A Time & Place for Every Laird

by Angeline Fortin

  All that remained was behind that door. Two agents, one presumably the tenacious Special Agent Jameson, and Sorcha, his bold, defiant lass who would be in need of a sound scolding when he got her out of there.

  The door opened like magic beneath his hand and Sorcha was there, haggard, surprised, and utterly bonny as she stared at him. Flames of joy licked at Hugh’s but burned to a cinder when he noticed one of the agents had a tight grip on her arm. His eyes shot up hotly to meet the astonished gaze of her assailant.

  “Who the hell are …”

  The low, protective growl came from deep within Hugh and served as the man’s only warning before Hugh’s rock hard fist lashed out and took him down with a single blow.

  Sorcha sagged with relief almost indiscernibly before she straightened once more. “What is this? What are you doing here?”

  “It is my turn to remind you that much can be excused if it’s done for the right reasons,” Hugh said softly. “I am here tae save ye.”

  “From what?”

  A grin jerked at the corner of his mouth. “From yerself.” Hugh caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers before he opened his hand and dangled the little Tokidoki Thor USB from one finger. “Ye forgot this.”

  Chapter 41

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Hugh lifted his head to study the other agent standing behind the small desk that was the only furniture in the room besides a small chair in the cramped space. “Are ye Jameson?”

  “Agent Nichols,” the man corrected with some justifiable wariness. “INSCOM. And who the hell are you?”

  With a nod, Hugh stepped forward, taking the agent’s measure. There was none of the fanaticism in his eyes that had been so readily apparent in the other agent, even at a glance. Hopefully here was a man who could be reasoned with. “My name is Hugh Urquhart. I am a friend of Claire and her brother. I’ve come to ask ye tae leave them alone in this matter.”

  “And how are you aware of the matter?” Nichols asked, clearly trying to visibly dissect Hugh, to determine exactly who he really was. Undoubtedly he was suspicious but Hugh bore almost no resemblance to the savage who had once been housed in a cell at the lab.

  “I’ve done some light reading on yer project wi’ Mark-Davis Laboratories,” Hugh said.

  Sorcha tensed by his side, no doubt wondering at his words, but Hugh had been well drilled by Danny in the past hour. He knew what he was about. “I’ve managed to unearth every last detail of Dr. Fielding’s project and the entirely unethical uses INCSOM has planned for his discovery. Sneaking up on the enemy? Planting evidence where none existed? Espionage here? A bomb dropped there? The ability to assassinate anyone in their own bed and behind locked doors?” Hugh tsked with a shake of his head. “I doubt even your allies or my government and those of all the other UN nations would like that, considering that there was no intention of sharing with your friends. That’s one way to rule the world, is it not?”

  “I doubt the media would be able to keep quiet about it,” Sorcha chimed in. “I doubt the president and the FBI would be too happy, either. A little interdepartmental tantrum over who has the best toys. Boy, that could get ugly for you.”

  Nichols stiffened but his tone remained as pleasant as ever. “Are you threatening the federal government, Mrs. Manning?”

  “No, Agent Nichols, just you and Jameson. Because I bet it would look really bad on your record to have something of this magnitude leak.”

  “I could just take you out … both of you. That would solve the problem.”

  There was no doubt in Claire’s mind that the implied threat of death wasn’t an idle one. The tenacious Special Agent Jameson was clearly capable of doing anything to protect his interests, and she was beginning to think that Nichols was no different, though his methods were certainly gentler. “There are other people who know.”

  Nichols waved an unconcerned hand. “A common threat.”

  Hugh held up the keychain USB. “Given the reputation of certain people in Mrs. Manning’s family, I’m sure ye know it’s not an unfounded fail-safe.”

  Claire could tell by the look on his face that Nichols was taking his words seriously, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief. Why hadn’t she thought to begin with the threat rather than trying to find humanity and reason in people where there was none?

