by Diane Darcy
Samantha sighed and shook her head. “So, stalemate?”
He took her hand off his arm and faced her. He took her other hand and waited until she met his gaze. “You just need to get used to the idea that this is where you belong now. I do feel it, lass. I feel we should be together. Won’t you set aside your past life and join wi’ mine?”
As she gazed up at him a bittersweet feeling of happiness rose within her. She couldn’t say she wasn’t tempted. She glanced around, wondering if she could be content in this place, becoming part of this time, these people. “You don’t even believe any of it anyway. Why not just give me the crown and see what happens?”
“I do believe ye’ve a past life somewhere. A place ye’ll be abandoning for me. Else you will abandon me for this other life. I know which choice I wish for.” He squeezed her hands, shook them. “I’ll not let you go, Samantha. Do you ken?”
She swallowed, her eyelids fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. He wanted her to stay. He didn’t want her abandoning him. He wanted to keep her. Her heart melted a bit at that, but the situation still felt like a stalemate—after all, her reasons hadn’t evaporated. He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she finally nodded. “I understand.”
As if she’d just made a great concession, satisfaction filled his face. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders he hauled her a few feet to the side of the road and between two tree, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.
The storm of passion that arced between them came out of nowhere and stunned her. Ian’s mouth was compelling, his arms tight about her and she gave a small, choked cry of pleasure as flickers of awareness sparked along her nerve endings, as heat from his body, pressed tight to hers, set fire to her senses. She threaded her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck and he groaned as a shiver raced through her.
He broke the kiss, pulled back, cradled her head in his hands, and just looked at her, his eyes slightly dazed, one thumb caressing her bottom lip.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Whew! This towering, gorgeous, muscle-bound man, his dark hair a wild tangle, gazing at her like he’d die if he couldn’t kiss her again. “Ian,” she breathed, and he bent to press his mouth to hers again, his lips searing, demanding, exciting, and eliciting a soul wrenching response that made her tremble.
When he broke the kiss a second time, he stared into her eyes and inhaled sharply. “You’re mine, lass. Do you understand now? However you came to be here, I’m keeping you for my own, giving myself to you.”
He looked dangerous, compellingly attractive, his green eyes intense and gleaming, and she could only nod and try and catch her own breath.
Pleasure and approval flitted across his face and he wrapped his arms around her, gathered her close, and lowered his head to the curve of her throat.
They stood there like that for a long moment as he seemed to breathe her in as she tried to gather her wits about her. Finally he kissed her neck, elicited another shiver, pulled back, and smiled at her.
“Come.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm once more and they walked up the castle road. She glanced back. She knew he thought they’d settled something major. She knew she wanted to be with him. But where was still the question.
If the crown he’d buried at the base of the monument was still there, waiting to be found, could she dig it up and go home? If she did, would she be able to find it again in the future? Find him again if she wanted to come back? The whole thing gave her a headache.
“Will you set aside everything you know, just for a moment, and believe I’m from another time?”
“Say it’s true? Say I did believe? Then what?”
“We can take the crown and you can come home with me.”
“You sound convincing.” He chuckled. “I half believe and half wonder if yer mind has been damaged.”
“Come with me and see.”
He patted her hand, patronizing again. “Give me some time to think about it, aye?”
She could give him time. Over 700 years of it, to be precise. She sighed again. “Ian, I can give you one more day, but that’s it. I must go home. And I want you with me.”
“Only one day?” His tone teased.
He had all the power and he knew it.
He didn’t believe her and she knew it.
Once again, she considered the other crown. If she dug it up, would she never meet him? Never save him? The thought of either possibility made her stomach hurt. This whole thing drove her crazy. “I mean it, Ian. Tomorrow I’m going home. And I’m...I’m taking you with me.”
His chuckle was her only response.
Blasted man.
~~~
The next day after breakfast, Ian disappeared, and no one seemed to know where he’d gone. He was probably hiding the crown, Samantha thought darkly. With the entire keep still somewhat subdued, the sun shining, and her visit at an end, she decided to visit her excavation site again.
Now that the threat was over, and Ian’s murderer caught, she had some decisions to make. She honestly wasn’t sure she could leave Ian. Even the thought of it pained her, leaving her feeling empty and alone.
There was her grandfather to think of, but for all she knew, he could already be gone. Even if he wasn’t, she was pretty sure what his vote would be.
She pushed aside the sudden grief that gripped her and considered Jerry. She needed to find him and see if he wanted to go home. She certainly needed to rescue him from Mad Malcolm. Ian could help her with that.
She focused on trying to round up a few people, but most everyone had something to do. She saw Tori, and hesitated to approach the girl, but if anyone needed a break it was her. Samantha headed over. “Hi.”
Tori glanced up, her eyes red. “Good morn.”
“I’m headed out to the dig site again. I bet the sunshine would do you a world of good. So, how about it? Care to join me?”
Gaze dropping to the ground, lips pursing, it seemed Tori would turn her down, but finally she lifted her eyes and offered a slight smile. “Thank ye. I’d like that.”
