by Lexi Post
Go-Lucky threw his hands up. “Hell, no! Love is hard enough to find as it is. You certainly don’t let it go once you’ve found it.”
She tried to smile, feeling as if she’d been about to fall over a cliff and had just been yanked back from the edge, but tears rolled down her cheeks…again. An hourly occurrence since she’d brought Torr back. “I had to let him go, but I miss him.”
The little man sat on the rock beside her and crossed his legs. He was dressed in black jeans and a black sleeveless T-shirt. Very casual for him. “He wanted to leave then.” Go-Lucky shook his head. “He’s an idiot.”
She smiled. “No, he just loved his home.” She looked out at the ocean. The waves crashed on the rocks and the water gently floated in to lap at her feet. “He didn’t love me.”
“What? Of course he did. How could he not?”
She shook her head. “I think he would have if he let himself, but he refused to love anyone after his last brother was taken prisoner. He does it to avoid the pain and I think he has it right because I thought having all these people”—she threw her arm up to indicate her mansion on the hill—“would make losing someone I loved easier, but it doesn’t. I was so convinced after Mom’s and Dad’s deaths that if I had just had more people I loved around me, it wouldn’t have been so devastating. Now, I see it doesn’t help at all. They don’t understand how much it hurts.”
Go-Lucky shook his finger at her though sympathy shined in his eyes. “You and Torr both have it wrong. Nothing can keep you from the pain of losing someone you love. Love is what makes life worth living, but there is no defense against the pain that comes with it. The man is a fool.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “He is not. He’s incredibly intelligent, has the kindest heart I’ve ever known, and he’s an amazing strategist.”
He grinned. “Plus, he’s built like a mixed martial arts fighter on steroids.”
“Yeah. He was not only drop-dead gorgeous but massively muscled as well.”
“Muscled? In the dictionary all they need is a picture of him under the word ‘hunk.’”
She chuckled. “Thank you.”
The little man stood. “For what?”
“For still being there for me.”
“I’m always here for my girls.” He pointed above. “Everyone up there is here for each other. We are all special and we stick together, but the pain of losing someone can’t really be shared by those who didn’t know him.”
He did have a point. She felt empathy for their newest recruit who had just lost her father, but she didn’t actually feel Sedona’s loss. Maybe she expected too much from her adopted family. Go-Lucky was right, they couldn’t help her through this, if there was actually a way to get “through” it. “I’m worried about him.”
Go-Lucky cocked his head. “Do you really think Torr needs protection?”
“No, not from physical threats, but I’m worried about his mental state. Because of my actions, he’s being forced to live in a limbo. He can’t interact with those he cares about, and I’m not sure what that will do to his psyche.”
The little man jumped down from the rock and took her hand in his. “Do you want me to check on him?”
She bent low, her tears at his kindness falling again. “No. I don’t think I could bear to hear that he’s joined another clan and had four children by three different women. If he does something to mess up the Timestream, I’m sure Jules will tell me, but if he’s killed… What am I saying, this is the twenty-first century, he’s already gone.” Another tear rolled down her cheek.
He squeezed her hand. “Then it sounds like you need to morn him like you did your parents. Take the sympathy your friends offer. We are stronger together.”
She glanced up to see pride in his eyes. She’d been so busy wallowing in her own misery, she’d forgotten how far they’d all come to do the job they were tasked with. Go-Lucky was proud to be part of TWI, and she needed to find that feeling again. She used to be proud of her abilities. She’d felt special.
Go-Lucky let go of her hand. “Come on. Let’s go up to the fortress and get some lunch. I came straight here from the French court of 1788 and I’m starving.”
Diana stood and followed Go-Lucky as he started to climb the path to her home. “Who’s there?” She shuddered. That was just before the French Revolution.
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Jane. And if you think your assignment was tough, you’ll have to ask her about hers. The men can’t keep their hands off her and it is royally pissing her off. No pun intended.”
