Chapter Eight #3
He couldn’t deny that truth. The sidhe hill was her irrefutable witness. “Tell me yer truth, Evie. I would hear all of it.” He resettled his stance once more and braced himself for whatever she was about to say.
“Nashville and Chicago are in the United States of America, which is on a continent across the ocean. West of here. But the United States doesn’t exist yet.
It won’t exist until 1776. It was founded two hundred and eighteen years before I was born.
Before I traveled to Scotland for a vacation, I lived in Nashville and worked as a dispatcher for a logistics company.
Where I’m from, it’s currently the year 2026.
” She wet her lips and jutted her chin higher.
“I traveled back in time from the twenty-first century. Not on purpose, and not knowingly. Morganna and Callum, a pair of cursed Fae—they’re cursed because they aren’t supposed to love each other—sent me back here to meet my fated mate.
” She pointed at him. “That would be you.” She tucked her chin in a cringing shrug. “Sorry.”
He wished he could call her a liar, but he clearly saw the truth of everything she said reflected in her eyes. All he’d hoped for the two of them sank to the pit of his stomach and roiled like a poorly cooked meal. “How can any of that be true?”
“I asked the same thing. Trust me. It takes some getting used to.” Another heavy sigh left her.
“But it is the truth. When the woman you know as Mistress Martha gets back here, you can ask her yourself. See, Mistress Martha is really Morganna in one of her glamours.” She rubbed her forehead again while frowning.
“I’m not really clear on how that part works.
She hasn’t explained it.” Then she offered him a sympathetic smile.
“Now do you understand why I wanted you to take me back to the sidhe hill?”
“But we—” He thumped his fist to his breaking heart. “Do ye not feel it too, lass? Tell me ye feel the connection between us.”
Sadness rolled off her in waves. “Yes. I feel it too. I could never deny that we’re fated mates.
But now you know why I don’t belong here and can’t possibly stay.
I’ll never survive. If someone doesn’t burn me at the stake for being a witch, then something that never would’ve endangered me in my time will surely catch up with me here.
” She shook her head. “Or even worse, I’ll outlive you and suffer who knows what fate.
” Her expression turned pleading. “Did it ever occur to you that my very presence here endangers you, too? I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.
You can’t tell me that what I’m saying doesn’t make any difference. ”
He had no words for the pain about to rend him in two.
Nay. He did have a word for it: unacceptable.
“We canna spend our lives living in fear.” He charged across the room, pulled her out from behind the table, and caught her up in his arms. Burying his fingers in the thickness of her braid, he tilted her head back and forced her to look him in the eyes.
“Ye canna deny what exists between us, and all that it could become. Ye belong here, lass. With me.” He kissed her again, the connection between them raging even stronger than before.
It pounded through him with an otherworldly power, and he knew she felt it too.
She pushed against him, making him lift his head. “You can’t tell me that what I just told you doesn’t make any difference.” She behaved as though saying the words a second time would make him more likely to accept them. “You are your people’s leader. Aren’t you supposed to think of them first?”
“A happy chief, a contented man, is a wiser leader for his clan. I canna be happy or content without ye. I know that in my heart.”
“You’re buying into all this entirely too easily.
” She wriggled out of his embrace, but he didn’t miss her reluctance to move away from him, and that gave him hope.
Nervously brushing at the folds of her gown, she tugged at her sleeves, appearing uncomfortable with her apparel.
“Why are you so accepting of all this weirdness? It’s not normal, and you can’t tell me it is. ”
Even though her turn of phrase was unusual, he caught the gist of her meaning—but just barely.
“My mother was a follower of the auld ways. Many here still are. Much to the dismay of the clan priest.” He closed in, caught her hand, and held it, needing her touch more than he could explain.
“Highland magic is not merely myth and legend. It is all verra real, my magical lass.”
“It is all very dangerous.” She stared down at their linked hands, but didn’t pull away. “I’ve looked for you forever,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “Why did you have to be in this century?”
A light knock on the door interrupted them.
Without taking his gaze from his sweet lass’s troubled face, he bellowed, “Leave us!”
“Murdoch bade me tell ye that Clan Heberdy has arrived,” Mistress Martha called out without opening the door. “Lady Evie? Are ye well?”
“He knows, Morganna. I told him.” Slipping her hand out of his, Evie turned away. She sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and stared downward, dejected.
The door slowly creaked open, revealing a tall, dark-haired woman Drummond had never met before. She greeted him with a regal nod. “M’lord. I am Morganna Nightwhisper, fallen princess of the Unseelie.” She nodded again. “At yer service.”
“The Dark Ones.” Drummond lunged and grabbed up the fire poker, wishing it were colder in his grasp.
“There is no need to arm yerself with iron, m’lord. I mean neither yerself nor yer lady any harm.” Dressed in a black gown that shifted and swirled all around her, she floated into the room. “My presence here is to help the two of ye achieve yer bond and find yer path to happiness.”
Evie took hold of the metal bar and tried to yank it out of his grasp. “I thought you said you’d never hurt a defenseless woman?”
“The Unseelie are anything but defenseless.”
“Well, she is my friend.” Evie tugged on the bar again, but he refused to let go. “Will you please set it down? Have you forgotten she’s one of the ones who brought me here?”
There was that. Grudgingly, he released the fire iron and allowed her to take it, then squared off in front of the mystical being. “Evie belongs here.”
Morganna arched a brow, her expression wry. “I agree completely, m’lord. ’Tis the lady who needs convincing.” She pinned Evie with an irritated look. “And I thought we two had agreed on a bit more subtlety?”
“Ye mean deceit,” Drummond said. Just because the being had brought him his fated mate did not mean he trusted her. The Fae, a self-serving race, rarely did anything that didn’t benefit themselves first. “I dinna take lies lightly. Nor do I ever forget the motives of those who told them.”
“Ye know little about what motivates me, future chief of Clan MacMuirrow.” The Dark One’s eyes flashed a deeper purple. “Rest assured, if I gain an advantage here, ye do as well.” She nodded at Evie. “As does this fiery lass who would bring so much to yer clan.”
“Then convince yer mistress to stay.” Drummond glared at the Unseelie, daring her to challenge him.
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Evie said. She narrowed her eyes at the Fae woman. “It’s my choice, remember? Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Aye, but ye must choose wisely or live with the regret of it for all the rest of yer days.” Morganna turned back to Drummond. “Trouble brews within yer own keep, m’lord. Might I suggest ye see to it? Murdoch needs yer assistance with the visiting clan.”
“Feckin’ hell.” Drummond hated the thought of leaving this business unfinished. He took hold of Evie by the shoulders. “Swear ye will not leave me. Ye must stay—at least for a while. Swear it, I beg ye.”
“I won’t leave…just yet,” she said, then flinched as if the words caused her pain. “Go do whatever it is you need to do.”
“Swear ye will not leave.”
She bowed her head, unable to meet his gaze. “I swear I won’t leave you.”
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his.
“Our souls cry out for the binding. Listen with yer heart. Hear what it says.” He brushed a kiss across her barely parted lips, then tore away and charged out the door, more determined than ever that his magical Mockingbird would never take wing and fly away.