Time of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #12) Read online

  Blair did as instructed, hovering by the door and watching anxiously. Brody pressed his hand to her forehead, lifted her eyelids to peer into her eyes, then put his ear to her chest to listen to her breathing. They didn’t have a proper healer with them—nobody in the caliber of his Aunt Eleanor who’d once been a twenty-first century doctor—but Brody was trained in basic field medicine and Blair hoped that would be enough.

  He felt along Georgie’s arms and legs, checking for broken bones then turned to look at Blair. “She’s got a few scrapes and bruises but I canna find aught broken. Her heartbeat is strong and her breathing clear so I dinna think there is any internal bleeding. She’s taken a whack on the head though and I dinna like the look of it.”

  Blair tensed. “How bad?”

  Brody shook his head. “The scalp is torn here, see? I canna tell whether it’s cracked her skull or not. Head injuries are difficult ones. Sometimes they wake up fine, other times they dinna wake up at all.” His eyes were full of compassion as they watched Blair. “I’ll do what I can, the rest is up to her.”

  Blair said nothing. Brody’s words left him cold. Dinna wake up at all.

  Brody cleaned the wound, stitched Georgie’s scalp, and wrapped a bandage around her head. Then he mixed up some powders that Blair’s Aunt Eleanor had given him and poured them carefully down Georgie’s throat. She swallowed reflexively.

  “That’s a good sign,” Brody said. He packed away his supplies and climbed stiffly to his feet. “Call me if she wakes. I’ll go and check everyone else is all right.”

  Blair nodded dumbly. Brody walked to the door then paused and looked back at Blair, his eyes full of sympathy. Then he turned and left.

  Blair dragged a stool over to the side of the bed and sat down. He took hold of Georgie’s hand. It felt small and delicate in his, like porcelain that could break at any moment. Her face was pale, her lips colorless, but she looked strangely peaceful as if she was only sleeping, rather than...rather than...

  He couldn’t finish the thought. She would wake up. She would. He leaned forward, brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, and then kissed her gently on the forehead.

  “Come back to me, lass,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”

  GEORGIE DRIFTED THROUGH darkness. There was no sense of time or place. She couldn’t remember who she was. But something warm gripped her hand, holding on tightly, as if it would never let her go. She clung to that sensation, used it to pull herself up, up, up, towards the light.

  She blinked her eyes open slowly. It took her a moment to register that she was staring up at a ceiling and lying on a bed. The place looked familiar. Her room? She tried to turn her head and then wished she hadn’t. A pain like hot knives lanced through her skull and she took a few deep breaths, gritting her teeth until the agony began to recede.

  What might have been hours or only moments later, she tried again. This time the pain was weaker, more like the kind of headache you get with a hangover. The movement made her stomach roil with nausea but it was bearable. As she turned her head, she saw a figure sitting by her bed.

  Blair.

  His hand gripped hers tightly, but he’d fallen asleep, his head lolling against the back of his high-backed chair. The pale light coming in through the window suggested it was just past dawn. Had he been here all night?

  She tried to sort through her fragmented memories and piece together the events of yesterday. The tower. The collapse. Being trapped beneath those beams. She remembered the terror, the utter mind-numbing fear that had gripped her as she’d been buried alive. But through the fear there had been something else: the knowledge that Blair would come for her. She’d never doubted it.

  She squeezed his fingers. He came awake instantly, bolting upright. His eyes widened when he found her staring at him and for a second he seemed frozen with shock. Then he reached out and brushed a finger down her cheek delicately, as if afraid that if he did it any harder, she might break.

  “Georgie?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Am I dreaming?”

  She smiled at him and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “No dream,” she said. “It’s real. The god-almighty headache rampaging through my skull is proof of that.”

  He stared at her incredulously and then snorted a disbelieving laugh. “I thought I’d lost ye. Please dinna ever do aught like that to me again.”

  “I’ll try.” She fixed her gaze on his.

  “Good,” he said. “Because I willnae ever let anything harm ye.”

  She knew he wouldn’t. She knew that this rugged, heart-stoppingly handsome highlander was more than the crazy risk-taker he appeared to be. He was...she didn’t really have a word for what he was. What he was becoming to her.

  “How is Oswald?” she asked, anxiety in her voice. “And Aibne and the others?”

  “Fine. I’ve hardly been able to keep Oswald out of here. He’s been distraught since the accident. He thinks it was his fault ye were caught in the collapse.”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Georgie replied, a sudden sharp stab of guilt going through her. “It was mine. I set some of Aibne’s workers to digging outside the east wall to lay foundations. If I hadn’t done that, the tower wall would never have been undermined the way it was. It’s all my fault.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as memories came crashing down on her: the noise, the dust, the fear. What if Oswald hadn’t got out in time? What if Aibne and the others had been crushed? What if the tower had fallen the other way and destroyed half the fortress? How would she have been able to live with herself then?

