Raising Hell in the Highlands: A Time Travel Romance (A Timeless Love Book 2)

by Abbie Zanders

  “Isobeille,” Gavin said gravely. “Isobeille Aislinn McKenna.”

  * * *

  “Isobeille.” Lachlan murmured the name quietly to see if there was any reaction. There was.

  Aislinn looked up at him with pure fire in her eyes as her nails curled into his flesh like tiny claws. “Did you forget who was sharing your bed, Laird Brodie?”

  He chuckled as the relief spread through him, and he was now forced to think quickly to soothe his ruffled wee wildcat.

  “Are ye sure yer name is Aislinn?” he teased. “Because ye look like an Isobeille te me.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t look like a Lachlan to me,” she sniffed indignantly.

  “Oh?” he asked, loving the playful banter that came so easily with her. He had bedded many women, but could not recall a single instance where he had laughed with one in bed, or even talked, for that matter. He found he liked doing both with Aislinn.

  “And what name comes te mind when ye look at me?” He puffed out his chest and flexed his great muscles in a show of male prowess.

  She considered him only briefly as her mind searched for the most non-threatening name she could think of. “Mortimer.”

  He bellowed out a laugh, gathering her into his arms and tickling her until she squealed. “Wench.”

  “Seriously, do you really like the name Isobeille?” Aislinn asked when she was able to breathe again. She snuggled against him, stroking her fingers along his chest. It was something she did often, this gentle petting, though she seemed unaware that she was doing so.

  “Aye, ‘tis a fine name. Not quite as fine as Aislinn, though,” he added with a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

  “Well, it’s just kind of weird.”

  “What is?”

  “That you thought of that name in particular.”

  “Why?” he asked, starting to feel a twinge of unease.

  “Because that’s my middle name. Aislinn Isobeille McKenna.”

  “Is it now?” The words were spoken softly. Lachlan was afraid to speak any louder for fear his voice would betray him. He was not an overly superstitious man by nature, or one to look hard for connections and meanings unseen, but this was a coincidence even he was wary of dismissing easily. That two women would both have the same surname was not the issue – McKenna was quite a common clan name. But that one – Isobeille Aislinn – went missing right around the same time another – Aislinn Isobeille – arrived seemingly out of nowhere ... that gave him definite pause.

  “Yes. Isobeille was my mother’s name, a family name that supposedly goes way back. I was named for both her and my dad’s mom – her name was Aislinn, I’m told.”

  “Was, ye say? Yer mother passed?”

  She sighed and melted into his chest. “Yes. So did my father. And my brother. And my sister. All at the same time.”

  His heart twisted in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him, as if he could somehow draw some of the pain away from her. It also ensured that she would not slip away from him so easily this time. “How did it happen?”

  “Car accident,” she said quietly. “My mother was pregnant with me at the time. They kept her on life-support till I was born, but then they disconnected her and she died.” She spoke the words simply, with little emotion, as if she was talking about someone else’s tragedy instead of her own.

  Lachlan felt the horror, even if some of her words were unknown to him. This was not the pain of a woman spinning tales. This was all too real. “What were their names?”

  “My mother was Isobeille, as I said. My father was Jack. My brother, Sean. My sister, Maggie. I don’t know much about them, except that Maggie was four and Sean was two when it happened.”

  Lachlan stroked her hair, not knowing what else to do. “Sometimes I wish I’d died, too,” she confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper in the dark.

  “I am glad ye dinnae, my wee angel. I am verra glad ye dinnae.”

  Chapter 9

  “’Tis no’ her,” Lachlan said emphatically, bringing his fist down on the table. “Aislinn is no’ Isobeille.” He wished he had never gone along with Bowen’s suggestion to speak the name aloud when her guard was down to gauge her response. He wished even more he had not told them that Isobeille was Aislinn’s middle name.

  “Mayhap no’, but ye have te at least consider the possibility that ‘tis more than mere coincidence.”

  “I did consider it, and that is all that it is. Aislinn’s parents died.”

  “So she says.”

