“I f you don’t take me to her, I’m contacting Interpol, Scotland Yard, the U.S. Embassy, and anyone else I can find who will listen to me.” Emily charged across the meeting room toward Mairwen.
Ishbel and Reese, both of them Master Spell Weavers, blocked her way. The furious woman tried to shove around or through them, but they stayed in front of her.
“If you don’t move, I will move you,” Emily said to them, baring her teeth like a wild beast. “I put the fear of all that is me into my five brothers. Don’t think I won’t hesitate to put some fear into you.”
“Let her pass,” Mairwen said with a resigned sigh. It was always the same whenever the fated mates showed up at Seven Cairns with friends or family in tow. The one left behind struggled with accepting that which had been done not only for the sake of the mates but for that of the Highland Veil. “It is time she and I had our discussion.”
“If acceptable,” Ishbel said, “we shall stay since her energy is quite high and could become uncontrollable.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Emily demanded. When Ishbel remained silent, Emily stormed over to Mairwen, planted her hands on the table between them, and leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. “I woke up this morning in that cave from yesterday’s massage session after dreaming about Jessa screaming for help, and you think you’re going to talk in code around me? I ain’t having it!” She pounded the table with both fists, rattling Mairwen’s notebook, pen, and teacup. “Where the hell is Jessa? What have you done with her, and what kind of drug did you slip me that made me lose an entire day of my life?”
“Sit and I will tell you everything you wish to know.” Mairwen folded her hands and waited. Unstable energy rolled off Emily in waves. The lass needed to calm herself before discovering she was more powerful than she realized. Magical misfires were never a pretty sight.
“I shall put on more tea,” Ishbel said with a pointed look at her husband.
Reese nodded and settled into a chair on Emily’s side of the table.
“Just because you’re a man, don’t think I won’t take you on,” Emily told him. Fixing him with a glare that dared him to make a move, she jutted her chin higher. “Five brothers. Remember?”
Reese grinned. “Challenge accepted, lass, but let’s hold off until ye hear what Mairwen has to say, aye?”
Mairwen settled more comfortably in her chair, hoping this time it would be easier to explain to the one left behind. After all, Emily was special. Mairwen even suspected there was Spell Weaver blood in her veins. She could almost smell it. “Yer Jessa is on her first date with her Mr. MacSexy, ye might say.”
Emily’s angry eyes narrowed even more. “You told her you didn’t know him.”
“Aye, well—I never exactly told her I didn’t know him.” Mairwen tipped an apologetic nod. “A lie of omission, I suppose ye might say.”
“A lie is a lie, and why would it be necessary to lie about knowing the guy?”
“Because a first date with Grant MacAlester is not as simple as meeting him at Lilias’s pub at an agreed upon hour, and it was verra important they meet and realize their fates are intertwined in the best possible way.”
“Why is it that whenever you talk, you sound like the voice-over for some epic fantasy movie?”
Mairwen couldn’t help but laugh. What a powerful personality this one had. She rather liked her. “It must be the Highlands. Magic runs deep here. Can ye not feel it?” She sent the faintest ripple of energy Emily’s way, wondering if the lass would grant her a reaction or attempt to hide it.
Emily glared at her. “I don’t believe in that stuff.” But her eyes revealed her lie.
“I believe ye do, lass, at least, more than ye’re willing to admit to me or yerself.”
“Where is Jessa?” Emily straightened and resettled her stance, as if preparing to leap across the table and grab Mairwen by the throat. Reese edged forward, poised to stop her.
“She is with the laird of Clan MacAlester, the Earl of Suddie, at his keep just beyond the village of MacAlester Crag.”
“She would never leave without telling me. What did you do? Drug her and carry her off?”
“She was not drugged. She was quite alert when she passed through the Veil to Scotland of 1785, where Grant MacAlester lives. That is why ye heard her call to ye in yer dreams.”
With a disbelieving growl, Emily rounded the end of the table, yanked Mairwen’s chair around to face her, and drew down until her nose was a hair’s breadth from Mairwen’s. “Enough of your games. Stop with the mystical bullshit you use on stupid tourists and take me to her.”
