Chapter 12
Lachlan had to remind himself that Bella’s pregnancy wasn’t the worst possible thing that could have happened. Except, it felt like it was the worst possible thing. He knew he must have a horrified look on his face and he tried valiantly to smile reassuringly at Bella. He failed and she rolled over, burying her face in her pillow and moaning as if the world was ending.
Which it felt like it was. Deep in his heart, he was relieved she wasn’t dying of some strange illness, or poisoned by her own people. Her being with child was actually a good thing, as history was righting itself. It was just such bloody awful timing. It hit him in the gut that there was no way now he could carry out his slow, peaceful plan of easing Pietro under the Glen’s noses. Bugger it all, they had no time at all now.
Bella would need to be married to Pietro as soon as humanly possible. Sooner. The child had to be recognized as his, not Lachlan’s. He staggered over to the basin and splashed a few drops of water onto his face, unable to believe he once again might have screwed up Piper’s timeline.
He couldn’t handle thinking about it. Action, he needed to take action.
“Dinna fret,” he said, reaching for their chamber door. “I shall tell Pietro at once, and we’ll come up with a new plan.”
Bella twisted around and sat straight up in bed, her pale, tear streaked face twisted with rage. “If ye dare to do that, I shall murder ye in your sleep.” She clenched her fists. “Are ye the stupidest man who ever lived?”
“Bella, he must know,” Lachlan said reasonably.
Her face crumpled and she fell back against the pillows again. “I know that, but I want to tell him.”
Lachlan considered this, feeling bad for her. Everything had gone so wrong for her in the last weeks, pretty much all due to him. Well, not this newest thing, that at least wasn’t his fault. But he was responsible for not keeping her closer to hand, for trusting those two to be alone together, when he knew they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
“I dinna know, lass. I canna have anyone see ye together, not after what happened in the woods.”
He hated to shame her and make her remember that terrible night. She hadn’t stopped crying about it for days after, and wouldn’t eat in the main hall until he practically dragged her down. She had sat regally but silently that night, and when she realized it was him who was hated and everyone mostly felt sorry for her, she started acting somewhat normally again.
The moony stares she gave Pietro were going to be the death of them all though, but now he better understood her melancholy of the last week, as well as her sickness. The look on her face was so sad, he couldn’t bear to tell her no.
“I shall find a way,” he finally promised.
She relaxed and thanked him profusely. With all of that churning in his mind, he left the room to find his brother.
Quinn was in his tiny chamber reading a book, a frown burned into his brow. Lachlan noticed how tired his brother looked, probably from the constant vigilance he had to practice, afraid to turn his back on any Glen, and having to watch his every word.
“A moment?” he asked, closing the door behind him. He could tell Quinn saw the worry on his own face and his demeanor sank further.
“Aye,” he said. “What is it now?” He closed his book and motioned Lachlan to the one chair in the room.
He looked around Quinn’s miserable chamber. A tiny pallet, a wooden spindle chair and basin made up the sparse furnishings. It was an inner room, so there was no window and Quinn read hunched over the light of a candle stump. He was surprised he hadn’t complained more, or found solace in the arms of more willing wenches. Quinn was being really quite stalwart, and he felt a surge of pride in his previous wastrel of a baby brother.
“I have news,” Lachlan said. “No’ good, I’m afraid.”
Quinn rolled his eyes and motioned for him to continue, obviously not expecting good news.
He told him Bella’s situation, hoping he might find it less of an emergency, and would have a different perspective. Perhaps a silver lining could be found.
Instead, he released a string of swear words that raised Lachlan’s eyebrow. He wasn’t wrong, then. Things were bad.
“Things are terrible,” Quinn said. “Our plan is gone by the wayside. We have no time. We must act, and fast.”
“Aye, thanks for that,” Lachlan said sarcastically.
“Should we flee in the night?” he asked, ignoring Lachlan’s morose attitude.
“And have all the Glens upon us in the morn?” Lachlan asked. “That will be certain war.”
“Why is Pietro not here to help us plan?” Quinn asked, getting up to go find him.
Lachlan stayed him, explaining how Bella wanted to be the one to tell the joyous news, and how he’d promised to make it so.
“Ah, poor wee thing,” Quinn said.
They sat in silence, trying to feel compassion for her, but filled with anxiety over how to handle it.
“The child must be Pietro’s,” Quinn said after a moment.
“Of course it is,” Lachlan said, jumping to Bella’s defence. “What do ye think of her? Or me?”
Quinn closed his eyes, letting his head drop against the wall behind the pallet he sat on. “I’m no’ casting aspersions on anyone,” he explained. “I’ve grown quite fond of her, in fact. I rarely want to throttle her anymore. I only meant, the Glens must accept it as Pietro’s, no’ yours.”
