Chapter 15
Catching him unaware, that first blow knocked the air from him, ramming his back into the door he’d just closed.
Prepared or not, he’d been a warrior too long, had trained too hard to be taken out of any fight so quickly, and this one would be no exception.
In the dark, he paused only a second, listening, before he struck out with his left forearm, driving up and into what felt like someone’s chin. At the same time, his right hand flew up to his shoulder, finding only empty air.
Dammit! His sword still hung on the back of his chair, where he’d placed it when he sat down for the feast.
On his other side a blow glanced off his shoulder.
When he concentrated, he could hear them breathing.
There were at least three, perhaps four, of them, and while he gave blows as good as he got when they moved in on him, he wasn’t about to step away from the solid door and leave his back unprotected.
He was ready for the next hit, grabbing the hand that connected with his shoulder.
He twisted, bending it back until he heard the bone snap.
He ignored the scream and the footsteps of someone running away as he took another well-calculated swing.
His fist connected, hard. He heard the crack of bone and felt the solid hit vibrate through his arm, satisfied with the scream of pain that followed.
Two down, though he thought he’d heard perhaps two more.
What he hadn’t heard was the door behind him open.
He realized it had only when something heavy struck him between the shoulders.
His reflex to the blow, throwing his arms in the air, left him open to the next hit.
Something, perhaps a foot, landed a solid blow to his ribs, sending a shot of unbearable pain lancing through his side.
Unable to catch his breath, his legs buckled and his knees hit the floor while he gasped for air.
A moment later, something hit the back of his head, and he pitched forward into darkness.
“Master Robbie?”
He heard the words, as if they came from very far away. He even thought he recognized the voice and honestly did want to answer, but the pounding in his head drowned out any sounds he might try to make.
“Oh, do wake up, Robbie. I dinna ken what to do to help you.”
It was a little voice. Young. Helpless. Frightened.
Robert fought the haze blanketing his head and blinked his eyes, pushing himself up from the floor to sit.
Small hands caressed his cheeks and Jamie’s face swam before his eyes.
“Are you hurt? Should I go get Mistress Isa for you?”
“No,” he groaned. “Wait. Let me just sit here for a moment.” Isa. The memory of what had happened to him flooded back. How long had he been out? “Is she still at the feast? With yer laird?”
“Aye.” The boy nodded his head. “They are all still there. But Mistress Isa grew worried when you dinna return and summoned me to go find you.”
Robert ran a hand over the back of his head, fingering a walnut-sized knot that had formed. He sat against the wall, tucked back in a corner and, from the smell of it, not far from a garderobe.
This certainly wasn’t where he’d been when he’d lost consciousness.
Whoever had managed to get the best of him must have dragged him here.
For what reason he couldn’t guess, any more than he could say the identity of who he’d fought, which made it all the worse.
There were too many unknowns for comfort.
One thing he was sure of. Although he might not have any idea who had attacked him, he had a damned good idea of why.
“Well, lad, what say we see if you can help me haul myself to my feet?”
Sliding his back up against the wall, Robert pushed to stand, pausing to let a wave of dizziness pass.
Slowly, with Jamie at his side, he made his way back to the hall, where music and the joyous noise of people filled with spirits poured from the doors.
His head was clear now. The danger to Isa was too great for him to take any more chances. Not until he had her in her room, behind a bolted door, could he allow himself to relax his guard.
“Yer not going in there like that, are you?”
Robert froze, considering Jamie’s words. He was likely a sight, if he looked at all like he felt, and drawing attention to what had happened was the last thing he wanted.
“Yer absolutely correct, lad. Would you mind going to fetch my sword and Mistress Isa? Bring them both here to me?”
“Aye, Master Robbie.”
The boy’s serious expression prodded Robert to stop him.
“Hey, Jamie. I just want to say, you’d make someone a fine squire.”
The boy turned to look at him. “Do you mean that? Honestly?”
When he nodded, Jamie’s look of disbelief cracked into a smile that all but broke Robert’s heart. One side of the boy’s face lit with joy while the other didn’t move at all, frozen as it was in a mask of scar tissue.
If only he could get Jamie back to his time. Maybe something could be done to save his sight or ease his suffering in some way. But those were considerations for another time. For now he had to focus on getting Isa upstairs and behind bolted doors.
In moments she was at his side, her shock at his appearance evident in her expression.
“What in the name of all that’s holy has happened to you? Who did this?” She whirled around as if to return to the hall, but he grabbed her elbow to keep her there.
“No. We dinna want any attention to this now.”
“Someone’s done this and they need punishing for it.” Her eyes flashed with her conviction.
“No now, Isa. Please listen to me.” He needed something, anything, to convince her to do as he wanted. “Just help me upstairs.”
