation about masonry techniques and other things that made not one bit of sense to Blair.

  As Georgie was enveloped in their conversation, and Brody and Camdan strode off to talk to the laird, Blair was left alone. Aroun
d him the MacAuley and MacGregor warriors were beginning to celebrate. Over by the cellar entrance someone had cracked open a keg of ale and a few of the younger lads had broken into song.

  Aye, they’d won a great victory today. So why did Blair suddenly feel empty?

  He watched Georgie. She was chatting and laughing with her father and Aibne, the light catching her hair and making it glint, her laughter sounding like the tinkling of raindrops to Blair’s ears. Lord help him, how could he ever bear to lose her?

  He could not.

  As if sensing his eyes on her, Georgie turned to him and walked over.

  “I think it’s going to be a long night,” she said, nodding at Aibne and her father with a smile. “They’ve just started discussing different methods of buttress construction.”

  Blair nodded but said nothing.

  She cocked her head at him. “Are you okay?”

  How was he supposed to answer that question?

  She frowned. “Blair, I—”

  “Marry me,” he blurted.

  She blinked. Stared at him. “I’m sorry?”

  “Marry me,” he said again, taking her hands in his. He hadn’t meant to say the words, didn’t know where they’d come from, but now they were out he realized he meant them with all his heart and soul.

  Silence stretched between them. Georgie gazed at him, unblinking, for such a long time that he feared she wouldn’t answer at all.

  Then she smiled slightly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Ye did?”

  She shook her head. “For such a smart guy, you can be really dense sometimes. Don’t you understand that I could never leave you? That I love you? Of course I’ll marry you.”

  For a second he stared at her, dumbfounded, sure he’d misheard. But the next instant joy exploded through his veins. He felt a manic grin pulling back the corners of his mouth.

  “Say that again,” he breathed. “Just so I can be sure I heard ye aright.”

  She laughed, that high, clear sound that sent exhilaration blowing through him like a gale. She leaned into him, resting her hands against his chest and looking up into his eyes.

  “I will marry you, Blair MacAuley. I want nothing more than to spend my life by your side. Is that good enough for you?”

  “Aye, lass,” he breathed. “That’ll do. That’ll do just nicely.”

  Then he grabbed her around the waist, yanked her tightly against him and kissed her into oblivion.

  Chapter 18

  “I think buttressing would be better,” Georgie said, pointing out the window at the curtain wall. “At least until we can check the foundations. We don’t know how deep they are or whether the ground beneath will still be waterlogged.”

  Her father scratched his head. “Hmm. Under normal circumstances, sure. But that’s a lot of work. It would be quicker to dig out the foundations and reinforce them.”

  Georgie thought about this. If they were going to successfully shore up the wall, they’d have to find a way to stabilize it. They’d been discussing this issue round and round for days now. Aibne was all for knocking it down and starting again, whereas her father wanted to reinforce the foundations and Georgie thought they could speed up the whole process by building supporting buttresses.

  “Maybe if we—”

  There was a loud cough from behind her. Georgie turned to see Clara standing with arms crossed, tapping her foot. Georgie shared a look with her dad.

  “What?”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “Do ye two ever stop talking about stonemasonry? Ye do know what day it is today dinna ye?”

  Georgie grinned sheepishly. “Oh. I didn’t realize we were doing that again. Sorry.”

  Clara raised an eyebrow and pointed at the seat by the window. Georgie sat, carefully arranging the folds of her beautiful dress so it wouldn’t get creased.

  Of course she knew what day this was! How could she forget? This was the day she was going to marry the man she loved. She’d been awake since before dawn, as nervous as a spooked cat, and had been unable to settle all morning. Her dad had come to check on her an hour ago and she was pretty sure he’d started talking to her about stonemasonry because he realized it would calm her nerves. He knew her so well.

  As Clara began fussing with her hair, Georgie looked up at her dad. A smile spread across her face. He’d decided to stay. He’d decided to give up his life in the twenty-first century and start a new one here in the sixteenth. And all for her. She couldn’t put into words how happy that made her feel. He, Aibne and Brody had already become firm friends and the three men could often be seen sitting by the fire in the hall together sharing a tankard of ale.

  “There,” said Clara, stepping back. She clasped her hands together. “Ye look beautiful.”

  Georgie slowly stood. The folds of the dress swished as she did a little twirl. “Well? What do you think? Will I do?”