Reese grabbed Emily by the shoulders and tried to drag her back. She popped her head back and butted him square in the face, then whirled around, planted her boot in his chest, and shoved, making him tumble back over a trio of chairs.
She turned back to Mairwen with dangerous fire flashing in her dark eyes. “Where is she?” she said, her voice a low guttural rumble.
Ishbel came running back into the room and hurried to set the tray on the end of the table. “ Quies !”
Emily froze as if Ishbel had made time stand still.
“I told ye to watch her!” Ishbel told Reese, who was trying to stop the blood gushing from his nose.
“I was trying to be easy with her,” he said, his words muffled by his bloody hands.
Ishbel rolled her eyes and turned back to Mairwen. “Forgive us for endangering you so.”
“There is nothing to forgive.” Mairwen shooed away the apology as she rose from her chair and slowly circled Emily. “I could have stopped her at any time. Ye know that.” She concentrated on studying the lass, picking up and pulling in all the girl’s strengths. A satisfied smile came to her when a familiar ripple of energy brushed across her senses. “I knew it. She is descended from Esme. Probably a great-great-granddaughter, if my calculations are accurate. Would it not be about that long ago that Esme was stripped of her longevity by the goddesses?”
“Aye, at her request to die after a life of love with her mortal.” Ishbel came closer and tilted her head as she joined Mairwen to eye the inanimate lass. “She couldn’t bear the thought of living on without him when he came to the end of his life’s path.” She pointed at Emily’s face. “She has Esme’s eyes. And her smile. I never noticed it before.”
“Aye.” Mairwen nodded, seeing the resemblance for the first time. “That she does. Esme would be so proud of this fiery lass descended from her love.”
“It willna be easy convincing her of all that is a Weaver’s world,” Reese said while cleaning the blood from his face and hands. “She doesn’t know that even though something might be difficult to believe, that doesn’t make it impossible to be so.”
“She belongs here,” Mairwen said. “With us.”
“But she has family in the United States,” Ishbel said. “A loving family.”
“That doesn’t mean she canna live here and become all she is meant to be. I wish Esme were here to see her—to train her. What a powerful pair they would make.” Mairwen smiled at the fury roiling in Emily’s eyes. The chocolate richness of their color had taken on a reddish glow like that of hot coals. “She has heard all that we’ve said and is not pleased with her inability to respond. Release her, Ishbel. She is one with us, whether she likes it or not.”
“ Libero ,” Ishbel said.
“What the ever-loving hell was that?” Emily asked through clenched teeth.
“A calming spell, ye might say,” Mairwen said. “We will not allow ye to harm yerself or others.” She motioned to a seat at the table. “If ye will sit and maintain a calmness that I am sure ye are capable of, I will tell ye more of Jessa and her destiny.”
Emily yanked out the chair and threw herself down into it. “And you will also explain how you know about my great-great-grandmother. What did you do? A background check on my family tree so you could mess with my head when you did whatever you’ve done to Jessa?”
“She is a suspicious one, I’ll give ye that,” Reese said. He gingerly touched his red, swollen nose. “I think she broke it.”
“Go to the healer,” Ishbel said in a disgusted tone. “Mairwen and I can handle this meeting.”
“I believe I will.” Reese hurried from the room, still gently patting at his face.
“Men can be such babies.” Ishbel took a seat a few chairs down from Emily.
“He shouldn’t have tried to handle me. I warned him.” Emily folded her arms across her chest and squared her shoulders, still ready for a fight.
Ishbel grinned. “Ye did well. There is nothing wrong with setting the right impression and letting others know that ye are to be respected.”
Emily shifted her glare back to Mairwen. “You expect me to believe that you sent Jessa back in time to eighteenth century Scotland? And you don’t care that you did it without her knowledge or consent?”
“She gave her consent. Keeva and Killian included it in the fine print of the user’s agreement in the app that brought her here to Seven Cairns.” Mairwen settled into her seat, smiling as Ishbel refilled her teacup.
“Nobody reads all that stuff. If you want to use an app, you check the box and get on with it.”
Mairwen enjoyed a sip of her refreshed tea, then nodded. “I am well aware of that, as are my apprentices who designed it. Nevertheless, legal consent from Jessa was obtained as soon as she opened the app the first time.”
