“Nay. I ken what ye are thinking.” Gray stepped forward and shook his head. “If ye return to this time, I will be forced to turn ye over to the Buchanan to avoid clan war. His ire toward ye willna be set aside so easily. Ye ken, at the verra least, the man wishes to see ye drawn and quartered. Ye cuckolded him within his own keep and ’tis said his women keep his hatred fanned and well fueled by singing of yertalentsto any and all who will lend an ear.” Gray watched Graham over the rim of his glass while drawing in another long sip. He lowered the mug and slid it onto the cabinet beside him. “The Buchanan has accepted the offer that ye are to be banished from Scotland—forever. It was the only option other than yer head on a pike that came remotely close to cooling the man’s rage. Ye can wager his people will be watching and willna fail to report if ye return—no matter how long ye stayed away from yer beloved Highlands of this time. Clan MacKenna can no longer be yer sanctuary.”
Well, damn his arse straight to hell and back. But surely the chieftain erred in his thinking. Surely, he could return after a bit of time.Graham stood taller. A Sinclair woman. To wife. May the gods have mercy on his soul. But then, surely, it would not be that bad—not as bad as torture, or even worse—the dungeons. And eventually . . . perhaps he could someday return and reunite his new wife with her kin. Aye, that would be his future.
“I will make certain the woman agrees to be my wife.” A growing sense of uncertainty stirred uncomfortably in his gut like a poorly digested meal. Lore a’mighty, what would he do with a wife?
“See that you do.” Mother Sinclair returned to her chair and scooped up her goblet in a pale knobby hand. She put the glass to her mouth then paused and instead lifted it to Graham in a toast. “Know this—if you cause my granddaughter any pain, the Buchanan will be the least of your worries.”
CHAPTER3
Graham tightened his belt and checked his sword for the third time since they had gathered in the garden beside the reflecting pool. He flexed his calves, finding some small comfort in the leather straps biting into his muscles. Aye,good.Both daggers, especially the most cherished one that never left his possession, were securely sheathed against his legs. Shield and bow rested on the ground beside him. He would take them up as soon as Mother Sinclair bade him it was time to do so.
The old woman and Lady Trulie had spent the past week preparing—nay, not preparing—it was more like the two women had waged a full-blown attack on him and Angus, training them both for this wretched trip into the unknown. Even little Chloe had solemnly shown him her precious picture book the family kept hidden—the strange book with parchment pages that were oddly slick and smooth and the images colorful and bright that they could not be of this world.
Graham glanced at the tensed faces, shadowed and yet glowing in the flickering torchlight of the night-shrouded garden. Every face clearly reflected the same uncertainty eating at his gut. Heaven help him. He was such a swiving fool.Cursed to forsake all he had ever known because of one woman easily lured from her husband’s bed. Lore a’mighty—he would never touch another man’s woman again. He swallowed hard, suddenly remembering the real purpose of this trip. Saint’s bones, what the devil would he do with a wife of his own?
Graham rolled his shoulders. Every muscle throbbed, tensed and aching. Part of him was thrilled at the prospect of this journey but a bigger part of him cowered at the great unknown leap he was about to make. A huffing laugh escaped him. He supposed he deserved this After all, he had spent the last three centuries yearning for freedom and excitement.
Angus fidgeted beside him, taking up his pack and slinging it across his shoulder, then dropping it back to the ground before picking it up again. He shuffled and circled back and forth in the dust like Mother Sinclair’s cat looking for a place to shit.
Graham clapped a hand on Angus’s shoulder and squeezed. “Be still, man. Ye are fretting worse than a wormy hound.”
“Be still?” Angus glared at him with an incredulous smirk. “Be still he says when we are about to jump into the verra jaws of hell itself and we’ve no way of knowing if we’ll come out alive on the other end of it or not.”
“Of course, you’ll come out alive on the other end.” Mother Sinclair thumped her staff against Angus’s shoulder and pointed for him to back up a few steps. “Stand over there so Trulie and I can go over the final details.”
Lady Trulie slowly meandered back and forth in front of them, studying them closely as though sizing them up for prey. She arched a brow, cleared her throat, then leaned in close to Mother Sinclair and spoke in a hushed tone. “You’re positive they willbothmake it through okay? You know it doesn’t always work very well with males.”
