Edge of Yesterday (Edge Series Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

Julianna froze. Her father sat at the place of honor in the middle of the high table that faced the great hall. Her mother sat beside him. What was he doing here? Why hadn’t her mother told her he was returning home? Lennox sat to his left. Shock reverberated through her. An empty seat separated her mother and Cailean. Her mother’s gaze locked onto her, and Lady Ravenstone nodded to the waiting chair beside her.

  Julianna’s heart sped up. Why had her mother seated her beside Cailean? Why was he even placed on the dais? Panic weakened her knees. God help her, she wasn’t certain she could walk, and concentrated on putting one foot before the other as she crossed the room. She neared the table and cast a look at her brother. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  What did that mean?

  Trying to keep her expression neutral, she glanced at Cailean. He listened quietly to something Lord Sinclair said, who sat to his right, but he too wore a mask that hid every emotion. Her father stood and opened his arms. Julianna hugged him, but couldn’t muster her usual enthusiasm.

  They drew apart and she lifted her eyes to his face. “I thought ye were no’ returning home for at least another week.”

  His brows rose. “I thought ye would be pleased to see me.”

  Guilt stabbed. “I am, of course. I am just surprised. Is all well at Reay?”

  He smiled gently. “Aye.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, lass, sit beside your mother.”

  Julianna gave him a weak smile and took her seat as he sat back down.

  “Cook tells me ye made the shortbread.” Her mother looked at her. “You could have overseen the task. It is not your place to stand before a bake oven.”

  Julianna face warmed. Then you should not have allowed me to spend so much time in the kitchens as a wee lass. Cook taught me to make shortbread to keep me from getting in everyone’s way—as you well know.

  She smoothed a wrinkle in the table linen. “Cook favors the shortbread—the way I make it.”

  “So does Lord Sutherland.”

  “Then I am glad I made it.” Julianna caught the nobleman’s eye at the nearest table and smiled at him.

  “You have made a good impression,” her mother spoke low so no one else heard.

  Julianna nodded, but said nothing.

  Her father stood and, after three beats, the room quieted. “Lady Ravenstone and I are pleased to welcome ye tonight.” His gaze shifted to Julianna and a gentle smile spread across his face. Her heart began to pound.

  “We are here to” –A tremor rocked her. Nae!– “celebrate our daughter’s marriage to Sir Cailean Ross.”

  Julianna snapped her gaze onto her mother. She stared at Julianna amidst the shouts of congratulations. Her head spun. They knew. How? Lennox. He had to have told their mother. What did Cailean think? She had assured him that her father would annul the marriage. Her head spun faster and she feared she would swoon. She groped for her wine. Strong fingers grasped her hand and she stilled as Cailean picked up her wine goblet and set it in front of her. Julianna lifted the goblet and gulped the wine. Their guests’ jubilation died down and Julianna caught the hard stare Lord Sinclair directed her way.

  The earl stood, his voice carrying in the great vaulted space. “Lord Ravenstone, ye know we are pleased for you and will welcome another member to your family. But we must ask why your daughter married a Ross.”

  “I would know, too.” Lord Sutherland stood, his good humor replaced with a downward turn of his mouth. “Rosses are no’ welcome in these parts.”

  “Sir Cailean’s mother is a Mackay.” Her father’s tone matched the challenge in their voices.

  The men exchanged looks. Throughout the hall, everyone sat frozen as if straining to catch every word, to see each expected glare. Julianna half expected one of the men to overturn his table. The stillness thickened until it became a living thing.

  Sinclair broke the silence. “Good sir, we havenae had a Ross in Heatheredge since James Ross attacked us.”

  Her father nodded. “Would ye no’ say it is time we put the past behind us? This Ross has pledged his sword to our house.”

  Juliana felt her jaw slip. Cailean had given his oath to House Ravenstone? Her father wouldn’t lie about such a serious matter. Anger began to bubble in her belly.

  She cast a covert glance at Cailean. His attention remained on Lord Sinclair.

  She leaned toward her mother and whispered. “It seems my family has everything planned.”

  Her mother tore a piece of bread, placed it in her mouth, and swallowed it down with wine. “We only do what any family would do by supporting your decision.”