Emily stared at her, obviously stewing over all that had been revealed. She chewed on her bottom lip, the worry in her expression deepening her scowl. “She is the sister I never had. Family. I love her and need to know she is not only safe but happy. You have no idea all she has been through.” She leaned forward and flattened her hands on the table. “So far, everything you’ve said is impossible for me to believe. I want the truth, Mairwen, or you’re going to regret ever meeting me.”
It was time for Emily to believe. “I will take you to her on the condition that you understand you cannot stay with her, nor can she return to this time with you, at least, not just yet. She and Grant must be given the opportunity to fully connect, time to activate their mate bond.”
“Activate their mate bond? You make it sound like she is an animal about to go into heat.”
“It has nothing to do with lust,” Mairwen said with a solemn tip of her head. “Although that usually follows once the bond is acknowledged. Jessa and Grant are fated mates. Their souls belong together in each incarnation, and this time, they needed a little extra help to find one another because they were born into different centuries. That often happens with the strongest of mate bonds because the darker forces create obstacles to keep them apart.”
“The darker forces.” Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What darker forces?”
“Those who would see the Highland Veil destroyed, and its protective barrier to all the worlds taken down. Unimaginable horrors would ensue if nothing prevented the planes of time and realities from mixing. All creation, as we know it, would perish in the battle between the various entities seeking to rule the chaotic infinite plane that would result.”
“And how is keeping fated mates separated supposed to bring down the Veil?”
“The Highland Veil is a tapestry of time, energy, and mystical ether. Over the ages, it becomes worn and thins a bit here and there. Some beings, depending on their goddess given abilities, are sometimes able to slip through to other worlds or times and create havoc where they do not belong, giving birth to many of our myths and legends. There is but one thing powerful enough to keep the Veil’s weave strong and intact enough to fully separate that which must be kept to itself for the good of all.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Let me guess—it is the love between fated mates.”
Mairwen ignored the lass’s sarcasm. She would prove it to her soon enough. “I canna take ye to Jessa until ye believe and agree to give her time to see just how wonderful her new life could be. I am sure she’ll beg ye to help her find a way back, but ye must not do so. Not only does the Highland Veil need the connection between Jessa and Grant, but they need it as well. If one does not find one’s fated mate, a lifetime of dissatisfaction and, often enough, misery follows. Then their lives end, and the only hope for their souls is that they have better luck finding each other in the next incarnation.”
“How could living in the past be wonderful?” Frustration shouted from Emily as she held up a hand and counted on her fingers. “No conveniences like air conditioning, electricity, or even the unnecessary hygiene stuff, not to mention the necessary things. No proper medical care. No antibiotics or birth control.” She hopped up from her chair, unable to sit still. “And what about all those women who died in childbirth? And the babies? All the babies who died before they even reached their first birthday? That does not sound like a wonderful life to me.” She shook her head. “That sounds more like a death sentence that Jessa doesn’t deserve.”
“Are ye telling me there are no dangers in this time? No inconveniences?”
“I knew you would go there.” Emily flounced back into her chair with a disgruntled look. “I didn’t say this time wasn’t dangerous. It’s just a more comfortable kind of dangerousness. Dangers we’re trained to handle.”
Mairwen laughed. “Only because these dangers are what ye have sadly become accustomed to. If ye were from two hundred and forty years into the future, ye would think this century as crude, uncivilized, and horrifying to adapt to as the eighteenth century.” She tipped her chin higher, leaned forward, and laced her fingers together in front of her teacup. “Ye are a canny lass, and whether ye like it or not, ye are a part of this. Ye can help yer friend not only find the astounding love she was always meant to enjoy but also help protect this dangerous world and time that ye find so comfortable. So what will it be? As I said, I’ll not take ye to her until ye agree to my terms.” She angled a sterner look Emily’s way. “And dinna think to deceive me, lass. At the first sign of treachery, ye will not only find yerself snatched back to this time, but if it pleases me to do so, I can send yer conniving wee arse back to New Jersey.” She offered a curt nod. “Yet if ye comply and do as ye are told, Ishbel and I shall train ye in the ways of yer great-great-grandmother. I know ye can make her proud, if ye so choose.”