Lachlan felt a headache blossoming the like he hadn’t felt since he was so gravely ill from traveling to the future without a protection amulet. “I shall arrange somehow for her to meet with Pietro tomorrow. After he knows, we can make a new plan.”
***
“I am going to kill ye,” Pietro said, after he’d had a few stolen minutes alone with Bella.
Her face was pale, but her eyes were free of tears, and a tremulous smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. Lachlan nodded, letting Pietro blow off steam.
They were in the fruit orchard. Bella had gone with her maid that morning, but then sent the maid back when the basket was full. Quinn watched by the edge of the trees for her return, on which Pietro would slip away down the back of the hill. They only had a few minutes until the maid came back with a new basket, maybe more if Quinn was able to charm her into flirting with him.
“No, I’m being serious,” Pietro said. “That’s the new plan. We need you out of the picture, fast. There’s no time to be diplomatic or subversive anymore.”
Lachlan looked at Bella, wondering how she could be standing so calmly by while Pietro spoke of murdering him. He thought they’d reached an understanding.
He glanced to the edge of the orchard where Quinn still stood alone. He felt responsible for all of this, and wanted desperately to make it right, but he’d never been much of a martyr. He thought of Piper’s obsession with him being in the Glen crypt in her own time. Was this how he made it there? Should he let history right itself or fight for his life? He frowned at Pietro.
“Bloody hell, Lachlan,” Pietro said, pulling him further into the orchard. “It should be easy. I shall whip the ones who can be whipped into a frenzy of blood lust against ye. All we need are a few.”
“Are ye really asking me to go along with my own murder?” Lachlan asked incredulously.
Pietro threw up his hands. “No, ye idiot. Do ye not see?”
Lachlan did not see and shook his head.
“I haven’t worked out all the details, but obviously we wouldn’t really kill ye, fool. But ye could get away, go back to your land, or Piper if ye think ye could. These folk would think ye were dead, so leave ye alone.”
Lachlan raised his eyebrows in shock at the simplicity and beauty of the plan. With his own plan, there was always the chance the Glens would get a bee in their bonnets and want to come after him again one day. If he were believed to be dead, they could just celebrate and forget about him. Pietro would be a hero, could marry Bella, and all would be right with Piper’s future.
“That’s brilliant,” he said. He heard Quinn’s whistle, which signaled the maid’s imminent return. “Can ye work out the details in a hurry?”
Pietro looked embarrassed. “As I said, it should be fairly easy to convince them. There’s a few who I’ve actually been keeping from killing ye. We’ll need to be careful, though, as it’ll have to be me, and we’ll have to be alone. Och, let me think for a day or two.”
Pietro gave Bella a farewell kiss and ran from the orchard, just as the maid walked up, giggling at something Quinn said. She stopped abruptly and jumped a foot away from Lachlan when she saw he had joined her mistress. Lachlan barely acknowledged her indifferent curtsy, grunted a goodbye to his wife, then marched away with his brother trailing behind.
“What?” Quinn asked when they were well out of earshot of anyone.
“It seems I am to die,” Lachlan said, quickly explaining the rudimentary plan.
It was clear Quinn didn’t like it one bit. “Do ye trust him?” he demanded. “Pietro Gardioli, or Connor McKellen, whatever he is.”
“He is Piper’s direct ancestor.” Lachlan shrugged. “I must trust him, or lose her.”
“Or lose your own life,” he grumbled. “Why must ye insist on this path?” Quinn strode angrily ahead and turned, giving Lachlan a beseeching look.
Lachlan still saw him as a ten year old lad, angry he couldn’t go along on a hunt, forced to stay behind with their sister and her nurse. He knew if he tried to rumple his hair at this point in their lives he’d receive a solid punch in the jaw, so stood there and smiled ruefully at him.
“It is just my path,” he said, walking past him toward the castle. “Stay alert, and warn the others. We must be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I dinna know if Pietro will be able to give us advance warning. It shall have to look good.”
“Christ, Lachlan. I dinna like this at all.”
“Dinna fear, lad.” Lachlan clapped him on the shoulder.
Quinn headed to the stable while Lachlan went to act like a clueless leader, while underneath he was ever mindful of his looming demise.
The next day passed without incident. Bella jumped at every person who spoke which caused his nerves to be raw and on edge, but no matter how hard he tried to shake her, she stayed stubbornly close to his side.
“Afraid ye’ll miss the spectacle?” he asked, as she chased him down to dinner.
She’d sat through a meeting with his advisors that morning, watched him purchase a new horse for the stables, and lingered around outside the privy. He was close to mad from her hovering.