“Oh, holy hell.” Angus flung a hand into the air, then raked his fingers through his already wildly unkempt hair. He whirled around and jabbed a stubby finger into the center of Graham’s chest. “This is yer fault, ye randy bastard. I told ye she was not a whore.” He jabbed Graham’s breastbone again. “I canna believe I am going to die just because ye couldna resist a bit a skirt.”
Graham grabbed Angus’s hand before he could jab him again and squeezed. Hard. Without releasing man’s fist, he turned to Mother Sinclair. “Send me alone. Leave this coward behind. He shouldna be punished for my poor choices.”
Mother Sinclair shook her head. “No. The vision clearly showed Angus in the future with you. He must go too—and his ability to stay, if he so chooses, also depends on your connection with Lilia.”
“What vision?” Graham’s blood ran cold. Not once had they mentioned any visions. He’d heard about the Sinclair women and their gifts of prophecy. This could not bode well at all.
Mother Sinclair scowled down at the ground, slowly marking strange glyphs in the dust with the tip of her staff. “Eliza MacTavish, your blood kin, has cried out across time and space with the last bit of her energy. She has watched over you for centuries, suffering whilst the curse held you prisoner and tied her hands against helping you. But now that you’re free, her most heartfelt wish for you is the greatest gift of all. She wishes you to find love and contentment, Graham, and she feels you can find it with my Lilia.”
Graham swiped his sweating palms on the wool of his plaid, then opened and closed his fists. The seriousness of this task grew greater by the minute—so many damn people depending on him. He jerked his chin up a notch, bracing himself against the uncertainty and fear churning in his gut. “That is not a vision. That’s more a request.”
Mother Sinclair clucked like a nesting hen, shaking her head as she turned away. “When Eliza made her energy and wishes known to me—that was when I received the vision. You and Lilia are meant to be. The strength and surety of your match came easily to me across the ages. Rarely do the Fates ever allow me any insight into the lives of those I love, but this time, they were overly generous so I might save my sweet Lilia’s life.”
“She truly is in danger then?” Graham rested his hand on the pommel of his sword.
“The greatest danger to Lilia is Lilia herself. Remember all that we’ve taught you about the future.” Mother Sinclair turned to Angus who was still fidgeting in the dust. “And I have no idea why the Fates have chosen you but you’re going with him so man up and stop your whining.”
Lady Trulie stepped forward and looped a leather cord with a softly glowing blue crystal around each of the men’s necks. She patted the crystal against Graham’s chest and smiled. “A little extra protection while you’re both in the time tunnel. Hold tight to these crystals and remember to keep your eyes closed.” She turned and took her place beside Granny. “It will be nighttime in Edinburgh too. Hopefully, no one will see you drop from the time cloud. Don’t forget to lay low until you get your bearings and figure out where you are. Remember the description of the town and its layout. The high points are on the map we gave you. You should be able to find Lilia easily.”
“Lay low,” Graham repeated with a hesitant glance at Angus.
“Aye.” Angus glared back at him and gave an angry toss of his head. “That means keep yer ugly arse hidden until ye figure out what the hell ye are supposed to do instead of wading into a place and expecting everyone to fawn at yer feet. Ye are not a dragon anymore. Ye are nothing more than a man, ye ken?”
“Surly bastard.” Graham shouldered his pack higher on his back then turned and nodded at the two women. “Let’s be on with it, then.”
Lady Trulie and Mother Sinclair each took a torch from the line of metal sconces built into the stone wall surrounding the garden and carefully lit the ring of dried tinder piled knee-deep around the reflecting pool. The flames spread quickly, eating through the wood and sending showers of sparks up into the blackness of the sky.
“When we say the words, the flames will freeze, the water will turn to a mirror, and the portal will open. When you see us lower our torches, you must jump into the center of the ring of frozen fire. Timing is of the utmost importance since neither of you has a drop of time-runner blood in your ancestry.” Mother Sinclair paced back and forth in front of the two men then softly touched the blue crystal of her staff to the crystals each man wore around his neck.
Graham did his best not to flinch against the strange warming vibration of the stone against his chest. The last time he had witnessed the powerful Sinclair magic, the accursed witch, and the darkness she commanded had nearly drowned him. Goodwill or not, he was none too anxious to see the Sinclair powers at work again.