  Her father’s eyes glistened as though he was trying to hold back tears. The look of pride on his face made Georgie’s heart swell.

  “My girl,” he whispered. “My baby girl. Look at you. All grown up. Blair is a lucky, lucky man.”

  There was a knock on the door and Clara opened it to show Sean standing there. He blushed when he laid eyes on Clara and Clara suddenly went doe-eyed. Georgie smiled to herself. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t be long before Clara and Sean were walking down the aisle together.

  Sean tore his eyes off Clara and cleared his throat. “If ye are ready, my lady? All the guests are assembled.”

  Georgie swallowed. This was it. The nerves came roaring to life in her stomach, wriggling like worms. Trepidation, anticipation, excitement, all rolled into one.

  Ready? Such a simple question but the answer would determine the course of the rest of her life. She closed her eyes and Blair’s face flashed into her mind. Ready? Of course she was ready. She couldn’t wait to get started.

  She smiled at them all. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

  Her father held out his arm and Georgie took it, allowing him to escort her from the room. He looked rather handsome in his crisp linen shirt and MacAuley plaid—almost as if he’d been a highlander all his life.

  Clara and Sean fell into step behind as Georgie and her father made their stately way through the corridors towards the hall.

  The fortress was already starting to look more like a home than a military outpost. Three weeks ago Blair’s family had arrived, including his mother, aunts and cousins, along with a veritable host of MacAuley and MacGregor workers and it had become a hive of renovation and repairs, all overseen by Georgie, Aibne, and her father.

  She could see the touch of Blair’s mother and aunts in the rugs that now covered the flagstone floors and the drapes that hung at the windows. Give it six months and the place might almost be habitable.

  They made their way along the corridor, down the spiral staircase, until they finally arrived at the hall. The door stood open and Georgie could hear the hum of excited conversation from within. Her father squeezed her hand, giving her an encouraging smile. Georgie took a deep breath and smiled back. There was no going back now.

  They swept into the hall, and the MacGregor pipers that Alexander MacGregor had sent as a wedding gift, struck up a tune that accompanied Georgie as her father escorted her down the aisle. The hall was crammed full of people, both wearing the MacAuley and MacGregor plaid but Georgie had eyes only for one person: Blair. He stood watching her from the end of the aisle, his father by his side.

  Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, beating rapidly against her ribs. This felt surreal, like a dream, and it was only her father’s grip on her arm that reminded her it was really happening. It was really happening! She was getting married to the most amazing man in the world.

  They finally reached the end of the aisle and her father handed her over to her future husband. Blair wore an intense, solemn expression as he held out his arm for Georgie to take. But a second later, his features broke
into that boyish, infectious grin, his eyes sparkling. Georgie felt a stupid grin break out over her face in response. She stared up at him, he stared back, and neither of them said a word.

  How was it possible to love a man this much? She felt it pulse inside her with every beat of her heart, every expansion and contraction of her lungs.

  Somebody coughed lightly. Georgie blinked, and they turned to face the man waiting patiently in front of them. Blair’s uncle, Laird Logan MacAuley, was an imposing figure. He had raven dark hair sprinkled with gray and an authoritative air. Nonetheless, he was grinning widely as he took her and Blair’s hands and joined them together.

  “Friends!” he called out, his voice booming through the room. “Ye know why we are here today! What say ye? Will ye all consent to witness the hand-fasting of these two?”

  There was a roar of approval and more than one ribald comment aimed in their direction. Georgie blushed but Blair laughed softly. Logan held up a hand for silence and the hubbub died down.

  “It’s a true pleasure and a true honor to be conducting this ceremony today. I’ve often wondered if my wayward nephew would ever find a woman willing to put up with him,”—there was more laughing at this—“but I’m mighty glad he finally has and I’m mighty glad to be here today to conduct the wedding of Blair MacAuley to Georgina Smyth.”

  Blair stared down at her and Georgie stared right back, not wanting to look away, not even wanting to blink and miss a moment of him. They both said the ritual words. They both repeated what Logan asked them to. They both spoke promises that would bind them together forever.

  Then it was done.

  Logan was announcing that they were husband and wife and Blair was wrapping his arms around her, lifting her off her feet and kissing her passionately enough to send the guests into a round of clapping and hollering.

  “Ye are mine,” Blair whispered, leaning close and breathing the words into her ear. “Always mine. My wife.”

  “Always yours,” she agreed. “Always each other’s.”

  Then he bent his head and kissed her.