She shook her head. “How come I haven’t had a new assignment?” Not that she was ready for one. Then again, maybe it could help her remember why she was a TWI agent in the first place.
Go-Lucky stopped and turned to face her. “Have you looked at yourself lately?”
She pulled the clip out of her hair and tried to pull it into a knot, but the ocean breeze refused to let her. She gave up. “That bad?”
“Your eyes are greener than jade stone and red rimmed to set them off. You haven’t been training, either, have you?”
She lowered her head. “I don’t feel like it. I have no interest in anything.” Even her favorite chocolates had failed to entice her with their usual comfort.
Go-Lucky took her hand. “I can tell. Jules is planning on sending Katz back out today.”
“No! She can’t do that. Katz just got back and I’ve been back at least a week longer.”
Go-Lucky studied her keenly. “It’s either her or you.”
Her heart clenched. She didn’t feel like going into the field again, but Katz had done so much for her that was far out of her comfort zone. She owed her. “Let me go. I need a distraction. Moping around here isn’t going to make me feel any better.”
“But are you ready? Can you keep your wits about you and are you physically able? It’s been a week since Torr left.”
Her eyes began to water at the mention of his name.
“Diana?” He squeezed her hand again. “Can you do it?”
She looked at him, his concern obvious.
Puck. She had nothing left to lose anyway. She’d lost the man she loved. She pulled her hand from his. “Yes. I’m ready. Tell Jules to contact me.”
He stared at her, his worry still evident, but finally he nodded.
Vaguely, she wondered about the assignment she’d just volunteered for. It really didn’t matter when it was. She’d do it because it was the only reason she wasn’t back in fourteenth-century Scotland with the man who held her heart.
…
Torr hid just inside the south wood. It had been six days waiting, hearing nothing of import from the villagers who did commerce with Gealach. They hadn’t even mentioned the king, though he had learned the story of his own absent body. They said Diana had been so distraught by his pain that she had dragged him off the field and tried to save him. When she couldn’t, she buried him, but she never returned to Gealach because it reminded her of her grief.
He wasn’t surprised by the story. Anyone who knew her would understand the depth of her caring. Even his own brother had thought kindly of her. His chest grew tight, a common occurrence lately whenever he thought of her. Now that he’d witnessed the special power her clan had, he understood he’d misjudged her. She may have lied to him while living at Gealach, but he couldn’t deny she had brought something special into his life, something good, something beyond simple existence.
It had to be his lonely existence that had him mourning her absence. He felt about her now as he had felt about his clan while at her home. He couldn’t allow himself to think of her. It bothered him more than he cared to understand, especially now that he had experienced the magic of her people. That experience would stay with him the rest of his life.
He accepted that his clan and the king must think him dead and that he must not interfere in the battles to keep King Robert on the throne. If he did, it could jeopardize Robert’s final victory.
He would have never believed Diana if he hadn’t experienced the journey himself from her home to Gealach.
He moved closer to the edge of the south field. He had to focus on his duty as he always had. Today was Sunday, and someone had to make the trek to the small pond. If no one did, he would be forced to move to the east wood where his clan hunted deer.
He stroked his full beard, Arthur’s strange words when they met echoing in his head. At the time, he thought the man more than a bit addled, but after coming back to Gealach, Arthur’s warning that anything he did could affect Diana being born, had him being extra cautious. If he understood the man, if Diana was never born, he’d no longer have a memory of her, and he wanted that. So he would let his beard grow long and ragged and appear as if he had no clan.
His chest felt heavy as his thoughts rested on her once again. He would never forget her standing on the wall-walk, the moonlight reflecting off her pale braid, shadowing her features to make her beautiful green eyes appear mysterious. Calming Stoirm, nudging Evan, talking with Mairi, she was always helping others. She deserved to be loved, but he couldn’t do it. Even if he’d stayed with her, he couldn’t love her. He couldn’t bear more loss, yet he wished her with him, despite everything.
