Join A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-A Highlander Across Time Book 4

by Preston, Rebecca

  Kieran's sword fell, too – and though Mulvaney hastened toward it, the big man was quicker. He scooped it up and lifted it in both hands, spinning to face his closest attacker – Brandon, his sword still dripping with DeBeers' blood.

  "Now, be sensible, here," Kieran said quickly, raising one hand to try to quell the rising panic in the group. "There's no need for any more bloodshed –"

  "Mulvaney, let me kill this oaf," Brendan snarled, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. "The ransom's not worth the peace of mind his death will bring us, surely."

  "Be smart, Mulvaney –"

  But Brendon, it seemed, had decided against waiting for his leader's permission to attack. With a bloodcurdling scream, he bolted toward Kieran, terrifyingly fast, and Sarah screamed, her hands flying to her mouth as she saw the blade whirling toward her lover – but Kieran was a lot faster than she'd given him credit for. With a grunt, he spun, his blade knocking the short sword aside – and without ceremony, he continued the momentum of the swing to bring the sword crashing back down onto Brandon's unprotected shoulder. With a gurgling cry, Brendan went down, his blood spilling out onto the forest floor.

  Kieran turned, his bloodstained sword raised, to stare down the rest of the bandits. Mulvaney started forward, his own sword raised, roaring for his men to follow him… but the majority of them had already disappeared, turning and tearing into the forest. Of those that remained, a handful were bickering over whether to kill Kieran outright or keep him as a hostage. Sarah moved quietly away from Kieran, not wanting to get in his way, trusting absolutely that he had the situation under control. And she had something in mind, something she needed to do… before it was too late.

  She knelt beside DeBeers, wary to keep clear of the spreading puddle of blood beneath him. He looked up at her, panting, his eyes clouded by pain – but he wasn't too far gone to narrow his eyes at her, utter scorn dripping from his voice as he spat a breathless curse at her.

  "Stupid bitch," he hissed, half breathless. "Never could leave well enough alone, could you?"

  "Do you remember your first big heist?" she asked, keeping her voice low and pleasant as she watched the life ebb from his face. "Do you remember the woman who found you escaping the premises? Do you remember what you did?"

  He looked blank for a moment… then his eyes slid shut in recognition, a scowl twisting his lips. "Knifed her in the gut."

  "Left her for dead, didn't you?" she whispered, ignoring the sounds of the bandits behind them getting their asses handed to them by Kieran's whirling sword. She'd seen him fight more men than that at once and win handily – and she knew from scrutinizing the bandits that none of them would be any match for Kieran. He didn't need her help right now. But DeBeers needed a proper send-off before death came to claim him. "Left her on the floor, bleeding and scared and alone."

  "She was just a maid," he spat, his face twisting.

  "And you're just a pathetic, lonely man who's going to die out here. Unmourned. Unmarked. And unremembered. Even I'm going to forget your face in a few days," she said. He turned away from her, his face twisted with rage – she saw him reaching stealthily toward his belt, and she lashed out with her foot, kicking away the knife that had fallen into the dirt beside him. "Nope. You lie here and you think about the women you murdered in cold blood as you die."

  And without looking back, she rose to her feet and turned back to Kieran. He was almost alone in the clearing – a couple of bleeding bandits lay at his feet, groaning and clutching at their wounds, and Mulvaney stood before him, his posture dejected, his sword in the dirt in front of him. Disarmed, but not fatally wounded – interesting. Sarah hesitated, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on, but Kieran looked up at her, his blue eyes thoughtful.

  "Sarah, what do you think we should do here?" he asked, gesturing for her to join him. She headed over to stand at his side, ignoring the dirty look that Mulvaney shot her. "I'm struggling to think of any reason to let this man live."

  Sarah sighed, looking at the hapless bandit leader. "There's been plenty of bloodshed," she said simply, gesturing around the clearing. "And somebody's got to bury the dead."

  He looked down at her for a long moment, a surprised look in his eyes… and then he nodded, sheathing his sword briskly. "You're the luckiest man alive, Mulvaney," he said, giving the man a warning look. "I know better than to ask you to mend your ways… but consider it, at least. For Sarah's sake, and not mine."

  His expression torn between relief and confusion, Mulvaney stared at the two of them as Kieran took Sarah's hand in his and led her through the trees to where the bandits had tethered their horse, seemingly in too much of a rush to stop to collect it. He climbed aboard the gray gelding, who flicked his eyes curiously at his new passengers, sniffing at the air. Sarah climbed aboard after him, pausing to adjust her satchel, and he urged the horse forward, leaving the bloody scene behind them.

  When a few minutes had passed, she took a deep breath. "Did I dream all that?"

  He rumbled laughter. "I hope not. I'd rather not have risked both of our lives for a dream." He hesitated, and she could tell he was reluctant to ask the next question. "DeBeers. Did you –"

  "He got what was coming to him," she said softly.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Less satisfied than I thought I would," she admitted, sighing at the empty, hollow feeling in the center of her chest. "I've been wanting him to face justice for so long, and now that he's dead… even though he got what he deserved, I don't feel good."

