Page 25 of The Story of his Highland Bride (Dancing Through Time #4)

25

A n icy kiss coaxed Eloise’s eyes open. Her eyelashes fluttered, weighed down by tiny snowflakes that had settled on the fine hairs. Overhead, thick clouds scudded across the sky, threatening more snow to chill her bones and send her to an early grave if she didn’t get moving.

Aching all over, she grabbed the drystone wall that ringed the inside of the cairn and heaved herself to her feet. Even in the woolen cloak she’d taken from the castle, and the peacoat beneath, she shivered violently.

How long was I out? Brushing the snow from her eyes, she glanced around at the ancient burial site, looking for any other sign of life. But the Clava Cairns were empty. No one had come searching for her, though she had to admit that the inside circle of the cairn was a pretty good hiding spot. Too good, perhaps.

With every morsel of strength and willpower she had left, she put one frozen foot in front of the other, shuffling her way across the historical site. She had a vague notion of where to go, but her mind was as frozen as her limbs, making it hard to think. Still, at least there weren’t any starlings, staring at her from the rings of stones.

Reaching the path at the farthest end, remembering the two gnarled oak trees that marked the entrance, she touched the ridged trunks in gratitude and pressed on into the forest beyond.

If she’d thought the trail to the Cairns was hard to find with barely any snow on the ground, it was near impossible now, with the heavens seemingly determined to cover all traces of her way home. It would’ve been much easier if she’d still had Claymore with her, but the stallion had refused to enter the Cairns, forcing her to dismount and continue on alone.

“I know it’s around here somewhere,” she mumbled to herself, weaving through the trees, thankful that it was daylight.

A few times, she nearly toppled right over a few strange lumps that protruded from the ever-thickening snow, but with an icy tremor setting into her veins, she couldn’t waste any time on being face first in the ground. So, she picked herself up and carried on, hoping that she was traveling in the right direction.

Where is he now? Eloise’s heart ached worse than her stiff legs and numb bones as she finally allowed herself to think about Jackson. Did he get hurt? There were so many of them —

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered that final image of him before Claymore took her too far into the trees: he’d looked at her with such sadness, such love, such loss that she’d almost turned back right there and then. If it hadn’t been for the sword-wielding maniacs who seemed to want her dead, she might’ve done.

“You said you’d wait,” she whispered, hugging herself to try and coax some warmth back into her body. “It was a big promise, but… I hope you kept it.”

Tucking her chin into the neckline of her cloak, she knew there was only one way to find out. But first, she needed to get out of the forest alive, for the second time in one day.

Castle Faulkner loomed ahead of Eloise, as she stumbled up to the gates. The light dusting of snow had transformed into a blizzard, and though she’d been walking for hours, fully believing that she’d been walking in circles, she’d finally found the road. And that road had led her to exactly where she wanted to be, albeit in an almost frostbitten, numb state.

“What business do ye have here?” A guard appeared in front of her, his hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword.

Too weary and cold to make any kind of argument, she simply said, “Send for Laird Faulkner or Lennox. They know who I am.”

“Who are ye?” The guard did not seem to want to budge.

“I’m the woman that His Lairdship loves, and if you leave me out here in the middle of a snowstorm, and I collapse and die from the cold—which I’m on the verge of doing—he’ll have you locked in his dungeons so fast it’ll make your head spin!” She was surprised by the vehemence in her voice, but, in fairness, she was shaking so hard she thought her chattering teeth might crack.

The guard blinked. “Are ye Miss Eloise?”

“Oh, so you have heard of me. Yes, I’m Eloise.”

Immediately, the guard’s demeanor shifted. “Apologies, Miss Eloise. I was told to watch for anyone by that name, but… I was told ye wouldn’ae be arrivin’ for a long while.” He took hold of her arm and helped her across the cobbled courtyard, to the castle’s main entrance. “Please, forgive me,” he added, as he ushered her into the entrance hall.

“You’re forgiven,” Eloise replied, closing her eyes for a moment, as she let the familiar smells and sounds envelop her. “Wait.”

The guard halted mid-step. “Aye, Miss Eloise?”

“Do you know where His Lairdship is?”

“Aye, Miss Eloise. He’s in his bedchamber. Old Joan is tendin’ to his injuries.”

Eloise’s heart lurched into her throat. “Injuries?”

“I daenae ken much about it, Miss Eloise. Ye’d have to ask Old Joan.” The guard paused. “All I ken is that he’s nae farin’ well, but I have faith in him—he’ll survive. He has to.”

Without another word, Eloise took off, racing through the labyrinth of hallways that made up the castle’s interior, no longer caring about her own aches and pains. Deep down, she’d known that something bad must have happened to Jackson, otherwise he would’ve come looking for her among the Cairns. He’d have wanted to be sure that she made it to her world, and he’d have found her hiding.

Please don’t die, she begged as she ran. Please, please, please don’t die, or all of this will be for nothing.

Skidding to a halt outside Jackson’s chamber, she didn’t bother to knock before bursting in, frightening Old Joan so badly that she actually screamed.

“What in Heaven’s name is wrong with ye, Lass?” the old woman barked, clutching at her chest. “Ye could’ve killed me with the shock!”

But Eloise barely heard the old woman’s protests, as her gaze moved toward the bed where Jackson lay. His face was drained of color, his lips bloodless, his body shrouded in layers and layers of blankets, while sweat dampened his hair. To her heartbroken eyes, it already looked like she was too late.