Samantha gathered her gear, handed a shovel to Tori, and glanced around at the few people left in the hall. “Last chance!” she called out. “We’re headed to the dig site. Anyone who wants to join us knows where we’ll be.”
They didn’t say much as they walked down the road together, but Samantha could feel her spirits lifting. She breathed in. “Smell that fresh air. We don’t have this at home, I can tell you that. I’ll miss it when I go.”
That got Tori’s attention. “Where is your home?”
“Across the ocean.”
Tori started to cry.
Samantha’s arms were full so she couldn’t hug the girl, but she tried to soothe her with words. “There, there. It’s awful to lose people, especially a parent, isn’t it?” Samantha considered telling her about how her own had died, how her grandfather had raised her, then decided against it. This wasn’t about her. Tori needed to talk, not listen, so Samantha simply made soothing noises.
Tori sniffed. “I doona wish you to go. I canna lose anyone else.”
“Oh, honey.” Samantha exhaled. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
Tori nodded. “And Brecken...” she started, then drew a shuddering breath.
“What about him?” Samantha encouraged.
“I dinna know what to do. He...he...I told him to stay away from me.”
Samantha made a sympathetic noise. “That’s understandable. I’m sure you’ll feel differently soon enough.”
“I already feel different.” Tori sobbed once and tears dripped onto her cheeks. “But now he’s fearful to come near me.”
They reached the site and Samantha dumped her things, took the shovel from Tori and lay it aside. She opened her arms and Tori walked into them. Samantha hugged her and patted her back while she cried. “There, there. It’s okay. You know what? One little move on your part, one lift of your hand toward Brecken, and he’ll sweep you into his arm
s so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
Tori pulled away and dried her face on her sleeve. “Do ye think so?”
Samantha chuckled. “I know so. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him show up here today. As soon as he finds out where you’ve gone, I bet he’ll hotfoot it on out here.”
“Hotfoot?” She tested the word. “Truly?”
“Truly. Now enough of this standing around. I see a likely spot to dig right over there. Let’s get to work.”
They approached a suspiciously fresh-looking mound Samantha didn’t remember from the other day, and both started brushing away loose soil. After about ten minutes of digging and clearing the freshly turned soil, Samantha’s lips curved as a small footstool was revealed. She pulled it out of the earth and thought she recognized it as one of the items removed from the tower on her second day there. It looked to have been freshly repaired. She chuckled. “Is it just me, or do you think someone planted this here for me to find?”
Tori giggled. “Think you?”
Samantha glanced at two other suspicious mounds.
“I suspect if we dig there, and there,” she pointed, “we might also find something.”
Tori smirked.
Samantha sank back on her heels. “You knew about this.”
Tori’s smirk turned into a grin. “I might have heard tell of it about the castle. The MacGregor dinna wish to see you dissatisfied, and figured to give you somethin’ better to find than the refuse you discovered the last time. No doubt he’ll be sore disappointed he wasna here to see you find them.”
Samantha chuckled. “No doubt.” The man was a tease and a sweetheart and even though he’d probably ruined the possibility of finding anything of value in the spots he’d dug up, she couldn’t be mad at him. She was still grinning when Tori pointed in the distance. “Someone’s coming. Do ye think it’s Brecken?” The girl asked breathlessly.
Samantha lifted a hand to block the sun. She could see someone on foot, but they were too far away. “Maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised.” But she felt a small trill of pleasure at the thought that it might be Ian coming to join her. Coming to laugh as she discovered the other things he’d buried.
A few minutes later, they were both let down when they could make out Willie limping in their direction. Samantha grimaced. “Oh, great.” She definitely didn’t want to deal with him. “Is there another way back to the castle?”
“We could hide in the woods. I doubt he’d follow. And there’s a trail through the trees. Mayhap we shouldna have come out here alone.”
“You’re probably right.” Samantha considered the woods, and then looked at her shovels—which could be used as weapons, if necessity demanded it. “But you know what, the guy is alone. Why should we let that grumpy old geezer chase us away?”
As they waited for him to approach, Samantha half-heartedly dug at a fresh patch of dirt. Nerves blossomed in her stomach, which irritated her. She wasn’t afraid of Willie, and she wouldn’t let him ruin their day. If they had to, the two of them could take off. If they didn’t want to bonk him on the head with a shovel, at the very least, they could outrun him.
The closer he got, the gorgeous day—that only an hour ago had seemed so fresh and clean—felt muted, subdued. She cursed Willie and his bad attitude for ruining it. When he neared, Samantha decided to take the lead and walked toward him, not wanting him to set foot on her site. “Hello, Willie. What can I do for you?” She asked in a carefully pleasant tone.
Willie smiled and, unsurprisingly, it wasn’t a nice one, revealing rotting teeth and malice. “I be a simple man. All I wish is what ye’ve refused to grant me all along. I want ye to burn.”
Samantha shook her head and tightened her grip on the shovel. What had she expected? An apology? “You are a very unpleasant individual, do you know that? Don’t you think we’ve had enough death around here? I just want you to know that—”
Willie lifted two fingers to his mouth and blew out a shrill whistle and it startled Samantha into halting mid-sentence.