  She hadn’t realized that tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes until Blair reached out and brushed them away.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

  She did as he ordered. He fixed her with his gaze, his expression intent.

  “Listen to me very carefully. The tower’s collapse wasnae yer fault. I had Aibne and his team take a look at the eastern wall. Turns out the ground on that side has been turning into marsh over the years and the foundations of that wall had been undermined long before ye came along. It it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I should have had it checked more thoroughly.”

  Georgie let out a long, slow breath. Relief swept through her but the relief was quickly followed by sadness and frustration. All that work she and Aibne had been doing. All for nothing.

  “We’ll have to rebuild,” she said.

  “Rebuild? The tower? Even if we had the man power we couldnae—”

  “I don’t mean the tower. I mean the eastern wall. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let all that work go to waste! Without that wall the fortress is vulnerable. One good thing to come from the tower’s collapse is that we’ll have plenty of stone to use for repairs to the walls now.”

  Blair laughed softly and then shook his head. “Ye have only just woken up and ye are planning rebuilding work? Rest, lass. Recover. Let others take care of it.”

  She shook her head—sending a stab of pain through her skull that made her gasp. “I can’t just lie in bed all day. I would rather be doing something. I...” How could she explain it in a way that he would understand? “Ever since I came to this time I’ve felt useless, out of my depth. But masonry? Well, that’s something I can do and when I started working with Aibne, I started to feel different. Useful. Does that make any sense?”

  He nodded. “Aye, lass,” he said quietly. “That makes perfect sense.” His eyes went distant, as though he was looking at a memory.

  “What is it?”

  He regarded her for a long moment. Then picked up a rolled parchment and held it out to her. “I’ve got something for ye.”

  “What is it?”

  “Take a look.”

  Giving him a quizzical glance, she took the document and rolled it out on the bed. As her eyes alighted on the diagrams and designs that filled the page and the tear right down the middle, she gasped. It was the other half of the design that Adaira Campbell had given her.r />
  “I don’t believe it. Where did you get this?”

  He hesitated. “From a wise man. A friend.” There was anguish in his voice. “James MacGregor, last surviving heir of Clan MacGregor gave it to me. I vowed to keep it safe, to safeguard his clan’s secrets. It was he who told me about this place and he’s the reason I came here. Ye canna imagine the shock when I saw ye had the other half of those plans.”

  She peered up at him. “I don’t understand. Why are you showing this to me now?”

  His gaze met hers. “Because I realize that I trust ye. That I should have done so from the start. We had a deal and by keeping the existence of that parchment from ye, I didnae keep my end of that deal.”

  She said nothing. She glanced at the parchment and then at Blair. I trust ye. Her heart lifted to hear those words. But what did it all mean? Why would Adaira Campbell and Blair MacAuley have two halves of an ancient manuscript? Her head was too fuzzy to even begin working it out.

  “What happened to James MacGregor?” she asked.

  Grief twisted Blair’s features, quickly stifled. “He died.”

  There was more to the story, she was sure of it, but the look on Blair’s face warned her not to pursue it. Instead she examined the parchment. “Could you pass me the other half? It’s in the pocket of my apron.”

  He fetched it for her and she unrolled it next to the first, slotting the two pieces together. The diagram in the center was now complete, showing the design for two concentric arches—the one in the crypt below the fortress. Around the edge were other designs for smaller arches as well as symbols and lines radiating out from the middle arch, connecting the others. But there were other lines, ones that went nowhere, meeting nothing but empty space.

  “What do you suppose it all means?”

  He shook his head. “I would say that it’s a map except it doesnae really work as one. Even if ye took the arch in the center as the starting point, most of the lines dinna meet up properly. It makes no sense to me.”

  “Nor me.” She looked over at him. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For showing me this. And for trusting me.”

  His smile was soft. “Ye are most welcome.”

  His fingers, where they were curled around hers, felt warm and strong. She could feel the callouses on his fingers from many years of sword work. They were not the fingers of a nobleman, but of a man used to hard work. That look was in his eyes again. That look that sent a coil of heat uncurling in her belly.

  Did he have any idea how handsome he was? How safe he made her feel? How the world was lighter and more colorful when he was around?

  “Blair, I—”

  Before she could finish the sentence he bent down and kissed her.

  Whatever she was going to say flew right out of her head. His lips were warm and soft. For a moment he remained still and she savored the silky sensation of his skin on hers, the roughness of his stubble against her chin. Then her body reacted. Of their own volition, her arms went around his neck, her lips began caressing his as she kissed him back. Blair shifted his body closer, his kiss becoming passionate and deep.

  But only for an instant.

  He broke the kiss and sat up, breathing ragged.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldnae have done that,” he said hoarsely.