“Oh!” Her mouth rounded in a little circle, her eyes opening wide. “What a fool I am. Of course. Yer injuries want tending. Come along.” She draped his arm over her shoulders as she sidled up close to him.
He should have remembered sooner. All he needed to do was let her think he couldn’t take care of himself. His ego wasn’t so large it prevented him from playing along.
“Here’s yer sword.” Jamie’s arms shook as he held the weapon out. “I have to go now. The stable master will be angry if I dinna finish my evening chores.”
Robert slipped the strap of the sword’s sheath over his arm and allowed Isa to assist him up the stairs. When they reached her bedchamber, he entered first, searching the room to make sure no one waited inside.
“The chamber is clear. When I leave, yer to bolt the door and allow no one entrance, no matter what they say.” He intended to find a spot in the hallway from which he could watch her door. Losing one night’s rest would be a small price to pay for knowing she was safe.
“Leave? Yer no leaving anywhere until I’ve had a look at what’s been done to you. Now sit yerself down on that stool and remove yer shirt while I light some more of my grandfather’s expensive candles.”
“There’s no a need for me be taking off any of my . . .”
“I’m no hearing that,” she barked, giving him a little push in the direction of the stool. “You favored yer side the whole way coming up the stairs so dinna you even think to deny it. Take it off.”
Robert stifled the urge to laugh at Isa’s demanding orders. “Yer a right bossy bit for a woman in danger,” he teased as he took a seat.
“It looks to me as if it’s you danger’s found. Now, hush yerself and do as yer told.”
He pulled the long shirt from his plaid, biting back a groan as he lifted it over his head and off. His shoulder was sore from the blows he’d blocked, but hardly worth noting.
It was the old scar over his ribs that concerned him. Swollen and tender to the touch, it looked like a wound only weeks into the healing process.
He had no choice but to face the obvious—that this wasn’t any normal injury but the beginning of the danger that Cate and Mairi had feared.
Cate’s warning rang in his memory.
“You’re going back to a time when you’re not supposed to exist. If the Magic seeks to equalize what should be with what is, you could be in real trouble.”
The steadily worsening wound on his chest was trouble, all right. It seemed clear to him that this was the Faerie Magic working to set history to rights.
Which meant his time here, his time to get Isa to safety, would be coming to an end.
His muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the cold, wet cloth she stroked over the scratches on his face.
“I’m sorry it’s cold. I’ve nothing to heat the water in.”
He shook his head, but didn’t reply, fighting to ignore his physical response to her hands on his body.
Though her touch was gentle, as if she feared she might hurt him, it was the fire she trailed across his skin that made him flinch.
When her fingers stroked over the Mark of the Guardian on his upper arm, he felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.
By the time she reached his chest, he could stand no more and grabbed her hands, holding them within his own.
“I need you to listen to me and think hard on what I say. Tomorrow morning, when we leave this place, let me take you to MacQuarrie Keep.”
The shake of her head foretold what her words would be. “I canna do that, Robbie. I’ve animals depending on me. I have to return to my home. I’ve no desire to leave there.”
His frustration got the better of him.
“Goddammit, Isa! Yer animals are the least of yer worries. There’s MacDowylt to consider, and after yer grandfather’s big announcement tonight, there’s Lardiner. My time here is limited, and I’ve no stomach for leaving you at the mercy of men such as these.”
She stared into his eyes, her expression serious and thoughtful, until at last she smiled, a sad little uplifting of the corners of her mouth.
“Yer a good man, Robbie MacQuarrie. You’ve no tried to force me to do this against my will and that means a great deal to me. If it will make you rest better, I’ll think on yer request this night.”
Force her? He could never do that, though he knew many a good man who would.
Somehow, in this situation, it seemed wrong.
Whether it was the knowledge of the Faerie edict against changing history or something else, something about Isa herself, he couldn’t bring himself to drag her away against her will.
That she even considered what he asked felt like a major step in the right direction.
“Then I’ll leave you to yer rest.” He started to rise, but found himself unable to stand, unwilling to do so, when she pressed down on his shoulders.
“I’d rather you stay here. There’s plenty of covers for me to make you a bed by the fire. And if whoever did this comes looking for you, it’s yer room they’ll search, no mine.”
The invitation was tempting. It was those men coming after her that worried him. In spite of how it looked, he could take care of himself. Here, in her room, he could see to her safety as well.
Still, it wasn’t right. Someone would see. Someone always did. Word would spread. “I’ll no compromise yer reputation by spending the night in yer room.”
“As if you suppose I care what anyone thinks?” she scoffed. Then, as if she could read the indecision in him, she stood and hurried to her bed, pulling covers off and bundling them in her arms.
“It’s settled, then. Yer staying here for the night.”