  “There is a keystroke between ye and disaster, Agent Nichols,” Hugh continued. “Astonishing really, tae hae such an… outbreak at a facility – that despite the nature of its top-secret projects – had never experienced a threat greater than an occasional chemical leak. So many negative… side effects. It would be a shame if it all got out.”

  Eyes narrowed, Nichols refused comment, but Claire wasn’t discouraged by his silence. She could see his mind spinning, calculating just how bad it would be for him. “If ye’ll take a moment tae look at a website called whistleblower.com?” Hugh suggested, nodding to the desktop monitor.

  Nichols lifted a wary brow but moved to an open laptop and depressed a few keys. His eyes widened only slightly but it was enough for Claire to know that whatever Hugh and her brother had planned, it was proving affective.

  “That is just a teaser,” Hugh’s brogue wrapped awkwardly around the new word. “A taste of what is tae come if ye continue tae pursue this path. I’m nae asking for the whole thing tae be shut down—though God knows it should be. I’m nae even asking for ye tae consider the morality of what ye hae done.”

  “What do you want, then?”

  “I want ye tae gi’ up this madness and leave Mrs. Manning alone. She hae done nothing tae threaten yer project or its future.”

  “And what about you?”

  “What aboot me?”

  “Don’t you want to go home?” Nichols said silkily. “I can send you there.”

  Hugh froze but only for a moment, saying decisively, “I can buy my own plane ticket.”

  “No, to your real home,” the INSCOM agent baited the hook further. “I was just explaining to Mrs. Manning that the problem has been fixed. All negative side effects of the project can be remedied. You can go back where you belong.”

  Hugh did not even twitch at the offer. Home. Was it surprising that he did not miss it? Or was it simply knowing that the Scotland he would reach was not truly his own?

  “I am where I belong. There is no place I would rather be,” he said firmly. “If we were to come across any of your negative side effects, however, we will be sure to let them know about your generous offer. Now is that all?”

  A reluctant smile curved the corner of Nichols’ lips. “I had to try, you know? I was never worried about this, not like Jameson was. I figured that the escapees would simply walk in front of a car or something and the problem would solve itself.”

  “It was probably a freight train,” Hugh said, since he had felt rather decimated on occasion since his arrival. “Either way, I would wager that yer problem is completely taken care of … except for the matter of the project information leaking tae the public. Nasty business that.”

  “Yes,” Nichols nodded thoughtfully. “I would hate to see that happen.”

  “Sir!” Jackson appeared at the door, panting for breath, as he looked frantically between Hugh and Nichols and down to Jameson, still unconscious on the floor.

  “No need to worry, Jackson,” Nichols held up a hand. “These two were just leaving.”

  “But sir!”

  “Let them pass, Jackson.”

  “Do we hae an accord then, Agent Nichols?” Hugh asked, taking Sorcha by the hand.

  “I would say we do,” the agent nodded. “I am retiring soon, but I will see that the case is closed and all other … impediments”—he glanced down at Jameson with a grin—“to your continued freedom are taken care of before I go.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  “And I would appreciate retiring without a flaw on my record.”

  “What were you thinking?” Claire asked as soon as they were clear of the
van and the rousing agents. “You were supposed to be going to Canada this morning.”

  “And ye were supposed tae be going wi’ me,” Hugh answered sternly as he towed her away.

  “I was trying to save you.”

  “And I had tae save ye as well.”

  Hugh tugged her around the corner and behind a tree. “Ye foolish, foolish thing. I’ve ne’er been so angry as I was when I woke and found you gone. Promise me ye’ll never do anything so imprudent again.”

  “But Hugh …”

  Raking his fingers through her hair, he tilted her head back until Claire was able to look into his bright blue eyes fully and read the warmth and caring there. “I could nae lose ye when I hae lost all else,” he whispered in his husky brogue, stroking his calloused thumb against her cheek.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you.”

  “I dinnae mean tae pressure ye,” Hugh told her. “I only wanted tae share my new life wi’ ye.”

