Edge of Yesterday (Edge Series Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  If he’d died, she would have grieved, but she would have had closure, would understand and eventually accept that he wasn’t with her anymore—though not easily. Ginny was nothing if not tenacious. The not knowing would keep him alive in her mind. By now, Ginny would have harangued the constable into forming a search party for him.

  He couldn’t help a laugh. She was a bulldog. Once she sank her teeth into something, she didn’t let go until she’d dissected every jot and tiddle. Val wouldn’t know what hit him. But it wouldn’t matter how much they searched—or suspected foul play—they would find no trace of him in twenty-first century Heatheredge.

  He just wasn’t there. Poof! He’d vanished.

  Cailean went cold. What had Val thought when the lightning cleared and his champion was gone? Cailean had followed the investigation into the disappearance of the Gathering attendee four years earlier. What was his name… Charles Dillon? His disappearance had created a sensation because authorities alleged that Val Ross was the last person to have seen him that night. Like many others, Cailean hadn’t put any credence in the possibility that Val was capable of wrongdoing. Someone else could have seen Charles—his killer, for example—or he simply could have skipped out on a life he found untenable. He’d been the owner of a heavily-in-debt construction company. The authorities hadn’t found a trace of foul play, but, as newspapers reported, that was true of the five previous disappearances.

  Now, however, Cailean realized how closely Charles’ disappearance mirrored his own, which was too much of a coincidence. What would Val tell the authorities about his disappearance? “You see, Constable, we were walking in the woods, lightning struck and, wham! Cailean Ross was gone. Shit happens.”

  Another memory struck. Val alleged that he’d been with other reenactors when he’d last seen Charles. Cailean’s stomach turned. Christ, was it possible that Val had something to do with Charles’ disappearance…with his disappearance?

  Cailean raked a hand through his hair. What could Val possibly have done to send him back in time? Cailean’s stomach roiled again and he feared he would vomit. Even if it was possible for a man to fall into some sort of time portal—as he must have—it simply wasn’t possible for it to be planned.

  Cailean remained motionless.

  Why not?

  If Val knew of the time portal, then all he had to do was push someone into it.

  But why do such a thing?

  Val…

  Crowe’s face flashed in Cailean’s mental vision. Crowe was a dead ringer for a younger Val Ross. Crowe had to be an ancestor of Val’s. But Val was a Ross, not a Mackay. History claimed that, a few years after the slaughter, Valdar returned to Heatheredge as a monk and brought Heatheredge to redemption. He hadn’t been clan Ceann-Cath. Was it possible this was an alternate dimension? Still, an alternate dimension six hundred years in the past. In this world, the Rosses attacked the Mackays and Valdar Mackay wasn’t a monk—or a Mackay—but a Ross and a war chief. Time travel or alternate reality, his Val Ross knew…and had somehow sent him here.

  His head throbbed just trying to connect the threads. He had to get back to modern Heatheredge. If he could find the spot where he’d arrived, might he discover a doorway of some kind, a place where time shifted or where he could step through like a wormhole, perhaps? In movies, people who went back in time often returned home at a point in time where no one knew they’d been gone. If he could travel to fourteenth century Scotland, that had to mean there was a way to return.

  Fear sent another wave of nausea through him. He’d never heard reports of any of the missing Gathering attendees showing up again.

  The door to the cottage creaked and Cailean leapt to his feet. Julianna froze in the threshhold, a basket in hand.

  “Did you save me only to run me through with your sword?”

  Cailean started at seeing Triumph in his hand. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He had no recollection of grabbing the sword. Had he so easily turned into a savage? A medieval?

  “I frightened you,” Julianna said.

  He snorted, and sheathed Triumph. “Right now a sparrow would frighten me.”

  She stepped inside, closed the door, then crossed to the shelf to the left of the door and set the basket down on the table. He watched as she removed cloths and herbs from the basket, seeing her in a different light than he had previously. This woman was a true fourteenth century noble Scotswoman. Fuck. What was she like? He knew what she was like. She was fierce, a skilled doctor and smart as a whip.

