Page 22 of Highlander’s Curse (The Daughters of the Glen #8)

Seventeen

A s if the Fates themselves had intervened in his life this day, absolutely nothing had gone as Colin had planned. He felt as though he’d been blocked at every turn, from his arrival at Swan House only to learn Abby had already gone, right down to the lorry driver sitting beside him now.

Having missed Abby, he’d gone to the pub to ask after transportation out to the dig site.

Though the village had no official taxi service, one of the older gents in the pub had offered to drive him.

Though the walk to the man’s home was short in distance, it was far enough for Colin to realize the elderly man had already had far too much of the fine Scots whisky to be operating a vehicle of any sort. He could barely walk without stumbling.

He left the man at his front door, thanking him profusely for his offer but refusing, and headed back to the pub only to be stopped by Mrs. MacKee.

The memory of the feisty, white-haired woman perched on the top step of a tall ladder still had him shaking his head in disbelief.

After he’d left her home this morning, she’d decided to take it upon herself to repair the top of her garden gate.

The woman was an accident waiting to happen.

Had he not chanced upon her when he did, he had no doubt she’d be in bed with broken bones at this very moment.

He’d had no choice but to offer his assistance. How could he not? One simply did not leave an elderly woman to fend for herself. At least not where he came from.

Four hours and a lovely lunch later—she’d insisted and would not take no for an answer—he was finally free to go find Abby.

Mrs. MacKee arranged for him to catch a ride with the lorry driver who’d stopped to deliver a package to her neighbor, and as he’d waved his farewell, he’d once again felt in control of his day. Until, that is, Big Mike had told him he could take him only part of the way to where he wanted to go.

“Here’s the crossroads, lad. You’ll but need to head down that wee lane a few kilometers to find yer friend.

It’s sorry I am to be dropping you off in this weather, but it’s the rain itself that’s left it too muddy for me to risk taking this big lorry down there.

It’s a heavy load I’m hauling today, and I dinna care to be calling my supervisor to report meself stuck. ”

“Of course. My thanks to you again, Big Mike.”

Colin climbed down from the lorry and began his trek on the muddy lane as the old vehicle’s gears ground out a noisy farewell.

The silence had barely settled around him before his thoughts turned to Abby and how anxious he was to reach her.

Perhaps the overriding anxiety he experienced was only natural now that he’d located her.

Seeing her yesterday had confirmed for him how real his dreams of her had been.

It was as if he’d seen her, touched her, every single day since they’d first met.

And yet he must remember that those encounters were only dreams.

She hadn’t really spent every night in his bed, in his arms. She didn’t feel the sense of intimacy he imagined existed between them. In fact, what had happened when he’d finally spoken to her outside the dreams? He’d wasted the moment by promptly driving her away.

Not a waste, he corrected himself. A learning experience.

When he reached her this time, he’d use some self-restraint.

He could do that. He’d successfully exercised a remarkable amount of self-restraint just last night at their parting.

Instead of sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the nearest bed, he’d sent her to her rest at the inn.

When he found her today, he’d draw once again on that same self-restraint.

He’d explain the situation slowly, rationally, allowing her time to adjust to him and to the truth of what had happened.

Such an encounter would have to be easier than pushing her away had been last night.

His only regret was that he couldn’t remain in this time long enough to get to know her better in reality rather than in dreams. But she was not his fate. He’d recognized from the first time he’d seen her that she’d already met the man fate intended for her, her Soulmate.

As for him, he was meant to return to his own time to save his friends. And his only connection to Abby was that she was meant to return him there.

The sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted his thoughts, and he stepped back from the lane to wait for the oncoming car to round the curve and pass him.

Not one vehicle but two appeared, both white, mud-splattered vans approaching slowly.

The first passed him by, a few of the occupants lifting a hand in greeting to a stranger as they went.

The second, wheels sliding on the slick lane, pulled to a stop and a young woman rolled down her window.

The same young woman he’d noticed watching him after Abby had stormed out of the pub last night.

“You’re Abby Porter’s friend, aren’t you? Did you come out here looking for her?”

“I am,” he responded, moving closer to the van. “Is she in there with you?”

“No.” Her voice wavered as if she was reluctant to answer. “But you’re welcome to hop in here with us and ride back to town.”

Not likely. He’d come for Abby and he intended to see her. “Where is Abby?”

The woman tapped a clipboard she held against the window frame, her brow furrowed as she came to some sort of a decision. “Look, from what I saw in the pub last night, I don’t get the impression Abby’s all that anxious to see you again, sport.”

“She’s back at the site,” someone yelled from inside the van. “About half a mile. Let it go, Mac. Abby’s personal life is none of your business.”

“You left her alone out there?” He made no attempt to hide the accusation in his voice. These people were supposed to be Abby’s friends.

“She’s not alone,” Mac snapped back. “Jonathan’s with her.”

Whatever else the woman might have had to say, he hadn’t the time nor the inclination to listen.

Nor did he bother with the slow pace of his earlier travels, instead breaking into a steady run to cover the remaining ground as quickly as possible.

With each footstep, one thought reverberated through his mind: Those people had done far worse than strand Abby alone in the forest. They’d left her in the company of the Nuadian.

Finding her now was no problem. He could feel her not far ahead, her soul shining like a beacon in the dark. As he expected, she wasn’t alone. The soul with hers was dark and fouled whereas hers shone a pure, bright gold.

They did not belong together.

The relief brought on by that realization was shortlived, shattered into painful shards by a scream piercing the forest.

Abby’s scream.