He smiled at her by way of accepting her apology. “Moses? Mayhap I should grow a beard and proclaim to the English king to let my people go.”
Damn him and his gallows humor. “Maybe you should,” she said. “I’m sure you’d be devastatingly sexy with a beard. Wait. Since you’re going back alone, forget that.” She went along with his joke and teased him in return by way of further apology. “I don’t need to send you off any sexier than you already are.” They both knew she was just talking. She trusted him implicitly. He was one of the most honorable men she’d ever met. Damn, that was part of the problem. His stinking honor. He couldn’t just walk away from his people. He was bound to lead them all to their doom.
Maybe…he…should. His eyes met and held hers and she saw an idea working in his eyes. Was it the same idea? “Moses led his people out…” she said.
“…in search of the promised land,” he finished the thought. “Just this morning I was reading in one of the library books about Scots who left to seek a new life elsewhere.”
Tentative hope clutched at her. “You could emigrate. Would your clan follow you?”
“A fair number. I am sure there would be those who decided to stay, but, aye, a fair number.” A broad smile lit his face. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up from the couch, sending the pen and paper flying. “Katie-love, I think ‘tis the key I have been searching for. There is a rightness about this.” He caught her up in his arms and swung her about in a circle. His heart beat frantically against her chest.
Elation filled her. She wanted to sing, shout. “I think so too. This feels much more right, even with all the uncertainty, than knowing you die at Drumossie.”
“Aye. ’Twas easier to say I did not mind dying when I had nothing to lose.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “Even though you will be here, and I will be there, I will carry you with me in my heart.”
They were on a roll, she might as well…. “I could come with you.”
“No.” He set her on her feet with a thud, his hands gripping her arms. “This is your place and your time. You belong here. I’ve had but a sample of your world and ’tis hard to give it up.” He let her go and stepped away from her. “There are too many things you’d sacrifice. Think of the advances in medicine and the things you do to help people every day.” He paced to the window, his back to her. “As a woman, you know more freedoms than at any time in the past. ’Tis vastly different to be a woman in 1744. And a woman’s lot will not significantly improve any time soon.” He turned and faced her. “Were you to go back with me, you’d never know the privileges you know now in your lifetime. And what about this breast cancer that runs in your family? You stand a good chance here, but there’d be nothing for you in my time.” His face hardened to resolute implacability. “Absolutely not. We will not speak of it again.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if it was the end of the discussion.
This laird of Glenagan having spoken business didn’t go over well with her. “But—”
“Think about it, Katie.” Dammit, he didn’t even give her a chance to talk. “Think about all those things you missed before and you were only there for a day and a night. No electricity. No running water. No telephones. No sleep number beds. No coffee. And what if you are going to have our child? Would you give birth in the middle of a sea voyage with nary a midwife in attendance?”
Damn him. That argument held more sway than all of the others. That argument silenced her.
He shook his head. “Katie-love,” his voice softened, quietened, “you no more belong there than I belong here.”
15
FOUR DAYS LATER KATE looked out of their hotel room window at their view of Central Park.
“At least it is not raining today,” Darach said. He moved in behind, wrapping his arms around her.
Kate bit her lip, trying very very hard to keep herself together. She’d been fine yesterday on the flight from Atlanta to LaGuardia, distracted by Darach’s first experience on a plane. Of all the technology he’d encountered, flying seem to captivate him the most.
She’d been fine when they met Hamish for dinner and Darach had laid out his hastily, yet carefully, drawn plans. Hamish had applauded his plan to lead the clan MacTavish to Quebec, which wasn’t under British rule, and then to move further west, into unclaimed territory until after the revolutionary war. North America held opportunity, a similar climate and religious freedom.
She’d been fine during their early evening carriage ride through Central Park.
Today, she wasn’t so fine. Today it seemed obscene that the sun bathed the city in a radiant light when her heart felt so bleak. And she would keep her bleakness locked inside and not taint the last few hours with the man she loved. She could spend those hours making love to her husband. She’d have a lifetime to mourn after he was gone.