  “Oh, Hugh … but what if Nichols’s offer was genuine?” she asked, her heart racing. “What if he could have sent you home?”

  “Did ye believe him?” Hugh wondered. “I dinnae.”

  “So you would go home, if you could?”

  “Nay, Sorcha lass, my place is wi’ ye now,” he whispered earnestly. “If ye’ll have me.”

  “But I want you to have what you really want,” Claire protested. “I want you to be happy.”

  “Remain by my side, my love, and I will be.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “Lass, look at me,” Hugh commanded. Claire met his eyes and read the sincerity there. It echoed everything that burned in her heart, everything she had refused to voice. Everything she had feared feeling once more. “Ye are what I want, my love. Wi’ ye I hae found everything I need.”

  “Mé gráigh tú?” she asked, stumbling over the foreign words that had lingered in her thoughts.

  “I adore ye,” he translated softly.

  Claire’s heart skipped a beat. “Mé adhradh tú?”

  Hugh lifted her hands, pressing a tender kiss against her knuckles. “I worship ye.”

  “Mé gr-gray…” She started with a mispronunciation.

  “Mé grá tú, mo Sorcha. I gcónaí,” he corrected and finish for her. “Can ye nae guess?”

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, Hugh,” she whispered, her throat tight with tears. “Anywhere you go, anything you need, I will be there for you. I love you. So much.”

  “And I love ye, my Sorcha,” he whispered, bending his head to hers. “Always.”

  Darth Vader’s Imperial March blasted from Danny’s phone, and he looked down in surprise at the image of the iconic Rolling Stones emblem of a red tongue sticking out at him that served as his avatar for Claire’s incoming calls. What the hell?

  “What are you doing?” he asked by way of answer. “Calling me from your own GD phone?”

  “Where are you?” she asked by way of an answer.

  Danny growled with some frustration and hung up the phone. There couldn’t be two people in the world that could be so freaking foolish as first Hugh and now Claire were being! God help him if he ever became such a fool for some …

  Darth Vader began marching again and Danny bit back a primal scream and snarled into the phone as he pressed it to his ear, “You know if they can track you on that damned thing, they can track whom you’re talking to, too.”

  “Would you just come and pick us up?” was all she said.

  Danny blinked at that, any thoughts of the NSA tracking her signal having fled his mind. “You mean it worked?”

  “Of course it worked. Did you think it wouldn’t?”

  “Of course not,” Danny lied blithely. “I was so sure it would that I figured you could just take your own car.”

  Claire laughed, and he heard her repeat the words to Hugh before his laughter joined hers. “Sorry, I forgot it was here. Thanks, Danny. For everything.”

  “Anything for you, Sis.”

  “Really? In that case, can you book me two tickets to Edinburgh?” she asked merrily.

  “Sure,” he said, just as flippantly. “Window or aisle?”

  “Oh, aisle, I guess,” she said. “I doubt Hugh will be too anxious to see what’s coming. And make sure you get us in first class. I would hate to tarnish the entire experience for him the first time ’round.”

  Claire said something else to Hugh and they both laughed once more, and Danny rolled his eyes in disgust. If love could turn two of the most intelligent people he had ever known into raving lunatics, he would be content to restrict his affections to a lifetime love affair with his laptop.

  Much can be excused if it’s done for the right reasons, Danny thought with a wicked grin after they said good-bye. If he was actually going to go to the trouble of booking their flight for them, he was going to give them the longest red-eye available because a little sibling revenge was always the best reason for everything.

  Epilogue

  Breamar Highland Games

  September 2013

  The crowd cheered and Claire joined them enthusiastically as Hugh successfully heaved the fifty-six-pound weight into the air and over the bar currently set at fifteen feet high, his ancient Urquhart plaid flapping about his muscular thighs. Directing a cocky salute and a wink to Claire, he turned and strode back to the group of competitors waiting for their next turn as the renowned heavy eventer, Hamish Robb, held out his hand in congratulations. Hugh accepted the compliments and whistles from the crowd with a wave of his arm and a broad grin that only served to amplify the delighted onlookers.