Movement at the castle redirected his attention. He peered through the trees and watched as the portcullis cranked upward. Six horses galloped through and headed south toward the village. He studied the men as they rode closer. It was Fergus and Ian leading others of his clan.
Laughter to his left caused him to step back, deeper into the woods. Others had left the castle and approached on foot while he’d studied the riders. Before the people made the trees, he silently sped through the forest to the dense wood near the pond. Finally, he would know.
He waited patiently, but his heart raced with anticipation. Eventually, Braigh and Mairi, now obviously with child, came into view. They were followed by Evan and Nessa, Beth, Helen, and…Kerr. He was so glad to see his brother, he stepped forward, but stopped himself in time. As least he could sleep now, having seen his brother alive. Relief brought a welcome peace with it.
As the others spread blankets, Kerr looked back along the trail. At the sound of a horse, Torr moved to find a better view. Seeing his clan members again relieved the edge of desperation he’d lived with since the battle. If he could hear how they were managing, he could step away for good, or perhaps with just an occasional hidden visit. His responsibilities to them had become habit. It would be difficult to set them aside.
Movement on the trail caught his attention. Angus appeared and then what looked like a litter attached to…Neul? Neul was his older brother’s horse. He’d ridden him to battle the day he was taken prisoner. How did Kerr find the horse? Unable to tear his gaze from the litter, Torr gasped as Carnach’s face came into view. Luckily the noise of the others masked his sound. He gripped his leine over his chest and watched as Kerr helped Carnach from the litter to a woolen on the ground.
His older brother scowled, revealing his pain. What did that bastard king do to him? Carnach’s face appeared drawn, his formerly muscled body gaunt. Even his dark brown hair had been cut away, and he favored his right side. Kerr laughed at Carnach’s grumbling and then let Beth and Helen fawn over the wounded man. As Carnach leaned against a tree and relaxed, the scowl left his face.
Torr couldn’t stop staring. He’d never expected to see his older brother alive. How did he escape? He had to know. Meeting with Carnach after a year’s absence shouldn’t affect the future. Maybe he could slip into the castle tonight and discover what had happened. But even at the thought, he rejected it. He couldn’t, not if it might affect the King’s triumph…and Diana. If he’d died at his last battle, he would never have known Carnach lived. He had Diana to thank for that.
As the group settled into their various activities, he moved closer and sat upon the ground, near enough to hear any conversation around Carnach. The urge to touch him, prove that he was indeed alive, was strong, yet Torr resisted. As some of his clan waded in the pond, the two couples walked hand in hand farther into the meadow. Kerr alone sat next to their brother. “Do ye remember this place, old man?”
“Watch yer tongue, or I’ll cut it from ye.”
Kerr laughed, but Torr tensed. Carnach had never spoken so harshly before.
“Fine, but do ye remember it?”
“Of course I do.” Carnach looked out at the pond, but his gaze was confused. He examined the area carefully as if scouting it out for battle.
“Good. And do ye remember Robert the Bruce?”
“O’course I bloody know the King of Scotland. How do ye think I got these blasted wounds? Why must you hound me with these questions?”
Kerr’s face sobered, and he glanced around. “Because the king is gathering forces on the islands and will be returning with a new army.”
Carnach looked directly at Kerr, his eyes glittering with contempt. “I thought the fight had gone from him when his wife was captured with me.”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know when Robert witnessed Torr being run through, he swore he’d not let another MacPherson die in vain. He left the next day for the isles.”
Carnach digested the news as did Torr. The king had begun his campaign, just as Diana had tried to tell him. His death had been important to the Scottish cause.
“I heard ye decimated the Comyns after Torr was wounded.”
Torr watched in surprise as Kerr’s face hardened. “Aye.”
Carnach peered keenly at him as if he wanted to twist a blade in an open wound. “I hear you turned berserker.”