  Bowen didn’t even see Lachlan move. “Accuse her of spinning tales again and I will no’ hesitate te make sure ye doona talk for a month,” Lachlan said through clenched teeth, his hand around his younger brother’s throat as he pinned him up against the wall.

  “No one is accusing her of lying, Lachlan. She believes what she is saying, we are all in accord on that,” Conall said in a logical, even tone.

  Lachlan released his brother, leaving him drawing breath in great gulps. “So ye are saying she is daft?” he seethed, growing larger. “That does no’ seem any less insulting.”

  “Not daft. Jesu, Lachlan, will ye listen te yerself? We only want te help the lass.”

  “We are helping her. ‘Tis no place safer for her than Dubhain. I fail te see how offering her up te the mon who supposedly beat her will serve her any better.”

  “We are no’ talking about her Da, Lachlan,” said Malcolm quietly. “Someone else has answered the inquiries as weel.”

  “Who?”

  Aengus blew out a breath. “Her betrothed.”

  Lachlan went completely still. “Excuse me? I doona think I heard ye correctly.”

  “A mon claiming te be Isobeille McKenna’s betrothed has sent word that he would like te see the lass, see for himself if she is his beloved.”

  “Nay.” Lachlan shook his head. It was not possible. If Aislinn was promised to another, he would know. No woman could make love with him the way she did and belong to another. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but he cast it aside. “Aislinn is no’ betrothed.”

  “But Lachlan - ”

  “I said, nay. Aislinn is no’ Isobeille. Let the mon search elsewhere.”

  “What man?” Aislinn asked, walking into the Great Hall, looking fresh and as beautiful as ever. Her cheeks were still somewhat flushed from Lachlan’s earlier impulsive yet thorough lovemaking.

  Lachlan shot a lethal glare at his brother. Aislinn came up to him and laid her hand on his arm, the pads of her fingers making tiny movements along his skin. It had an immediate calming effect.

  “She deserves te ken, Lachlan.”

  He loved his brethren, but so help him they did not know when to keep their mouths shut. Lachlan blew out a breath and looked down into Aislinn’s upturned face. One look at the question in her eyes and he knew she expected him to answer.

  “A young woman disappeared from one of the Northern clans a few weeks before you came to Dubhain. Her name is Isobeille McKenna, and ‘tis said ye favor her likeness.”

  “And you think I might be her?” Aislinn guessed, reminding Lachlan that she was clever as well as beautiful and deadly. Her eyes narrowed, and the small petting strokes ceased. “That’s why you called me Isobeille. To see how I would react to the name.”

  “Aye,” he admitted. “But I doona think ye are her,” he was quick to add. Thankfully, her features softened slightly.

  “Good, because I’m not.” She turned to the others. “Look, I may not know how I came to be on your land, but I do know who I am. And dream or not, I have a lifetime of memories that I can guarantee you are mine and mine alone, and none of them could possibly belong to this missing woman.”

  “The mind is capable of many things,” Conall suggested, ignoring Lachlan’s repeated warning glares over Aislinn’s head. “It is said that Isobeille had a less than ideal life.”

  “Then that makes two of us. And I get what you’re saying, I rea
lly do. But believe me when I tell you that if I was so traumatized as to create my own alternate reality, I would not have picked the life I remember. I would love to not have those memories.”

  Conall did not seem convinced, but he did not press her further.

  “Yer life,” Lachlan said later that night when Aislinn was properly spent from his ardent lovemaking. “Was it that bad?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, burrowing deeper into his neck, but she said nothing more.

  * * *

  “Lachlan, did ye hear me?” Aengus’s voice, as well as his swift fist to Lachlan’s upper arm, finally got his attention. “What?”

  “Jesu, where are ye?” Aengus said, shaking his head. “’Tis no’ like ye te be so wool-headed, Lachlan.”

  “I have much te think upon,” Lachlan replied vaguely. For the past three nights he had had Aislinn in his bed. Three nights of incredible passion. Three nights of deep, contented sleep. Three mornings of waking up to Aislinn loving him with her hands, her mouth, her body. The time in between was a constant replay of images and a desire to be with her again. It was playing havoc with his sensibilities.