Tori gasped and Samantha swung around to follow her gaze. The sound of horse’s hooves carried to her at the same time she saw them. A group of five men riding fast from the nearby woods.
Samantha whirled around and grabbed Tori by the arm and gave her a push. “Run!”
Willie tried to block their path back to the castle, but they were too fast and nimble as they sprinted by, avoiding his crutch as he slung it at their legs.
It did them no good. Three men on horseback blocked their escape, and two others barred the other direction. Samantha spread her arms wide, shielding Tori behind her back. “What do you want?”
Willie cackled off to the side and danced a jig like the fool he was.
A man with white blonde hair and icy blue eyes stared down at her. “Lady Samantha, I presume?”
Her heart pounded, but she responded in a strong voice, “Who’s asking?”
He smiled a thin-lipped smile. “I be Laird Malcolm Campbell, my lady. Ye dinna remember me?” He looked at her hair. “I remember you.”
She knew exactly who he was. “Mad Malcolm?”
The man threw his head back and screamed, “I am not mad! I am not mad!” He kicked his legs and his horse flinched and tried to buck him off, but the man retained his seat and both animal and man finally calmed. The horse, still now, twitched its ears and rolled its eyes as if anticipating another tantrum or attack.
Samantha stared up at the man. Yep. She had the right guy. Note to self: Don’t call him mad.
He smoothed dirty white-blond locks from his face. “As I was sayin’.” He leaned forward. “I am Laird Campbell, your benefactor or your ruin. The choice is yours. Will you stay and die, or will you ride wi’ us?”
She didn’t really like the choice. “Will you let the girl go?”
He barely glanced at Tori. “I’ve no use for the girl. She’s free to leave.”
“Go,” Samantha urged before the guy could change his mind.
Tori slipped past the horses and ran.
Laird Campbell called after her. “Tell MacGregor we’ll be waiting’ for him! And tell him to bring the crown!” He glanced at Samantha as he turned his horse back toward the woods. “Bring her. And the old man, as well.”
Samantha heard Willie protest and that gave her a small bit of satisfaction as she was scooped up and strong-armed behind a well-muscled captor. The man spurred his horse, and, looking at the distance to the ground, she held on for dear life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After the first hour, Samantha gave up on any chance of escape. Out of the five horses, they were second in line. Even if she did manage to jump off the animal, and even if she did succeed in keeping her bones from breaking, they’d be on her in moments.
The next hour they rode hard, on and off, giving their mounts an occasional break. Samantha clung to the notion that Ian couldn’t be very far behind. He would follow, she knew he would. The fact that she wasn’t part of his clan, and that she’d told him she was leaving soon, wouldn’t have him shrugging off the kidnapping, right?
She’d calculated it would take Tori fifteen minutes to run to the keep. But where had Ian disappeared to earlier? If Tori had to search for him, that would add time. Then another ten or fifteen minutes to get the horses together and come after her.
He would come, wouldn’t he?
When they finally arrived at their destination, it was to see a village, not too dissimilar from Ian’s, although in a state of disrepair. And, of course, in the middle of the village, a pile of wood and straw heaped around a wood beam.
She recoiled, her heart thumping with sudden fear. This did not look good.
Laird Campbell jumped from his horse, threw the reins to a man, and headed for her.
She was in so much trouble.
He dragged her off the horse and, when she would have fallen to the ground, scooped her up, and twirled her around. When they stopped, she faced the woodpile and her heart thundered
in her chest. He was at her back, his arm tight about her waist, his cheek rubbing against her own as he inhaled deeply. “You smell good.”
She cringed away. “I wish I could return the compliment.” She regretted her words almost immediately.
He laughed.
“D’ye see the woodpile?”
She tried to keep emotion—specifically fear—out of her voice, but wondered if he could feel her heart pound. “Yes. I see it.”
He smelled her again, starting at her neck, then pressing his nose to her temple. “I had it made especially for you, but...” He twirled her around to face him. “Do you please me, I might keep you unsinged.”
“That would be my vote.”
“Burn her!” Willie called. Thankfully, the rest of the crowd remained silent.
Samantha slowly turned her head to look up at Laird Campbell warily. “Please you...how?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I find myself in need of a powerful seer.”
“A seer? And you think I’m one?”
“I know you are.”
“How do you figure?”
“Jerry!” He yelled the name and Samantha flinched away, bending down to protect her hearing.
“Your worship?”
Samantha’s head shot up, her mouth dropped open, and her stomach sank. She felt like crying. Jerry Callahan, always so well-groomed and attractive—was not. He’d obviously suffered a lot of abuse and—bruised, battered, and filthy—was dressed in a strange combination of homespun and Brooks Brothers. He looked sad, pathetic, and with his lips drawn back in a grimace, she could see he was missing a front tooth. And he was so thin. He’d never been very muscular, looking more GQ than buff, but he looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in a long while. And the dull look in his eyes showed that emotionally he’d been devastated.
“Jerry?”
“Hello, Samantha.” His tone was stoic. Gone was the smirking, overweening self-confidence.
“I’m so relieved to see you,” she choked out, trying not to show her dismay over his appearance.