Heart Of A Highland Warrior

by Anita Clenney

  “The guard’s the one who did it,” Tavis said. “He’s probably dead. Tristol was angry with him. If he didn’t kill him, I’m sure Voltar did. I don’t think he intended to leave anyone in that fortress alive.” Was he after Anna now?

  “Is there something between you and Anna?” Faelan asked, as if he’d read Tavis’s thoughts.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s been over a century, but I know you, brother. You get a strange look on your face every time her name is mentioned.”

  “She’s a bonny woman.”

  “You don’t like bonny women.”

  “I’ve never met one as bonny as her.”

  “That doesn’t explain the guilt.”

  Tavis looked down at the bubbling water and hung his head. “I took her.”

  “Took her where?”

  “Took her. You know. Had my way with her?”

  Faelan’s jaw dropped. “You raped her?”

  Tavis cringed at the word. “The guard made us.”

  “He forced you to…”

  Tavis nodded and rubbed his hand over his battle marks, which were tingling. “He said he’d do it if I didn’t, and then he’d kill us both. I didn’t want to, but she told me to. I tried to pretend, but the guard caught on. I had to do it.” The shame burned his face.

  “Damnation. But it wasn’t rape if she told you to do it.”

  “But I didn’t have to enjoy it.” Tavis rubbed his face. “She was scared. Now I know why, after hearing Ronan’s story.”

  “Ah, brother.” Faelan put a hand on Tavis’s arm.

  “Now you know why I have to find her. I owe her a debt. I have to protect her.”

  “Anna might not want to be protected. She’s strong.”

  “Aye. I’ve never seen anything like her. She fought like a man.” But she wasn’t a man. She was a woman, and he owed her not just a debt, he owed her his life. “But I swore to myself that I would make this right.”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to be found?”

  “You think she’s staying away on purpose?”

  “She must hate me.”

  “She put you in the crypt so Voltar wouldn’t get you. That doesn’t sound like hate to me.” Faelan ruffled Tavis’s hair like he had when they were young. “I’ll do anything I can to help you. I’ve learned a bit about the women of this time. I don’t like it, but it does have some benefits. In the bedroom they’re…sorry.”

  “It’s good to see that you still put your foot in your mouth,” Tavis said, punching Faelan’s leg.

  “Don’t forget, you’re still my little brother.” Faelan lifted his hand to punch Tavis in return, but he looked at Tavis’s wounds and he stopped. “When you’re done, will you show me Da’s grave?”

  “Aye, I will.”

  “I want to know everything that happened. I’m going to check in with Lachlan and Marcas. Don’t fall asleep and drown. Bree will kill me if you do.”

  Tavis scrubbed himself, and then, wearing the robe Faelan had given him, he went back to the bedroom. He looked around for his kilt and shirt, but they were gone. There were some clothes lying on a chair near the bed. A tight, black thing that reached mid-thigh. It must have been an undergarment. Was this what men wore now? Underneath those, lying on the chair, he found breeches and a shirt without buttons, like the other men had worn.

  He put them on and left the room. He wanted a few moments alone before he took Faelan to the grave. He opened the door and slipped outside. After being locked in a dungeon for so many days, the daylight seemed unfamiliar. He stood for a moment trying to reacquaint himself with freedom. He was alive. Faelan was alive. He had to find Anna, and then he could grieve for what he’d lost. But as he stood there looking at the place, memories rushed at him as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. The horror of finding Faelan’s time vault. The heartbreaking task of burying him in the crypt. Finding their father and Quinn slaughtered. Another heartbreak on top of the first. Ian crying as he closed Tavis’s time vault. Now here he was, what felt like a moment later, reunited with his brother, who wasn’t injured but alive and well. Married to a bonny woman. His assigned demon dead.

  Hell, Faelan hadn’t needed him after all. Tavis had walked away from his assignment for nothing. Not for nothing. Michael might be upset with him, but Tavis had protected the Book of Battles as he’d sworn. The book. He couldn’t remember where he’d hidden it. Those first hours were only a blur.