  She was also beautiful, and damned provocative.

  “I thought Malvina was going to attend to me.”

  “She was busy.”

  “I think it’s more likely you disobeyed your mother and came yourself.”

  She smiled. “Do no’ worry yourself over my mother. I am well used to her moods.”

  “She is a formidable woman,” he said. A sense of terror crept over him. Lady Ravenstone was a very formidable woman, and she wielded great power. As a noble, she could have him flogged, even hanged.

  Julianna went to the medicinal cupboard in the corner and retrieved her awful pocan cheann. Cailean recalled his glimpse into the bag of heads and he had to force back hysterical laughter. There really were heads inside the damned bag. She pulled out a jar he now knew contained a soothing salve, and her trusty sphagnum moss.

  Julianna carried her healing goods to the bench. “Take off your shirt and sit down.”

  “What?”

  She looked at him and frowned. “Take off your shirt and be seated.”

  “It’s just a scratch,” he said.

  “Perhaps, but I need to look at your old wound.”

  “Lady Julianna—” He broke off when her eyes snapped up to meet his. Cailean saw in her expression the same determination he’d seen in her mother. She was quite a strong woman herself. And he was finding it ever harder to ignore her appeal. That was dangerous ground, more dangerous than he’d imagined.

  He obeyed and sat down, and she sat beside him on the bench. He wanted to leave, ride like the wind back to Heatheredge and begin his search. But when her fingers brushed his arm the tension eased a bit. He was tired. So weary. Tomorrow he would find a way to leave, even if he had to walk to Heatheredge. A three-mile hike would take more than an hour and a half.

  She removed the bandage from his arm and frowned. “Just as I feared, you have opened the wound.”

  Cailean looked at the cut. “It isn’t bad.”

  Julianna sighed and began washing the wound.

  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax under her ministrations. She traced a finger along the wound and desire centered in his cock. God help him, if she noticed, she might grab her dirk and whack off his shaft—just for his daring. He had to remember that he occupied a world where he didn’t truly know the rules. Even the most dedicated enthusiast or historian couldn’t know what it was like to live in medieval Scotland. He was a stranger in a world that could destroy him. He concentrated on tomorrow, when he would go to Heatheredge and find his way home.

  His thoughts began to settle and he hoped that he simply might fall into bed and sleep when she said, “You knew the men on the road intended to abduct me.”

  Cailean snapped open his eyes. “What?”

  She continued to clean the wound. “You knew the men were there to harm me.”

  His heart began to pound. “Why do you say that?”

  “I saw it in your eyes.” She didn’t look up. “Also, you said, ‘Today is the day she’s supposed to be abducted.’”

  Cailean silently cursed. “How could you hear anything with all the fighting going on?”

  A tiny smile curved her mouth. “My parents learned early on that I could hear a whisper across the room. It vexed them to no end.”

  He just bet it did.

  “Some call it a gift, but there have been times I wish I hadn’t heard what I did.”

  “Like today?” he asked.

  She shook
her head. “Nae. You have piqued my curiosity far too much, truth be told. Ye also knew Hugh had kidnapped me. You know how women are. We cannae stand not knowing a secret.”

  “Lady Julianna, you don’t want to know what I know.”

  “Am I still in danger?”

  That was a good question. “Hugh didnae accomplish his goal,” Cailean said. “He might try again. I do not know.”

  “What was his goal?” she asked.

  “I’m no’ certain. Someone else may have been involved.”

  Her head snapped up. “Someone else? Ye mean he did not intend to marry me?”

  “As I said, I’m not sure what he wanted.”

  “Yet you feel he might not have acted alone?”

  He released a breath. “Maybe.”

  Her brow pleated. “Have ye any idea who?”

  “Not a clue.”

  She went back to cleaning his wound. “How do ye know the things you know?”