  “Aye, I guess ye do at that. I said, Simon and Bowen are heading into town. They wish te take Aislinn with them.”

  Lachlan silenced the immediate and vehement denial that rose in his throat. He had appointments at the keep and would be unable to leave. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what those appointments were – it seemed his thoughts lately were almost exclusively of one particular lass - but some vague notion suggested they were important.

  He could simply forbid her to go. The thought of Aislinn being that far away from him did not sit well. She was adjusting rather well to life around the keep, but the village? There were a lot of hale young males there whose eye would undoubtedly be drawn her way. Aislinn had a way of standing out.

  “Do ye think that wise?”

  “She has promised te wear proper attire,” Aengus grinned. “No more breeches or lad’s shirts. And te – as she put it – zip her lips, which we assume means te keep quiet. In truth, she seems quite excited about the idea.”

  A soft growl emanated from the back of Lachlan’s throat. He wanted to be the one to accompany her into the village and show Aislinn around. He wanted to see her face as she discovered things. He loved the way everything seemed new to her. It was like experiencing everything anew through her eyes. Aislinn had a very unique way of looking at things, a way of challenging his mind that was every bit as enticing as the demands she made upon his body.

  Lachlan frowned. He would be quite happy, he decided, if Aislinn never remembered how she came to be on his land. She seemed pleased with the way things were, and he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt quite so... alive. Aislinn’s sudden and unexpected appearance in his life had awakened parts of him he hadn’t even known existed. There was joy to be found in the simplest of things – a spectacular sunset, a fine tankard of ale, the incredible warmth in a woman’s arms – all because of her.

  “Come now, Lachlan,” Aengus said, sensing the direction of his thoughts. “Ye ken ye will no’ have time for the lass today anyway.”

  “Fine,” Lachlan agreed reluctantly. But he didn’t have to be happy about it.

  * * *

  Lachlan clenched his fists tightly at his sides as he saw Malcolm lift Aislinn up onto the mount. Malcolm’s hands lingered just a little too long, and there really was no legitimate reason for him to be that close. The libidinous bastard didn’t even like venturing into the village, but as soon as he heard that Simon and Bowen would be taking Aislinn, he had decided to join them. As had Conall and Aengus.

  “Does she have to ride with him like that?” Lachlan growled through gritted teeth. Seeing any man – especially Malcolm – touch her like that sent sharp pains through his gut, as if a beast was clawing to get free.

  “She can no’ ride a mount,” Gavin said reasonably beside him. As Gavin was the only one to remain behind at the keep with him, Lachlan decided that he was his most favored kinsman in that moment. “’Tis for her safety. And she seems te have taken a liking te the shameless rogue.”

  Lachlan grunted. It had more to do with Malcolm wanting her rubbing up against him than anything else, and the bastard knew it. There was no mistaking the smug grin on Malcolm’s face.

  “She could ride the mare. ‘Tis a gentle enough creature for a novice.”

  “The mare is being shoe’ed today,” Gavin answered, a twinkle in his eye. No doubt Lachlan was already suspecting that the shoeing was a last minute request with an ulterior motive.

  While Lachlan contemplated several painful ways to kill his brother, Aislinn turned and saw him. She smiled brightly at the sight of him and waved. Then she lifted her fingers to her lips, kissed them, and blew the kiss toward him. Somewhere deep inside his chest, Lachlan’s heart clenched.

  He watched them until they disappeared from sight, then sighed. It was going to be a very long day without the ability to steal away for a few minutes here and there to see Aislinn. To see her glance up from one of those books she so loved and smile, knowing the smile was for him and him alone. Or to feel her hands kneading upon his shoulders beneath the shade of the old Wych Elm – how she loved to sit beneath that tree in the heat of the day...

  Gavin clasped his hand on Lachlan’s shoulder as they walked back toward the keep. “I am going te miss the lass,” Gavin murmured.

  Lachlan stilled. “What did you say?”

  Gavin blew out a breath. “Come now, Lachlan. Ye ken she can no’ be here when Elyse and her family arrive. ‘Twould be too cruel.”

