Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
K ate woke with a start, her back stiff from sleeping against the stone wall of the chapel. The storm had passed, leaving behind that peculiar stillness that follows nature’s fury. Morning light filtered through a hole in the roof, casting dappled patterns on the floor where she’d spent the night.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. After Connor had taken the brooch and ridden away, leaving her alone at the cemetery, she’d sought shelter in the chapel as the sky unleashed its fury. The rain had seemed fitting, a mirror to her own storm of emotions. She’d huddled in the corner, her clothes damp, and wept until exhaustion claimed her.
Now, in the clear light of dawn, the full weight of what had happened settled on her shoulders. She had told Connor everything, that she was from the future. How she’d arrived, why she’d taken the brooch. The look of betrayal on his face had cut deeper than any breakup she’d ever been through.
“I’ve made a terrible mess of things,” she whispered to the empty chapel. Her voice echoed softly against the stone walls that had witnessed years of prayers and confessions.
With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, wincing as her muscles protested. Her hair had dried in wild tangles, and her clothes were wrinkled and dirt-stained. She looked as much a disaster as she felt, but there was nothing to be done about it. She needed to return to the keep, to face whatever consequences awaited her and figure out what to do. Where would she live? It wasn’t like she could stay at Bronmuir. How would she make a living? Survive?
The walk back seemed both endless and too brief. With each step, she rehearsed what she might say to Connor, though she doubted he would listen. The clan would know by now about the brooch, perhaps even about her origins. How could she possibly face them all?
As Bronmuir Keep came into view, silhouetted against the morning sky, Kate’s steps faltered. The massive stone structure that had begun to feel like home now looked imposing, unwelcoming. She forced herself forward, head high despite the knot of dread in her stomach.
The guards at the gate stiffened as she approached. Their hands moved to their weapons, though they didn’t draw them.
“I need to speak with Connor,” Kate said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The younger guard’s expression darkened. “Ye’ve done enough harm, lass.”
The older one, Alec, she remembered, gave her a hard look. “The laird is ill. Took sick after being out in the storm half the night.”
Kate’s blood ran cold. “Ill? How bad?”
Neither man answered, but the grim set of their mouths told her enough. After a moment, Alec stepped aside to let her pass, though his reluctance was palpable.
The courtyard was busy with morning activities, but a hush fell as she walked through to the hall. Eyes followed her, some curious, others openly hostile. Word had spread quickly. She kept her gaze forward, refusing to show how deeply their judgment cut.
Inside the great hall, she found Ewan pacing before the hearth. His normally cheerful face was drawn with worry, the dark circles beneath his eyes suggesting he hadn’t slept.
“Where is he?” Kate asked without preamble.
Ewan’s head snapped up. For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by exhaustion. “His chamber. Moira’s with him.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough.” Ewan ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Fever took hold in the night. He stayed out in the storm all night.”
The accusation in his voice was unmistakable. Kate flinched but didn’t look away. “I need to see him.”
“Aye, well, Moira might have other ideas about that.” Despite his words, he didn’t try to stop her as she headed for the stairs.
Outside Connor’s chamber, Kate paused to gather her courage. From within came the low murmur of voices, Moira’s commanding tone and another woman’s softer response. Kate knocked softly, then pushed the door open without waiting for permission.
The room was dim, with heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. A fire burned in the hearth, making the chamber uncomfortably warm. The air smelled of herbs and sickness. Pungent, medicinal, with an underlying note of sweat.
Connor lay on the bed, his face flushed with fever, breathing labored. Moira stood at his bedside, wringing out a cloth in a basin of water, while Aileen from the kitchens stirred something in a pot by the fire.
Moira looked up, her expression hardening, as she saw Kate. “Ye shouldnae be here.”
“I want to help,” she said, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her.
“Help?” Moira’s voice was sharp as a blade. “Like ye helped poor Kenna to her death? Or perhaps ye mean to help by stealing what isna yours?”
The words hit Kate like physical blows, but she forced herself to stand her ground. “I made terrible mistakes. I know that. But right now, Connor needs all the help he can get.”
“And what would ye know of healing, lass? Do they teach that in your time, along with thievery and deceit?”
So Connor had told her, or perhaps he’d spoken in his fever. Either way, Moira knew the truth, and she clearly didn’t believe it.
“No,” Kate admitted. “I don’t know much about healing. But I can learn as I have working with you. I will do whatever needs doing.”
