Kat had felt it forever, wondered about it forever. “I feel it.” She pointed to the west.
“This far into the Highlands, it should be strong,” Drakkina reflected.
“It’s increased the farther we’ve come. I even found myself sleep walking last night. I woke up standing with my nose against the west wall of my room.”
“The circle has a beacon, meant to draw you and your sisters. It’s your origin and your safe haven,” Drakkina explained. “It’s the place you will battle with your sisters to save the world.”
“It doesn’t sound so safe,” Kat said, but her mind was already throwing together a plan to escape Craignish.
“Right now it is. And I will call Merewin there to heal your face when you arrive.”
Drakkina’s form started to fade.
“Wait, when will you be there?”
Drakkina smiled. “I’m there now,” she said. She snapped her fingers and disappeared. “But then, your Highlander must give me my dragonfly.” Drakkina’s words echoed in Kat’s mind even though the witch was no longer in the room.
A chill pricked the back of Kat’s neck, but she pushed the eerie mind-penetrating voice from her thoughts and ran to a wooden stool. She placed it under the window and spied out the wavy glass. Too difficult to make out the layout of the place. She’d have to get out of her room. Then she’d have to find a saddled horse since she didn’t know anything about putting one on. Could she ride a horse without a saddle? She’d seen it done in movies.
Kat took a deep breath. “Well I can’t do all that tonight.” She glanced at the window where the sun was already beginning its descent. “I’ll have to go tomorrow.” But she could still scout out the best exit.
Kat shimmied into the stiff pair of Wednesday underwear she’d washed out the night before. “Just can’t get used to going totally bare,” she said, even though the scratchy material made her hesitate. If she didn’t return home soon, she’d have to find another pair, although she knew there wouldn’t be any in Britain for another hundred years or so.
Kat stepped into the corridor wearing the day dress Winifred had finished, a simple gown of green. She tread lightly to the end of the hall where she’d seen a guard go up a flight of steps, hopefully to the roof. She’d be able to see the whole bailey and beyond up there.
She pulled open the heavy oak door and a gust of wind pushed her back. She should have brought a cloak, but she wasn’t turning back. Any delay would mean she’d lose more light. Kat climbed the steps and poked her head up so that her eyes were level with the walkway around the roof of the keep. She stopped.
Toren and Eadan stood, looking out over the wall.
“While I am away,” Toren said, “send word to Morton in the east that I want the things on this list.” Toren handed Eadan a piece of paper. “As many as can be had.”
Eadan looked down at it and laughed. “Oil for the body? Why would anyone want to become slippery?”
“It protects skin against the cold and wind,” Toren replied. Kat could hear his frown even though his back was turned.
“I did not ken that the wind parched ye so much, brother,” Eadan said, laughter edging his voice.
“It’s not for me, it’s for Kat,” Toren said, and Kat froze. He was ordering body oils while they were gone to get the necklace. For her to use when she returned with him. Returned with him!
“Aye, her skin does look soft.” Eadan held up hands in defense, the list fluttering in the breeze. “Not that I’m staring at yer woman, just hard not to notice one so bonny.”
Kat fumed silently from the hidden steps, but Eadan’s next comment whipped her back. “A shame her face was burned,” Eadan said, casually. “Amazing one so delicate could survive it.” Kat replayed every nuance of the comment, searching for the telltale sneer or pity that fed her insecurities. Eadan’s words were kind, simple observation. What would Toren say?
Toren said nothing and Kat nearly stepped onto the roof, but stopped.
“What would ye do, Eadan, about Campbell’s treachery?” Toren asked.
Kat peeked out. Eadan turned toward his brother even though Toren kept his gaze outward.
“Well…I…” Eadan stood taller and moved his gaze outward. “I would send word that they are considered an enemy to all MacCallums. I would fortify MacCallum Castle and bring our people closer, expecting a challenge. Set the watch like ye’ve done. I’d probably also raid their cattle to show how serious we are. They are in league with Maxwell, too, so we must watch the politics of England.”
Toren nodded. “Ye have the thoughts of a leader, Eadan.”