  Perhaps he’d hidden it in the chapel. Leaves crunched under his feet as he walked. The air was cool. Not as cold as it was in Tristol’s fortress, but crisp. It must be November. It was shocking to see how the chapel had changed. The pews were crumbling. In fact, the whole place was. He hurried up front to the secret door. It was open now, with stones scattered on the floor. It appeared to have been sealed at some time. Tavis’s throat tightened as he walked down the rough steps into the darkness of the cellar. He remembered his own fear, and Ian’s, his brother pleading that there must be another way.

  The time vault was still there in the corner, where he’d summoned it over a century ago. He remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. If he could just remember where he’d hidden the Book of Battles. He put his hands on top of the time vault and closed his eyes. Slowly, he let the memories in.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TAVIS WOKE WITH a gasp. The time vault lid was open, and Ian stood there watching him. “Bloody hell, what are you doing?” He couldn’t change his mind now. They both knew there was no other way. He sat up and realized the man wasn’t Ian. He was a stranger.

  Tavis’s chest felt heavy. He pulled in a few more desperate breaths. It had worked. That meant his family was dead. Ian was dead. His chest ached. The man didn’t look dangerous, only shocked. Had the clan sent him? Where was Faelan? Tavis didn’t even know what year it was. It could be five hundred years later for all he knew.

  “Faelan Connor. My God. It’s true.”

  Tavis tensed. This man thought he was Faelan. He knew about Faelan. It could be a trap. The man could be a demon or a minion. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Angus—” His introduction was interrupted by a noise over their heads. The soft sound of footsteps. The man extinguished the light. “Quiet,” he whispered.

  Tavis took advantage of the darkness and climbed out of the time vault, holding the satchel and his dirk close. He didn’t even hear the man move, but the dark outline of his body appeared next to Tavis. He moved quietly. Like a warrior. Or like a demon pretending to be a warrior. If Angus were truly a warrior, he should have known this wasn’t Faelan’s time vault.

  “We have to leave,” Angus said, easing toward the hidden doorway. “I have get you to safety. Stay here until I make sure it’s clear.” He slipped up the steps and returned a moment later, motioning for Tavis to follow him. “There’s no time to hide the doorway.”

  Tavis stepped over a pile of scattered stones that had been part of the wall when he and Ian first entered the place. He could make out shapes in the chapel, pillars and pews, some broken. He stopped by the one he’d sat on just minutes ago with Ian. Ian. Oh God. What had they done? What they’d had to do. What about Faelan? Was he alive or dead? Tavis passed a window. It was still dark outside, with a lightening on the horizon that signaled the coming dawn. He glimpsed a figure near the graveyard.

  “Stop,” he whispered. “There’s someone outside.” Tavis signaled out the window, but the figure had vanished. “He’s gone.”

  “Come on,” Angus said. “We have to get out of here.”

  Tavis wanted to check on Faelan’s time vault, but this man thought he was Faelan. Tavis had to protect Faelan’s location until he knew if Angus was friend or foe. Tavis followed him across the yard behind Frederick and Isabel’s house. It looked different. Faded and in need of repair. The gra
vity of what he’d done hit him like an arrow in his heart. He felt weak with it.

  Angus put his arm around Tavis’s back and helped him through the woods. “You look like you’re going to pass out. God knows what you went through inside that time vault. Here.” Angus led Tavis to a…Tavis had no words for what it was. It was big and made of metal, with wheels, but not like a carriage or wagon. “Get in the car.” Angus opened a door and pushed Tavis inside.

  Tavis stared at the inside of the thing while Angus climbed in on the other side and turned a key. A rumbling noise sounded underneath them. Tavis gripped the seat. “What is this?”

  “It’s a vehicle. That’s the engine you hear. It runs on gasoline.”

  “What?”

  “Fuel. I’ll explain later. We’ve got to—dammit, there’s one now.”

  Tavis looked out the window and saw a man coming toward them. Two men. They wavered and became one again. Or were they men?

  Angus moved something, and the vehicle shot forward, throwing Tavis back in the seat. “Buckle up. There.” He pointed to a strap mounted on the side near the door.

