Chapter 25
Up endless stairs and even a rickety ladder that threatened to crumble under her weight, Nancy found the farthest point away from the Great Hall: the open expanse of the highest tower of Castle Culloch, a parapet that seemed to rise above the mountains, offering an endless view of the sparkling sea.
It was calmer out there tonight, the sound of the tide soothing. Above, a blanket of stars didn’t even twinkle. There were too many of them to pick out just one, the sky more beautiful than she had ever seen it in her world.
This is what it’s supposed to look like, she mused as she walked to the edge of the parapet and leaned against the uneven wall, gulping in the fresh, salty air.
At last, alone there among the mountains, she finally allowed herself to cry.
Grieving for her mother, who’d vanished without a trace and had spent all those years trying to get back to her.
Grieving for the father she’d never known, who had sacrificed a lot in order to make sure that she and her mother were safe.
In a way, it had been easier to think of her father as some deadbeat who’d abandoned them and her mother as a missing woman who might still be found.
This was all too… final, too crushing, to know that she’d come too late, that she would never see her mom again, no matter how hard she wished for it.
But was it you, Mom, or the tapestry that brought me to this time? Are they intertwined?
She held her head in her hands as the tears trickled down her face, almost wishing she had given up when her boss told her to. There was so much value in hope, and now that she had none, she felt as if she’d been robbed.
She didn’t turn at the sound of someone coming up the ladder, nor at the sound of footfalls coming toward her.
True, she was in a dangerous position, so high up and leaning against such a structurally suspect wall, but she didn’t much care if someone was coming to harm her.
If someone was, then it was probably her destiny or something, woven into some tapestry or written in some book she had no knowledge of.
A shadow fell across her, blocking some of the bright moonlight that shone down.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hunter quietly lean against the wall beside her, mirroring her position.
He didn’t say anything. He just stayed there, offering her the safety of his steady presence, letting her decide if she wanted to tell him what had happened.
“I come from the future,” she began, after a while. “2026, to be exact.”
He still didn’t speak, just gave a small nod of his head.
With a breath, Nancy continued, recounting the conversation she’d just had with Eileen, from the happy life she’d led with her mother to her mother’s disappearance, and the now filled-in blanks where before there’d been only mystery and motivation.
The only thing she left out was the tapestry of a bride and groom on their grisly wedding day, and how she suspected that the bride was her.
No use worrying him when I plan to fix it anyway.
With Eileen’s help, she would be gone before June 10th, averting disaster, preventing the death of Laird Lochlann. Until something else, old age with any luck, took him.
“Why are ye so sad?” Hunter asked softly, once the silence made it clear that she was done. “Should ye nae be happy that ye at least ken the truth now? That nay one abandoned ye, that ye were loved? Or… nae happy, but reassured?”
A bitter smile twisted Nancy’s mouth as she watched a fishing boat in the distance, a lantern making it seem like a star had tumbled from the sky and was now skimming across the sea.
“I probably should, but I’m not,” she replied, her throat tight.
“I’m not, because none of it was within my control.
The fates, or whatever you want to call them, just called all the shots for me, for my family, and we had no power to refuse.
I mean, my years without my parents, the way I got here, the way they decided when and where and how, and stole any chance I might’ve had of seeing my parents again.
“Even the way I got fake-engaged to you. I could’ve stayed in my room, I could’ve woken up before dawn, I could’ve done…
so many things to avoid what happened, but it was already decided.
It’s the same with the rest. It’s like… there’s no free will in the world.
It’s all just an illusion, and I can’t stand how…
hopeless and powerless that makes me feel!
Nothing is within my control. Our control. Nothing.”
Hunter shifted, turning to face her. When she didn’t match his movement, his hand came up to grab her chin, turning her head so she had no choice but to look at him.
Was he trying to prove her point or something?
She glared up at him, directing her anger towards him, knowing deep down that he was probably the only person who could take it without taking it personally.
“Instead of feelin’ like ye’ve lost control, lass, why nae give control to someone else for a while?” he suggested, his low voice pulling at invisible strings, making her body turn. “Aye, like that.”
“It’s no different,” she protested, though she felt her ire cool a tiny bit.
“There’s power in surrender, lass,” he told her, his thumb brushing along her jawline.
“The real freedom is in admittin’ that ye couldnae have done anythin’ to save those ye’ve lost, those who were taken from ye, even if ye had control over the situation.
Strength comes from acceptance, from nae fightin’ what cannae be fought. ”
She sniffed. “Says the warrior.”
“Aye, says the warrior,” he replied in a silky voice that seemed to glide over her, stirring up the embers of desire that had been doused in the Great Hall after seeing Mrs. Crimmins again.
“Well, I think you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she remarked, trying not to melt into him, trying not to want to. “If you felt powerless, you wouldn’t just stand there and say that.”
“Ye think I havenae felt powerless?” he murmured, his eyes catching the silvery shine of the moonlight. “Ye think there havenae been moments where I’ve thought, What’s the point of it all? Where I havenae wanted to curse the heavens until they listened, until they did me biddin’?”
A vivid image flashed through her mind of him on his knees in some war-torn battlefield, streaked in blood, his booming voice carrying all the way up to the fates that liked to play games.