Moira studied her for a long moment, her weathered face unreadable. Finally, she sighed. “Aileen, take that broth to the kitchen. It needs to simmer longer.”
The young woman hurried to obey, giving Kate a wide berth as she passed.
When the door closed behind her, Moira spoke again, her voice low. “The laird told me a wild tale before the fever took hold. About ye being from another time. Is it true?”
Kate nodded. “It is. Though I understand why you’d doubt it.”
“I’ve seen strange things in my years, lass. The old ways still have power in these hills.” Moira wrung out the cloth again, placing it on Connor’s forehead. “But that doesna excuse what ye’ve done.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Kate agreed quietly. “Nothing excuses that. But please, let me help care for him. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I can do this.”
Moira’s gaze was piercing. “Why? Why do ye care what happens to him now? Ye were trying to leave, were ye not?”
“I thought—” Kate swallowed hard. “I thought he didn’t want me anymore. After Cameron’s death, he pulled away. And then with Kenna... I felt responsible. I thought everyone would be better off if I just disappeared.”
“So ye stole the brooch.”
“I borrowed it. It brought me here, so I thought it would send me home.” Kate moved closer to the bed, drawn by Connor’s labored breathing. “I was wrong. About everything.”
Moira didn’t respond immediately. She adjusted the blankets around Connor with practiced hands, her movements efficient. “He needs the fever to break. If it doesna soon...”
The healer didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Kate took a deep breath. “Tell me what to do. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
For the next several hours, she followed Moira’s instructions and tried to coax sips of broth between Connor’s parched lips. The tasks kept her mind focused, preventing her from drowning in guilt and worry.
As the day wore on, she began to notice inefficiencies in their care routine. The herbs were stored haphazardly, making it difficult to find what was needed quickly. The water in the basin grew warm too fast, reducing its effectiveness in cooling Connor’s fever. The schedule for administering different remedies was kept only in Moira’s head, leading to confusion when Aileen returned to help.
“Moira,” Kate said during a rare quiet moment, “I have an idea that might help us work more efficiently.”
The older woman raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “Oh?”
“If we organize the herbs by purpose, fever reducers together, pain remedies together, and so on, we could find what we need faster. And if we kept a written record of when each remedy is given, we wouldn’t have to rely on your memory.”
“And ye think ye know better than me how to tend the sick? I’ve been healing longer than ye’ve been alive, lass.”
“I don’t know how to heal,” Kate clarified. “But I do know about organization and efficiency. It’s what I did, what I do... where I’m from, and I was very good at it.”
Moira snorted. “What nonsense.”
“Please, just consider it. The more efficiently we work, the more energy we can devote to Connor’s care.”
Perhaps it was the mention of Connor that softened Moira’s resistance. “Show me what ye mean, then.”
She didn’t waste the opportunity. She quickly sorted the herbs into logical groupings, labeling each with a small piece of parchment. She created a simple chart showing the time each remedy should be administered, using a system of marks to track when each dose was given. Then she arranged for fresh water to be brought regularly and set up a rotation of rags to ensure Connor always had a cool compress.
By nightfall, even Moira had to admit the new system was working well. “Ye’ve a practical mind,” she conceded grudgingly. “Though ye’ve little sense when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Kate accepted the criticism without argument. She deserved far worse.
As the night deepened, the healer finally agreed to rest, leaving her alone with him. In the flickering firelight, his face looked younger, more vulnerable. The stern lines of command were smoothed away by unconsciousness, leaving only the man beneath.
At some point, the knowledge settled deep within her. She belonged here. With him. Kate gently replaced the cloth on his forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her. “I never meant to hurt you. I was scared and stupid and I didn’t trust what was right in front of me.”
She took his large, calloused hand between her own. His skin burned with fever, but his fingers curled slightly around hers, an unconscious response that made her heart leap.
“I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me,” she continued softly. “I don’t know if I deserve forgiveness. But I’m not going anywhere. Not again. Even if you send me away when you wake up, I’ll still be here, somewhere, waiting. Because this is where I belong. With you. In this time. In this place.”
Connor’s breathing seemed to ease slightly, though perhaps it was only wishful thinking on her part. Kate leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against their joined hands.
“Just get better,” she murmured. “Please.”
Outside, the wind picked up again, whistling around the stone walls of the keep. Within, the fire crackled steadily, casting long shadows across the chamber. Kate settled in for the long night ahead, determined to prove, to him, to the clan, to herself, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.