  "You're a good person, Sarah," Kieran said simply, sending a warm glow through her chest. "Good people don't feel good about death. Even the deaths of the deserving."

  "Well, that's a raw deal," she grumbled, drawing a laugh from him. "Thank you," she added, her eyes on the treeline, enjoying the warmth of his body behind her. "For – for everything. For coming to find me. For helping me bring DeBeers to justice."

  "Happy to do it." He sighed. "Honestly, if I'd been less of a stubborn fool and not released him, or helped you find him back when you'd asked, maybe we could have avoided some of this trouble."

  She bit back on her urge to agree. This apology was a big move from him – that kind of behavior shouldn't be discouraged with gloating. "Thank you," she said again, softly. "For saying that. For believing in me."

  "Just promise me you'll never run away again."

  "I promise," she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand where it gripped the rein. "Never again."

  The two of them rode on in comfortable silence… and Sarah began to feel the beginning of something like peace in her heart.

  Chapter 25

  Sarah felt dizzy, but she still couldn't stop smiling. They said your wedding day always flew by faster than you could keep track of it – that it would be over before you knew it – but to her, the day seemed to have stretched out forever. From the morning, getting ready with her maid of honor Maria and her giggling and very pregnant bridesmaid Carissa and new mother Edith, to the afternoon, the beautiful ceremony conducted out in the courtyard where they'd first gotten to know each other… and now, the reception that was rapidly turning into an incredibly rowdy party… she'd loved every minute of it. Even if her feet were sore from dancing, she just couldn't resist when the band struck up another jig – and Kieran pulled her into his arms on the dance floor, smiling more broadly than anyone had ever seen him smile.

  It was three months to the day since the confrontation with Mulvaney and his men – since she'd finally put aside her grievance with DeBeers, once and for all. The two of them had ridden straight back to the castle to report on the news. As expected, Maria had been furious with her – she'd endured a solid week of the silent treatment before the woman came to her to formally announce that she'd forgiven her. Since then, their friendship had been stronger than ever… though that had been an awful week.

  Things with Kieran, on the other hand, had flourished. Something seemed to have changed in him since what they'd been thro
ugh in the forest. The very next day, he invited her formally to the guardhouse, offering her a desk in his office and promising to consult her on every decision henceforth… especially when it came to tracking wanted criminals. Whether it was a response to her skill at tracking DeBeers – or just a pre-emptive measure to stop her from wandering off by herself again – she didn't mind. It felt incredibly good to have a desk, to have a job again, to have her work and her expertise respected by a man she, too, had nothing but admiration for.

  And with her help, they were able to set about routing the bandits once and for all. Though she didn't do any field work – Kieran refused to let her even entertain the notion of leaving the castle walls until the bandit menace was dealt with – she was instrumental in laying plans to rout the bandits. To their surprise, a disheveled Mulvaney turned up at the castle gates a few days after their triumphant return. It seemed that what was left of his crew had turned against him – with no men to command, he had come to throw himself on the mercy of the Laird. In exchange, he offered them as much information as he had about the other bandit groups in the area.

  That intelligence was enough to help put a considerable dent in the bandit forces around the castle. Kieran led a group of guards into the forest and successfully destroyed the camp there. News quickly spread, and crime rates dropped almost overnight… and as the summer came to an end and cold weather began to close in, what was left of the bandits headed south.

  "They'll be England's problem soon enough." Kieran chuckled when they heard that news – then picked her up and swung her around, surprising her into laughter before claiming her lips in a passionate kiss that quickly led them back to his chambers for some celebratory lovemaking.

  That had been the night that he'd proposed. Typical Kieran – simple, direct, and unbelievably charming, he told her how much she meant to him, how much he admired and adored her… and how much he'd like to make her his wife, if she'd have him. She'd accepted with tears of joy running down her face – and the two of them had spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, celebrating their union.

  And here they were, dancing together on the eve of their wedding. She spotted glimpses of her friends in the whirling crowd of dancers as the band carried on the merry jig they were playing – Maria and the Laird, locked in each other's arms, Carissa and Hugh giggling as they stumbled over each other's feet, and even Edith and her Bran carefully dancing over on the far side of the dance floor, mindful of the wee babe in her arms.

  She and Kieran had discussed that particular possibility, too – they'd had to, once he'd asked a few curious questions about the tea he saw her drinking every morning. To her relief, he wasn't in any rush to start a family… though like her, he wasn't entirely against the idea of a child. And the more she thought about it, the more she liked the thought of a baby with Kieran's blue-gray eyes. There was certainly room in their chambers.

  She'd moved in not long after they'd ridden home from the forest. It just didn't make any sense for her to be occupying a whole room in the castle – not when she was spending just about every night wrapped in Kieran's arms in his much bigger and vastly more comfortable bed in his chambers. And as the bandit menace receded, he had more and more time to spend with her – without the need for such constant patrols, he'd even taken the week of the wedding off his duties completely. And as much as she was enjoying celebrating with their friends, she was looking forward to getting back to his chambers later that night and consummating the marriage officially – for the first time as husband and wife.

