Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6) (15 page)

“Don’t even ask,” Mrs. MacDonald spewed. “Ye’ll never understand. Keep moving.”

I should fall on her now. Wrestle the bitch to the ground. She was old, weak. My reflexes were quick, swifter than hers, I’d be willing to bet all my lands on that.

Once Emma had reached the bottom, she turned to face me and I winked, nodded my head only the slightest bit so as not to draw attention. She seemed to understand enough to scoot toward the main door and out of the way.

Without warning, I whipped around, staring the old bat right in her widened, surprised eyes. With one hand, I grabbed Mrs. MacDonald’s right wrist which held the gun and with my other, I grabbed her left. I squeezed, watching pain and frustration fill her face, until she let go of the weapon and the black box, both of them bouncing down the stairs. Emma moved quickly to pick them up.

“Ye see,” I said low, and in her face. “I couldn’t let ye get away with whatever it was ye were planning. They dinna call me the Guardian for no reason. I
am
the Guardian of Scotland, and ye are nothing but a conniving old bitch. If ye knew anything, ye’d know I’d bested your clan a hundred times.”

Her old wrinkled lips pursed angrily, and hatred, pure and vile screamed from her eyes.

“No matter where ye are, ye’ll never be safe from me and the others,” she said.

“Nay,” I drawled out. “Ye’ve got the wrong of it, crone.
Ye’ll
never be safe from
me
.” I grinned, the kind I often gave men in battle just before I brought down a final blow upon their skulls. “At least, for as long as I let ye live.”

She seemed surprised; perhaps thinking I would kill her right then and there, but I was against violence towards women and the elderly, and she’d not tried to kill us yet, so she had that on her side. Though I ought to break her hand for considering blowing off my ballocks. I’d show her mercy, something I’d found hard to do with anyone carrying the same name.

“Go back to your hovel, wherever that might be. Live out the rest of your life in peace.” I doubted she would take my suggestion.

“Go to hell,” she spat through gritted teeth.

Just as I suspected. Stubborn as a goat.

“Mrs. MacDonald,” Emma said. “Where is your car?”

Car? What the hell was a car? I seemed to recall Emma telling me about it once, but it was hard to match the foreign words with the actual objects.

“Why should I tell ye that?” The older woman jutted her chin obstinately, still struggling in my grasp.

“Because, if you don’t, I will shoot you.” Emma’s face was calm, serious. “Shooting you doesn’t mean you have to die.”

“Ye wouldn’t,” Mrs. MacDonald said.

Emma lowered the gun, pointing at the woman’s foot. “Oh, I would. I’ve a greater reason to be rid of you and on my way than you have to keep me here.”

Emma pulled back the lever; the same one Mrs. MacDonald had cocked before shooting the corner of the bedchamber.

I held my tongue, allowing her to make these decisions. Emma had been the one tormented by this woman and if she really wanted to shoot her, I was going to fully support her choice.

“’Tis outside.”

Emma opened the door a crack, and then nodded. “I’m shocked. You didn’t lie.”

Mrs. MacDonald huffed.

“Well,” Emma said, pursing her lips. “I do apologize for this in advance, it’s going to hurt.”

And then she pulled the trigger, shooting Mrs. MacDonald in the foot.

The woman screamed and I jumped just the smallest bit. I’d not expected her to go through with it. The woman fell to the floor, blood seeping from the hole in her shoe.

“Never get in the way of a mother and her child,” Emma said. “As a mother, I’m sure you understand.”

Emma still held the gun pointed at the old crone, but she turned her gaze to stare at me wide-eyed. Time to go. Time for me to step in and give her the strength she needed. I nodded, mouthed,
well done
. I’d hug her as soon as we were out of sight.

“Ye bitch!” Mrs. MacDonald shouted from the floor where she sat, hugging her foot to her chest.

“How can I help?” I asked Emma.

“Wait here. Watch her.”

