Page 11 of Utterly Dauntless (Return to Culloden Moor #3)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A t the sound of the bolt sliding, Aries stepped back. The only thing she'd found to use as a weapon was a glass jar of marinara which she could bash over her captor's head, a container of olive oil cooking spray she could squirt into his eyes, and some salt, also to throw in the eyes. But she'd had a hard time keeping the grains from seeping through her fingers, so she'd filled her shirt pocket in case the other two weapons failed.

Now, she just looked ridiculous standing there, hands full and raised, while she waited for the door to open.

She'd been a fool. The voice on the other side of the door couldn't possibly be Grey's. Even if he'd gotten her message about the blue van, he wouldn't know where to look for it. If he still cared to. Brighton might have been the last straw for him. And if he'd given up chasing her now, in her most dire hour of need, it served her right.

The door opened swiftly...by someone not her captor.

She could have wept at the welcome sight of Grey Strachan filling the open doorway with that powerful body that was tailor made for rescuing damsels in distress. This was the man who had haunted her dreams nearly every night for years on end.

Those years had been kinder to him. He would realize it as well. Just give him a minute.

He searched her eyes, scanned down her body and back again, to see if she was all right. The concern on his face was quickly replaced with relief, then amusement. "Fixin' to cook for the man, are ye?"

She looked at the spray and the bottle of sauce, then set them down. By the time she faced him again, his smile was gone. In its stead was a coldness she could only guess at. Then he stepped away, and her heart tried to drag itself out of her chest to follow.

Come back, it begged.

Another big body took Grey’s place. A cheerful Wyndham McLeish had to duck his head to see her through the doorway built a hundred years ago. He waved her closer. "Come. Let's hear the bastard out before we call the police."

The kitchen was full to bursting with Highlanders. Banner Wallace had her captor by the arm, though the latter was seated on his kitchen table with his feet hanging. He looked resigned to an ominous fate.

Thanks to a shower and a shave since he'd locked her inside his pantry, he shared little resemblance to the man who had run her off the road. The wet hair was the same, and with a clean face, he looked ten years younger...

Memories tripped over each other, rushing to gain her attention.

"Campbell," she said. "You're one of the Campbell lads I sent..." She gasped and pressed her hand against her chest. " You were supposed to forget!"

The young man jumped off the table and out of Wallace's clutches. He was toe to toe with her before anyone could stop him. "That's right! Ye remember what ye did!"

Wyndham pushed him away from her and Wallace and McHenish hauled him back to the table.

He howled as if in pain, but he stayed where they put him. "No one would listen when I told them ye're more a witch than Old Peg!"

Aries shook her head. "I'm...I'm not. Not anymore."

"Damn ye," he hissed. "Damn ye for runnin' away. Now it's too late." He gestured with open hands while looking at the room around him. "They're gone. Ye're finally back. Can finally tell them I wasn't imaginin’ it. Tell them I'm not mad at all. But my parents aren't here to listen, are they?"

"I had no idea?—"

"But ye would have! If ye hadn't run!"

Grey suddenly walked out of the room. Everyone noticed. No one moved. Wallace, McHenish, and Shug Buchanan averted their eyes, but Wyndham clearly expected her to explain. At that moment, there was no reason not to.

"It was a long time ago. I was twenty. I'd already lost my sister and my mother, then my father died. I was devastated, out of my head with grief." She saw it all clearly again. "We were in the kirkyard, my father's funeral. The priest was droning on. And two wee lads were chucking rocks into the open hole, where my father's body was about to be lowered, and I...I wished they would go away."

Campbell gasped, but she couldn’t look him in the eye.

"The problem was, I'd been given the power of Wish. I also had my sister's power of Unwish. So the two mostly nullified each other. I wasn't as careful about wishing as I should have been because those wishes didn't come true like they had before my sister died. But I was...distraught, and I suppose my wish was very clear and likely earnest." Ashamed, she lowered her gaze. "And they went."

Wyndham sent Campbell a pitying look. "And where did they go?"

"To nowhere. A place that was...but wasn't. Wickham said he found them there. It’s…complicated. But he was able to take them back home again, to the time they disappeared. Just a couple of days later. He said he'd wiped their memory of all of it."

Finally, she summoned a thimble of courage and faced the man she’d wronged so long ago.

Campbell shook his head over and over again. The tears on his face flew off in all directions.

She took a step toward him, but McHenish moved between them, shook his head to discourage her. But she shook her head too and waved him out of the way. Another step brought her to the table. If he wanted to reach out and strangle her, he could do it.

"Mr. Campbell?"

The poor man sniffed and wiped his sleeve under his nose. "Carson."

"Carson, I'm sorry. And if it helps you at all, know that I've regretted that wish every waking day of my life."

He sucked in a breath, then nodded. "It helps, though it cannae fix my life, can it?"

"What about your brother? Did he?—"

"Craig. He was younger. He remembered nothing. And now, he lives far enough away from his mad brother that he doesnae have to think of me too often."

The bitter statement made her wince. But he was right. Sorry didn't fix a thing.

She found her voice. "Where? Where is he now?"

"Glasgow."

"Glasgow. Maybe, after a good night's rest, we should go talk to him."

Carson blinked in disbelief. "Ye want to go find Craig?"

"We should go together, don’t you think?"

He snorted. "He willnae believe ye're a witch, let alone what ye did. He'll reckon I put ye up to it."

"Maybe we should take another witch along, a real one. Make a believer out of him. What do you say?"

Carson reluctantly smiled, but he stopped short when he looked around the room at the sober mugs looking back. "I'd say I doubt I'll live 'til mornin'."