“Trust me, old friend, we will bide our time until the proper moment. Then we will scourge the land of this evil and put things right as they were meant to be. Tell me you are with me. Tell me I can count on your clan in this cleansing of the land.” Roderic held out his hand and waited for Cormac’s pledge of loyalty.
Cormac nodded once and shook his hand. “Aye, Roderic. Ye have my oath and that of my clan’s.”
Rachel struggledto rise gracefully from the bench in the garden. A relieved huff escaped her as she rubbed her aching back and stretched. She’d always prided herself on exercising and keeping active. She might not have always been what society considered the perfect weight, but she was healthy. The babies rolled within her as if wrestling with each other for space. With a push on the rib they’d made sore with their constant stretching, she cut loose a quiet groan. “I never realized I was training to give birth to a herd of oxen.”
She eyed her handiwork with distaste. All this discomfort on that hard bench for a bit of embroidery. Fancy stitchery was not her wheelhouse. Of course, neither was good old common sense stitchery either. Thank goodness, since she was the wife of the laird, she wasn’t expected to do the sewing required to keep clothes on her back.
“Good thing too,” she said to no one in particular. “If I had to sew my own clothes, I’d be walking around in cloth sacks.” She patted her leg so Sam would jump up so she could rub his ears. At this stage in her pregnancy, her ability to bend and reach anything below her knees was laughable. The little dog placedhis paws on her knee, then jerked around, bared his teeth, and growled like a miniature buzz saw.
Rachel eyed the huge clansmen headed her way, trying to place him and remember his name. The back of her neck tingled and her babies went still, a surefire sign that he wasn’t one of the MacKay’s wishing to befriend her or play nice. Since traveling back in time, her instincts had sharpened. Probably as a means of survival and protecting her sons. Whenever her body warned her that all was not well, she listened.
She pointed at the bench. Sam leapt up on it so she could scoop him up and hug him to her chest. “Protect me, my brave friend,” she whispered. Precious Sam might be tiny, but he could do some damage and make a lot of noise.
“Good day to ye, Lady Rachel,” the man called out as he continued toward her. Close to seven feet tall and dressed in dark trews and his everyday plaid, he closed the distance between them like a panther stalking its prey. His hair was black, shot with silver, and his eyes were an unnerving, icy grey. But it was his predatory gait that caused her to step back and place the stone bench between them.
“Good day to you, sir,” she politely responded while cursing herself for not remembering his name.
“Roderic,” he offered with a curt nod. A sly smirk played across his mouth and his cold grey eyes narrowed.
Rachel smiled and played as if she had just remembered him. “Well, of course, Roderic. Please forgive me. I have a lot on my mind of late.” She patted her stomach. “The babies already keep me busy, and when I’m weary, my memory fails me.”
“I understand, m’lady, but ye should always remember me. After all, I am Caelan’s half-brother. Next in line should anything ever befall our fine laird—heaven forbid, of course.” With the speed of a striking snake, he smoothed an errant curl back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Hissmile turned colder and gleamed with malice. “But rest assured, m’lady, if anything so terrible were to happen to our laird before he had a son of age, I would not only take over his leadership of the clan but also his duties as your husband.”
He drew closer but halted and thought better of it when Sam snapped at him as though ready to eat him alive. As he stepped away, Roderic laughed while glaring at the dog. “Ye will not always have your wee protector. We shall meet again at another time, my lady.”
As the disgusting man turned to leave the garden, Rachel concentrated very hard on the back of his head. When he walked out from beneath the arbor, a trio of ravens swooped in from beyond the castle skirting wall and pelted him with droppings.
He ran and cursed in what she assumed must be Gaelic. His less than elegant exit from the garden made her smile but worry still tightened like a knot in her chest. She sank onto the bench and hugged Sam closer.
“Take care, lass,” Emrys warned as he and Maizy stepped out from behind the rose bushes. “That one there is pure evil and would as soon see ye burned for being a witch as he would to bed ye for being a beautiful woman. It would make no difference to him either way.”
