Page 2 of Love Beyond Time (Morna’s Legacy #1)

The eldest Conall brother paced back and forth outside his father’s chambers, reluctant to leave his father’s side but understanding the laird’s desire to speak to his youngest son alone.

After what seemed like hours Eoin heard the door begin to creak, and Arran Conall emerged from their father’s room.

Standing at over six foot four, Arran was still at least two inches shorter than Eoin. With blond hair that fell to his shoulders and vibrant blue eyes, Arran was very popular with the lasses of Conall Keep.

Although Eoin knew his own good looks were a fair rival to his brother’s, he was careful not to earn such a reputation for frivolous lovemaking.

His younger brother, however, embraced his reputation; it was a rare night that his bed was empty, and even rarer that the same woman was found there twice.

Arran’s carefree nature and love of life were contagious, and there were few times when Eoin had seen his brother without a smile.

But this time, when he exited their father’s room, Arran’s smile was gone.

The red tip of his nose and the strain in his eyes revealed that Arran was too proud to let the flood of tears flow.

Knowing any attempt to comfort would only embarrass him further, Eoin looked at the ground as he entered their father’s chamber.

Eoin had been only five when his mother passed away while giving birth to Arran, and all Eoin remembered about her was spending afternoons in her beloved garden, watching her tend the plants with exquisite care.

His father, on the other hand, had been his constant companion.

Eoin was the spitting image of his father: same long, dark hair and ebony eyes; same quiet-yet-confident demeanor, so different from his brother’s loud and boisterous way of life.

As children, Eoin and Arran depended on their father for everything, and although his father had spent the past thirty years preparing him, Eoin had never expected to be laird of Conall Castle so soon.

He would have done anything to prevent his father’s fate, but as his gaze fell upon the laird, Eoin knew there was nothing to be done.

While he had been thrown from horses many times in his life, the fall his father had taken that morning tossed his aging body onto a rocky hillside.

The damage inflicted was too much for his body to heal.

His father was dying, and all Eoin could do now was sit at his bedside and comfort him during his last minutes.

* * *

Alasdair prepared to impart his final wish upon his eldest son as he watched him enter the room.

He tried to sit up as Eoin approached his bedside.

The thought of his heir seeing him in such a weakened state pained him almost as much as the crushed ribs and deflated lung that forced his breath to come in short rasps.

He was a warrior, built strong like both his sons.

He found it difficult to believe that it would be a creature as gentle as a horse that would send him to his deathbed, but he supposed that was just another sign that while the body and mind age, the soul often remains oblivious to fragile bones, creaking joints, and moments of forgetfulness.

Despite grayed hair and failing body, Alasdair knew in his heart he was still the youthful, handsome lad who wanted nothing more than to steal another kiss from his beloved wife.

It had been twenty-five years since Elspeth passed away, and he still couldn’t think of her without tears springing up in his dark eyes.

He pushed thoughts of her away, for he knew he would see his beloved soon enough. As his son sat down beside him, Alasdair allowed his thoughts to drift to the burden he knew he must place upon Eoin’s shoulders.

Alasdair would not tell his son the true reason for his insistence upon a marriage between Eoin and Blaire MacChristy.

For while he knew the true nature of Morna’s predictions, Eoin had never known the witch.

Alasdair knew if his dying wish for his son was based on some crazed long-dead aunt’s predictions, it would only make Eoin even more resistant to the marriage.

It had long been believed that his son’s betrothal to Blaire was to ensure the protection of the MacChristy territory.

Donal MacChristy was laird over the smallest castle and territory in Scotland.

With poor people and few provisions for safety, the MacChristy clan was ever in need of help from neighboring allies.

It had been great fortune that Alasdair had always been good friends with Donal as it had made arranging the betrothal that much easier and more believable.

Alasdair knew that if Morna’s predictions and spell came true, Blaire MacChristy would soon be replaced with a lass from the twenty-first century, and he was certain Eoin would not remain oblivious to the strange happenings.

To help ease his son’s shock, Alasdair had ensured that all of Morna’s journals detailing her prediction, spell, and wish could be found in the witch’s beloved secret room in the castle’s basement, along with the spelled plaque showing Blaire’s picture.

He had also told the prediction and story to his beloved housemaid, Mary, but he wasn’t sure if she’d believed his outrageous tale.

After Morna’s death, Alasdair had discovered her journals detailing the enchanted plaque and how she planned for the swap to take place.

The identity spell had already been set before Morna passed.

Regardless of what happened, there would be a girl born many years from now, identical in appearance to Blaire MacChristy.

The exchange of the two girls hinged upon the plaque Morna placed in the center of her sanctuary.

If both Blaire and the identical girl were to see and read the words on the plaque out loud during some point in their lives, their paths would combine, and they would switch places in time.

This part of Morna’s plan was entirely dependent upon fate, and Alasdair strongly doubted if any such fantastic occurrence would ever take place.

Regardless of his misgivings, he refused to betray his sister’s memory.

“Son,” Alasdair’s chest began to weigh down on itself, begging him not to say anymore, but he refused to let his body fail before he said his peace, “I doona want ye and Arran to mourn me for long. I have had a full life. Everything I ever wanted, I have possessed.”

“I don’t want to hear ye say another word about that, Father. Just get some rest, and ye will feel much better come morning.”

“Ye can hold your lies, son. My body may be weak, but my mind is sharp. Ye know as well as I do that I am dying. I need ye to make peace with that as well. For I expect ye to continue with the wedding plans as if nothing has happened. Ye will be laird of Conall Castle within the hour. It falls to ye to watch over not only our territory but the MacChristy’s as well, by marrying Blaire. ”

* * *

Dread crept up Eoin’s spine at the thought of going through with his marriage to Blaire, but he refused to dwell on such things right now. He had never argued or denied his father anything, and he certainly wasn’t going to start tonight.

“I want ye to send word to Laird MacChristy come sun up. Suggest that Blaire come to reside here at once, so that ye can make yer preparations together. I believe the wedding should be set for three weeks’ time.

I know she tries yer patience, but I expect ye to treat and cherish her as I did yer mother. ”

Eoin didn’t believe himself capable of showing anyone the kind of adoration that his father had shown his mother.

He didn’t really think anyone other than his father was capable of loving that deeply, especially not himself.

Despite having had significantly fewer partners than Arran, he was no less talented at lovemaking.

But he had never met a lass who made him, even for a moment, dread spending the rest of his life without her.

He would not tell his father that, so instead, just as Alasdair Conall took his last breath and left this world to meet his beloved Elspeth once more, Eoin vowed, “I promise Father. I promise to marry her, and I promise to try.”