Page 36 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

“Well, it takes concentration. And I suspect as Mrs. Abernathy said, it’ll only happen if that’s the way it’s supposed to be. But it’s our best chance, I think.”

“So this is it.” She turned to face Elaine and Mrs. Abernathy. “I’m really leaving.”

“Going home, is more like.” Mrs. Abernathy beamed, pulling her into her arms for a warm hug.

Across from them, Jeff looped an arm around Elaine, the two of them walking from the room, gazes locked on each other. As if in so doing they’d forever be bound. But then again maybe they already were.

“Is there anything you want me to say to Valerie?” Mrs. Abernathy asked.

The words pulled Lily away from thinking of her friends, her mind drifting to the past, and the woman who’d somehow known that this was her destiny. “Tell her what’s happened. And that I love her. And that I’m happy. Or at least that I’m trying to be. I think she’ll understand.”

Mrs. Abernathy nodded. “Of course she will. She only wants what’s best for you. And she’d be the first to tell you to grab it with both hands while you’ve still got the chance.”

Tears filled Lily’s eyes. “And tell the Comyns... well, tell them…” She trailed off.

“I think they already know. People forget that we Highlanders aren’t afraid to believe in a little magic. They’ve seen the portrait, after all.”

Lily blinked, understanding slamming home with a powerful thrust. “You don’t think the painting was of Tyra. You think it was of me.”

Mrs. Abernathy shrugged, her own eyes suspiciously bright. “I think anything is possible. Especially when love is involved. Now go on with you. Jeffrey will be waiting.”

“I canna get the man to talk,” Ranald said, walking into the clearing where their men were making camp. “I tried most everything I know. But he’ll say naught but his name. Murdoc Macniven.”

“Macnivens have pledged themselves to the Comyns, no?” Iain asked. Frazier and Bram both nodded in assent. “And do you know the name?”

“Nay,” Bram said. “But then I’ve no’ had interaction with Alec Comyn or his clan until that night at Dunbrae. Frazier? What say you? Have you heard of the man?”

All eyes turned to the old warrior, who was sitting on a log, absently twirling a stalk of thistle. He frowned for a moment, then lifted his gaze to encompass the others. “I’m fairly certain he’s the son of Dougan Macniven. Dougan was Alec’s father’s man. His captain, if I’m remembering true.”

“And did you see either of them during the fighting at Dunbrae?” Iain asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.

Frazier shook his head, his eyes full of regret. “No’ that I remember. ’Twas nigh impossible to see anything o’er much. The fighting was fierce.” The older man looked to Bram for confirmation.

“Aye, that it was,” Bram agreed, images of the carnage echoing through his mind. “I dinna see faces, only swords and shields. And honestly, I dinna know that I’d recognize Alec Comyn himself if he’d stopped for me to take a look.”

“It was worth asking,” Iain replied with a shrug.

“Do you have reason to doubt Macniven?” Frazier asked, tossing the thistle aside.

Iain considered the idea on a frown. “I canna say that the man has a reason to lie. But none of this feels quite right to me.”

“Aye.” Bram nodded, considering the thought. “Why take a chance on his own? If Alec knows we’re on the march then why wouldn’t he just attack us in force?”

“’Tis possible this Murdoc was merely a scout,” Ranald replied. “But when faced with the opportunity to throw your scrawny arse off a cliff it presented an opportunity too tempting to resist.”

“Scrawny, eh?” Bram eyed his cousin with disdain. “That’s not what you were thinking the night I saved your hide from the Macsween brothers after you bedded their sister.”

“Ach, a comely lass she was, too.” Ranald smiled at the memory. “And I canna fault your timing, cousin. But there’s still some question as to whether I truly needed rescuing. I was holding my own, after all.”

“Aye, from the bottom of a pile o’ Macsweens,” Bram responded.

Ranald eyed him ruefully then, after a moment’s bluster, threw back his head and laughed. “They were rather a lot of them,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Five, if I remember right.” Bram waggled his eyebrows as Iain and Frazier joined in the laughter. There was something comforting about remembering their past. As if the bond he shared with his cousins could help to ease the pain of all that he’d lost.

“Well, as far as I see it, the world might have been a better place if you’d just let the Macsweens teach him a lesson or two. Might have humbled the man a wee bit.” Iain shot Ranald a benevolent smile, but his eyes still glittered with mirth.

“Humble or no’, there’s nothing like knowing your friends have your back,” Frazier said.

“’Twas the way of it with your father and me, Bram.

But times change. And now Seamus is gone.

” Something dark passed across the old warrior’s eyes, but then he shook his head as if banishing the memories.

“And now… it seems I’m at the mercy of nature’s call.

” The man shrugged, his grizzled face breaking into a grin.

“Where is Macniven now?” Iain asked as Bram watched his father’s friend disappear into the mist. No doubt in search of the perfect tree.

“I’ve left Collum Macilbra to guard him,” Ranald answered.

Bram nodded with satisfaction. Macilbra was a giant of a man. Not one to easily be taken advantage of. It seemed Murdoc Macniven was well and truly captured. Which served the bastard right.

“Perhaps we should take him to your uncle,” Iain suggested. “His attack on you would go a long way to proving your innocence.”

“Would that it were that easy,” Bram said on a long sigh.

“All he has to do is accuse me of being the traitor and say that Murdoc was sent to tie up loose ends. The only way I’ll truly have any peace is to take my vengeance on Alec Comyn.

And then when we’re finished with him, I’ll be ready to face my uncle. ”

“And in the meantime, maybe we can coax the truth out of Murdoc Macniven.” The hard glint in Ranald’s eye gave a sinister twist to the word ‘coax.’

From behind them out of the mist came the sound of raised voices. Bram reached for his claymore, his cousins doing the same, the three of them moving to stand back to back, weapons at the ready.

Frazier and two of Iain’s men burst from the clearing. Blood dripped down Frazier’s face, his sword clasped in his hand. He stopped in front of them, his breath coming in gasps. “Macniven has escaped.”

One of the men with him nodded in agreement. “And Collum is dead.”