Ever My Love

by Lynn Kurland

• • •

  Supper was very good mostly because Nathaniel cooked it. She sat at a worn table in the kitchen with Jamie, enjoying a very lovely glass of wine, and pretended to watch Nathaniel when the truth was, she was watching Jamie.

  How was it a man had hopped over so many centuries yet managed to carve out such a perfect life for himself? He didn’t mention anything specific about his past or his transition to the present, though it was obvious he assumed both she and Nathaniel knew. Actually, she suspected he hadn’t assumed anything. If there was one thing she thought she might guess with a fair degree of confidence, it was that James MacLeod found himself caught by surprise very rarely.

  She wished she could say the same for herself.

  She found it somewhat interesting that he didn’t seem to be hiding behind a façade. He was who he was without apology or embarrassment. Then again, if he had been the laird of the clan MacLeod at the turn of the fourteenth century, she supposed he had faced much sterner tests than a couple of modern-day gawkers.

  “Mistress Emma, perhaps you would care to wander around the castle?”

  She came back to herself to find Jamie watching her. She attempted a smile. “I’d love to see the upstairs.”

  Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “Upstairs?”

  She needed to get a better grip on herself, she decided abruptly. “Oh, you know, the whole keep, I mean.”

  He looked at her in a way that left her with absolutely no doubt that anyone had pulled anything over on him, ever.

  “Have you seen other parts of my keep, Mistress Emma?” he asked politely.

  “The dungeon,” she admitted, feeling as if she were all of ten getting caught in a whopper of a lie. “In 1387.”

  Jamie sighed gustily. “I want it noted that I filled that pit in to please my wife, many years earlier. I can’t control what anyone who came after me did.” He looked at Nathaniel. “I believe ’tis time, lad, that you and I had speech together. Your lady may certainly stay if she cares to.”

  “Or I could just go wait in the car,” Emma offered.

  “No,” Nathaniel said, shooting her a look. “You’ll drive off without me.”

  “I might need a nap.”

  “You might need a keeper,” Jamie said wisely. He smiled. “You could go investigate upstairs, if you like. There is a chamber down the passageway from my thinking chamber you might enjoy. ’Tis full of steel.”

  “Can I borrow anything—”

  “No,” Nathaniel said, sounding horrified.

  Jamie looked equally horrified, so she supposed they were in agreement there. She dropped a casual little laugh.

  “Just kidding, of course. Why would I need a dagger or anything?”

  She excused herself before anyone stopped her or gave her looks she was going to have to acknowledge. She had to stop and stand in the middle of the great hall for a moment or two, simply to appreciate the fact that she wasn’t catching a quick glimpse of it on her way to being tossed down into Malcolm MacLeod’s dungeon.

  She supposed she might go a very long time without having that be a part of her reality without missing it one bit.

  She hoped Jamie meant what he said by making herself at home, took a deep breath, then headed toward the stairs. It was odd to think about how many people had gone up and down those stairs over the years, which led her to wondering what James MacLeod thought about the same. Maybe he never thought about it. Maybe he was too busy making a dash for his armory, such as it was, in order to fight off any stray time travelers who might show up at his door.

  His life must have been very odd.

  She understood that, unfortunately, as she took her time getting to that room, then spent more time in there than she probably should have. There was actually a great deal to be impressed by. His collection of things that didn’t look brand-new was extensive. She decided abruptly that she absolutely wasn’t going to ask how many of those things he had used himself over the years.

  She wandered back down the hallway, then paused by another open door. He had told her to make herself at home, so she took a deep breath and peeked inside. A study, by the look of it. She ignored her unease and went inside, then paused in shock at the sight of the map hanging over his desk.

  It was Mrs. McCreedy’s map.

  Actually, on closer inspection she realized that while it was in the same style as Mrs. McCreedy’s, this one was far more extensive. It was the ultimate pirate map. She stared at it for several minutes without making any judgments about it, just letting it tell her what it would. It was very well drawn, she conceded. It was also covered with those painfully familiar Xs. She leaned up a bit to have a closer look and realized that next to those Xs were labels.

  Barbados. Salem. Victorian England with Don’t go there again in parentheses next to it.

  Medieval Scotland.

  She lost count of the marks that indicated something of a medieval vintage. She frowned thoughtfully as she looked for Nathaniel’s cottage.

  There was an X penciled there, but no tag—

  She moved as the sound of voices coming her way reached her. By the time Jamie and Nathaniel entered the study, she was wedged behind a sofa and wondering what the hell she was doing.

  Nothing good ever comes of eavesdropping was what her father always said. But everything interesting does was what Bertie Wordsworth had always added under his breath as her father had been walking away. She knew that because that was the lecture her father had always given his under-chauffeur and she had always been privy to that conversation because she’d always been eavesdropping. Just for the practice, of course, not because her father had ever said anything interesting.

  She’d had an interesting childhood.

  She had the feeling her life was about to become substantially more interesting if she could just keep from wheezing long enough to listen to those two settling into chairs.

  Chapter 26

  Nathaniel was extremely happy for a chance to sit down, have a glass of extremely lovely whisky, and not feel like he needed to have his sword within reach. It was, he could safely say, the first time he’d ever been in the MacLeod familial hall where that had been the case.