I did as she asked while Emma ran back upstairs, returning with a small satchel and my weapons. I sheathed my sword and returned my sgian dubh to my sock, watching her hurry toward the kitchen. Once back, I noted she’d shoved the gun into her bag, along with the black box. She then reached down and rummaged through Mrs. MacDonald’s clothes all while Mrs. MacDonald attempted to swat her away. Emma pulled out several items, and seeming satisfied, shoved them into the bag, too.

“Come on. We need to go now, before someone comes to see what happened.” She opened the door and I checked the surroundings.

“All clear,” I said.

“This way.” Emma leaned against me for a half second, though I could tell she wanted to do so longer.

She pointed to a large steel box that sat on the edge of the road, with wheels made of an odd material.

“A car,” I mused, remembering what she’d told me about vehicles.

“Yes. Get in.” She rushed around to the other side and opened the side of it, her eyes meeting mine. “Here.”

I hurried to do her bidding, managing to fold myself up enough once seated on the cushioned chair. Lord, but it was uncomfortable for a man my size.

Emma came around the other side, sat down, and plugged in the key and the whole thing rumbled to life.

“Remember what I said about cars?” she asked. “You may want to lay back and close your eyes. You’re likely to get sick.”

“I’m certain I’ve experienced things far more disturbing then this,” I assured her with a wink.

She smiled, and the vehicle lurched forward.

I grabbed on for dear life, swallowing down the bile rising up my throat, because she didn’t slow down, if anything, my sweet wife sped up.

Chapter Fifteen

Moira

I walked the length of the great hall at Gealach with the young heir, Saor, cradled in my arms. A tuft of fiery-red hair on his otherwise bald scalp. He gurgled and squirmed, cheeks fat and rosy, eyes as blue as the sky, looking genuinely content one moment and quite irritated with me the next.

I smiled and cooed at him, and for one so young, he had a surprisingly genuine smile. Not gas or dreams, but the grin of a babe well cared for and loved.

It’d been a week since Logan had vanished from the glen, though we all knew just where he’d gone. Or at least, we
hoped
we knew where he was. Nothing was ever a certainty. And I prayed daily that he knew
who
he was. When Shona and Ewan had both come to the 1500’s neither of them knew who they were in their past life. It took Shona five years before she remembered, and Ewan took nearly twenty years to recall his past. If Logan forgot who he was, it would be a disaster for everyone, even if he only lost his memory for a few short weeks.

He was our leader. The guardian of our country. The keeper of crown secrets. The protector of many. I shuddered to think what would happen should he forget.

“How is the bairn?” Rory asked.

I looked up at him, watching him approach, kilt swaying, and muscular legs marching toward me.

“He is very happy,” I said, wondering if at that moment a bairn of my own was growing inside me.

Rory tickled Saor’s chin. “He looks it.”

Though Rory had a son of his own already, I knew he couldn’t wait to have a child who he could raise, who he could love from birth—not to mention, that this child wouldn’t want to murder him.

“Rory,” Ewan said, striding into the hall, his brow furrowed, hand on his sword hilt as though he expected trouble at any moment.

My belly flopped. Ewan often looked disturbed, and I couldn’t blame him, but he looked even more agitated than usual.

“What is it?” Rory asked, his tone conveying he felt the same as I.

“There’s a man here…” Ewan glanced behind himself. The warrior was positively skittish. “From, ye know…”

“Really?” I gasped, peering around him. “Someone new?”

Ewan’s brows drew so low, they almost connected. “Aye. Appeared out of blasted nowhere. Scared the shite out of me. Pardon my language, Moira.”

“’Tis no bother, I’ve heard worse,” I murmured, thinking of all the heinous things Dickie, my ex-boyfriend, had said. And more recently, the vile things Ranulf had spewed.

“He is waiting in the entryway. Guards are with him,” Ewan said.

“Who is he? Who is he asking for?” Rory asked.

“He’s asking for Logan. Said his name was McAlister.”

“I dinna know any McAlisters,” Rory said.

“Neither do I,” Ewan replied.