“Och, daenae start wailin’,” Old Joan scolded softly, recovering from the fright. “He’s nae dead, he’s just restin’. The wound wasnae too deep, but he lost a good deal of blood. All he needs is some sleep and some food and someone to sit at his bedside, and he’ll have some color in his cheeks again before ye ken it.”

Hesitantly, Eloise approached Jackson’s bedside. Old Joan stepped aside for her, patting her gently on the shoulder as she passed.

“I’m pleased to see ye again so soon,” the old woman said, with a knowing smile. “Lennox tried to explain what had happened, but I had a feelin’ in me bones that ye were still with us. Fortunately for me, there’s nay priest to accuse me of bein’ a witch and burnin’ me at the stake.”

Eloise frowned at the healer. “No priest? What do you mean?”

“The villagers turned on him. I think His Lairdship intended to have a trial for the wretch, but the mob got him. Fair justice, either way, I’d say,” the healer replied, flashing a wink. “I just need to fetch some more tonic for His Lairdship. Daenae do anythin’ to excite him while I’m away. As I said, he needs his rest.”

As the old woman left, closing the door behind her, Eloise took a moment to process what she’d just been told. Father Hepburn was gone, and that meant there was nothing stopping her and Jackson from being together. Nothing except his injuries. In truth, she didn’t know whether to jump for joy or kneel at Jackson’s side, praying to anyone who would listen for him to wake up, so they could celebrate together.

In the end, she settled for half of the latter.

Climbing up onto the bed, she lay down beside Jackson and slipped her hand beneath the blankets, seeking out his. Once she found it, she interlaced their fingers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she peered up at his sleeping face.

“I came back,” she whispered. “My love, I came back.”

Jackson’s eyelids fluttered. “Eloise?”

“I’m here.” A lump formed in her throat. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, his eyes opened, his expression dazed. “Ye’re nae here. Ye’re in yer own time, in yer own world.”

“No, my love, I’m right here.” She squeezed his hand again. “I didn’t go. I got to the stones and the starlings were all there, and the trees were whispering for me to put my palm upon the stone… but I couldn’t do it. I tried to picture my future without you, and I couldn’t do it. There’s nothing waiting for me back home, but you were waiting for me here. It wasn’t really a choice, in the end.”

He blinked, and realization seemed to dawn across his face as his eyes widened and his fingers squeezed hers in return. “Ye’re… here.” He squeezed her hand again. “I can feel ye. Are ye really here? I… got hurt, and I lost a lot of blood. Are ye sure ye’re nae a dream?”

“I’m sure.” Eloise’s lips curved into a smile, as tears trickled down onto her cheeks. “I came back, my love, so you wouldn’t have to wait very long. Now, I know it’s going to take some adjustments, but… this is my decision. You are my decision, and if I never go back to 2016, not even for a quick trip, I can live with that.”

Jackson braced his elbow against the bed, wincing as he turned his injured body toward her.

“You’re not supposed to move!” Eloise yelped. “Old Joan will kill me if she sees you!”

Jackson grinned. “She wouldn’ae dare, and nay wound is goin’ to keep me from lyin’ at yer side, nae until I’m completely certain that ye’re real.”

“I am,” she promised, lifting her hands to his face. “But if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

He draped his arm over her waist, urging her closer. “Nor do I, Love.” His grin widened. “I feel ye. I wasnae sure if I’d ever feel ye near me again.”

“Well, I’m not leaving, so you’re stuck with me… at least until the next time the starlings start banging at the windows.” She chuckled, shuffling forward until she lay flush against him. “I love you, Jackson. And when you love someone the way I love you, you don’t walk away from it.”

He bent his head, grazing a kiss against the bridge of her nose. “I love ye more than I ken how to put into words. Ye’re the wordsmith, after all.” He took hold of her hand and put it to his heart. “But I ken how much I love ye. This heart is yers.”

“My heart is yours, too.” She lifted her head up slightly, smiling as she felt his kiss brush her lips: soft and sweet and sleepy.

He paused. “Ye’re really stayin’ here with me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

He kissed her again, murmuring, “I’ll have ye. All of ye, Love. Nae right now, but once I’m healed, I willnae be able to get enough of ye.” He pulled back a little. “But, after all we’ve been taught by that bastard, Hepburn, we cannae be livin’ in sin. So, what would ye say to bein’ me wife?”

“I think that might make me the happiest woman in the world,” she replied, her voice hitching as a thousand emotions hit her at once.

Jackson chuckled. “Just this world?”

“In every world where there’s a version of you and a version of me.” She kissed him, melting into his embrace, convinced beyond all doubt that she’d made the right choice.

After years of being strung along by a man who didn’t care, only to be abandoned for another woman, she’d assumed that she’d never find anyone. She’d pictured herself as a sad and lonely writer, pouring her hopes and dreams into her work, but never living any of them. But there was magic in a broken heart, and the pieces of hers had left a breadcrumb trail to those Cairns, guiding her to the one man who could heal her heart and make it whole again.

Love had called to her, and she’d followed. And she had a feeling that being mad enough to venture out in the middle of winter, alone, to a secluded spot in the Highlands, where hers was the only car in the parking lot, might’ve been the greatest decision of her life.