  The Breamar Highland Games were the oldest and most prestigious of the many highland games held throughout Scotland, but surely they had never had such a genuine participant in the heavy events as Hugh. Some might have commented on the remarkable accuracy of Hugh’s kilt in the blue, green, and red of the Urquhart plaid, his leather shoes, and even his stockings, but none would ever know how truly authentic a Highlander he was, or that he had roamed Scotland long before the first of the modern Highland Games.

  Obviously Hugh was in his element. He had already broken the games’ record in the twenty-two-pound Scots hammer, throwing over thirty-five meters, and was well on his way to proving himself victorious in many of the other events as well. And it wasn’t merely the traditional events themselves that had such satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. It was the pipes, the fiddle, the traditional dance, and the ancient castle that hosted it all that, in spite of the modern tents and food vendors interspersed among it all, reminded him of another time in a way that the busy streets of Inverness had yet to achieve.

  Scotland really was the most magical place Claire had ever been, and it was easy to appreciate why Hugh had longed for it so. It was wild and untamed yet majestic and elegant. Just like him.

  Over the past few weeks, they’d found time to rediscover the more remote and unpopulated areas of Scotland where only minimal change could be found. They had roamed ancient villages that looked as out of time as Hugh was and walked hand in hand across endless moors where the rolling hills of verdant green stood in vivid contrast to the turbulent grey clouds suspended heavily above them. They had picnicked on the banks of turbulent rivers still swollen with the late thaw and on the barren beaches of the Cromarty Firth, wanting only the shadows of Rosebraugh over them for Hugh to feel truly at home.

  And she did as well, with Hugh at her side.

  They were making a new home together. Both of them putting the past where it belonged and looking forward. Claire had returned her focus to environmentally responsible research and had taken a job at the small propulsion lab near Inverness. Hugh was taking small steps into investments but had also taken her offhanded suggestion to write about his time with Voltaire to heart. He’d had the idea to write it as a work of fiction, taking his conversations with Voltaire, Hume, Frederick and others of that time into round table debate that could have never taken place but for Hugh’
s interactions between them. His tentatively entitled “Conversations Among Men” had already received notice from the Oxford Press.

  “Well, well, well, Mrs. Manning.”

  Claire stiffened at the regrettably familiar voice and looked over at the man who had appeared at her side. His dark suit and tie were such a ludicrous contrast to the casual attire of the crowd and the kilted participants in the games, she might have laughed aloud had it not been for the dread and nerves that suddenly knotted her stomach. She hadn’t been so shaken for weeks, but Claire forced the anxiety away, silently assuring herself that there was no reason now to worry. She was safe in the thick crowds, safe with all the security that accompanied the Queen’s presence. “What? No kilt?”

  “I’m not here to participate, Mrs. Manning,” Phil Jameson said softly.

  “No? Then what brings you to Scotland? Vacation?” she asked. “Because I’m sure it can’t be anything else.”

  “You do think this false naïveté is humorous, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically. “No, your trip through customs raised a red flag on my notifications, so I thought to come and see what you were about for myself. I was surprised to learn that you’d moved out of your townhouse in Spokane.”

  She had packed Matt’s things carefully into a box with Hugh at her side but had taped that last box shut with no guilt. Perhaps one day she might bring one or two of those items out once again but Claire had learned that life was for the living. She had promised herself once that she would mourn her husband for the rest of her life but it had taken recent events and even Phil Jameson himself to make her realize that her own life hadn’t ended.

  When her parents and brothers and even Robert and Sue had come to help them pack her belongings away into storage, only one of them knew that Hugh Urquhart wasn’t the only one who should be thanked for drawing her from the darkness that had enveloped her.