They’re toying with you, too, she wanted to tell him, doubting he would be so calm and rational if he learned that his days of fatherhood were numbered.
“Maybe there have, but… I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Those who think too much are the ones who die first in battle. By the time they’ve decided what they’re doin’, it’s all over,” he told her.
“Those who surrender to the idea of ‘what will be will be’ are the ones who arenae slowed down by the weight of their own worries.
Aye, they might die, but they ken that. It makes ‘em free.
It makes ‘em calm. Take it from someone who kens.”
She tried to turn her gaze away, but Hunter gripped her jaw tighter, turning her head back to face him. Not painful, not forceful, but a command that her body instinctively wanted to listen to.
“I don’t see what any of that has to do with me,” she said. “I’m not fighting any battles.”
“Aye, ye are.” A small smile graced his lips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, “Up here ye are, in that warrin’ mind of yers. So, I’m askin’ ye, tellin’ ye, to wave a white flag for a while.”
“But… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice strained.
He slid his arm around her waist and turned her so that her lower back bumped against the wall, his body pressing in so close that she feared the stone would give way and they would both tumble to a rather bloody death on the very, very distant rocks below.
“Daenae think about the fall,” he murmured. “It’s nae in yer control. It’s in mine, and I wouldnae let ye fall.”
Slowly absorbing his words, she concentrated on the tight grip of his arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her, the hand that cradled her neck, and the hard muscle that he had honed through battles and endurance. A pillar of safety who would not let any harm come to her.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Lean back.”
“Are you mad?” she gasped.
“Lean back,” he repeated.
With her heart fluttering in her chest, she did as he asked, bending at the waist. His arm remained steadfast, his hand still cradling the back of her neck. As she felt her upper body lean over the wall, and the whipping wind rose to meet her from the steep drop below, she almost bailed.
Almost.
“Relax,” he murmured. “Ye’re safe. Ye’re free. I’m in control.”
Feeling her legs press against his, she took a shaky breath and leaned back as far as she could, the beautiful, star-drenched night sky opening up for her. And as her eyes took in the majesty, a sweeping sense of peace washed over her, as if she were in the midst of those stars.
Instinct urged her to be brave, to spread her arms, instead of hanging onto the last thread of control’s illusion by gripping Hunter’s shirt. But at the last second, courage failed her, and she rocked back up from the precipice, falling straight into Hunter’s arms.
“That’s just the start, lass,” he told her. “By the time I’m done, ye’ll lean back without a moment’s thought, and ye’ll feel as if ye’re soarin’.”
Nancy shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
“Aye, ye can,” he said, more forcefully.
Instead of holding her tightly to him as she’d hoped he would, he took that moment to release her, and though his eyes didn’t leave hers, he backed away, toward the opposite side of the parapet.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her heart still racing with the latent fear of falling.
He leaned against the far wall, his eyes gleaming in the low light, so tall and powerful and impressive that she could have stared at him all night.
“Get on yer knees, lass,” he commanded, his deep voice traveling without effort.
“What?”
“Get on yer knees,” he repeated. “Daenae ask questions. Surrender every thought.”
Nancy hesitated. “I’ll ruin my dress.”
“Ye hate that dress,” he pointed out.
Feeling a little foolish, but unable to deny his point, she slowly lowered herself to the ground, kneeling there on the cold stone as if she were about to beg forgiveness.
This is stupid. Is he just trying to make me look like an idiot or…?
Hot and flustered, still uncertain of the point, she forced herself to hold his gaze. Why wasn’t he saying anything? He was just looking at her intensely, letting the silence grow between them until it stretched to an unbearable tension that she desperately wanted to break.
“What now?” she asked, letting her imagination fill in some possibilities.
Yet, he wasn’t moving toward her; he stayed right there against the wall.
“Hunter, this is silly,” she rasped, her face burning. “What if someone sees?”
“They willnae,” he replied, the sound of his voice a welcome thing. “And ye daenae care about that. Ye only care about what ye want to do.”
She frowned. “Well, right now, I want to get up and go downstairs to my room and stay there for the rest of the—”
“Crawl to me,” he said, his voice strangely soft, the whisper of it somehow making it incredibly powerful.
“Pardon?”
“Crawl to me.” He gave a small nod. “Daenae think about it, just come to me on yer hands and knees.”
She swallowed thickly, struggling against a tight feeling inside her, like a rope holding her back. It was awkwardness and uncertainty, making her sweat, making her feel silly, keeping her rooted to the spot, keeping her from crossing the parapet to where he stood.
“I can’t do it,” she uttered, unable to let go.
“Come to me,” he urged. “Let everythin’ else fall away and crawl to me.”
She closed her eyes and took a breath, feeling the cool wind on her face and the solid stone beneath her knees.
She concentrated on the beat of her heart and the shaky rise and fall of her chest, like the meditation she’d never been much good at.
There had been a few classes she’d attended back in her world, but her mind was just too busy to stay calm for long.
Yet, despite herself, she began to move.
Her eyes opened, fixed on Hunter, drawn by his pleased smile as she crawled across the stone toward him, as if he were the reward for quietening her mind.