  Julianna fought to control her fury. If any of the ladies realized her discomfiture, by tomorrow morning, gossip would pour from the mouths of every highborn lady within ten miles of Raghnall. “I meant to tell ye everything,” she replied, “but you were too busy.”

  Her mother smiled at a boy who stopped at their table with another pitcher of ale, then said, “Making preparations for your wedding feast.”

  The truth hit her. “Ye mean I spent the day baking shortbread for my own nuptial celebration?”

  “Strange, is it no’?”

  Julianna had always known her mother had a flair for the dramatic and would go to great lengths to make her point. Once, at age thirteen, Julianna informed her mother that she was capable of taking care of herself. Her mother put her in charge of running Raghnall for a week. A sennight—seven full days of misery—as she’d hastened about making certain that every imaginable task had been completed. She checked the stores constantly, ensuring the household had adequate supplies, and watched the ledgers to assure they had enough coin for the expensive wax, sugar, and imported spices. She’d been shocked to learn the sheer quantity of wax, tallow, and oil Raghnall consumed in a week. She hadn’t expected to need to know the myriad duties of every servant employed within Raghnall and without the castle’s walls, including those on her father’s lands.

  She’d thought her head would burst from having to organize the instruction of young girls in everything from how to dress, proper behavior, how to entertain through singing and dancing, and even table manners. Worse had been her embarrassment at not knowing the names of the garrison men’s knightly gear and yet having to inspect each piece to see whether it was properly maintained or in need of replacement. And so much more!

  She’d always thought her mother just ordered others about, or sat at her loom weaving tapestries. How wrong she’d been. And how quickly she’d learned respect—for her mother, and any woman acting as chatelaine of a stronghold, large or small.

  Still, that was then.

  Just now, she’d been thrust into a situation that went beyond embarrassment.

  Julianna held her mother’s gaze, keeping her own as steady. “Lennox should no’ have told you without me present.” Her heart thundered, but she held firm. “He doesnae know all that happened.”

  “It wasnae Lennox who told me.”

  The pain of betrayal slashed through her. She cast a covert glance at Cailean, but he conversed with Lord Sinclair and seemed not to notice her. “I will have to thank my husband later, when we are alone,” she muttered.

  “Cailean did no’ tell me.”

  Julianna looked at her. “Who, then?”

  “I understand there were many witnesses; priests and even some of your own guards.”

  “One of them told you?” Of course they had. “It is good to know that your servants remain as loyal as lap dogs.”

  “Dinnae blame them,” her mother’s tone cooled. “They are no’ the ones caught with a man between her legs, then lied and told everyone he was her husband.”

  That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but Julianna felt certain her mother knew. “Father could have had the marriage annulled.”

  “Why should he?”

  Julianna said, “Is this your way of punishing me?”

  Her mother looked sharply at her. “Are ye telling me you did no’ want to wed him? I have seen the wa
y ye look at him.”

  Julianna winced and hoped Cailean hadn’t overheard her mother. Once again, warmth spread through her cheeks.

  Her mother gave a slow nod. “So I thought.”

  The door opened and Julianna’s heart leapt into her throat. Crowe entered with Father Andrew. “Mother—”

  “Be still, Daughter, and we will see what kind of steel your new husband is made of.”

  *

  Cailean froze in reaching for his goblet and met Crowe’s eyes as he and Father Andrew emerged from the entry arch into the great hall. Red hot fury cascaded through him.

  “It seems ye have two more important guests,” Lord Sinclair said. “Lord Crowe willnae be pleased ye married Lady Julianna.” The old man leaned back in his chair. “This should be interesting.”

  A hand gripped Cailean’s shoulder before he could reply. Cailean swung his gaze onto Lennox.

  “I will see what he wants.” Lennox started forward.

  “I’m coming with ye.” Cailean rose.

  “We will all go.” Lord Ravenstone brushed past them and led the way.

