Page 89 of Every Day of My Life

He took a deep breath, released it slowly, then continued on his way to the twenty-first century version of Moraig’s house,exhausted beyond any reasonable measure. The cottage was dark, which he knew shouldn’t have chilled him as it did, but it had been that sort of evening.

He didn’t care for failure.

No, that didn’t come close to stating just how deeply he loathed it. In fact, he despised it so thoroughly that he’d made a career out of never being in a position where he did anything but succeed brilliantly and he did that by compensating for every contingency he’d mapped out thanks to knowing all the answers beforehand. His research methods were impeccable, his sense of direction flawless, and his competitive nature only matched by Derrick Cameron’s on Wednesdays and Fridays. The lad had to have time to recover, which Oliver tended to discreetly neglect to notice.

He took a deep breath and opened the cottage door. He almost hesitated to reach inside and turn on the lights, which made him angry at himself. Better that, perhaps, than being devastated that not only had he failed to rescue Mairead, he’d watched her brother almost knock her out in his fury whilst screaming at her that she was in league with demons.

He imagined Tasgall had been talking about him, which was yet another reason to aim a little fury at himself.

At least Mairead hadn’t been stabbed, which he supposed would be something to discuss with her later if she could bear it. For the moment, he would go inside, drop to his knees, and apologize for failing her.

And then… well, he had no idea what he would do then.

He flicked on the lights to find the cottage empty.

He spun around and flung himself out the door. He ran in the only direction that made sense to his poor fogged brain which was toward the meadow. He came to an ungainly halt at the edge of the forest and simply stared into that open, moon-drenched expanse.

Mairead was standing there in that moonlight as if she’d been something from a dream. He leaned over with his hands on his thighs until he’d caught his breath, then straightened and walked until he was standing five paces from her. She turned and smiled at him, a gentle, beautiful smile that was full of nothing but affection. No condemnation, no anger, no disappointment, just love.

He stood there and watched her with the moonlight falling down on her, somehow turning her into something that wasn’t quite corporeal yet wasn’t quite a dream, and for the first time in years had absolutely no idea what to do. He had come to the conclusion, as he’d tried to avoid the other rescuing incarnation of himself, that he had two choices.

He either needed help.

Or he needed to give up.

“We could try living as we are,” she said quietly.

He looked at the woman standing in front of him, part dream, part the embodiment of almost everything that had been beautiful in his life in a way he only understood at that moment, and could do nothing but nod.

“All right,” he agreed quietly. “We’ll try.”

Eighteen

Mairead sat on a stonebench pushed up against the wall of her ancestral keep and marveled at the changes in her life.

Well, the changes to her post-mortal existence, if she were to be exact. It had always been full of things she had never expected: generations of family passing by her, the doings of men and monarchs parading before her eyes, the turning of the world from dawn to dusk with a constancy that had been particularly soothing.

It had also been full of a sense of waiting, perhaps more than she would have suspected it might be. In that, at least, she almost envied Oliver his not having to wait so long to see her.

Assuming, of course, that such a thing was important to him.

“He’s looking pretty ferocious today.”

She looked to her left to find Sunshine Cameron watching Oliver thoughtfully. “Do you think so?” she asked.

Sunshine smiled at her. “It’s almost as if he’s working extra hard to be prepared to have something he wants very much.”

Madelyn leaned in from Sunshine’s other side. “And that wouldn’t be more time with my husband over swords,” she said with a smile that was the echo of Sunshine’s. “In case you were wondering.”

Mairead couldn’t help but admit that she was, so she nodded. She looked at the woman sitting on her right and only had a smile in return.

“He’s not swearing,” Elizabeth offered. “In my experience with Oliver Phillips, that means he’s very serious about whatever he’sdoing. Jamie isn’t showing him any mercy, in case you were wondering about that as well.”

Mairead nodded over that as well, though she imagined that if she’d had a mortal form, her mouth would have been dry as dust from fear. It was a well-known fact that MacLeod men were terrifying in battle and Jamie was no exception to that. He was showing Oliver no mercy, though Oliver didn’t seem to expect any. Perhaps the rub of Oliver’s having gone back to try to save her irritated them both equally.

Oliver called peace shortly thereafter, which she suspected he did unwillingly and only because he looked as wrung out as she’d ever seen him. Both Jamie and Patrick spoke with him quietly for a moment or two, no doubt giving him areas for improvement, then all three shook hands like gentlemen and left the field.

Mairead watched Patrick gather up his lady and her sister and escort them back to the hall. Jamie made her a slight bow, then smiled at his wife.