“But not the birthright,” Eadan answered.
“Oh, pardon me,” a guard said behind Kat as he swung open the oak door.
Kat grabbed the rock wall to keep from falling down the short stairwell into the guard’s chest. “I was just coming up for fresh air,” she said with a casual voice and walked up the steps, stopping at the top as if surprised to see the brothers. “Good evening, Toren.” She nodded and looked at Eadan. “And Eadan.”
Eadan nodded back, a grin on his face. Toren neither nodded nor grinned. “I think I will go check how the men are doing on the north wall,” Eadan said and moved past Kat. The guard talked briefly with Toren and strode around the wall to the other side.
Kat walked up to stand beside Toren and looked out over the hills and woods. To the right was a forest where the stones must sit, as the invisible string pulled so hard that Kat nearly leaned into Toren’s chest.
She purposely looked outward and breathed deeply. “I’ve been cooped up for days. Needed some air,” she said, but couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. The man thought she was coming back here with him. Kat supposed she should be happy that he thought of her comfort. What else was on that list? Tampons? Ibuprofen?
Kat turned a narrowed stare to him. “So when do we leave? For the necklace? Drakkina wants it now and I can’t wait to get home.”
“Ye’ve spoken with the witch?”
“She was just in my room.”
Toren cursed beneath his breath and ran a hand through his hair. The side of his jaw clenched. “I will stay with ye.”
“Why?”
“To protect ye. I’ve found some ancient spells that may keep her power from touching ye or me. They’re from a book of my mother’s.”
“Drakkina doesn’t want to hurt me or you,” Kat said and pushed away the quick thought of Toren protecting her, all night.
“Bloody hell she does!” Toren lowered his voice. “She took me without warning, away so that my family was destroyed.” He looked over the small village at the feet of the great keep. “I will find a way that she cannot just pick us up at will again.” The quiet vehemence caught in Kat’s chest.
Her words were equally low. “So you plan to keep me here by making Drakkina unable to send either of us, unable to send me home.” There, it was out. She waited for him to deny it. Toren continued to watch the darkening landscape.
“Yer world is polluted, overpopulated, full of artificial ingredients, and terrorists.”
Kat’s anger welled, urging her to retaliate with a list of undesirable characteristics of Toren’s world. Hunger, filth, political chaos also could be said about her own world. She’d never win the battle with that strategy.
“You know what my world also has?” she asked.
Toren’s eyes flickered as she pushed hair behind her ears and stared at him.
“My world has”—she pursed her lips—“Fairy Princess Clara. And her twin brother, the one with strep throat. He didn’t even speak when he first came to the orphanage. He held his sister so she couldn’t see their father kill their mother. I held him for weeks until one day he said his favorite cookie was chocolate chip.”
Kat felt the tears well up. “And then there is Margie, she’s twelve and awkward. She was so angry about coming to the orphanage that she was a first rate bully until Lisa and I put her to work scrubbing the dishes and cutting
the little one’s toenails. Little Jeremiah talked so much to her while she tried to cut his wiggly toes that she actually started to laugh.” Kat smiled, the memory swallowing her tears. “After that, Jeremiah was stuck to her and suddenly she wasn’t alone in the world, she had a little brother to watch out for.
“Then Sophie and Tim came from a terrible foster home. Neither of them could sleep soundly for weeks. Lisa and I took turns sitting with them in their rooms, watching over them, promising we wouldn’t let the bad people hurt them again.” Shoot, the tears were back.
Toren turned towards her, silent and watching. Kat continued to describe each of her twenty-three children and the circumstances surrounding their arrivals at the orphanage. Once he reached out, but Kat put up a hand. If she let in his comfort, she’d fall apart into a puddle of pain for her kids. She’d taken it all in like a true mother and repaid every bit of pain with her own love.
