Reckoning (Book 4 of Lost Highlander series) (7 page)

When they started getting a little too frisky, he turned away, wondering if he should put a stop to it, but sick and tired of being the villain. Someone should be allowed a little happiness. He took a piece of bread he’d pilfered from the table when Bella wasn’t looking and walked further into the woods, thinking he’d rest against a tree for a while and enjoy his hopefully poison-free bread.

It was a cool evening, but not yet bitter cold like he knew it could be. Even more so in the far north at his own land. It had been a long while since he’d seen the place, or his aunt’s farm, and he started to fall back into his dour mood.

He heard a rustling off to his left and ignored it. The Glens sent hunters nearly every day and they didn’t want for fresh game, or any kind of food for that matter. If he were home, he might have investigated, glad to have a rabbit or pheasant, but his heart wasn’t in for a chase at the moment.

When the man slipped up behind him and held a knife at his throat, he felt foolish for not considering the noise might be something other than a wild beastie.

“Ye heathen scum, Ferguson,” the man hissed. “How are ye so debauched that ye would share your wife with another?”

Bugger it, the man must have seen Bella and Pietro together, and today was likely not the first time. This man probably saw something on one of Bella’s daily rides and had been following them, looking for a reason to strike.

 His embarrassment at having been caught unawares fed the fire of the suppressed rage he’d felt the last few days. Living at the castle was like living in a huge, opulent cage, every eye on him, most of them wishing him harm. He couldn’t eat what he wanted, he had to sleep on the floor, his men were in constant danger, and he missed Piper.

He wanted to kick himself for suggesting this imbecilic outing so they could have their liaison, all so he might not have to listen to Bella cry herself to sleep one more night. He was sick and bloody tired and just wanted a good night’s rest.

So when the armed simpleton pressed his blade against Lachlan’s throat, he didn’t even think about dying. He merely wrenched the man’s arm down and heaved his elbow hard into his side. Twisting his arm around behind his back, he shoved him face first into the hard packed ground. He placed a boot on the man’s back and looked in all directions for anyone else.

“Are ye alone?” he asked, leaning his weight onto him.

“Yes,” he choked out. “But my brother knows where I’ve gone. He knows what I suspected. Everyone will know what ye’ve made our lady Bella into.”

Lachlan reached down and pulled him up by his shirt, ramming him into the trunk of a tree and looking into his eyes. “And what is that?” he asked in a conversational tone, knowing this would scare the wee snake more than yelling at him would.

“A-a whore,” he said, with much less confidence. “A- a Ferguson.”

Lachlan’s eye twitched to hear his name spewed with much more venom than the rude thing he’d called Bella. This man had meant to cut his throat, and would have succeeded had he been stronger. Lachlan decided Piper would forgive him, hauled back his fist and slammed it into the man’s face.

The cause of the commotion showed themselves, rustling through the brush and laughing as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Keeping his hand firmly on the now freely bleeding man, he turned and scowled at them as they came into the clearing.

Bella gasped and dropped Pietro’s hand. “What’s happened?” she stammered.

“Milady,” the man gurgled through the blood that poured out of his nose. “What has become of ye? How have they made ye so depraved?”

Lachlan almost wished she’d give him a healthy dose of her acerbic tongue, but her uncharacteristic silence unnerved him. Surely this fool hadn’t touched a nerve with her?

“Dinna listen to him, Bella,” he said.

“He doesna understand,” she whispered, backing up and shaking her head.

Pietro grabbed her arm and pulled her away, while the man shouted more insults. Lachlan punched him in the stomach to get him to shut up. A moment later Pietro returned without Bella and looked wildly at him.

“What do we do?” he asked, his voice laced with the panic that was rising up in Lachlan. “That’s Bella’s second cousin. She thinks he’ll tell everyone he saw us.”

“I shall,” the cousin coughed from his doubled over position. “I shall tell everyone, ye fornicator, ye adulterer, ye whoreson follower.”

Pietro dropped his head into his hands. “Is he insulting me or you?” he asked with a desperate laugh.

Lachlan didn’t have the first idea and for a long moment he and Pietro just stared at the man, still muttering oaths against them.