Well,
they
might not know a McAlister, but I did. The blood drained from my face, and I swayed slightly on my feet, clutching onto Saor a little tighter.

Both men looked my way, alarmed.

“McAlister?” I said, faintly.

“Aye.” Ewan stepped forward, as did the nursemaid who’d been hovering nearby.

She took Saor from my grasp; thank the heavens, as I was feeling so faint… I touched the back of my hand to my forehead.

“’Tis familiar to ye?” Rory slid an arm around my back, steadying me, and I leaned against his solid form.

I nodded. “Where is Shona?” I pressed my hands to my temple. “I need my sister. She needs to be here.”

The truth was, I did know a McAlister. He was our solicitor in Edinburgh. The one in charge of our estate, our finances, our well-being. He’d been around since we were babies. He was like a grandfather to us. The one who set up the various foster homes, and saved us from the very same ones. Though he never took us in himself, something about that not being what was written in their parents’ directive.

I instructed the nursemaid to take Saor upstairs while we waited for Ewan and Shona.

Once she was gone, I tried to gather my thoughts. “Rory, if he’s who I think he is, then he is welcome, but the reason he’s here cannot be good.”

And just how had he come to be here? Was this a result of Logan having traveled to the future? It did seem as though if one went, another came and vice versa.

Ewan rushed away in search of Shona, while I tried to steady the rapid beat of my heart.

“Moira, tell me what’s going on,” Rory murmured against my ear, soft and comforting. A pillar of strength, always.

I explained who I thought McAlister could be.

“But… how would he know ye’re here?”

“I can only imagine that he must have spoken with Emma.”

“That means she was in Edinburgh.”

I nodded. “We’ll only know for certain if we talk to him.”

“We canna speak with him here.” Rory went to the grand trestle table and poured me a glass of watered wine.

“Nor Logan’s library,” I said, knowing how well the Guardian of Scotland protected his documents. I took a sip, feeling both relieved and guilty. If I were pregnant, would the wine harm a child? Then again, it was very watered down. And how many of the women here only drank ale or wine? Ugh! I couldn’t be worrying over this now, when an even more potential disaster was on our hands. I pressed my hand to my belly, unable to stop myself. Didn’t matter the disaster, I was still curious.

“Ewan will know where to go,” Rory said softly. “Are ye all right? Are ye feeling better?”

I shook my head, and then nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

He pulled me into his arms, and we both stayed like that, my eyes closed, nose buried in his chest. My heart started to beat normally again and I pulled back a moment to stare up into his eyes.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love ye, too.”

I could hear the tapping of my sister’s shoes as she ran, before she even appeared. And I’d give her a strong talking to, considering she was nearing her due date. Shona burst into the great hall, a flurry of plaid skirts and dark, unruly hair.

“Is it true?” she asked, grabbing hold of my arms and looking into my eyes.

“You shouldn’t be running,” I said.

“I told her the verra same thing,” Ewan said, running in behind her.

She waved away our comments.

I stared into her face, so like my own, and nodded.

“This can’t be good,” she whispered.

“I agree.”

“Where can we talk with this McAlister fellow?” Rory asked Ewan.

“There is a chamber Logan set aside especially for such meetings. I’ll take ye there and then fetch the man.”

We followed him from the great hall, and down the corridor past Logan’s office. Not too far, Ewan opened a door that led to a fairly plain room, but large. In the center of the room was a long trestle table, cleared of anything but three candelabras fitted with candles that had yet to be lit.

The walls were adorned with simple tapestries that showed no hint of politics or religion. Landscapes. A unicorn. A sideboard held a variety of decanters and cups. The hearth was cleaned of all ashes, fresh wood stacked and waiting to be kindled.

“Before ye get him,” Rory said, stopping Ewan. “I think it’s best if we had a plan.”

“Aye,” Ewan agreed.

“Are ye certain he can be trusted?” Rory asked me.

I glanced at Shona who answered. “Yes. We’ve known him for as long as we can remember. He kept our trust safe from the meddling hands of our foster parents. He’s helped us at every turning point in our lives. Well—” Shona paused for half a breath. “Most of them.”