  With horror, Lachlan suddenly remembered the appointments he had. “Elyse...” Lachlan paled, sinking down onto the low stone wall that surrounded the inner courtyard when his knees went weak.

  “Ye did no’ tell Aislinn ye were betrothed, did ye, Lachlan?” asked Gavin, his voice soft and only slightly reproachful.

  “Nay. In truth, I had forgotten myself. How does a mon forget his own marriage?”

  Gavin nodded somberly. “We figured as much. But then, Aislinn is the type of woman who can make a mon forget many a things, I’m thinking. Even a betrothal.”

  Lachlan groaned. “Why did ye no’ remind me?”

  “Because,” Gavin said heavily, “for the first time ye seemed truly happy. Even if it was only te last for a few days, none of us was willing te take that away from ye, Lachlan. Ye spent yer whole life taking care of the rest of us, with little or no thought te yerself. We wanted ye te have this time.”

  Lachlan buried his face in his hands. How had he made such a horrible mess of things in such a short amount of time?

  “No one thinks too poorly of ye. ‘Tis natural for a mon te lose a wee bit of sense the week afore his wedding.” He patted Lachlan on the arm. “But ye ken why Aislinn can no’ be here.”

  Yes, he understood. Because it would kill Aislinn to find out that while he had been seducing her, he had promised himself to another. A woman whose very existence he had forgotten the moment he saw Aislinn.

  It felt like a betrayal, more so to Aislinn than to Elyse, though it was Elyse with whom he had an accord. In truth, he made Aislinn no such promise, nor had he ever spoken beyond the moments they shared. Nor had she ever asked, ever hinted that she expected anything more.

  “Does she ken?” Lachlan could barely speak.

  “Nay. We thought it best te wait until she was away from Dubhain. Malcolm will be the one te tell her,” Gavin said quietly. “She seems te have taken te him. He will explain how it was all set in motion ere she came.”

  “It will hurt her.” He could picture it so clearly in his mind. The flashing sparkle in her eyes would fade, the soft lines in her face would harden, becoming an unreadable mask. The vision speared through him like a lance to the chest.

  “No doubt,” Gavin agreed solemnly. “But nay so much as if she learned the truth upon Lady Elyse’s arrival.”

  Lachlan understood, too,
what Gavin was not saying. That Aislinn would most likely not take the truth quietly. All of that passion simmering just below the surface – the passion she had been gifting him with every day and night – would find a different outlet. It was better that she vent her rage far away from the ears of his future in-laws, away from the people of Dubhain, while surrounded by five braw men who would ensure she would neither cause nor come to harm in the process of doing so. At least now he understood the eagerness of his brethren to accompany her. The woman had enough skills to wreak havoc should she be so inclined.

  “Aislinn is both intelligent and strong,” Gavin continued. “While she will no’ be happy with ye, she will ken the benefits of the agreement and she will endure.”

  Lachlan didn’t want her to endure. He wanted her to be happy. No, the hell with that. He wanted her here, with him. Suddenly everything he would gain from a marriage to Elyse seemed to pale in comparison to the thought of losing Aislinn.

  “Lady Elyse is a good woman. Ye may even come te love her, in time.”

  Gavin meant well, but Lachlan knew better. He would never love Elyse, because he loved Aislinn. He had from the very first moment she had appeared, risking her life to save him, he realized. That was the kind of love he wanted. The kind that struck strong and true and left you feeling dazed afterwards.

  Elyse was a good woman, but she would never sass him. She would never spar with him, or lift his kilt and giggle mischievously. She would never wear a man’s trews or adorn her womanly parts or tease him with a little silver egg...

  “Simon has arranged a meeting in the village with the mon who claims te be Isobeille McKenna’s betrothed,” Gavin was saying.

  Lachlan paled further, feeling ill. “Ye sneaking bastards,” he managed to grit out. “Ye knew I would no’ allow that.”

  “Cease thinking of yerself, Lachlan!” Gavin snapped. “Think of Aislinn.”

  “I am thinking of her.” He couldn’t seem to think of anything but her. “She is no’ Isobeille.”

  “If no’, then no harm done. Sir Galen will go on his merry way and continue the search for his betrothed.”