Lachlan grabbed the man’s chin and twisted his face around to force him to look at him. “Stay put, aye?”

He motioned for Pietro to follow him a few paces away. “I’ll admit I’d like to hit the wee bastard a few more times, but I canna see killing the man for seeing something he shouldna have seen.” He glared at Pietro, hoping the unspoken rebuke that they shouldn’t have been doing anything worth seeing was understood.

Pietro looked chagrined and lost all color. “Dear God, no,” he said.

“Will ye murder me, as ye murdered the laird?” shrieked the cousin, stumbling away at a crooked run.

Lachlan swore and caught him by the scruff of his neck before he’d gone five paces. “I will kill ye,” he said seriously, “if ye try to run off again. Do ye understand?” He shook the man until he nodded. “Do ye believe me?” he demanded and the man nodded quicker this time. He turned to Pietro, sorry he had to see him at his most ruthless. “Get some rope, or whatever ye have that we may tie him with.”

They bound him to the trunk of the tree, extracting information from him with threats and a few slaps. It was true, he and his brother had seen Bella acting in such a way with Pietro that it cast doubt on her marriage to Lachlan.

At first they thought her a victim of the monster Ferguson, and was only seeking solace with Pietro. When he followed them and saw that Lachlan not only knew about their relationship, but seemed to encourage it, he decided Pietro was as wicked as any Ferguson, and that poor Bella was probably lost to her family, and indeed, God.

He decided to be the hero and kill Lachlan, freeing the Glens once and for all from his evil. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about Pietro and Bella if his plot succeeded.

“That’s a verra entertaining tale, lad,” Lachlan said, shaking his head in disgust.

He would deserve to be dead if he let this gnat get the better of him, but he was glad for Bella and Pietro’s sake he hadn’t, because her cousin seemed just unhinged enough to kill them, too.

 They found Bella standing by the horses and looking forlorn. She couldn’t meet Lachlan’s or Pietro’s eye, and as much as he wanted to rage at them both, he couldn’t do it.

“What’s done is done,” he said gruffly. “We must move forward.”

“Are ye going to kill him?” she asked.

“Dinna be daft,” he said. He closed his eyes against their expectant looks, and wondered if it would hurt them so much to come up with some answers for once. “We must get him away,” he said finally. “I think I could help one of the men sneak away tonight. Perhaps Raff. He wouldna be missed right away, as quiet as he’s kept himself. He could take this one back to my land, hold him until …”

He shook his head. It didn’t matter how long it took. There was no way on earth that Bella’s cousin could ever step foot in the castle again. If he got close enough, he’d holler until he was heard, filling everyone with more distrust than they already had, and giving them reason to act on it.

Eventually he’d be missed, as would his man Raff. More rumors and whispers would get started. It would only be a matter of time before another attempt was made on his life.

“Go on ahead, leave my horse with me, and send Raff back on foot,” Pietro said. “If yon wee idiot doesn’t have a horse hidden about somewhere, they can take mine, though it would be a bear to explain it.” He stepped forward and kissed Bella on the forehead, glanced quickly at Lachlan and kissed her more lingeringly on the mouth. “I’ll stay until Raff arrives. No one will miss me right away, but ye must be getting back.”

Bella wordlessly seized him in a stranglehold of a hug before pushing away and mounting her horse. Lachlan hurried to follow her, still unsettled by her silence.

“He’ll be fine, lass,” he said when he caught up to her.

She crossed her arms over her stomach and rocked back and forth in the saddle. “But for how long? ‘Tis all falling apart,” she said, staring desolately ahead of her. “How much longer can we carry on before one of us is killed?”

The diary landed in her lap and she stared at it, brimming with nervous energy. A glance at the clock showed her how late it was, and she abandoned her idea to show Evie what she’d discovered.

Her grandmother had gone back in time. Grandma Rose had freaking time traveled to the past. It was unbelievable, and yet she had the evidence resting benignly against her knee.

It was true, the ability to time travel seemed to run in her family, the same as being short and having dark hair. Her poor grandmother must have been so terrified by it, she fled from her home, hoping to leave it all behind. It had to be linked to the land as well.