  Dinner had been very edible, but he’d cooked it. He supposed Jamie had done that on purpose so he could keep an eye on the field of battle, as it were. Emma had done a fine job of avoiding anything controversial, but Nathaniel had the feeling his comfortable evening was about to end.

  “So,” Jamie said, studying him carefully, “Mistress Emma has gone back how many times?”

  “Three, my laird,” Nathaniel said respectfully.

  “And she encounters the same thing every time?”

  Nathaniel nodded. “It doesn’t seem to matter what either of us does,” he said carefully. “She winds up in the dungeon every time.”

  “Weel,” Jamie said, shifting uncomfortably, “I’ll admit we do have a rich tradition of tossing bodies in that pit, but please don’t bring that up with my wife.”

  “You don’t mean she found herself there,” Nathaniel said, feeling slightly aghast.

  “I refuse to admit to anything,” Jamie said, “but please don’t bring it up at any family gatherings. I filled in the pit, but obviously someone decided that was unwise. I’m sorry your lady has seen the inside of it.” He shivered. “’Tis full of vermin and filth.”

  “I know,” Nathaniel said dryly, “having had my own stay there. I would prefer that Emma not see the inside of it again, which is one of the reasons I wanted to see you.” He thought it might be prudent not to add that he was thrilled to be discussing things with the laird of the hall over a whisky and not over blades.

  Jamie snorted. “I imagine you have several reasons for coming to see me, not the least of which is to see for yourself who lived over the hill from you.”

  Nathaniel shifted. “Well, I wasn�
�t entirely sure about you—”

  “You couldn’t do a bit of investigating?”

  Nathaniel looked at him seriously. “I didn’t want to.”

  “Now, there’s a piece of truth,” Jamie said. He set his glass aside and looked at Nathaniel seriously. “Tell me the tale whilst your lady is out of earshot, and spare no details. I’ve all night to listen.”

  Nathaniel wasn’t sure if he should fall to his knees and kiss Jamie’s ring or simply burst into tears. Since he couldn’t decide, he took a deep breath and spewed out everything.

  It sounded daft, even though he’d lived it. The round of golf, his own time in the MacLeod dungeon, the fact that his uncle was now—or had been in the fourteenth century—masquerading as the laird’s most trusted priest.

  “He will have had a house,” Jamie said, “and enough to eat. Can’t say I blame him.”

  Nathaniel conceded the point. “He does seem happy. I believe he’s even learned to use a sword.”

  “You’ve done well enough with that yourself,” Jamie said. “Who taught you?”

  “Malcolm himself.”

  “Well,” Jamie said carefully, “I can see how he might want to do that.”

  Nathaniel frowned. “Why?”

  Jamie waved him on. “Not important at the moment. Keep on with your tale.”

  Nathaniel had another strengthening sip of whisky, then made quick work of describing trying to keep himself alive and the terror of never knowing if he would get back to his proper place in time.

  When he was finished with that, he gave Jamie a brief summary of his life in the present, the madness with his grandfather, and his never having any idea how long he would have to take care of his business.

  “And then Emma Baxter walked into your life.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “She stepped into the past as easily as you would step into another room. I thought I was losing my mind. Or, rather, she saw me step into the future. I’m not sure which it was.”

  “At the edge of the forest,” Jamie finished for him.

  “Aye. She was standing there, I was in the middle of a skirmish with the Fergussons, and I almost ran into her bodily. She definitely saw me. That seems to be what started the whole madness for her.”

  Jamie sat back and pressed the tips of his fingers together. “And then?”

  “She’s been back to the same place in time, the exact same situation, three times now.”

  “And you let her go?” Jamie asked in surprise.

  “I didn’t know she was going.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Have you thought about locking her in your house?”

  Nathaniel supposed telling the man sitting across from him that such would be considered kidnapping in the current day was unnecessary.

  “I would prefer she stay because she wants to,” Nathaniel said firmly.

  “Then woo her to your bed, ye wee fool,” Jamie said, throwing up his hands. “Lads these days.”

  Nathaniel smiled in spite of himself. “She’s got a mind of her own.”

  “They generally do,” Jamie said with a snort. He considered for a moment or two, then frowned. “I do have a thought or two for you.”

  “That’s why I came, my laird.”

  “As well as for my superior swordplay.”

  “That, too,” Nathaniel agreed.

  Jamie only laughed. Nathaniel spared a wish that he had known Jamie in the past. He wasn’t unfond of Malcolm MacLeod—heaven knew he had slain enough Fergusson clansmen to satisfy the man—but there was something about Jamie that he supposed might never be repeated. He had certainly been legend enough in 13 . . .

  Well, whatever date that was. He didn’t dare even think it lest it decide to call for him.

  “More whisky,” Jamie said, rising. “You’ll need it.”

  Nathaniel imagined he would. He took the opportunity to look about the chamber where he currently sat. It was Malcolm’s private chamber, but he supposed that shouldn’t have surprised him. What did surprise him, however, was that he hadn’t noticed what was over Jamie’s desk.

  It was a map.