“Well, I canna have ye be genuinely killed and ruin Pietro’s fine plan,” she hissed, turning away when a plate of liver was placed before her. She took one tiny bite, turned green and shoved the plate across the table. “I shall be glad when this is over. The fear of it all is making me feel worse than I already do.”
Her grumbling was a strange comfort to him and he smiled down at her as he ate his own meal. It would be mere days and he would be gone from this place. Well, not the place exactly. He’d still be at Castle Glen, but he wanted to remember everything the way it was now, from the caustic looks cast his way from every direction, to the tapestries on the walls and the rushes at his feet. He wouldn’t miss a damn bit of it, and couldn’t wait to see all the future people and things he’d grown to love.
He didn’t have to wait long, as that very night Pietro roughly shook him awake what seemed only minutes after he fell asleep on his pallet in the corner.
Lachlan sat up, grabbing his weapons and wrapping his kilt around him. He looked at the empty bed on the other side of the room. “Where’s Bella?” he croaked.
“I sent her to her maid’s chamber. My men are waiting outside while I escort ye out of bed, but I had to make sure she was out of harm’s way, in case any of them got too exuberant and followed me. They really want your head on a stake.” He paced like a caged tiger, looking sick.
“That’s lovely,” Lachlan said. “We must see they dinna get it.”
“Aye,” Pietro said absently, glancing toward the door.
“Do ye have it all worked out?” Lachlan asked, taking Pietro by the arm to get him to focus.
“Just let me take care of things,” Pietro said, pulling away in irritation. Lachlan raised an eyebrow, but followed him toward the door. “Do ye have everything ye need to get back?”
Lachlan patted his sporran, making sure he had his vial of herbs. Pietro thrust a rolled up piece of parchment at him.
“Give this to Piper to give to my parents, will ye? They may not understand, but I can’t stand them thinking I abandoned them. She can maybe show them something from the castle history books if I end up in any of them.”
Lachlan felt a flush of shame for leaving his own family. They would have no way of knowing what happened to him, no luxury of checking historical papers for mentions of his name.
He might not actually die tonight, but for all intents and purposes, to Quinn and Catriona, he would be dead. A powerful, agonizing indecision overtook him, until he was pulled back into the present predicament by Pietro waving his hand in front of his face.
“We must go,” he said urgently.
Lachlan followed. Whether or not he found his way through time back to Piper, he had to leave this place now. Bella’s child had to be rightfully claimed by its true father. Once he was away, he could decide to stay or go.
Outside in the courtyard, it was suspiciously quiet, not even the night guards were stationed at their posts. He looked to Pietro, who was now openly sweating. Lachlan’s faith in him dwindled more with each step they took toward the forest.
“What exactly is going to happen?” he asked quietly.
For all he knew, they were surrounded in the dark night by men waiting to knock him over the head and string him up. A spark of distrust ignited and he let his hand rest above his sword. Dinna be stupid, he told himself. Ye wouldna even have a sword if Pietro meant to betray ye.
Pietro stopped several hundred yards from the tree line and pointed to a small flickering light in the distance, just inside the forest.
“They’re awaiting us there. I was supposed to bring ye out here on some trumped up reason. They really are quite daft to think ye would fall for such a thing. But that’s the whole basis of my plan.” He swallowed hard and ran his hands several times through his hair. He made a grunting noise as if he might lose his most recent meal.
Lachlan stared at him, hand still close to the hilt of his sword. “What is to happen next?” he asked calmly.
Pietro nodded. “Well, I was to get ye up there so they could have at ye, but of course ye would see right through something like that, right?”
“Pietro, lad. Calm yourself and spit it out.”
“So, ye must hit me and run off in the opposite direction.”
Lachlan was more than ready to hit the wee buffoon. “That’s the plan? That I should hit ye and run off? Do ye no’ think they would come after me?”
“Aye, but ye’ll be gone. I shall run in after ye and confirm that ye’re dead. Killed by my own hands.” He held up his hands and laughed hopelessly. “Listen, it was the best I could do on such short notice. I’ll find a way to make them believe, all right? I’ll set the woods on fire if I have to. Just trust me, okay?”
“I strongly advise against setting the woods on fire,” Lachlan said.
“I strongly advise ye to get the hell out of here while ye still can,” Pietro retorted.
“Be good to Bella,” Lachlan said. “And good luck to ye.” He gave Pietro a wry smile before crashing his fist into his jaw and taking off toward the trees.
***
He ran smack into a tiny figure who jumped out from behind a tree to block his path.
“Bella, what are ye doing out here? Are ye mad? I could have killed ye.” He gripped her arms to keep her from flying backwards into the mass of roots and forest undergrowth. She held a small wooden bucket that sloshed with a thick, dark liquid. “Tell me that isna blood,” he said.
“I could tell ye, but it would be a lie,” she told him, squinting up at him in the pale light of the moon.