Her throat began to ache at holding back the tears and speaking. The night had grown around them and thousands of stars twinkled above. “And Mary-Sue is almost fifteen. She’s been abandoned over and over again.” Kat looked up into Toren’s eyes, only then realizing that she’d stared at his chest through the whole oration. “She can’t withstand abandonment again at such an age. I won’t abandon any of my kids, Toren MacCallum.” Her voice grew as anger at his self-centered views poured liquid steel into her spine. He didn’t say a word. His hand moved to her arm, but Kat stepped backward along the wall.
“So make sure, MacCallum, that if you conjure any more of your binding spells, you don’t try to bind me to you.” Anger sneered as the emotion of her justifications pumped, holding her up. She pointed at him as she backed toward the steps. “If you are bound to me, you will find yourself living in the twenty-first century.”
Kat stepped back down into the dark stairwell, pushed the oak door open and ran inside. The tears washed down her cheeks as she made it to her room. Homesickness engulfed her as she allowed the memories of all she’d left behind swamp her. “By God in Heaven,” she swore amidst her anguish. “Somehow I’m getting home!”
Chapter 9
Toren frowned, grunted, and growled through the rest of the night and next day. The castle staff and the warriors gave him a wide berth. He swam in the icy water, rode to the edges of his borders and back, and swung his practice sword without mercy while sparring with the men. After one match that ended up with an unconscious warrior, Eadan approached him.
“What in bloody hell are ye pissed at, Tor?” Eadan spoke low, a hand on Toren’s stiff shoulder. “Ye’re skilled enough that yer fury isn’t hindering yer fight, but it’s hindering yer judgment, brother.”
Toren’s eyes met Eadan’s with a dull chill. “Kat wants to go home.” Toren released the words like they were poison he wished to spit out.
Eadan signaled the men to continue their training while he and Toren walked toward the keep. “Does that mean I do not have to order oils for her skin?” Eadan joked and then murmured an apology when Toren’s gaze sliced frozen steel through him. Eadan sighed. “Brother, she’s just a lass ye met not too long ago. If she does not feel the same way about ye—”
“She does,” Toren interrupted. At least he thought she did. He’d felt it in the heat of her kiss, the way she’d wrapped delicate fingers in his hair. Or did all uninhibited twenty-first-century women do that? The thought pissed him off even more.
And how exactly did he feel about her? Besides the need to bed her, and the anger that swelled against the limits of his control when he thought of her leaving.
“Well then handfast with her,” Eadan said. “Then she has to stay for a year and a day.”
“The old ways are not legal. I cannot make her stay.” Toren shook his head. “Even if I could. She has…” He breathed deep. How could he tell his brother that Kat had twenty-three children waiting for her to return? “She has people at home depending on her.”
“Ahh,” Eadan said as if he understood though he couldn’t. “Then go home with her.”
Toren’s eyes met Eadan’s. “I may not be able to return.” He paused. “Ever.”
“Why not?” Good question, but not one Toren could explain.
“It’s complicated.” Toren looked away. The sun was beginning to set. He glanced to the top of the keep. Would Kat be walking up there? He hadn’t seen her since she’d run away from him with tears and determination clouding her eyes.
Toren strode inside without acknowledging anyone and took the stairs. Maybe he could talk to her up there. When he reached the roof, he realized Eadan had followed. A quick glance in the fresh wind above showed that Kat wasn’t there.
“There’s something else, Tor,” Eadan said and leaned against the wall from where Toren watched.
Toren continued to scan the bailey and small village below. Maybe Kat had ventured out.
“I want…well, I mean.” Eadan hesitated, then stood straighter, his broad shoulders back, chest out. “I want yer blessing. I’m going to ask Margaret Maxwell to wed with me.”
Toren turned toward his brother, his stare hard. “Ye do not ken her, Eadan.” He shook his head and looked away. “Ye should marry to strengthen our alliances,” Toren said, falling back on the words they’d both heard a thousand times while growing up. Life was all about duty to one’s clan. Wasn’t it?
“Ye sound like Da,” Eadan said, low. “And ye were the one to stop him from forcing me to wed the Maclean lass. He took out his fury on ye instead of me.”
“I could handle fury.” Toren glanced across the bailey. “I lived under Maxwell’s whip for years. I was stronger than ye. It made sense.”