  Jamie was standing at that desk, filling glasses. “Come have a look.”

  Nathaniel didn’t mind if he did. He rose and walked over to join his host. He studied the map for a moment or two, noting all the Xs scattered over what he was assuming were Jamie’s lands. He considered, then looked at the lord of the hall.

  “And?”

  “Gates,” Jamie said succinctly.

  “To the past?” Nathaniel asked in surprise.

  “Some are,” Jamie conceded. “Some are to other places.”

  Nathaniel smiled until he realized Jamie was serious. “Other places?”

  “Let’s just say that Elizabeth has forbidden any more trips to Barbados, not that I can find anyone willing to go with me after what my brother-in-law Zachary revealed about our last journey there.” He considered his own map. “It was startling at first, of course, to realize what my land contained.”

  “Can anyone use these?” Nathaniel ventured. “Or are they your domain exclusively?”

  Jamie looked at him and shrugged. “It depends, I suppose. Others have used them with a fair amount of success, but there has always been a need. I suppose the odd tourist who trespasses on my lands runs the risk of having more holiday than they bargained for, but that isn’t my worry, is it?”

  “I don’t suppose it is.”

  Jamie studied him. “Is your gate in the same place every time?”

  Nathaniel frowned thoughtfully. “I hadn’t plotted it out exactly, but I know the general location of two of them. There’s one in front of my cottage door. The one Emma seems to use is near your cottage, in the forest there.”

  “Do you ever think about going to the past when those gates are open?”

  Nathaniel looked at the man standing next to him and could hardly believe they were having their current conversation. If he hadn’t been up to his eyeballs in the madness himself, he would have thought it absolute rubbish. Unfortunately, he knew better.

  “I don’t think about anything in particular,” he said, shrugging. “They seem to be out of my control. I see a certain date, I feel the world shift, and I know that I’m being called to a different time.”

  “A certain date we won’t voice aloud.”

  “That might be best.” He looked at Jamie seriously. “How long will this go on, do you think?”

  “Until your task is done, I’d imagine,” Jamie said. “I have no experience with your present business.”

  “But these wee Xs all over that damned map of yours,” Nathaniel said, feeling faintly exasperated, “those were just things you had to go back to the past to put right? Did you make that decision or was the decision made for you?”

  Jamie sighed deeply. “I’m afraid that might be the one thing I can’t answer properly.” He handed Nathaniel his refilled glass, then considered for a moment or two. “I’m going to tell you something, but I’ll slay you if you noise this about.”

  Nathaniel didn’t doubt he would and leave it looking like a horrible kitchen accident. He resumed his seat because he thought that might be wise. He sipped on his whisky to keep himself busy as Jamie took his seat again as well.

  “In the beginning,” Jamie began, “’twas simply a bit of sport. Seeking out gates and using them, that is. There was a fair bit of purpose behind it, I’ll admit that, for I had no mind to have my wife or bairns wandering out in the garden and disappearing.” He shot Nathaniel a look. “You might understand that now, I daresay.”

  “I daresay,” Nathaniel murmured.

  “Caught you by surprise, did it?”

  “What?”

  Jamie leveled a look at him that would have had Nathaniel smiling if he hadn’t felt so ill all of the sudden.

&nbs
p; “Love?” Nathaniel asked unnecessarily. “Aye, it did.”

  “Love does that,” Jamie said philosophically. “And so you now understand what drove me to my investigations at first.” He considered for another long moment, then shook his head. “I began to understand that there were indeed things I had to do in these places and times, that these steppings between centuries weren’t merely random or even under my control. But I daresay you’ve come to understand that as well, haven’t you?”

  Nathaniel held up his hand in surrender. “I haven’t done anything but lend a hand in battle,” he said. “I think that could have been done by anyone with a sword.”

  “I imagine there is more to it than that, but perhaps we’ll discover the truth of it as time goes on.” He frowned thoughtfully, then looked at Nathaniel. “Can you let her go?”

  Nathaniel looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “Can you let Emma go,” Jamie repeated slowly. “Could you travel back in time to repeat the first encounter you had with her, then step back instead of stepping forward? Avoid meeting her and allow her to go on past you without seeing you?” He shrugged. “Let her go.”

  Nathaniel felt as if Jamie had punched him in the gut. “Why would I want to do that?” he rasped.

  “Because I fear you’ll never escape these endless circles until she stops following you.”

  “Or going ahead of me.”

  “Even worse,” Jamie agreed. “Until she is no longer part of your life, I daresay nothing will change.”

  Nathaniel rubbed his hand over his face, finding it almost impossible to even face that thought. “How do you know she isn’t just stumbling on the gates all on her own?”

  Jamie shot him a look. “Because she’s using those gates to aid you, isn’t she? Poor gel, I believe she fancies you, though I haven’t a clue why. I don’t think you’re all that much to look at.”

  “I could be your brother’s twin.”

  “As I said.”

  Nathaniel attempted a smile, but failed. “It could have been worse. I could have been your twin.”

  “You could only hope to resemble my extremely handsome self,” Jamie said with a snort, “but since that’s far beyond your abilities, my lad, be content with your lack.”