  Tavis fiddled with it, finally hearing a click as he managed to get the metal pieces locked. He was alarmed, though. What would this vehicle do that would require a man to be confined like this? He soon found out. The vehicle moved faster than any racehorse, tossing them one way, then the next as Angus followed a narrow trail between the trees. They came out of the woods, and the vehicle bounced onto a road like nothing Tavis had ever seen—a dark ribbon stretching as far as the eye could see. The ride wasn’t bumpy now, but so smooth Tavis couldn’t tell they were moving except for the trees and signs coming at them in a blur. His head felt like it was in a barrel. Angus was saying something, but his words were jumbled together. Tavis looked at him and saw he had two heads, then one, then two, again. What the hell?

  Angus frowned and reached for Tavis.

  When Tavis opened his eyes, Angus was pulling him out of the vehicle. They were in front of a house, not Isabel’s. “Come on, we’ve got to get inside before Mrs. Edwards sees you. I don’t want to have to explain the kilt.”

  Tavis’s head and stomach swirled. He felt worse than he had when he and Faelan had drunk two bottles of the elderberry wine their mother had made. He let Angus drag him inside the house and up a set of stairs. The walls were fading, and he felt himself sinking to the ground.

  “Blimey, but you’re heavy. Hold on. Don’t pass out until we get to the bed.” Angus opened a door and helped Tavis across the floor. Tavis saw the bed and white quilt coming closer and closer to his face and realized he was falling.

  When he woke again, the room was dark. He heard noises outside the door. A woman’s voice, and a man’s. It sounded familiar. Was it Angus? He felt an odd pang, something compelling him, and Tavis started to rise, but his head spun and the darkness took over again. The next time he woke, he was alone, but at least the room wasn’t spinning. He eased out of bed slowly, and his feet seemed to be working. Someone, Angus he supposed, had undressed him. He stood and saw his clothes folded on a chair near the foot of the bed.

  His head was clearer now, and the grief he’d held off before hit him hard. His family was dead. All of them except Faelan. And he might be dead too. A thousand years could have passed for all he knew. Faelan could’ve been released, destroyed Druan, and died of old age.

  He could look inside the Book of Battles and see if Faelan’s name was there. Did the book give dates? It was forbidden for anyone but the Keeper to look inside the book. He’d only touched it because he’d sworn to Quinn that he’d keep it safe. Where was it? He needed to hide the book before Angus got back. He’d given Tavis no reason to believe he was evil, but until he was sure, he couldn’t risk the Book of Battles being discovered. Tavis flung clothes aside but couldn’t find the satchel. Had Angus taken it? Perhaps he was a demon and he only wanted the book.

  Tavis put on his kilt, intending to find the privy outside. Angus had told him not to leave this room, but Tavis needed to piss. Perhaps he’d left a chamber pot. Tavis looked under the bed. Nothing there. He checked the other room attached to his bedroom and found an astonishing sight. There was a small white bowl with a water tank on the back. Similar to a contraption he’d seen once in a duke’s house, but this was far fancier. He made use of the bowl, then tried to figure out how to get rid of the piss. There was no way to carry the thing and dump it outside.

  He lifted the cover on the lid of the tank and saw some sort of mechanism inside. Replacing it, he noticed a small, silver handle on the front of the tank. He tried to lift it, but it didn’t move. He pushed, and the water in the bowl swirled with a loud gush and disappeared. Well now. That was better than freezing your arse off in a cold privy in the middle of winter.

  He explored further and discovered remarkable things. There was a basin and a tub with heated water, and knobs that controlled the spray. What else had humans accomplished in this time? Sent a man to the moon? He gave a sarcastic chuckle which echoed off the walls, making him realize how alone he was. Ian had been right. Tavis had no idea what this place was like.

  He might have to ask directions to Frederick Belville’s place. It wouldn’t do to look as if he’d emerged from a grave. He turned all the knobs and got the water running in the fancy tub. The last knob had water shooting out of the wall. He whipped off the kilt and stepped under the spray. Two bottles stood on the side of the tub. Soap, he figured. He opened one, smelled it—pleasant—and then scrubbed his head and body.