“I’m not weak, brother, and I know who I love.”
“Ye do not ken her, Eadan. Not enough to bind yerself to her.”
“I ken her well enough, as well as two people need to before they wed. Some ken less about each other,” Eadan said, defensiveness edging his tone.
Toren closed his eyes. What could he say? He looked at Eadan, his little brother, full grown, a man in his own right. “Talk with her first. Ask Margaret about.” He hesitated. “Ask her about her brother’s death.”
“The night of the fire?” Eadan asked, brows drawing together in question.
“Aye, ask Margaret about the fire.” Toren turned outward, watching the sun drop below the tree line. “People will do anything to survive. And some”—he looked at Eadan—“some do absolutely nothing to survive.” Toren watched Eadan’s frown. It made him look older. Eadan had grown up suddenly. How was that possible? In Eadan’s time it had only been a few weeks since they stood here making plans to visit court to confirm their good will towards Elizabeth.
Maybe Toren was the one who had changed during the five year exile, changed enough to see that his brother had grown into a fierce, intelligent MacCallum leader.
“Just talk to her first, Eadan,” Toren said, his gaze diverted by a glow along the southern border.
Toren leaned forward. Eadan followed his gaze. “Shite,” Eadan said, as they watched the growing flame of the warning beacon.
“Maxwell comes,” Toren said. “Ye best have yer talk with Margaret now. It will be easier to keep her if she’s already a MacCallum.” Eadan opened his mouth but then closed it again. Perhaps he realized that was Toren’s blessing.
Eadan turned and jogged down the steps. Toren spied the guards along the wall. They had spotted the fire. Just as planned, the warning bell tolled. People in the village would prepare to leave their homes. They’d come into the keep if the bell tolled a second time.
Toren watched as men and women came out of their homes. Their movements were organized, no panic. A tremor of pride beat with his pulse as he watched his people prepare for possible war. They’d been trained before the witch had taken him, yet the MacCallums had still been annihilated. He felt the weight of responsibility like a shroud around his strong shoulders.
Toren turned toward the steps. He must talk to Kat now, whether she liked it or not.
She had to know what was coming. He reached for the door just as Eadan yanked it open. Toren’s stomach gripped at the sight on Eadan’s face. Margaret stood behind, hands clasped as if she could start praying any moment.
“What’s happened?” Toren asked.
“Kat’s gone,” Eadan said. “Brianag went with her.”
“What? Where?” Toren’s voice boomed out.
Eadan reached his hand back to protect Margaret, who obviously had information.
“Did ye see them go, Margaret? Or did they just disappear?” Toren asked.
Eadan looked confused, but rushed on anyway. “She saw them leave together on one horse a few hours ago.”
Toren pushed past them down the corridor. “Why? Where are they going?”
Eadan and Margaret followed. Toren threw Kat’s door open. All looked normal. He strode through, heart pounding. No note, all her clothes still there. He turned toward them. “What do ye ken, woman? This time speak up.” His eyes bored into her. Eadan squeezed her hand and she straightened up.
“Kat said she wanted to visit a circle of stones to the west of here. She said it was close.”
“And ye let her go?” Toren rubbed a hand over his face.
“She was already on her way out when we came upon her in the back court yard. She’d found some door in the wall. Brianag didn’t even know about the door.”
Toren looked at Eadan who shrugged. “I’ll check it out.”
“Brianag wouldn’t let her go alone,” Margaret continued. “Kat said they’d be back by nightfall.”
The fool woman! Toren strode past them. She and Brianag were out there, possibly already in Maxwell’s hands. Possibly in the Campbell’s grimy hands. “Ye’re in charge, Eadan. If Maxwell comes, tell him I’ll be back soon.”
“What should I do if he demands Margaret and Sara?” Eadan asked. “If he carries a letter from Elizabeth?”
“That’s up to ye,” Toren said and yelled for two warriors near the door. “We ride!”
“Winifred,” Eadan yelled. “Prepare the Lady Margaret. There’s going to be a handfasting.”
Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3) Page 19