She turned her head and kissed the warm skin of his arm. “Yes, at least it’s not raining.”
She shifted and slid her arms around his neck. “We’ve got a couple of hours before we need to meet Hamish at the museum.” Three hours to be exact, before he’d meet them at the side door and slip them in ahead of regular hours. Three hours until Darach stepped back in time and she caught a cab for a flight back home and a night shift at the hospital. She fitted her hips to his. “I think just enough time to slip in another lesson on being a proper husband.”
He smiled but there was no hiding the melancholy that underscored their banter. “Aye. And I was just thinking you’d have the chance to practice your wifely skills.” He backed her up until her legs bumped the mattress.
She fell back and took him down with her. One more time to take him inside her, to know the pleasure, the satisfaction of loving and being loved in not just a carnal but a mystical, spiritual way.
“And I’m thinking this could work out to be mutually beneficial.”
THREE HOURS LATER, the streets of New York flashed by the cab window. Darach held Katie’s hand. His conscience smote him. He’d done naught to protect her from what she’d need protection from the most—him.
“I’m sorry, Katie-love.”
“For what?” Even though a half smile hovered at her mouth, bleakness filled her eyes and he felt pain rolling off her in waves.
Would that he could take her pain and make it his own. But there was naught he could do to assuage her wound. “That all of this happened. It would have been better for you if you had never tumbled through that picture…”
She stopped him with a finger to his lips. “No. Never say that. Never think that.” She traced the line of his brow with one finger. “I will never regret the time I’ve had with you. The price hasn’t been too high. I wouldn’t give up the time I’ve had with you, what I’ve found with you for anything.”
She leaned into him, her cheek resting against his heart, her hair brushing his chin. He breathed in her scent.
“If the picture does not make it back—” he’d tucked a photograph of them on their wedding day into his kilt “—know that I will carry you always in my heart.”
The cab pulled over to the curb. Katie took care of the fare and then they both climbed out. She clutched her overnight bag like a lifeline. Darach carried nothing more than he’d come with save their picture held against his chest and the wedding ring on his finger.
They rounded the building to the left, as they’d discussed, and Hamish stood waiting at the side entrance. “Ah, there you are. Come in.”
They were all silent as he and Katie followed Hamish. At this point, there was nothing left to say. Their footfalls echoed in the quiet with a hollowness he felt to his core.
Was this what it felt like to walk to the gallows? Surely it could be no grimmer.
They arrived at the portrait. Darach could hardly bear to glance at it. This was where it had begun and this was where it would end.
What had he done? Bound her with vows and a love that would leave her alone and lonely. A decent man would give her leave to get on with her life. “K
atie, if you should meet another—”
Her look quelled him. “I won’t. Never. I’ll bear the MacTavish name with pride.”
Aye, he had fallen in love with the finest lass of all time. “If you are…” He glanced toward her flat belly.
“I will.” She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them.
She put him from her and he knew instinctively she did so in order not to cling to him. He dared not touch her either, for fear he’d never bear to let her go.
She squared her shoulders. “I love you, Darach MacTavish, laird of Glenagan, chieftain of the clan MacTavish.” Her voice rang with pride in who he was.
“Aye, wife. I love you Katie Wexford-MacTavish, healer of men and their souls.”
He turned to face the portrait, a man coming face to face with the hangman. Hamish clapped him on the shoulder. “Godspeed.”
Kate turned her head the other way as if she couldn’t bear watching. With a gentle shove from Hamish, Darach fell into the painting and the vortex of swirling blackness, leaving Katie and her world behind.