Kerr wouldn’t meet his brother’s gaze and simply shrugged. Torr’s gut twisted. His younger brother had changed. The carefree outside was no more than a facade now, hiding a darker man. Torr wanted to change that, but he couldn’t. According to Arthur, Kerr would be important in the rebellion. Why hadn’t Arthur or Diana told him about Carnach?
Nessa and Beth approached the blanket, and Kerr’s face changed once again into its typical grin. “Is it time for food?”
Beth rolled her eyes at him, but Nessa speared him with a look. “Ye can make yerself useful by filling the bucket with water.”
Kerr jumped up and bowed. “Of course, yer highness.”
She smacked him on the arm, and he strolled over to the horse to grab the bucket. Nessa took out trenchers and prepared them with food. “Evan, I need yer help.”
Evan stopped his conversation with Braigh and strode toward her.
Beth addressed Carnach with a smile in her voice and a nod toward Nessa. “Not two days betrothed and already she is telling him what to do.”
Torr watched as his brother nodded sagely, and Nessa blushed. So, Evan had finally asked Nessa to be his wife. Diana would be pleased to learn… A sharp stab of pain sliced through his heart. He would never see Diana to tell her. Would she know? He wanted her to know. He wanted to tell her, share this news with her.
As the others gathered for the meal, Torr slipped away, deeper into the woods. This would be his life until he died, on the edges of humanity because he wasn’t supposed to be alive, and he could not stomach joining another clan as a broken man. He was a MacPherson, always. His clan now had two hardened warriors to lead them, and Robert had started to rally his forces. If the future held as Diana explained, then he was no longer needed at Gealach. He was no longer needed anywhere. In fact, as she had tried to tell him, his death triggered all these favorable events. To come back, alive, meant to ruin all the good his death had brought, and it could threaten Diana’s life.
His stride lengthened as he moved farther into the wood. Diana.
With his worries about his family gone and the constant habit of responsibility removed from his mind, she became the focal point of his thoughts, his heart, his existence. He found himself running, his heart racing, his body shaking with adrenaline. He’d demanded she take him home, but he had no home without her and there was no way back. The agony tore at his ins
ides. He ran faster, tree branches scraping his arms and face.
Diana.
His wound throbbed and still he couldn’t stop, the pain of her loss too great. If he stopped it would overcome him. His own idiocy burned inside him, urging him on even as rage engulfed him. He ran hard along the river that filled Loch Gynack. Faster. He swatted away branches even as his vision turned red. He wanted to destroy, to kill, until ahead he faced a stately pine with needles the color of Diana’s eyes, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He charged the tree, his left shoulder hitting the center of the large trunk.
The tree moved, uprooted, and fell.
Torr fell to the side at the unexpected outcome, the jarring sending a burst of pain through his chest. He tried to stand, but doubled over, the physical pain manifesting the agony within. The loss of another he loved was too much. He fell to his knees and clutched at his chest. Throwing his head back, he howled as his already tortured heart broke.
Chapter Eighteen
Torr woke to the lonely hooting of an owl nearby. Lifting his face from the hard ground, he tried to remember where he was…and then he did. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and stared at the quarter moon rising just above the trees on the opposite bank. The pain of his loss beat strong in rhythm with his heart. As the owl swooped from its tree to fly the path of the river, Torr’s stomach growled. He paid it no heed. He had no need or want of food, but the urge to relieve himself would not be ignored. He rose and took care of his bodily function, but the effort made his stomach ache more. Life called to him, against his will.
With little interest, he dug into the sack at his waist and pulled the last of the bannocks he had traded for a fish he had caught. The bread had little taste, but it quieted his body. So he was alive and not dead, but he might as well be. There was no place for him now…no one…no Diana. Her image rose in his mind and his heart tightened with a pain so great, it made his eyes water. She was too far, he understood now. In a time he could not reach. All he could do was protect her, ensure her life remained unchanged.