Piper certainly never winked out to another time back in Texas, nor had she been plagued with dark dreams. A handsome, rugged Highlander had never appeared in the closet of any of her apartments in any other place she’d ever lived. The thought of Lachlan made her heart hurt.

No, she couldn’t wander down that road. She had to find out what happened to Rose. All she had to do was pick up the diary and start reading again. And yet, she continued to stare down at the robin’s egg blue leather, her hands unwilling to open it.

She flexed her frozen fingers and shivered, realizing there was nothing otherworldly about the chill. The room was just cold. Hoover had long since burrowed under the covers, his snout and one paw the only parts of him sticking out.

She stared hard at the empty fireplace grate on the other side of her bedroom until her eyes crossed. “Fire,” she said, then made her voice deeper. “Flames.”

Feeling stupid when nothing happened, she followed the dog’s lead and pulled the comforter over her legs. She tried not to think that it was Daria’s spirit that controlled the fire starting. That the witch might make her do things— dangerous things— yet wouldn’t let her get warm without having to haul her butt out of bed, really chafed.

Now that she was more comfortable, she picked up the book again and held it between her palms. Grandma Rose had traveled back to 1770 before she ran away to America and had her mom. How long had she stayed in the past? Piper knew she could leaf through the pages to find out. It would be easy, just look for the point when she started using a regular pen again.

“Stop being silly,” she told herself. “Open it up and read it.”

15 July 1770
 - It was all so strange. At first I thought I was dead, then quite mad. I saw him again, and we spoke for a long time. He knows that something is strange, but not sure what it is, but then again, neither am I! Am I really in another time? And it seems like for good. I walked in the woods for ages but never got sent back home like the first few times. John is so kind and handsome, and a complete gentleman. I would have slept out in the rain if not for him that first night. I’m going to cook him something nice tonight.

21 July 1770 -
 I find it so odd to write the date. I’ve been into the village and seen the house from the bottom of the hill, but don’t wish to go there. I can hardly believe I’m related to those people I see up there. I must be related to some of them at least. I’m learning how to work in the mill to help John and I met a very sweet woman today. Lady Glen saw the sad state of my dress, which was the only one darling John could find for me, and promised to bring me some things, since we’re the same size. I could hardly tell her we might be distantly related. John is wonderful, but I’d love to have a friend, a woman, to talk to, and don’t want to scare her away with my impossible story.

23 July 1770 -
 Lady Glen brought me three day dresses and a sewing basket full of scissors and thimbles and things I don’t know the names for. I did that St. Andrews needlepoint kit for mother that one Christmas, but that’s about the extent of my handiwork skills. She sat with me for a bit and told me loads of good gossip about her family. My family, I guess. I wish I could tell her, but have no idea how.

18 August 1770 -
 John brought me wildflowers and kissed me on the cheek today. I worked so hard all day at the mill, it was all I could do to walk home. He was out hunting (pheasant, scrumptious, but I still can hardly stand to pluck them, though I’m getting handier by the day) and burst in through the door like a big, marvelous woodsman with the bouquet in one hand and the nasty dead bird in the other. I couldn’t stop laughing and he whirled me around, then kissed me. I can not stop thinking about it, which is why I’m writing in the dark, instead of sleeping. I can tell John is asleep by the way he’s breathing, and I know this is brazen and modern and he would never understand, but I want to crawl out of this bed and curl up next to him on his little mattress on the floor. I wish he wasn’t such a gentleman anymore.

27 August 1770 -
 It’s been more than a month. We have an herb garden outside the front window now. It looks pretty and smells wonderful. Lady Glen brought me a huge lot of cuttings and seeds and showed me how to plant them. She told me all these silly stories about how to mix the herbs to attract wealth or keep sickness from stopping at your door. I asked her how to make a love potion and she laughed and said I didn’t need one! She said it was clear as day that John already loves me, and that I need to just let him know I love him back. I was so nervous after that I could hardly speak or look at him during dinner. He thought I was ill and took my hand, then felt the back of my neck for fever, which made me feel like I was burning up. When he went outside to wash up, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his strong back and muscular arms.