Page 27 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)
Chapter 27
M atthew absorbed every word of the letter, his eyes roving hungrily across the page.
This . This was exactly what he’d needed, and he couldn’t thank Sean enough for bringing it. The information could not have been easily won, but it would give Matthew exactly the edge he needed. If there was not enough time to destroy all the stones, he would at least know which ones Edmondson had used in the earliest days of his time traveling. If Matthew could take out those early links, the whole chain would fall apart. And now he had all these details, brought from the twenty-first century, to tell him everything he needed to know.
It was no surprise Sean had managed to find him; Matthew’s agents all knew exactly how to reach him. Matthew had actually expected Sean a while ago, but apparently the information gathering had taken longer than expected. Still, better late than never. Matthew was finally ready to put his plans into action. He would have to tell Norah and Jack to make their final preparations.
The thought of Norah ached in his chest, a bittersweet pang he couldn't quite shake. How ironic, that he’d found her just as he was preparing to lose everything. But maybe—just maybe—if everything else fell apart, there was one good thing that would come from all this. If he succeeded, if the chain shattered the way he hoped, she would be free. That was something, wasn’t it? One bright thread of hope woven into the wreckage he was about to unleash.
Matthew made his way back into the roundhouse and shrugged off his cloak, the sodden fabric clinging heavily to his shoulders before peeling away with a sickening squelch. Water streamed from the hem, pooling on the packed earth floor and soaking into his boots with a cold, squishy persistence that made him wince. The clammy wetness had seeped into every layer of his clothing, chafing his skin and sending shivers down his spine as a stray rivulet traced its way down the back of his neck.
“You look like a mess,” Bedwyn said from where he sat beside the table, a cup of ale in his hand. “Want to borrow a dry tunic?”
Matthew hesitated. He hated to take any more favours from Bedwyn, but he was soaked through.
“Thank you,” he said. Bedwyn jumped to his feet and waved toward the roundhouse doorway.
“Follow me,” he said grandly.
Matthew hesitated for a second. No one here spoke English, let alone read it, but an item as strange as a letter might attract the wrong kind of attention. With the sleight of hand he’d mastered so well, he slid the letter from inside his tunic and slipped it beneath the folds of the discarded cloak. It would still be there when he returned in a few moments.
“Lead on,” he told Bedwyn.
Slipping into one of the lord’s soft wool tunics was indeed a delight. The druids did not dress too badly, but Bedwyn clearly enjoyed the finer things in life, and Matthew had to admit he could see the appeal in soft fabrics like this.
“I’ll return it as soon as I can,” he said, gingerly holding up the wet tunic, which was dripping all over the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bedwyn said dismissively. “I have plenty of others.”
So, it was with a handsome new tunic, dry and edged with rich embroidery, that Matthew strode back into the roundhouse—and froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat. His cloak lay exactly where he had left it. But Norah was there, standing just beside it, her fingers poised around the edge of the letter as she began to slide it free.
For a beat, he couldn’t move. The shock of seeing her— here , of all places—hit him like a blow to the chest. His stomach twisted, betrayal and disbelief churning together. He’d trusted her. Hadn’t they just—wasn’t she the one person who wasn’t supposed to do this?
Not wanting to attract attention, Matthew didn’t dare shout, but the urgency sharpened every movement. He surged forward in three quick strides, his hand snapping out to seize her arm. She froze at once, her body going rigid, the letter still suspended from her fingers.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, hoping that no one had noticed what was going on.
Norah took a steady breath, twisting her head just a little so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye.
“I think we should discuss this in the guesthouse,” she said calmly.
It was a sensible suggestion—infuriatingly so, given what Matthew had found. He led the way to the guesthouse at an angry stride, his fists clenched by his side. Here he’d been, thinking about how wonderful she was, and all the time she’d been spying on him! There was no other way she could have known about the letter. Had she been watching him ever since he met with Sean? Damn it, he’d have to try to warn the man. He might be at risk now.
“Why are you going through my things?” he demanded the second that the guesthouse door closed behind them.
“Why are you having secret meetings and keeping things from me?” Norah retorted.
Matthew snatched the letter from her hand before she could make another move to open it.
“Did you really think I managed this all on my own?” he demanded. “That I captured Edmondson—and held him captive for almost a year—without friends helping me? This is big, Norah, and I am only one part of it. There are other people involved, people who don’t want their faces and names to be known. So forgive me for not wanting to reveal them to Edmondson’s poisoner .”
Norah reeled back. Matthew took a deep breath, trying to regain his temper. That had been a low blow.
“I’m sorry, Norah,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but the decisions aren’t all mine to make. I’ve told you everything you need to know, I promise. And I do intend to free you from Edmondson’s control.”
Just not in the way you expect.
“Well, I don’t believe a word you say,” Norah shot back. “How do I know you’re not every bit as bad as your father? At least he’s honest about what he does! But you? I don’t know whether to trust you or kill you! I’m starting to wish you’d drunk that damn tea!”
And then she stormed out of the guesthouse, slamming the door behind her. Matthew stood there in stunned silence for a moment, not quite able to believe what had just happened. In the space of a few moments, he’d gone from mooning over Norah to calling her a poisoner—and she’d as good as wished him dead.
He sank down on the bed, running a hand through his damp hair, his shoulders slumping beneath the weight of everything left unsaid. The guesthouse still held the scent of her skin, the faint imprint of her body pressed into the blankets. He could see her there—laughing, flushed with warmth after the firelight dances, teasing him with that wicked little grin. Now it felt like all of it was slipping away. Had he ruined that laughter with his secrets? Tainted every kiss with mistrust? His fingers curled into the rough weave of the blanket. Maybe, despite all his efforts, he was destined to repeat his father’s mistakes—isolating, manipulating, controlling without even meaning to. Maybe he wasn’t as different from Lucanus Edmondson as he so desperately wanted to believe.
No . He would never be like Lucanus Edmondson. Never.
And things with Norah didn’t have to be over yet. There was still time to fix things, still time to let himself love her.
Already, though, time was growing short. Matthew didn’t have long before everything ended.