  Cailean could feel the eyes on him, Lennox, and Ravenstone, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the wound that slashed Crowe’s left cheek in a near perfect half-moon. Cold terror twisted his belly in an eddy of confusion. Crowe and Val Ross were the same man. But how? Cailean had grappled with the question since realizing the truth yesterday and couldn’t escape the only answer that made any sense: Val Ross was over six hundred years old. A wave of nausea swept him.

  Get a grip, man, he told himself for the thousandth time. You are no’ in a horror film.

  Then where was he?

  His sense of the surreal heightened as they neared the two men and Cailean registered the large talon pendant Crowe wore. The very one he’d seen around Val’s neck the night of the Gathering feast—a smaller version he’d seen around Father Andrew’s neck last night. What was going on?

  A thought hit. Father Andrew was Lord Rathais. Fuck. His thoughts had been so focused on Crowe that he’d forgotten the priest. That night in Heatheredge Tower flooded back in memory. The joy woman had worn a much smaller version of the talon, but clutching a sprig of heather. He’d seen other guests wearing the talon, as well. The Reay Abbey sanctuary stone bore a carved likeness of the same talon. It had to be a symbol for a secret society, like the Freemasons—and it had started at Reay Abbey.

  They reached the men and Cailean noticed the dagger hilt protruding from the sheath attached to Crowe’s belt. The dagger didn’t just look like the dagger Val Ross had used to cut him at the blooding stone, it was the same dagger. Cailean recalled Father Phillips’ description of a huge dagger with a hilt made in the fashion of a claymore worn by Valdar Ross the day the wedding party arrived in Heatheredge.

  Cailean’s heart began a faster beat. Sorcerer. History called Valdar Ross a sorcerer. But no one took such things seriously. Maybe Valdar had mixed a few potions, had some sort of intuitive abilities, but sorcerers and magic didn’t exist. Just as men didn’t live to be six hundred years old. It simply—wasn’t possible. His mind echoed the last words, then a clear concise thought formed: But it was possible, for Valdar Ross, Crowe, and Val Ross were the same man.

  Red coals of fury burned the insides of Cailean’s stomach, then a strange, icy calm settled over him. He saw himself lunging toward Crowe, seizing the dagger and plunging it into the bastard’s heart. Crowe wore no mail, so the sharp blade would puncture his breastbone with ease. Or was it that, in Cailean’s fantasy, he’d rammed the blade into him so hard that it only seemed to penetrate his body like butter? Cailean gave himself a shake and blinked away the image. He might have considered holding the blade to Crowe’s neck and threatening to kill him if he didn’t answer his questions. But he knew nothing would induce Crowe to answer. A man who had figured out how to live for over six hundred years would be made of impenetrable steel. A man who could send people bouncing around in time was more than clever. He was a mastermind.

  In this case, a fiend.

  He was also more dangerous than anyone or anything Cailean could imagine.

  What had Julianna seen that night she rammed into Cailean? Crowe naked in the woods with other bare-arsed men and women—his coven—looking on as he performed a human sacrifice. Cailean had thought she was overexaggerating. Crowe was an asshole, but he was simply enjoying a good orgy. Now, however, Cailean knew better. The man was a fucking psychopath and the equivalent of a serial killer. He may not have killed the people he sent through time, but he might as well have. It was the perfect crime. The papers had pointed out how not a single body had ever been produced to link Val Ross to any murders.

  Of course not.

  The bodies were buried—long ago turned to dirt—in another time.

  So Cailean wouldn’t hold a blade to Crowe’s neck to get his answers. But once he discovered Crowe’s secret to longevity and why he was sending people back in time, he would slip a blade into the bastard’s heart as easily as cutting butter.

  And that murder would be real—not a fantasy.

  “Laird…” Father Andrew smiled at Ravenstone. “We have come to offer our congratulations.”

  The baron didn’t return his smile. “Crowe tried to kill my son-in-law when last they met.”

  Raucous laughter erupted at a nearby table behind them.

  The big warrior monk looked at Crowe and nodded. “Much has changed since Crowe fought with Cailean.”

  “Indeed.” Crowe looked between them. “As ye know, Ravenstone, I had hoped to marry Lady Julianna. I care a great deal for her, and when I saw them together, my instinct was to protect her. I had no idea they had married.” He looked at Cailean. “I ask your forgiveness.”

