8
They rode hard, Lairdkiller thrashing the ground as they raced back toward the rest of the MacGregor men. They didn’t make it back that day.
Each time they had to stop to rest the horse felt like an eternity. Gavin barely spoke to Heather, he was too lost in his own thoughts. Even when he gathered berries for them to eat, he simply handed them over and continued thinking.
He did not like the fact he had taken her into such a dangerous situation. The sight of the outlaws coming toward them with their swords drawn filled him with a sick dread and anger. They could have killed her.
She was special. He had an inkling of that even before he saw the key. Seeing it in her hand simply confirmed what he already suspected. Could it be possible? Could another woman have come back from the future?
He shuddered to think of what might have happened to her.
He knew from the moment he saw the old crone that he had to get back to his men, had to warn them of what was coming.
He should not have brought her. She was a distraction.
He recalled the stories his father had told him, the stories that had been passed down through the generations. The barefoot man sweeping through the highlands more than a hundred years earlier. Women coming from the future to help the MacGregors at key points in their history. Help them defeat the devil in human form.
Six silver keys marked with the letter M, each one opening a door to the past at just the right time. At first he thought the stories were just meant to entertain him but he saw the seriousness in his father’s eyes. Could it be true?
Each generation had its own key. Now he’d seen one with his own eyes.
The tales of the old crone were patchy but one had been confirmed by his initial encounter. She would not be easy to kill. From the very moment he thought about drawing his bow, she was already up and moving. She knew he was going to try and fire an arrow straight into her heart before he even knew he was going to do it. How was that possible?
He vowed to talk to Heather about the key when they were safe. It was not a conversation he could start yet. First, he needed to get back to his men.
They made it to the spot where he’d split up from the others. Following their trail he reached an empty clearing. Two sets of tracks led in two different directions.
“Where is everyone?” Heather asked.
“The outlaws went east,” he replied. “My men have returned that way to the castle. I must speak to them.” He turned his horse away from the empty clearing.
“You sound worried.”
“I suspect a siege may be underway. Curse my stupidity. I should have seen it coming.”
“How could you?”
“Think about it. I’ve been drawn out from the castle and while I’m gone the massed ranks of an army approach my land. I should not have gone wandering. I should have stayed at home to prepare.”
She tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault but he knew the truth. He had been too distracted by her, unable to think straight about what was going on around him. If he’d concentrated on the outlaws and not on her, he would have been better prepared, might even have been able to stop them before they marched on the castle.
But no, he had to spend his time staring at her, thinking about how she looked in that dress, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, and all manner of things that were increasingly irrelevant when war was coming.
They headed back the way they’d originally come. He hoped to make it to the castle before dark but it was not to be, the horse was too tired. They stopped at Old Manor Woods just as the last of the light vanished.
“Where are we?” Heather asked as he skilfully led the horse between the trees, ducking beneath a low hanging branch.
“We will rest here for the night and tomorrow morning we should reach the castle by noon.”
“Are we not better getting there tonight?”
“I cannot gamble by travelling so far in the dark. The outlaws could be anywhere and I will not risk your safety.”
He tied the horse to the nearest tree, looking around him. “I think it’s to the left.”
“What is?”
“This.” He stepped off the path and through a length of dry and crumbling hedge. Hidden behind it was an old farmhouse long abandoned but still roofed.