“EVENING, DR. WEXFORD.” Reddick, the not quite as fresh-faced intern, greeted her that evening. She’d gone straight from the airport to the hospital. She was early for her shift, but she simply couldn’t face the emptiness of her condo yet. She wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a bane that she’d go home to Darach’s books and clothes and his lingering presence. She’d finagled the last four days off, no small feat, and now it was time to be back at work and give it one-hundred percent. She returned Reddick’s greeting.
“Evening. What’s it like tonight?”
“Slow. Quiet.”
“Oh.” Not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to be so busy she didn’t have time to think. She’d had the interminable cab ride and plane trip to think. She knew she’d feel better if she’d cry. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and beat her fists against her chest. But she couldn’t cry. There was nothing there. She felt as empty and cold inside as one of the cadavers from med school.
She shook her head. This was crazy. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life this way. But then she could probably cut herself a little slack. Tomorrow would be better and the day after that and the day after that. It was like a wound. She was still numb from the cauterization, but she’d heal and move forward.
She smiled at Reddick. “Since it’s slow, how about I treat you to a double latte?”
Reddick really needed to work on his poker face because his mouth all but dropped open at her offer. He picked his chin up off the floor. “Sure. Thank you, Dr. Wexford.”
She’d told Darach she’d bear his name with pride and there was no time like the present. Besides, to talk about him made it seem as if he weren’t lost forever to her. “Actually, it’s Dr. Wexford-MacTavish. I haven’t changed it at the hospital yet, but I got married earlier this week.” She smiled at speaking the words aloud, feeling slightly less hollow inside.
Reddick looked very surprised and then he returned her smile. “That’s great, Dr. Wexford-MacTavish. Congratulations.” There was a pause. “Wexford-MacTavish. That’s a bit of a mouthful,” Reddick said.
The break room was virtually deserted and Kate fed her money into the machine. She laughed over her shoulder. “It is. But it has a nice ring, don’t you think?”
She and Reddick were in mid-toast when Torri entered followed by a couple of lab techs and two nurses. Kate had worked several times with the red-haired nurse, Karen. She was smart, competent and professional—in other words, a pleasure to work with. She’d only seen the lab techs and the other nurse in passing.
Torri eyed the two of them with a catty expression. “Did I miss something?”
Reddick, bless his newbie heart, blurted out. “Dr. Wexford got married. Uh…I mean Dr. Wexford-MacTavish.” He flashed a rueful smile Kate’s way. “Sorry, it’s going to take a while to get used to it.”
Torri stopped in her tracks. “MacTavish? The Scottish hunk? He married you?”
An image of Darach stretched naked on her bed flashed through her mind. Torri didn’t know the half of it. “I suppose Scottish hunk is a fairly accurate description, yes.”
Torri’s eyes glittered with malice. “Did he need a green card?”
Kate merely smiled when Karen rolled her eyes and mouthed “Bitch” behind Torri’s back.
Torri’s gaze flew to Kate’s left hand, as if she wouldn’t believe it until she had visible proof. “That’s your ring?”
Kate rubbed her thumb against the band and held out her hand for everyone to see. “Yes. Isn’t it beautiful? Blue diamonds set in platinum. Darach commissioned it. It’s a one-of-a-kind.” She wasn’t above rubbing Torri’s nose in it.
Everyone seemed to genuinely admire the ring except for the malcontent Dr. Campbell.
“It’s certainly different,” Torri sniped.
Kate had never understood what made women like Torri tick. Physically, Torri was a beautiful woman. She was smart enough. She made decent money. Why, then, was she such a bitch? Why did she constantly have to denigrate and belittle?
And Torri wasn’t through with Kate, yet. “Ladies, you won’t believe how yummy he is.” She looked Kate over from head to toe, her look clearly saying they’d never believe it because how could he be yummy if he’d chosen Kate. Could she possibly be more insulting? “I can’t wait to see him again.”
