She glanced down at her hand and saw with some shock light seeping from around her fingers. She didn’t know what to make of that. A burning sensation pierced her palm. She opened her fingers enough to see the lines on the stone lit up. She sucked in a sharp breath as a sudden need to touch those lines pounded through her. She swiped her forefinger over the lines.
The world fell away from beneath her feet and then she was falling. Cold wind sucked the breath out of her lungs and for a moment she was unable to breathe. It was as though she were drowning. Bruce was no longer there as she tumbled into a free fall.
Then there was nothing at all.
CHAPTER 5
Malcolm MacLeod sat in his bedchamber with his arm cradled against his midsection, brooding. He’d come out of the battle with the MacDonalds mostly unscathed, save for one cut on his upper arm. Dougal had wrapped it as soon as he and his brother, Jamie, staggered back into the keep after the fighting was all over.
That was nearly a week ago.
He recalled the end to the battle with clarity. Frustration had edged through him when he had stood on the bloodied field and watched Rory MacDonald and his men ride away in defeat into the night, leaving behind the aftermath of their skirmish. Dead men and dead horses had littered the ground. Men he had recruited from Clan Sinclair to fight against their rival clan. Good men. Men who were now dead.
But they had no choice, did they? They had had to rally the banners to fight the thousand-strong army MacDonald had brought with him. They hadn’t had the numbers to fight and both he and his older brother, Callum, knew it.
The only thing that had saved them was his brother’s new bride, Evie Sinclair. She had used the piece of the keystone as a weapon, a weapon that had killed many men and stopped the onslaught. If it hadn’t been for her, they would have all been slaughtered.
The fire blazed in the hearth as he stared at it, a restless feeling sweeping through him. He was not one to sit around and do nothing, especially after a battle like that.
He hadn’t slept all night and now that morning was upon him, there was no reason to go to bed. In a fit of frustration, he stood, leaving the warmth of the fire and his bedchamber behind.
He had to do something or he’d go mad.
He needed vengeance for the death of his da. He needed to kill Rory MacDonald.
He headed to the great hall where Jamie, his younger brother, was breaking his fast. He had a stack of oatcakes in front of him and a pint of ale.
“Angus Sinclair is leaving today,” he announced as though that were the most pressing news of the day.
Malcolm took the seat opposite him and poured himself an ale. Then he stole one of Jamie’s oatcakes. His brother scowled at him about the theft but said nothing.
“And this concerns me how?”
“I thought ye’d like to know since ye brought him and his men,” he said. He guzzled the rest of his ale and thumped the tankard on the wooden table.
Malcolm broke the oatcake in half and popped it into his mouth. “It doesna matter to me.”
“Och,” his brother said and shook his head. “Fine then. Be that way. Callum was hoping ye’d escort them back to their home.”
He lifted a brow. “Callum wouldna ask that of me without a good reason.”
“Aye, ye have the right of it, brother,” Callum said as he made his way into the great hall. Under his tunic, the bandage was still visible. During the battle with MacDonald, he had been stabbed in the shoulder.
“And why do ye wish me to go with them?”
“I want ye to scout the area,” Callum said.
“Och, so I’m no banished anymore, is that right?” Malcolm couldn’t help the sarcasm lacing his words. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his thick forearms over his chest, staring up at his brother.
After their da was killed by Rory MacDonald, Malcolm had taken it upon himself to retaliate by raiding one of theMacDonald’s villages and burning it to the ground. He had made sure there were no injuries or deaths when he did it—all were ushered out of their beds that early morning and forced from their homes. He’d merely wanted to put the fear into MacDonald and let him know what the MacLeods were capable of. When Callum had learned of his night raid, he punished him by sending him away from Dundale.
He understood why he had done it. It was his right as laird. It hadn’t lessened the sting of fury, though.
However, when he had ridden away from the keep with no destination in mind, he had seen the MacDonald clan heading toward Dundale with his army. It was then Malcolm had made the decision to ride to the Sinclairs, knowing he would answer the call for help because he thought Evie was one of his kin.
Mayhap the lass was, but it was hard to know for certain since she was from the future.
“Ye’ve been brooding around here for a week. I ken yer restless,” Callum said. “So, I’m giving ye this task.”