  “As Lennox said earlier, second sight.”

  “A logical conclusion,” she replied, now sprinkling water from her witchy bag of heads along the injury. “But I sense there is more.”

  He snorted. “Dinnae tell me you have second sight.”

  She shuddered. “Nae. Thank the Almighty. But I have a brain.”

  That she did.

  “Lennox will no’ be satisfied until he has his answers.”

  She was more right than he wanted to consider. It was as if scales had fallen from his eyes and he could see for the first time. The analogy wasn’t far from the truth. Knowing what he now knew, he realized just how strange he must have appeared to Lennox and Julianna—and it scared the hell out of him. He was surprised Lennox hadn’t killed him—or tried to, anyway. How was he going to live long enough to get to Heatheredge and find the damned portal back to the twenty-first century? He’d been here four days and had nearly gotten killed four times. He marveled that the human race had survived the medieval period.

  “What about you?” he asked before he could stop himself. “What do ye think about me?”

  Lady Julianna paused and shifted her gaze to his face. She stared for a long moment as if trying to read his mind, then returned her attention to her healing work. “I know there is something very different about you.” She gently packed sphagnum moss along his wound, then wrapped another bandage around his arm.

  “You have a good touch.” He smiled.

  To his surprise, a blush crept up her cheeks. Good God, she liked him. He’d noticed the attraction earlier today, but had seen a twenty-first century woman who would face him on common ground. Now he knew her for what she was—or rather, when she was. If he said the wrong thing, she would call for a priest to cast out the demon that possessed him. Or burn him inside a spiked barrel as Lady Searforth did the Brahan Seer.

  Cailean bit back a curse. He was in medieval Scotland, with no knowledge of how he came here, or how he might return home. A chill snaked through him. What if Charles Dillon was here? What were the chances he’d survived? Disappointment swept over him. What were the chances the rabbit hole had dropped them in the same place?

  The door opened, and they both looked up as Lennox entered.

  A lancet of fear slid into Cailean’s belly. He recalled Lennox’s reaction to him calling Julianna by her given name instead of addressing her as Lady Julianna. If Lennox guessed her attraction to Cailean—or worse, his attraction to her—Christ, he didn’t want to think how bad that could go.

  Lennox closed the door, crossed to them, and said, “I want the truth.”

  Cailean grunted a laugh. “If the idea of me being gifted with second sight is hard to swallow, then you don’t want the truth.”

  Lennox’s stare bored into him. “Are you about to tell me that you are God himself, returned to the earth?”

  “That might be easier to believe. I am not the first seer to exist.” He winced inwardly at the word. He viewed psychics as charlatans. Who knew he’d be impersonating one in fourteenth century Scotland? “What can I tell you that you would believe?” he asked.

  “That you were in league with Murray, and regretted your part in abducting Julianna.”

  Cailean’s morbid humor evaporated. “Then there’s nothing I can tell you to alleviate your concerns. I am not in league with Hugh Murray or anyone else.”

  Lennox leaned toward him. “You are a Ross.”

  “I’m not going to argue that every Ross is not a kidnapper. It’s too ludicrous.”

  Julianna finished tying the bandage. “Mayhap he truly does have a gift of the second sight,” she said.

  Lennox studied him. “I have never met anyone gifted enough to know things as he does.”

  “It sounded as if you were defending me in the great hall,” Cailean said. “Why come with accusations now?”

  “Because I didnae want Sir Lawren involved.”

  Cailean would bet that he didn’t want his mother involved either. She would be angry to discover her son and daughter had a stranger living under their roof. He now understood why they didn’t want him meeting her before last night.

  He shrugged. “There’s nothing I can tell you. I’m not in league with Hugh. I’ve never met the man.” Cailean looked at Julianna. “I would never harm Lady Julianna.”

  “He saved me that first night, Lennox. He defended me on the road, and risked his life at Strone Hall. It doesnae make sense that he would have planned this with Hugh.”