Kate had had enough. She smiled at Torri. “I don’t think so. Let’s see—exactly how did he describe you?” Kate pretended to ponder for a moment and then snapped her fingers. “Harridan. Yes. That was the exact word he used. Harridan.” She nearly laughed at Torri’s look of outrage. “You might want to look that up in a dictionary, but it doesn’t mean hot.” One of the lab techs couldn’t stifle a giggle, which earned her a portion of the venomous look Torri had shot toward Kate. Kate shrugged. “Sorry, Torri, he didn’t find you quite as yummy as you found him.”
Fleeting as it might be, Kate felt infinitely better.
“YOU ARE BACK,” Hamish said with a smile of genuine welcome and relief. Of course this was the younger version of Hamish who didn’t carry a cell phone and shop incessantly since those things had yet to make their way to his world.
“Aye, I am back.” He’d landed in his bedroom, ascertained that his wedding picture had survived the trip, and then had sought out Hamish. He considered it a stroke of luck that he’d encountered no one before finding Hamish on the parapet. The older man appreciated the view from here at the end of a day, despite the cold wind that drove across the moor.
“And not a minute too soon. Everyone is restless, worried that they have lost their laird. There has been much despair amongst them that you had succumbed to your fever.”
Just as he’d known, he could never leave his people. They counted on him. Twas his duty to take care of them, to protect them.
“Other than that, has it been quiet?”
“For the most part. Old Ewan had a bit of cattle thieved which we took care of.” Hamish’s smile said he’d dealt swiftly with those foolish enough to thieve from a MacTavish. “What did you find out?”
Darach filled him in on the bitter history about to unfold in their lives and their country.
A dull red flush of anger tinged Hamish’s face. “The Sassenach outlaw the wearing of the colors and the playing of the pipes?”
“Aye. They consider both signs of war.”
Hamish stared out over the moor, as if he could literally see the future advancing. “‘Tis dark days indeed on the horizon.” He turned his attention to Darach. “But I can see it in your eyes, you have returned with a plan.”
Hamish listened attentively as Darach outlined the MacTavish exit strategy.
“It will not be easy,” Hamish said when Darach concluded.
Darach squared his shoulders. He looked at the beautiful but merciless moor. He and his people were a rugged lot. The Highlands bred nothing less. “Neither will standing idly by while our way of life and
our people die.”
“What of the old? They will slow us down.”
Darach knew Hamish didn’t think they should leave them behind. Hamish tended to see his role as devil’s advocate and there would be those in the clan who would ask. “We will naught leave behind anyone who wants to come.”
Hamish nodded his satisfaction at Darach’s proclamation. “And what might that be?” Hamish asked, pointing to his finger in the waning light.
Despite the seriousness of their subject matter, Darach couldn’t contain his smile. “I got married while I was in the twenty-first century.” He pulled out the photograph that had made the journey through time with him, holding the corner tight lest the wind snatch it from him. “Katie makes a bonnie bride, nay?”
Hamish clapped him on the back, a congratulatory grin near splitting his face. “Well, then where is she, man?”
He tucked the picture back into his kilt for safe keeping. “I believe she had to work the night shift. She’s a healer at a big hospital,” Darach said.
Incredulity replaced his grin. “You married her and she dinnae come back with you? We could use a healer with her skills, especially on the journey we are about to undertake. Do you not remember how she saved the lad before? There was naught we could do for him.”
“Aye, I remember. But it changes nothing.” The wind had taken on a bitter edge, seeming to cut through to his soul. Darach shook his head. “She does not belong here.”
A stubborn cast to his face, Hamish argued with him. “If you are here, how is it she does not belong here?”
“If you do not recall the twenty-first century, then you can’t appreciate how much easier life is. You should see you in the twenty-first century. Aye, you are quite fond of the good life.” Darach braced himself on the edge of the stone worn smooth by time and the elements. “There are medicines and machines that can save a person’s life that we will nae have in our lifetime. And she is not likely to be slaughtered because she is a MacTavish where she is now. Katie is in the safest place for her.”
Perfect Timing 2: Highland Fling Page 14