“It seems almost normal that he might have come to find us, to help us here,” I said. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out just how he would have gotten here, or how he would have known.” I reached back with both hands, gathering my hair and twisting it into a knot at the nape of my neck. “It seems almost too uncanny that he might have met Emma and then magically appeared here.”

“But, we have all done the same thing,” Ewan said with a shrug.

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not certain I’d be wary of such,” Rory said. “Think about it. What we did. What we’ve done. Where we’ve gone.”

I nodded, but still, something in my gut didn’t sit well, and one look at Shona said she felt the same way.

“I think we can trust him until he gives us a reason not to,” I said.

“And be looking for that reason,” Shona said. “He has been like a grandfather to us… But I was here for five years and didn’t know who I was. Moira was home for years wondering if I was dead or alive. Why didn’t he help then if he could?”

“I didn’t think about it like that,” I said. “But now that you mention it, why didn’t he?”

“Let’s ask him ourselves,” Ewan said.

We waited for him to bring McAlister to the meeting room, and as soon as he did, I was struck with how much older our guardian appeared. His clothes were wrinkled and one pocket on his dark sport coat was torn. He was usually a lot more put together, but I suppose time travel could do that to a person.

“Lassies,” Mr. McAlister drawled. He held out his arms to us, expecting us to rush to him, not something he’d ever done before which gave me pause.

Shona glanced at me; a look that was not hidden from anyone’s view and we both stepped forward to embrace the man. Perhaps he was simply emotional from having time traveled. Goodness knows I was the same way.

Still, my guard was up. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something just wasn’t right.

“Ye wouldn’t’ believe what has happened,” he mumbled. “And, Shona, lass, ye look well. We were worried sick over your disappearance.”

“What about Moira?” Shona asked, her eyes narrowed.

Mr. McAlister nodded. “When she went missing a few weeks ago, I gathered that it must have been time travel. Your neighbor said she’d seen the both of you with two men. I put two and two together, and came by your house each day on the off chance that ye returned.”

“How have ye come to be here?” Rory asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Mr. McAlister startled, glancing at Rory as if he’d only just seen him standing there. He frowned a moment and looked back at us.

“Does he… know?” Mr. McAlister asked us.

We both nodded and the man breathed a sigh of relief. His gaze was locked on the sideboard. “Can I beg a drink?”

Ewan grunted and went to pour a cup. He brought McAlister one then retreated to pour four more strong whiskies. I pretended to sip mine since I wasn’t sure about a baby, and Shona shook her head, pushing the cup away.

“Ye didna answer my question,” Rory said, eyeing McAlister over the rim of his cup.

McAlister choked on his whisky, and held his hand to his mouth, coughing. Nobody patted him on the back, all of us waiting for him to answer the question.

“Apologies for that, it went down the wrong pipe, it seems.” Eyeing us all warily, he realized we weren’t going to wait much longer to hear his story. Mr. McAlister sighed heavily, staring hard into his cup. “I’ve time traveled before. Many times. This is hard to explain.” He looked up at us both, an apology in his eyes. “Ye see, I’m a time jumper. There are many of us. I can do it whenever I please.”

I ground my teeth, trying to process what he said. He’d practically just admitted that he could have come back in time, at any moment, to find Shona. To find myself. And he didn’t.

“And yet you didn’t help when Shona went missing years ago?” I asked.

“Before ye go jumping to conclusions, it’s not as easy as it sounds. I have to know the exact place and time for it to work.”

“You could have guessed. You could have gone many places,” I said, feeling anger rise and burn in my chest.

“But I could have gone all over the world, thousands of times and never found her,” he said.

“And how did ye end up here?” Rory asked, and I could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“The thing is,” Mr. McAlister said, ignoring Rory. “I’m going to need ye to come home with me, lassies. It’s not safe for ye here. There are other time jumpers, and if anyone were to find out who ye are, which I suspect they already know, then ye could be in mortal danger.”