When they reached the uppermost room in the north tower, Florie shook her head at Emrys sitting outside the door to his own library. The old man’s chin rested on his chest and his hands were folded in his lap. The yellow dog from LadyRachel’s time lay on the floor at his side, her noble head resting on his feet. Neither of them moved as Florie, Fergus, and Ian approached, so exhausted were they in their vigil.
“Emrys are ye hungry?” Florie asked softly so as not to startle the old druid.
“No. I want nothing.” He didn’t even lift his head, just dropped his hand to Maizy’s and fondled the loyal dog’s ears. “And I would leave him be if I were you. His madness deepens.”
“I told her to leave him alone, but she’d not listen,” Ian said.
Fergus cuffed the lad on the back of his head. “Shut it!”
“She promised to return when the time came for the bairns to be born,” Florie said. “She promised to send his sons back to him when they were older. Has he forgotten that? He must stay strong for the bairns.” Florie cast a worried look at the bolted door, prepared for Caelan to storm through it at any moment.
Emrys made a face and slowly shook his head. “He must have them all. A MacKay canna live without the other half of his soul as long as she is alive. His heart knows she is somewhere out of his reach, and he canna bear it. It’s in his ancestry. A weakness or a strength depending upon your point of view.”
“Where has she gone to, Emrys?” Florie whispered while leaning closer to the bolted door, hoping for movement on the other side as proof the laird still lived and breathed.
The old druid pushed himself to his feet, his bones popping in protest. He rubbed his back and grimaced in pain as he shifted from side to side. “It is my belief she has gone to the blessed Brid for protection. Where else would the mystical mother of triplets hide? That is the only place I am forbidden to look with the Mirrors of Time, and no druid will ever have any power there.” He stretched more and rolled his shoulders. “Lady Rachel chose wisely. I only hope that while she is there, the Goddess will impart some wisdom to our lady, so she truly will find her wayback to us when it is time for her sons to be born rather than change her mind and stay away.”
Emrys continued rubbing his back as he squinted out the tiny slit of a window cut in the turret of the castle hall. “I pray the Goddess will not allow Rachel to bear her children anywhere but here, and Caelan will need to be present. I only hope that Caelan is still sane enough by then and can convince Rachel to stay. Perhaps the Goddess will help her in that decision as well.”
“Emrys,” Ian whispered as a bolt slid to the side and the heavy oak door creaked open.
Florie gasped and covered her mouth.
Caelan’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. His dull, grimy hair hung in matted braids. A scraggly beard covered his face but failed to hide his sunken cheeks or the dark hollows under his eyes. “I can hear all ye say,” he growled in a raspy voice. “The madness has not made me deaf—yet. But I canna sleep without her. I canna eat without her. I canna exist without her!”
He grabbed the tray of food and hurled it down the winding stairwell. Chest heaving, eyes wild with anguish, he grabbed both jugs of ale from Florie, retreated into the room, and slammed the door behind him.
Ian nodded at all of them. “I told ye he’d not eat a thing.”
Caelan loweredhimself onto the plaid spread in front of the trio of mirrors and pulled Rachel’s little dog into his arms. “I canna believe she left us, Sam,” he said in a voice hoarse from bellowing at the powers to return his beloved to him. “She said she loved us.”
Sam licked him on the nose, then snuggled back down closer against his chest. The little dog didn’t seem to care that he hadn’t bathed in days. All the devoted canine understood was that his mistress was gone, and his master was racked with pain.
Caelan stared into the looking glass farthest to the right. Deep in his gut, he sensed if his precious Rachel were to contact him, it would be that mirror in which she would appear. He still couldn’t believe she’d disappeared before his very eyes. His glorious wife, full, round, and lovely with his sons in her belly, gone from existence in the breath of a moment. All because his clan would not accept the magick within her. As far as he was concerned, they could all be damned straight into the hottest pits of hell.
His hands closed into fists as he tortured himself with the great hall scene over and over. His dear, sweet lass had been an outcast all her life. Her parents hadn’t wanted her. Her ex-husband hadn’t wanted her. She’d never belonged anywhere. He and Emrys had seen that while learning more about her.
A sob tore from his chest, and he let the tears flow unashamedly. He had sworn to her she would be welcome in ancient Scotland. Sworn things would be better with his clan. They would be the family she had never known, and they would welcome her with open arms. How could they not? His clan was used to the mystical and unusual because of Emrys.
But he had unknowingly deceived her. How could he have been so wrong about his own people? He had to admit that even he had been shocked at the growing ferocity of her powers, but he knew in his heart Rachel would never bring evil into their midst. And she had proven it by leaving rather than razing the keep to rubble.
“She would never have hurt them, Sam. She would have helped them in ways they never imagined.” Caelan rubbed the dog’s head as he talked, thankful for the wee companion.
A dull thud at the door jarred his mind back to the present. He pulled his aching head up from the floor and shouted, “Be gone! Leave enough food for the dog and be done with it!”
“For the sake of the bairns ye must pull yourself out of this!” Florie scolded from the other side of the door. “Your lady said she would return to bear them. She said she’d send your sons back to be trained as fine young warriors. Said she had seen it so. How are they to find a father fit to train them if he canna even stand upon his feet or sit upon the laird’s dais in the great hall when they return to their home?”
“Get back to the kitchen, Florie! I trusted ye most of all!” Caelan rolled to his feet and staggered to the door, his hands trembling from exhaustion. Shoving the door open, he jabbed an accusing finger at her where she stood, clutching the tray in front of her as though it were a shield.
“I trusted ye to befriend my lady and help her belong,” he accused. “I trusted ye to ease her into life here. Of all here at the keep, Florie, ye have always welcomed everyone and made them comfortable. I knew ye would make my precious Rachel feel as though she belonged. Why would ye not do that for your laird? Why do ye hate me so?”
Caelan fell to his knees, his frustration and sleepless nights taking their toll. He shook his head and stared blindly at the floor while whispering, “Why did she leave me, Florie?”
“I think the lady thought she was doing what was best for ye and the clan.” Florie rested her hand on his bowed head.“Ye must fight to stay strong now. For the bairns, ye ken? Remember your sons!” She tugged on his arm, trying to get him to stand.
She went still as Caelan leveled a stony gaze on her and sneered in disgust. “If my clan refuses to accept a witch as my wife, what makes ye think they will accept my three sons who will each be capable of magick as well? Since their mother was sogifted, do ye not understand they will be at least half as strong as she was?”
Caelan knocked away her hand. “If I canna have my entire family, then I shall have none.” He retreated deeper into the room, picked up Sam, and gently sat the little dog outside the doorway. He closed and bolted the door, shutting himself inside.