Emily shifted with a deep breath, then hissed it out between her teeth. “Fine. I agree to your terms.” Then she jabbed the air with a trembling finger. “But Jessa better be alive and well and headed for the biggest helping of happiness she has ever known.”
* * *
Last night, the sight of Jessa in her shift, with her hair all tousled and her curves teasing him through the material’s thin weave, had set him ablaze. But now, this morning, dressed as a fine Highland lady, Grant forgot to breathe as she hesitantly entered his solar, looking around as if newly born to his world and seeing it for the very first time.
He went to her, easing across the room with his hand extended. She was a skittish colt he wished to caress, to tame. Even more, he longed to be burned by her fire. At the very least, he wanted to know her better, so he might discover if the stirrings she ignited within him were more than simple lust for a beautiful woman. He needed to know if those stirrings were truly a connection ordained by Fate itself.
“Ye are pure loveliness,” he told her, awkwardly letting his hand fall to his side when she failed to take it. He shook off the sense of failure, knowing she had been so busy examining the room that she’d not noticed his offer.
“Thank you,” she said softly, almost as an afterthought. She meandered behind his desk and its messy scattering of ledgers, logbooks, and correspondence. The delicate furrow between her feathery brows deepened as her gaze flitted across the mound of work he’d not yet had time to address. All her color drained away, and she awkwardly staggered back into his chair. She was even more pale than last night when he had first found her in his bed.
He hurried to her. “What is it, lass? Are ye in pain? Shall I fetch Mrs. Robeson?”
With her stare still locked on his desk, she jerked a nod at the pile of work. “Those dates. On those receipts and letters and all those books.”
“Aye?”
“Why would you go to the trouble of writing the year 1785 on everything? Are you really that determined to play this off as the eighteenth century?”
It was then that he understood what ailed her. She still refused to believe she had traveled back in time.
“This is the year 1785,” he told her with a gentleness he had never used with another. “I know ye dinna wish to believe it, and indeed it is a hard thing to swallow, but I swear it is true. I promise this is not some cruel jest brewed up by Mairwen or myself.”
She slowly shook her head. “It can’t be true. It cannot be.” She finally looked him in the eyes. “I had trouble surviving my own century. How in the blue blazes am I supposed to survive here in yours?”
And that was the crux of it. Grant studied her, trying to puzzle her out. Here was a woman used to taking care of herself, and from the way she behaved, neither family nor lover had helped her in her era. The idea of a man in her life other than himself sent an angry tightness through his chest, a fierce possessiveness that both shocked and shook him. He’d had bouts of jealousy before, but never one this strong. Something deep within, something as hot and churning as a boiling cauldron, goaded him to find out more about her, about whether she had ever thought she belonged to anyone else.
He took her hand and gently coaxed her. “Come. Sit over here at the table. They’ve brought us a fine breakfast, and Mrs. Robeson brewed ye an entire kettle of yer coffee. As ye enjoy a cup, ye can help me understand why yer future was so difficult. Did ye leave behind no family? No man who cared for ye?”
Moving stiffly, she followed where he led, clinging tightly to his hand, but remained silent.
He helped her sit, then poured her a cup of the hot drink she had requested. “Do ye take anything in it, lass? I’m not one to partake of coffee, so I dinna ken what ye might wish to mix into it to make it worth swallowing.” He flicked a hand at a ceramic pitcher on the table and a tall white cone standing on a plate beside it. “We’ve milk, and I can scrape the sugarloaf for ye if ye wish to sweeten it with sugar. Or there is honey as well. Just tell me how much ye need.”
“No, thank you,” she said, still sounding weak and lost. “I drink it black.” Staring at something only she could see, she took a sip, then shuddered and shied away from the cup before placing it back on the table. “Wow. Maybe I’ll add some milk, please.”
“Is it not to yer liking, then? Shall I order it sent away?”
“No, I’ll drink it, and I appreciate the efforts it took to get it to me.” She licked her lips, then ran her tongue across her teeth. “The milk should mellow it enough so it doesn’t dissolve the enamel off my teeth.” She forced a smile that looked more pained than pleased. “It’ll be fine. Really.”