“He means Caelan harm.” A vicious chill ran across her, making her hug her middle. “And he’ll kill our sons if given the chance.”
“Dinna fash yourself, lass. Caelan knows about Roderic and has been watching that cur for years.” Emrys lightly touched her shoulder and aimed a smile at her middle. “’Tis a grand thing we came back when we did. Your lads are growing and making themselves more known every day.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head. “Do ye ken when the three will decide to make their appearance?”
“By my calculations, probably not until after the first of the year, but it’s hard to tell with triplets. They might come early.” She eyed the old druid, resenting him for trying to change the subject. She was not a child that needed placating. With his help, she rose from the bench and gathered up her pitiful excuse for embroidery. “Are you going to tell Caelan about Roderic, or am I? He needs to be warned.”
“He already knows, lass, now stop worrying. Ye need to concentrate on taking care of yourself and those three bairns.” Emrys motioned her forward in a silent entreaty for her to join him on a stroll.
“I’m fine,” she said, deciding she would warn Caelan herself. Emrys was useless. “The boys are more than fine. They just need more room with each passing day.” She rubbed her back as she waddled along. “I’ve come to grips with the fact that I’m never going to fit in here.” She blew out a heavy sigh and shrugged. “But I’ve never fit in anywhere, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Ambling along, she scowled at Emrys, tugging on his arm to make sure he listened. “My only goal is to keep my sons safe, and Caelan safe for as long as I can—considering this place’s history. I don’t expect to be happy. Never. It’s my fault I ended up here, so I can’t blame anyone but myself.”
“Are ye truly that miserable, lass? Is life here as bad as all that?” Emrys eyed her with a worried look.
She stopped walking and faced him. “I don’t deserve a man like Caelan, and I was a fool to believe I could keep him in my life. Although, if I could’ve kept him in my time, I might’ve had a fighting chance at it. So, let’s just say I’ve resigned myself to his loss—whether it be by the sword, disease, or something as simple as him finally opening his eyes to how I failed to protect him.” Releasing Emrys’s arm, she turned to head back to the keep, Sam following closely on her heels.
Rachel lay on her side,facing the wall rather than him, a position she had taken up as soon as they settled into the keep. Caelan hated it, ached to know how to make things better for her, and lift her spirits. He only prayed that once the bairns arrived—safe and healthy, all the powers of the universe willing—that Rachel would find her way back to him.
“I know ye canna be sleeping,” he whispered into her hair, nestled against her back and wrapping an arm around her. At least she allowed him that. As he stroked her swollen stomach, his sons rolled and kicked as though ready to be free of their cramped quarters. “Our wee scamps grow livelier by the day. Have ye been able to rest at all, my love?”
“I have to get us back,” she whispered, making his heart clench.
Ever since Roderic had taunted her in the garden, she had been more uneasy. Caelan toyed with the idea of banishing the bastard, but several in the clan listened to his lying tongue and would cast their lot with his. It was far better to keep the coward close and under a watchful eye than have him gathering forces across the Highlands. More than one clan had been weakened by infighting. Caelan refused to allow Clan MacKay to go down that path of destruction. He knew how to manage the man.
He eased up onto his elbow and peered over at her as he smoothed her hair back from her face. “Ye canna go back, love. Ye ken that is impossible. The Fates will not allow it, and like it or not, they are stronger than your magick. This is your home now. Our home. We shall thrive here with our bairns and grow old together.”
“You don’t know that,” she growled, shoving him away. “Don’t make promises you can’t possibly keep. It’s always the same from you, the same old placating tone, thepat her on the head and make her happylies. You have no way of guaranteeing any of it, and I’m sick of listening to it!”
She threw back the bedclothes and struggled to flounder her way out of the bed as quickly and with as much grace as her unbalanced roundness would allow. Her eyes flashed with angry violet fire as she turned and pointed at him, jabbing the air as though stabbing it with a dagger. “Lame promises might work with the women of this time and those who hang on your every word, but I know the truth. I read aboutwhat happens.”
