“A lullaby my Gran always sang whenever I couldna sleep.” Her soft laugh warmed him. “Even when I was grown, if I had a bad day and couldna sleep, she would sing it for me and I would drift away.”
“Do ye ken the words?” He felt foolish asking, but for a reason he couldn’t fathom, he needed to hear the words.
“I will guard yer wishes and dreams, myown…
I will guard the wants of yerheart…
There is nothing to fear in this world, myown…
For I will always be yerguard.”
She went quiet, but kept tapping the rhythm of the song against his chest. “I canna remember the rest.” Another soft laugh escaped her. “Probably because I always fell asleep before she sang it all.” She lightly traced her fingers across his face. The sensation mesmerized him, making it impossible to keep his eyes open. “She would tickle my face like this as she sang,” she whispered. “It was pure magic.”
He didn’t hear the rest.
Chapter Fourteen
Mila mindlessly countedhis breaths while watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Teague finally slept. She eased away from him, halting every time he stirred. He might be asleep, but it was a troubled, restless slumber. She prayed she could do what needed to be done before he awakened.
With as little noise as possible, she crept from the room. The loud whine of the creaking door hinges made her cringe. Once safe on the other side, she held her breath and waited, listening for the bellowing of her name. It didn’t come. She applauded herself for a successful escape.
Gathering her skirts in both hands, she flew down the hallway to the hidden stairs connecting their floor to the passage leading to Lady MacDonald’s tower. After stealing a look around, she pulled aside the massive tapestry that concealed the stairwell.
“Eww.” She recoiled while still holding the weave out of the way. Spiderwebs almost sealed off the entrance to the steps. She hated the nasty, sticky things and disliked spiders even more. She squatted down and stretched under it, snagging the iron loop of the lantern kept just inside the alcove. With a candle from the hall, she lit it, then batted away the webs with the tapestry. “Nasty, wicked things!”
After that minor drama, she raced up the short flight of steps and entered the narrow passage traversing the width of the keep to Grandmother MacDonald’s chambers. She hurried through the sitting room, then frantically knocked on the bedchamber door.
A surprised Bethia opened it. “Lady Mila. ’Tis entirely too early for Lady MacDonald to receive guests.”
“Let her in,” Teague’s grandmother ordered her, sounding much stronger than usual.
Mila stepped around the maid and went to the bedside. “Tell me the spell. Now.”
Lady MacDonald’s pale blue eyes flew wide in alarm. With an irritated huff, she made a shooing motion toward the door. “Leave us, Bethia. Lady Mila will fetch ye when our visit is finished.”
“Are ye certain, m’lady?” Bethia stayed rooted to the spot. Her calm, stoic demeanor disappeared, replaced with a rare agitated air. “It is verra early, and I have yet to finish readying ye for the day.”
“I am certain.” Lady MacDonald, her long gray hair only partially combed and pinned, gave a firm nod. “Off wi’ ye now.”
Displeasure tightening her jaw, Bethia pointed at the ivory comb and hairpins on the bedside table. “Help her ladyship, aye? She doesna like feeling unfinished.”
“I will.” Mila picked up the comb and moved closer to the seemingly frail old woman propped upright in her nest of pillows. After the heated discussion they’d had during their last visit, Mila knew better. Lady MacDonald’s body might be weak, but her spirit was strong as iron.
Mila waited until Bethia left the room, then turned back to the matron and repeated herself. “I need yer time-travel spell. Teague’s life depends on it.”
The scowling elder snatched the comb out of her hands and tended to her hair faster than any maid. “What for? Spit it out, girl. What happened to make ye burst in here making such an outlandish demand? I made my terms clear about sharing that spell, and I have yet to hear anything to change them.” She paused while securing the last braid in a tight coil around her head. “My grandson is alive and well. As such, ye canna have the spell to desert him and break his heart.”
“Listen to me, Cora.” Mila sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in close. “Last night, during our rather questionable dinner meeting, someone broke into Teague’s desk and stole his papers. Damning papers, I might add. And that bloody devil Robert Walpole strutted right through our front door as if he owned the place.”
“Where is my laddie boy now?”
“Sleeping. At least for a bit. That is why I must make this brief. Now tell me the spell so I can get him out of here before they come and take him away.”
“Get him out of here?” Lady MacDonald glowered at her. “What the devil are ye saying?”
“If I take him to the future with me and Robbie, he will be safe.”
“He would be miserable. Even if ye got him to agree to it.” The matron gave a firm shake of her head. “Ye truly think he would leave his clan to suffer for his sins?”