  The band finished their song, and she and Kieran applauded, both breathing hard. When he looked down at her with one eyebrow raised, she knew exactly what he was asking without having to speak – and when the band struck up another song, he led her through the crowd toward the doors. Nobody seemed to notice them – and if they did, they knew better than to draw any attention to a happy couple slipping away together.

  The great doors in the entrance hall were standing open, and they lingered for a moment, enjoying the cool of the night air rushing through and playing across their sweaty skin. Kieran smiled down at her, reaching down to push a lock of hair from her face, and she smiled back, reaching up to take his hand in hers.

  "I don't think I've had a chance to tell you how beautiful you look," he said softly, gazing down at her, his blue eyes taking her in.

  She smiled. "All thanks to Maria," she said softly.

  The white gown she was wearing was absolutely exquisite – and seemed almost perfectly tailored to her shape, too. It seemed a small army of women had been working on it ever since she and Kieran had announced their engagement.

  She felt as beautiful as she ever had… and Kieran's appreciative gaze only made her feel more giddy. "And you're rather gorgeous yourself."

  Kieran had surprised her with his formal attire that morning – he was wearing MacLeod clan tartan, a formal kilt that only served to accentuate his enormous frame. The ceremony had been simple, but gorgeous – and every MacLeod man in the audience was wearing the same pattern, making her smile. There was something powerful about that… about belonging to a family that had such pride, such close bonds between its members.

  Kieran slipped his hand into hers, and the two of them stole away up the stairs, giggling a little in the surprising quiet of the castle. It seemed just about everyone was celebrating in the dining hall, and would be for quite some time, so they were undisturbed as they crept down the hallway toward Kieran's chambers – and hers, too, she thought with a smile. Strange to think that only a few months ago, this place had been utterly foreign to her. Now, she knew the pathways and passages like the back of her hand. She'd bounced between apartments for years back in Boston… but none of them had ever felt like home the way this place did.

  Finally, she was alone with her husband, the door clicking shut behind them. All day, she'd been dreaming of simply tearing his clothes off him and falling into bed… but now that they found themselves alone, she felt perfectly content to just be in his presence. The bed waited for them, soft and inviting… but there was a bottle of wine on the table and a fresh fire laid in the grate, too, and the two of them sat down together, enjoying the warmth of the crackling fire on the chilly fall evening.

  "Our anniversary's going to be this chilly every year," she said softly, snuggling into his side as he poured each of them a generous glass of wine.

  "We'll have to cuddle in tight," he said, grinning at her as he handed her glass to her. They toasted each other in the firelight and drank deeply, basking in the comfortable silence that fell between two people who understood each other.

  "Are you happy?" he asked softly, glancing at her sideways.

  She nodded sleepily, then blinked a little at the seriousness of the question. "Happier than I've ever been. Why do you ask?"

  "You don't miss home?" he said, tilting his head. "Your family and friends from back in the future, your life back there…"

  She smiled, not surprised that that had occurred to him. She'd given it a fair bit of thought over the last few weeks, especially as wedding preparations had ramped up – and the truth was that she had been missing her family something fierce. She'd always thought her brothers would be there when she got married, that her father would walk her down the aisle, that her mother would cry right through the ceremony and insist on organizing absolutely every detail of the event.

  "I do miss them," she said softly. "But Kieran… that doesn't mean I'm not deliriously happy. This place… this place is home more than any other place I've ever been. And that includes the future. I belong here," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "My old life… I was missing out on so many things that I didn't even know I was missing."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Kieran MacLeod," she said firmly, looking him intently in the eye. "If that doorway in the basement opened up tomorrow and invited me back to the future, do you know what I'd do?"

  "What?"

  "Shut the door and lo
ck it. This is where I live now. This is my home – here, with you. My husband."

  He looked at her for a long moment, clearly gauging her sincerity. She looked back, not afraid of his scrutiny. Then a smile broke out across his face, and he pulled her close to kiss her until she was short of breath, her head spinning with more than just the wine.

  "Good," he said softly. "Because I love you more than life itself, Sarah MacLeod. And I intend to spend the next few hours – and the rest of my life – proving that."

  They fell into bed together, laughing and breathless, their bodies entwined beneath the sheets as they consummated their marriage. Somewhere in the wilds, Damon DeBeers lay in an unmarked grave, forgotten… and the furthest thing from Sarah's mind as she celebrated her marriage, her husband, and her wonderful new life.

  * * *

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  Chapter 1

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  At midnight, Audrina James finally laid her head down, gratefully onto her pillow. It had been another grueling day in Trauma One, it was always the worst when the nursing staff and doctors of the trauma ward lost a child. Audrina looked at the ceiling where she had taped pictures of stars, lush green fields, exotic ancient castles and the forests of her ancestral homeland, vowing to herself that she would visit Claran Castle in Scotland someday. Audrina had put the pictures up so that she could clear her mind of the gruesome scenes that she faced in the E.R. day after day, night after night. They’d worked hard to save the boy from the ravages of a car crash, but Donald Nightingale, of sunny northern California, flatlined at eleven-thirty, after half a day’s worth of surgeries, blood transfusions and plasma bags. Audrina didn’t cry much anymore after working in the trauma center. But there were a few patients who tugged at her heartstrings. Donald would be one of them.