  After he’d turned the water off, he found a thick cloth hanging beside the tub. This time had certainly made some improvements, but as nice as it was having warm water coming right inside the house, the world was at stake. If they wanted to continue to live and breathe and use their hot water and bottled soap, he’d better find Faelan fast. Someone had to destroy Druan. If Faelan hadn’t survived, then the task would belong to Tavis. If a warrior fell, usually his talisman went to his oldest brother. But there was no time to waste. Druan could have another virus ready by now. And God knew where Voltar was.

  His stomach rumbled. He needed food. All he had was a few coins in his sporran. If Angus wasn’t back by the time he was dressed, he’d leave without him. He found some odd containers next to the sink. They weren’t made of glass. “Antiperspirant,” he read, the words strange in his mouth. After reading the writing on the outside, he decided it was to keep a man’s oxters from sweating. Maybe it was a custom in this time. It took him a minute to figure how the stuff worked. He raised an arm and smeared the stuff underneath, then did the same for the other side. It felt a bit like grease, but it smelled nice. The other container said toothpaste. He found a wee brush and cleaned his teeth, pleasantly surprised at the taste.

  He heard a sound in the hall. Angus? Tavis dressed quickly and left the room. There were three other doors here, and he found himself drawn to one in particular. When he touched the door, the walls started to spin. He grabbed the door. He was still weak. Perhaps he should wait for Angus. A door opened across the landing. A man stood framed in the doorway. His hair was black as midnight, his face pale, beautiful. Before Tavis could even reach for his dirk, Tristol was next to him, and Tavis was swallowed by a black mist.

  Tavis straightened. He remembered most everything except what had happened to the Book of Battles and the satchel. Angus must have taken it. Tavis left the chapel and walked to the graveyard. He passed the crypt and counted off five paces from the corner, and then found the third grave. The gravestone was smooth with age. He dropped down in front of it and ran a trembling hand over the unmarked stone.

  “Da.” A lump formed in Tavis’s throat. It seemed just yesterday they’d dug up Faelan’s time vault. His father had pretended to be strong for Tavis’s and Ian’s sakes, but he’d aged overnight. Tavis leaned his head against the stone. “Faelan’s alive, Da. He’s here with me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in ti
me to stop Voltar.”

  But Voltar hadn’t been assigned to him yet. If he and Ian had been there, they could have both died along with Da and Quinn. The thought was Tavis’s, but he could almost hear his father speaking the words.

  Why was it he was never in time? Not with Liam or Faelan or his father. What bloody good was he if he couldn’t save those he loved? Anna. The name rushed through his head like a wind, and another memory returned. Michael standing before Tavis, telling him that he had to destroy Voltar and protect the woman. Michael had shown him Anna’s face. That was why he felt a connection to her. She was part of his assignment.

  He’d not only failed to protect, but he’d hurt her instead. Even knowing that they both would likely have died if he hadn’t, it was still a disgrace that his body had even functioned under the circumstances. What kind of a man did that? Not a protector. “What have I done, Da?”

  Faelan dropped down to his haunches next to Tavis. Tavis hadn’t heard him coming. But Faelan had always been the stealthiest of the brothers. Even when they were lads, he could always sneak up on them. He was bare-chested and wore the same strange trousers that the guards had worn.

  “This is Da’s grave?” Faelan touched the worn stone, his face somber.

  “Aye.”

  “He was here all the time. We thought he was buried in Scotland?”

  “That’s what we wanted everyone to believe.”

  “How did he die?” he asked quietly.

  “Ian and I found him in the woods.” Tavis nodded toward the path behind the chapel. “Da was already dead. Quinn didn’t last long. Long enough to tell me Voltar attacked them.”

  “Voltar? Druan told me he’d killed him.”

  “Probably just to torment you. Damned demons.”

  Faelan stared at the blank stone. “If I hadn’t got myself locked in the time vault, he wouldn’t have died.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. What we do is dangerous. Sometimes we suffer losses. We’ll mark his grave. Let the world know where he rests.”