“That bum was heir to the entire MacCleod clan and he just rode off with your partner to live happily ever after in his castle. Are you not concerned?”
“His castle? What is this, Game of Thrones?”
“No. This is twelfth century Scotland and you are wasting time. Go after them and get her back.”
“Not until you answer my question. Why do you care so much?”
The two men looked at each other before turning to face him again. Mr. Wint spoke. “Very well. Callum MacCleod is betrothed to Nessa MacKay. Our employer wishes for the wedding to go ahead and the odds of that are somewhat diminished if your partner remains with Callum. Do you understand?”
“Oh, I get it. Your boss is Nessa’s dad, right?”
“That’s not important right now. You need to find a horse and get after them.”
“And what do I do when I catch them?”
Bring Kerry back with you to the twenty-first century where she belongs. Leave Callum to marry Nessa as planned and everything goes back to the way it should be.”
Edward smiled to himself. He would bring Kerry back all right. That would be simple enough. She was weak willed and easy to persuade. That was what had drawn him to her in the first place. He had always been attracted to the gullible, those he could manipulate into becoming reliant on him. The fact that she had been the first one to leave him only made her all the more desirable. She wouldn’t leave him again.
“Are you coming?” he asked, stepping out onto the grass. They didn’t move. “You can’t, can you? You can’t leave the building. Why not?”
The two men glared at him. “We cannot interfere with the past directly,” Mr. Wint said. “Just be sure you get her back to your time within the next forty-eight hours. They will stay at a tavern called The Red Wolf tonight. It is twenty miles south of here. You should get moving if you want to get her back. Remember, leave Callum alone. He must marry Nessa as planned.”
“I’ll get Kerry back,” Edward replied, not adding that he had no intention of leaving Callum to marry another woman. The man had set hands on his woman.
He set off walking, not looking back. He would catch up with them soon enough. After all, he had true love on his side. That and the wickedly sharp flick knife he kept in his back pocket. With both he had no doubt at all that he would succeed. Present, past, future. Who cared really? What mattered was that she learned her lesson and that Scotch prick learned to keep his hands off another man’s woman.
Behind him the two men walked back to the bedroom. “Will this work?” Mr. Wint asked as they went. “Time is against us.
“Isn’t it always?” Mr. Kite replied, walking through the doorway and vanishing as if he’d never been there. But of course he was there. He had just taken one step through space and eight hundred years through time. His companion followed a moment later.
Eight centuries earlier, Edward headed south.