“Pietro thinks ye’re with your maid,” Lachlan said.
“I am with my maid, she’s hiding off in the trees.”
“This plan of Pietro’s …” he shook his head.
“Aye, I know. ‘Tis no’ verra good at all, poor man. He’s lovely and strong, but none so good at the lies and treachery.”
Lachlan grunted. “Well, he better get good at it, to lead your lot. He canna really think they’ll just let me go.”
A grin spread over her face as she held up the pail. “I’m good enough for the both of us. Hence the pig’s blood, from the kitchen. To make it seem more realistic.”
He shook his head. “I fear for the future with the two of ye in charge of anything.”
Bella laughed, then grew serious. “Ye must go,” she said, fruitlessly shoving his chest and glancing nervously behind her. “None of them can be trusted.”
He half faced the trees, torn between a clean escape and his duty. “I canna leave without speaking to my brother,” he said.
“Aye, and I reckoned that,” she said with a tender smile. So like her many times great-granddaughter, it tore at his heart. “He’ll be waiting for ye further in.” Instead of shoving him again, she clung to the edges of his plaid, searching his face. “Thank ye, Lachlan. I can hardly believe it, but ye’ve changed my life.”
“For the better, I hope,” he said, oddly choked up. He couldn’t believe he might actually miss the wee harridan.
She nodded her head vigorously and reached up to his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. “Verra much for the better,” she said.
He leaned down, for a disconcerting moment thinking she wanted to kiss him farewell.
“I’m sorry for this,” she said, pulling a nasty little knife out of her sleeve. She grasped a handful of his hair and yanked his head forward. With a vicious swipe, she hacked off his ponytail. Letting him go, she leaned back with the hair in her fist. “They’ll need a trophy,” she explained apologetically.
“Bloodthirsty Glens,” he muttered, running his hand over the ragged ends of his newly shortened hair.
“Ye’re so fair of face, ye hardly needed so much hair anyway,” she said, her smile wobbling. “Go now, before they catch up to us. I shall take care of everything. I know you dinna care for such things, but I shall make sure people remember ye well.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Goodbye, Bella.”
Much deeper in the forest he found Quinn sitting on a tree stump, looking forlorn. He looked up when he heard Lachlan approach and smiled.
“About time,” he said, tipping his head to the side to get a better look at Lachlan’s hair. “That’s a good look on ye.”
“Shut it, idiot,” Lachlan said, placing his hand on Quinn’s shoulder and squeezing it.
“Are ye going to cry, Lach?” he asked, standing up. He stood just shy of Lachlan’s great height.
“Aye, I just may,” he said. “Let me look at ye, lad.” He took a step back and tried to memorize his younger brother’s face. “It’s a great burden I leave ye with,” he said. “I am sorry for it.”
“Ye love the wee lass so verra much?” Quinn asked. “That ye must leave your own time and all that ye own for her?”
“I do,” he said simply.
“Well, then. Ye must go. Catie and I would rather ye be gone than moping around for the rest of your days.”
“Ah, Catriona,” breathed Lachlan, closing his eyes and trying to conjure his baby sister’s face. It had been so long since he’d seen her. He’d never see her again. “She is the most important thing, aye? The crops can fail and the keep can fall, but ye must make sure she is properly settled.”
Quinn nodded seriously. “I understand,” he said.
“Ye must make sure she gets her daft season. It was her mother’s last wish. She was English, but she was good to us, though you probably dinna remember her.”
“I remember her a bit. She used to sing to me.”
“Aye, the poor woman loved us like we were her own, and no thanks or help at all from our bloody sire.” He took a deep breath. “I wish ye could have known our mother, and had a better image of our da. He wasna always the wastrel ye knew, but his broken heart wouldna let him get back to the man he once was. I am sorry ye never had a real father, like ye should have.”
Quinn looked down at the ground, kicking at the dirt before he looked back up at Lachlan. “I had ye, brother.”
Lachlan felt a strange prickling behind his eyes while his throat closed up. He shook his head, trying to get back on track, no time for emotions. “But Catie. The lass has no idea how verra rich she is. Ye must make sure to keep the fortune hunters away from her. No gamblers, no drinkers. I know her ma wanted her to have the English season, but try to put a good Scottish lad in her sights. But dinna make her hate her own people …” Lachlan trailed off, sure he was missing something.
“It shall be done,” Quinn promised.
He grabbed Lachlan around the neck and before Lachlan could barely hug him back, he turned and left.
He knew he didn’t have much time. He could already hear shouts in the distance. They must have discovered he’d got away and were now scrambling through the forest to find him. He took a deep breath of the chilly eighteenth century air and when he could no longer hear Quinn’s footsteps, took the vial of herbs from his sporran.