He wouldn’t push her on it, but he’d be discussing the strength of the brew with Mrs. Robeson. Perhaps a bit more judicious use of the coffee beans was in order. It seemed the matron had ground too many for the inky black swill. He nodded at the many offerings on the table, an unusually large breakfast selection, since he seldom partook of anything more than a simple bowl of boiled oats. “We’ve scones, parritch, coddled eggs, blood sausage, and beans. Even some tatties and kippers. And Mrs. Robeson said she would send up some fried bread if that was to yer liking.”
Jessa leaned back in the chair and hugged her cup to her chest. “I’m good for right now, thank you.” Then she nodded at the food, not really frowning but not happy either. “Please don’t hold back on my account. I’m just not sure about eating anything just yet.”
“Ye should eat, lass. Keep up yer strength.”
She eyed him, a faint spark flickering in her eyes, and he was glad of it. Her fire needed to return.
“What do you intend to do with me?” she asked, a hint of steel in her tone.
“Teach ye to not ignore me when I give ye advice ye should heed.”
“Doubtful. Next option on your list?”
While he was glad her fight had returned, he was not in the mood to battle. He hadn’t the stamina for it—at least not this morning. “I have summoned Mairwen.”
“Good. I have a few choice words for that lady.” She took another sip of her coffee and this time didn’t grimace.
“Better?”
“What?”
“That vile tonic ye like.”
The faintest smile tugged at the corner of her lovely mouth. A mouth he had already decided was made for kissing—slowly and as often as she would allow.
“I take it you don’t like coffee?” she said.
“I do not.”
“That brings us back to my original question that you failed to answer.” She drew herself up as if calling on every ounce of courage she possessed. “What do you intend to do with me?”
There were many things he would like to do with her, but even with the numbing weariness of over a day and a half of no sleep, he had enough sense to know better than to tell her about them. “What do ye wish done with ye?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“Aye, and I already told ye that was not possible. I dinna have the ability to return ye to yer time.”
She took another sip of coffee, a longer one this time, then set her cup on the table and stared down at it. “I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Emily.” Her voice quivered with emotion.
Gads alive, dinna let her cry again. Her teariness broke his heart. “Who is Emily?” he hurried to ask, hoping it would distract her.
With her focus still trained on her cup, she barely smiled, then tipped the slightest shrug. “The only person in this world who has ever understood me. Sister. Friend. Confidante. Emily is just—Emily.”
“So ye do have family, then?”
“She is my sister by choice, not by blood.” She jerked another shrug, but this time, it revealed anger instead of nonchalance or uncertainty. “I was taken from my biological mother because she preferred drugs and alcohol over motherhood. The people who fostered and then adopted me did it for the look-at-what-a-wonderful-thing-we-did perks rather than because they wanted to help a child.” She finally lifted her gaze and leveled it with his. “Emily and her family always loved me no matter what. They’ve also done everything they could to help me. I owe my sanity to them. They are my family—and I have no earthly idea why I am telling you all this. You didn’t exactly request a life history, did you?”
At least she was talking. He would hear whatever she had to say. “Yer family with Emily. They helped ye survive in yer time?”
Her jaw tightened. “I am an adult. I should be able to take care of myself with no one’s charity.”
Such a proud woman. Maybe there was a wee bit of Scotland running through her veins after all. “And ye had no husband? No man to help ye?” He had to know, even if his asking angered her even more.
“Yeah, well, that didn’t work out either. He stuck a pin in that a couple of weeks before I left for this trip to Scotland.”
“I dinna ken what that means, lass.”
“It means he dumped me before I had the chance to dump him. I should’ve beat him to the punch, but I kept thinking things would get better.”
Dumped. Grant had a pretty good idea of what she meant. “That man was obviously a fool.”
She snorted a bitter laugh. “Once you get to know me better, you might agree with him. That’s the way my luck’s been running lately. Then I’ll really be up an eighteenth century creek without a paddle.” She rubbed her eyes while shaking her head. “Sorry. This situation has made me ridiculous. I’m better than this. At least—I used to think I was.” She dropped her hands back to her lap, then leaned forward, refilled her cup, and drank it without adding any more milk.
He shook his head, understanding everything except for the eighteenth century creek part. “No matter what happens, no matter what the witch says, ye’ll not be without protection or refuge in this time. Mairwen brought ye here on account of me. I consider myself responsible for ye.”