  “What do we know about how a Ross thinks?” Lennox folded his arms across his chest.

  “Wait a minute,” Cailean said. “You distrust me because you believe the Ross clan attacked you twenty-four years ago.”

  “It isnae what we believe,” Lennox snapped. “ ‘Tis the truth.”

  Cailean shook his head impatiently. “Yes, I understand that. What I’m saying is that the history you have been taught is different from the history I was taught. There has to be a reason for that.”

  Lennox opened his mouth to reply, but his sister cut him off. “What were you taught?”

  “Our history says that Elizabeth Ross and her clan arrived in Heatheredge as the bride for Patrick Mackay. However, Patrick and his men slaughtered the wedding party. Elizabeth lived, but Patrick gave her to his men to be abused. You said that was true.”

  “Aye,” Lennox said.

  “She became pregnant,” Cailean went on. “Valdar searched and searched for her until he found her giving birth. She died in his arms.”

  “I never heard the story of her dying in Valdar’s arms,” Julianna said. “Did you, Lennox?”

  “Nae. And I am no’ sure it isnae the ravings of a madman.”

  “Och, Lennox, you are being silly,” she said.

  “Do you know this Valdar?” Cailean demanded.

  “We know of him,” she replied. “He was clan Ross’ seer and healer and rumored to be very powerful.”

  Cailean couldn’t deny a small measure of relief. At least not everything he believed was a lie.

  Julianna looked at her brother. “See, Valdar is another example of a great seer.”

  Lennox gave her a deprecating look. “We have no proof he was a seer.” Lennox’s gaze shifted to Cailean. “And we know nothing of these stories you tell of him loving Lady Elizabeth and finding her in childbirth.”

  “What did happen to her?” Cailean asked.

  Julianna shrugged. “We do no’ know.”

  “Did Valdar return to Heatheredge years later as a monk who helped the village redeem itself after the murder of Elizabeth and her clan?” he said.

  Lennox frowned. “It wasnae Valdar Ross who brought Heatheredge to forgiveness. It was Father Andrew.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Father Andrew?” Cailean blurted. It seemed impossible that the historians had gotten the history so wrong. “An alternate universe,” he murmured, then realized his mistake. Lennox and Julianna stared as if he’d sprouted horns.

  “Universe?” They exchanged glances.


  “It is almost as if we grew up in different places,” he said. “Perhaps even different worlds—another time.”

  Julianna gave a gentle smile. “It is sad your clan has lied to you, but is it that surprising? After all, it is difficult to admit to such a heinous crime.”

  He smiled. “You’re right, my lady.” But he didn’t believe anyone had lied. An alternate universe could account for the differing histories. That meant he hadn’t changed anything in his world. Maybe it also meant he was supposed to change the things he’d altered in this world. How did the theorists deal with all these possibilities? The possibilities and questions were driving him mad.

  “I have a question,” Lennox said.

  Cailean laughed mirthlessly. “Only one?”

  “Dinnae toy with me,” Lennox snapped. “Ye are one of the finest swordsmen I’ve ever seen. And that blade of yours, I have never seen better.”

  “Even by your Martin?” Cailean asked.

  Lennox’s gaze sharpened.

  Bloody hell, these medieval men didn’t know how to take a joke. Why should they? It seemed half the population wanted to kill them.

  “Why have I never heard of you?” Lennox demanded.

  “Do you know every good swordsman in Scotland?” Cailean asked.

  Lennox shook his head. “But I know every great swordsman. A man of your skill cannae remain unnoticed. Whether it be on the tourney circuit, or just the fact that other men will challenge you. Which brings me to my second question. You never killed before today. How is it possible that a man of your skill has never killed?”

  “I am a man of peace,” Cailean said.

  “Peace?” Lennox grunted. “A man of peace will no’ live long.”

  “As you saw today, I…changed.”

  “And we are eternally grateful,” Julianna said. “Lennox, what sin has Cailean committed? He saved me—three times.”