  Cailean stared. “Why did ye burst into Julianna’s room at Reay Abbey?”

  “I was there to seek Father Andrew’s counsel about Lady Julianna. I thought it a fortunate happenstance that she was there. I had no idea ye were with her.” He made it sound so simple, so logical. “I asked him to accompany me to her room so that I might speak with her. I would ne’er have sought her audience alone.” He glanced at his friend, who nodded. “She is a lady. I respect her honor and privacy.”

  “We knocked twice with no answer.” Father Andrew stepped forward. The swish of his monk’s cloak revealed the long sword strapped at his hip and the two guards standing at the entrance came to attention. “I grew concerned when she didnae answer, lad.” The priest gave Cailean a comradely smile. The guards didn’t advance, but Cailean noted that their gazes remained fixed on Father Andrew. “I entered her room,” the priest went on. “Crowe only followed my lead.”

  Cailean didn’t believe for an instant that Crowe just happened to visit Reay Abbey while they were there. Lennox and his father clearly weren’t buying the story either. When they’d spoken earlier, they all agreed someone had told him, and that someone could be a member of the baron’s household.

  Crowe shook his head. “I had no idea she had married.”

  “Now ye know,” Cailean said.

  Crowe canted his head in elegant acknowledgement. The man was fucking good. “I understand Lady Julianna made her choice,” he said.

  “Then join us.” Lord Ravenstone swept his arm out, indicating the crowded hall behind him.

  Father Andrew grinned. “I told Crowe he could count on your generous nature, laird.”

  The baron stood aside and the two men strode toward the tables. Lord Ravenstone pinned Cailean with a hard look and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Cailean acknowledged with a slight nod and the baron turned to follow Crowe and Rathais.

  Lennox fell in alongside Cailean. “Ye are doing well,” he whispered.

  “I will kill him.”

  Lennox slid him a look. “Strange.” His lips quirked. “Only days ago ye nearly swooned because you killed for the first time.”

  “I’m a quick study,” Cailean said. “And I didnae almost faint.”

  Ch
apter Nineteen

  Cailean kept walking when Lord Ravenstone stopped at a table to seat Crowe and Father Andrew, and returned to his place beside Julianna. He scanned the platters of roasted venison, wild boar, cold sliced capon breast, beef ribs, and an array of bowls offering everything from pickled onions to beans and a variety of sauces. Bread, bannocks, oatcakes, and cheese were also plentiful, as were small dishes of spiced almonds. Instead of food, he reached for the closest ale jug, which is what, it seemed, most of the guests had done. Julianna’s attention didn’t shift from her food, a simple chicken drumstick and a small serving of beans, as he lowered himself into his chair. He wasn’t fooled. He’d glimpsed anxiety on her face when they’d walked Crowe and Father Andrew toward the dais.

  He leaned close and whispered, “Ye have nothing to fear from him as long as I’m here.”

  Her head came up and he read surprise an instant before her eyes narrowed. “I am no’ afraid.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “That means ye finally understand that I’m a better swordsman.”

  “It means nothing of the kind,” she muttered.

  Cailean was sure he glimpsed a twitch at the corner of Lady Ravenstone’s mouth before she turned away and said something to the guest sitting beside her husband’s empty seat. Cailean concluded that Lady Ravenstone had a seriously twisted sense of humor. He also deduced that, while Julianna had inherited her mother’s determination and wit, Lennox shared the baroness’ love of perverse amusement.

  Julianna’s gaze shifted to Crowe and her brow furrowed. Anger swept through Cailean anew. She was trying to save face, but she was afraid, or, at the very least, fearful for him.

  “It takes bollocks for him to wear that bloody blade here,” she whispered.

  “What?” Cailean said, before realizing what she’d said.

  Christ, he’d connected the dagger with Val Ross and had forgotten that she’d seen Crowe use that blade to perform human sacrifice. The same fucking dagger Val used to bleed Cailean’s arm over the Blooding Stone. A hellish compulsion to leap from his chair and pummel Crowe surged upward. Cailean seized his mug of ale and drained the contents.