“You make me sound like a puppy she left on your doorstep.”
“I like puppies.”
She sidled another glance his way while once more hugging her cup to her chest. “Let’s say you’re telling me the truth. Why is it you’re not surprised to suddenly find yourself in possession of a twenty-first century American?”
“I’ve known the witch for as far back as I can remember, and two of my most trusted friends are Defenders. They’ve told me tales of fated mates being united across the centuries. The women travel to the men because they are the life bringers—or so I am told. Men are born where they are meant to stay.”
“Defenders?”
“Members of an order sworn to defend the Highland Veil, and I have, on occasion, helped them when the need arose.”
“But you’re not a Defender?”
“I am not.” While he didn’t like being interrogated, the lass did have the right to know and was actually speaking to him in a somewhat civil tone, so he would tolerate it.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why aren’t you a Defender if you’re willing to help them?”
“Because I believe in doing that which is right for the sake of it, not because I’ve sworn an oath for someone to hold over my head.” He took a long draught from the tankard of ale he always had with his morning parritch, then angled a nod her way. “After all that ye’ve seen since ye arrived, why do ye still think me a liar or a madman?”
Her emerald eyes widened in surprise, making it impossible for him not to smile. “I can’t help it,” she said softly, “and I really don’t want you to be a madman.”
“Ye would rather I were a liar?” He found that hard to believe, especially coming from a woman.
“I’d rather you were the twenty-first century Highlander that the tarot card app said I needed to meet.” She huffed, then squirmed from side to side. “I also wish Molly hadn’t pulled these ties so tight. Standing, this vest wasn’t so bad, but sitting, it’s digging into me.”
“It’s nay a vest, lass. Those are yer stays.” His mouth started watering as he eyed the laces threaded through the front of the garment that displayed her very fine form in the best way possible. “Ye could always loosen them. If Molly is to be yer lady’s maid, ye will need to train her properly. Make sure she understands yer orders and correct her when needed.”
“She is not my slave.”
“No. But she is yer servant and a servant of this keep. Unclear orders not only do her a disservice but yerself as well. If she understands what ye wish, she will do her best to see it done, and then ye’ll both not only be pleased, but she’ll also know the satisfaction and pride of a job well done.”
“She spoke highly of you,” Jessa said, but her scowl didn’t match her words.
“As she should. I am her laird.” The back of his neck tingled, making the hairs twitch. “What is it, lass? Something’s astir in yer eyes. Ye might as well spit it out and be free of it.”
“You said Mairwen brought me here to be your wife, and you’ve mentioned fated mates more than once. Do you really believe in all that?”
A cageyness swept over him, a need to protect himself from whatever her question intended. “Do ye believe in it, lass?”
She stilled and went thoughtful while slowly running the tip of her finger around the rim of her cup. Then she fluttered her long lashes as though waking from a dream. “I think it is a delightful fairy tale.” She looked up and locked eyes with him. “But I asked what you believed.”
“I dinna ken what to believe. Not yet, anyway.”
Her shoulders slumped the slightest bit, making her seem to wilt in front of his very eyes. Was she disappointed that he refused to say whether he thought her his fated mate, or if he even believed such a thing might be possible? His jaded heart gave a dangerous shudder at the prospect and softened toward her even more than it already had.
“Would ye rather I lied, lass?”
“No. Of course not.” She straightened in the chair, casting off a quick shrug. His opinion was obviously irrelevant to her. Or was it? Shadows flitted in the green depths of her eyes, nudging his heart in a direction a wise man would avoid at all costs.
“Eat some breakfast, lass.” He poked at the parritch he’d spooned into his bowl. If they failed to eat any of this food, he would never hear the end of it from Mrs. Robeson. “At least a scone or something if ye dinna wish a lecture the likes of which ye have never heard before.”
“I would not recommend that you lecture me.” The daring in her tone stirred his blood.
“Not me, lass. Mrs. Robeson. She can be more worrisome than a swarm of midges.”
“I don’t recommend anyone lecturing me.” Jessa refilled her cup yet again. “In my current mindset and fueled with caffeine, I’m more dangerous than I look.”
She was dangerous all right. More dangerous than she realized.