Chapter Five #2
“You weren’t walking in the fog alongside the road to Craig Durness? Or around my cottage? How did you know my nickname?” She glared at him with even more intensity. “Do you own a black cat?”
The more the woman talked, the more he feared the Fae had permanently damaged her mind when they’d sent her through the storm. “The gods told me yer name, but I know of no Craig Durness.” He gentled the words as much as he could with a softer tone. “What is it, lass? Yer home?”
Her murderous expression shifted to bewilderment. “Who are you?”
“Drummond MacMuirrow, Earl of Blackmorrow and next chief of Clan MacMuirrow.”
She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it while studying him. “And you’ve never heard of the village of Craig Durness?”
“No, lass. I am sorry.”
Up ahead, Murdoch had noticed they’d stopped and was heading back to them. Drummond caught the man’s eye and barely shook his head. His friend reined in his horse and waited while still some distance away.
“Is Craig Durness yer home?” he asked again. “Forgive me, but ye dinna speak like a Scot.”
“Craig Durness is not my home,” she said, her tone emotionless and wooden. “Nashville is where I belong.”
“Nashville,” he repeated carefully, committing the place of her origin to memory. It had to be another country, but which? “And where exactly might that be?”
She squinted up at him as if the sun were in her eyes, but it couldn’t be.
They were headed north, and it was well past Sext, the midday hour.
She chewed her bottom lip a while longer before saying, “In Tennessee. In the United States of America. U.S.A.” She looked all around, then once again tried to shrug his hold away.
“Could you please put me down? I don’t want to go with you. ”
He almost recoiled from the surprising pain her rejection thrust into his core. The blow churned through him like a battering ram, bruising his heart and soul. “Ye canna wander the Highlands alone. ’Tisn’t safe.”
“I’ll be fine.” She lifted her chin and squared her petite shoulders.
“I can take care of myself, and I’m sure Callum and Morganna are looking for me.
” She blinked hard and fast, battling the threat of tears that made her eyes glisten unnaturally bright.
“They have to be looking for me. And Mercury too. I know Mercury is looking for me.”
“I mean ye no harm, lass.” Surely she had to feel that he only meant safety for her.
Protection. And with time, mayhap even something more dear.
He swallowed hard, unable to believe he already possessed such a thought.
But, aye, he’d not deny it. This precious woman was different from all the others, and besides that, she’d been sent to him.
She belonged here with him. Surely she felt that too—or would.
“Please allow me to take ye to safety.” He waited, holding his breath for her answer.
The soft curve of her jaw hardened, and she flinched as though in pain. “Let me down, please.”
He nearly growled again. How could she not feel this energy between them?
Not sense that things were just as they should be now that she had returned?
“Ye’re a stubborn wee minx.” He caught her up in his arms like a babe, swung a leg over, then dismounted and set her on her feet.
When he first released her, she staggered like a drunkard, but when he tried to catch her, she smacked his hands away.
“I’m fine. Just let me get my bearings.” Sweeping her curls behind her ears, she handed him his plaid. “Here. Thank you. My jacket is enough.”
“Ye canna wander the Highlands alone.” He tossed the cloak over the saddle and waited. “Where the devil do ye mean to go?”
She slowly turned, swiping at her eyes as she studied the horizon.
“Where are the mountains that look like lightning split them in half? I have to find the pass that runs between them. That’s the way back to Craig Durness.
” She took a few steps away from his horse, staring at the rugged landscape as if begging it to show her what she wished.
What had the Fae, or the gods, done to her?
Drummond shook his head, fighting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her until she saw sense.
“There is no pass near here. Nor any mountains such as ye describe. What ye see is what ye see. Most folk dinna come to this part of the Highlands because of the sidhe hill at the center of the Black Forest. Many believe it to be cursed, as is the forest.”
She turned and studied the line of trees they’d just left behind. “What’s a sidhe hill?”
“Gateways to the Otherworld, to the lands of the Daoine Sidhe, the fairy folk, the ever-powerful Fae.” As she tucked a curl behind her ear again, it relieved him to see it wasn’t pointed.
Surely that meant she was as human as he.
“’Tis half a day’s ride to Dubh Tower. Rough walking betwixt here and there.
Fraught with dangers. Especially for a woman alone.
Come along, lass.” He held out his hand.
“Please. I offer ye protection. Please do me the honor of accepting it.”
She clasped her hands together, clenching them so tightly her knuckles went white. “I don’t belong here,” she whispered, then twitched a nervous shrug. “Wherever this is.”
“’Tis Scotland. Clan MacMuirrow land.” He eased a bit closer. “Come. Let me help ye, aye? Ye’ve nothing to fear from me.”
“But you were like a ghost last night.” She hugged herself and shuffled back a step, increasing the distance between them again.
“I saw you, but Morganna couldn’t, and I kept hearing someone calling my name: Mockingbird.
It sounded the same as when you said it earlier.
Who are you really? Where is this place, for real?
” She shuddered, her worries overcoming her.
“Am I dead and my spirit’s gotten trapped in Scotland? ”
“Well, it would not be such a bad place to be trapped, now would it?” He’d meant it lightheartedly, but as soon as the words left his lips, he knew he shouldn’t have said them. Feckin’ hell.
“It’s not exactly how I envisioned heaven.” She kicked the toe of her boot into the loamy soil while rubbing her eyes. “So, I’m dead, then?”
He allowed himself a heavy sigh. “Ye are not dead. This is Scotland. Clan MacMuirrow land, and a storm above the sidhe hill brought ye to me, just as the powers promised.”
She eyed him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “What powers?”
“Voices from the hill. They promised ye’d come and bade me protect ye.”
“Either I’ve lost my mind, or you’ve lost yours.” She gave him a slow up-and-down look, then turned and did the same to his horse. “Your clothes… Your gear.”
“Aye?”
“They’re not exactly what I thought a Highlander would wear.” She held up both hands as though to stop him from approaching her. “Not that you don’t look nice. It’s just not what I expected. Like…you know…sweaters and kilts and stuff are what I’ve seen everywhere else.”
“Yer manner of dress is quite different as well.” He tried to choose his words carefully as he closed the distance between them once again.
“A kirtle, a gown, or perhaps a surcoat would have been what a Highland woman wears.” He nodded at her dark blue, oddly long-legged breeks and the matching jacket with the woolly interior.
“Is that the normal manner of dress in yer Nashville?”
“I don’t know what a kirtle is.” She glanced around, but didn’t back away, tempting him to reach for her hand. “You’re sure you’ve never heard of Craig Durness?”
“I have not.”
“Edinburgh?”
He nodded and slid his hand under hers, gently taking hold of it. “Aye, I know Edinburgh well. I did not agree with the Bruce when he ordered the castle damaged to keep the English from attempting to occupy it once more. He and I had quite the lively discussion regarding that.”
“The Bruce,” she repeated slowly, her brow furrowing as her confusion deepened.
“Aye, Robert the Bruce, the King of Scotland. Surely ye’ve heard of him in yer Nashville?”
“Uhm…yes. We’ve heard of him in Tennessee. And you say you spoke to him? In person?”
She’d gone pale again and become more agitated. What the devil had he done to upset her now? “Aye, lass. I was at the Bruce’s nephew’s side when we scaled the castle’s defenses in March 1314. It’s been nigh on twelve years past by now.”
“What?” She wet her lips, then swiped a hand across her mouth, making him wonder if she was about to empty her stomach. “What year?”
“1314.”
She shook her head, jerking erratically as she pointed at the ground. “No. What year is this?”
“1326.”
“No.” She backed away, horror filling her face. “This is not 1326. It can’t be. That’s a very unfunny joke. You should be ashamed of yourself, picking on a poor, unsuspecting tourist when they don’t feel well.”
He’d never been so frustrated, confused, or entranced by a female in all his born days. What the devil was she talking about now? “I rarely jest about anything, and what is a tourist?”
“A visitor to a strange land,” she mumbled as she slowly lowered herself to the ground, hugged her knees, and started rocking like a person stricken with madness.
“Why can it not be the year 1326?”
She didn’t answer. Just kept rocking.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, warning of a coming storm.
Drummond snorted a bitter huff. The timing could not be any better.
He’d lay odds that storm was nothing compared to this current unpredictable tempest in front of him.
Since talking had failed, it was time for action.
He strode forward, picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder.
“Put me down, or so help me Hannah, I’m going to puke down your back.” She pummeled him with both fists and tried to twist away.