  She frowned at him. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  He broke into a grin and something wicked flashed in his eyes. “Ye shouldnae encourage me. Ye are ill and I’m taking advantage of ye.”

  Georgie raised an eyebrow. “And who’s to say I don’t want to be taken advantage of?”

  God, she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted...she wanted...all of him. There was a knock on the door.

  “What is it?” Blair snapped, annoyed.

  The door opened and Brody entered, followed by Clara. As it closed, Georgie spotted Oswald hovering in the corridor outside. Brody grinned when he saw Georgie was awake and Clara clapped her hands in delight and came to sit on Georgie’s bed, taking hold of her hand.

  “Thank the Lord!” she exclaimed. “We were so worried about ye, weren’t we, Da? I canna tell ye how glad I am to see ye awake! How are ye feeling?”

  “Like I’ve had twenty shots of whisky,” Georgie replied. “But I’ll be fine.”

  Clara smiled. “I’m mighty relieved to hear that. What ye did at the tower...Aibne has told everyone what happened. He says if it hadn’t been for ye then Oswald would have died. Ye saved his life.”

  “I just did what anyone would have done,” Georgie replied, uncomfortable with the praise.

  “Out, all of ye!” Brody said, pulling supplies out of his bag. “I need to examine my patient.”

  Blair seemed about to argue but a hard stare from Brody had him releasing Georgie’s hand and climbing to his feet. “Take good care of her.”

  Brody nodded. “I will.”

  Clara gave Georgie’s hand a squeeze and climbed to her feet. “Rest. I’ll come check on ye later.” She hurried to the door that Blair was holding open for her and walked out.

  Blair hesitated on the threshold and looked back at Georgie. “I’ll see ye soon.”

  Georgie nodded, her chest tight. There was a world of implications in the look he gave her, a world of possibilities.

  Then he was gone.

  Chapter 10

  “Ye are quite the worst patient I have ever had,” Brody grumbled the next morning. “Give me Aibne with a toothache any day. He’s nowhere near as stubborn! Get back into bed!”

  Georgie gave Brody a wry smile. “If I lie in that bed any longer I think I will go crazy. Anyway, like I’ve already told you, I feel much better.”

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, the covers thrown back, with her feet placed flat on the floor. The faint draft raised goose bumps across her bare feet. In truth, sitting up had made her feel a little dizzy, but she wasn’t about to let Brody know that. The man was fastidious with his patient’s care and would likely have Blair set a guard to ensure she stayed in bed if she let him. But her headache was gone, and she was eager to be up and about.

  “Fine!” Brody snapped. “But if ye insist on this, at least let me help ye!”

  He came to stand next to Georgie and held out his arm. She gave him a grateful smile, took his arm, and used it to lever herself to her feet. The dizziness increased and for a second she thought she might stumble, but she clung grimly onto Brody’s arm until it finally receded. Then she straightened.

  “See? Nothing to worry about.”

  Brody’s scowl could have curdled milk. “Save me from irresponsible pups who think they know it all! Ye are as bad as Blair. Even when he took a sword thrust to the pelvis I couldnae keep him in bed. Here, at least drink this. It should help with any headaches or dizziness.”

  He handed her a small wooden beaker. She pressed it to her lips and drained the contents, wincing at the acrid taste.

  “I’m not even going to ask what that is.”

  Brody nodded. “Most wise. Now, see if ye can walk a few lengths of the room. Fix on a still point on the wall and stare at that, it will help with the dizziness.”

  Georgie did as he asked. The space was tiny so in only five paces she’d reached the end and come back again but she managed it with only a slight dizziness and didn’t stumble.

  Brody nodded. “That will have to do, I suppose. But I want yer word ye will take it easy today.”

  Georgie nodded. “Scout’s honor.”

  Brody seemed satisfied. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see ye up and about. I’ll send Clara to help ye dress.”

  Georgie smiled. “Thanks, Brody. I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me.”

  He squeezed her arm then pulled the door open, stuck his head out and yelled for Clara. Only when his daughter had appeared did he nod to Georgie and leave.

  “Don’t say it!” Georgie said as Clara opened her mouth to speak. “I’ve already had the l
ecture from your dad. I know you all think I should be in bed but that’s not going to happen, so how about you just pass me my clothes?”

  Clara frowned, pursing her lips. “I wasnae going to lecture ye at all.” Then she grinned. “Oh, all right, maybe I was. Come on then, let’s get ye dressed. I know everyone is dying to see ye—a certain laird’s nephew in particular.”

  Georgie looked at Clara sharply. She felt her cheeks blush. Had Brody seen more than she realized when he’d walked in on her and Blair yesterday? Was the whole castle talking about it?

  Clara laughed. “Did ye really think nobody would notice? Not a soul in this place hasnae seen the change that’s come over our lord since ye arrived or the way he looks at ye. Or the way ye look at him for that matter.”

  Georgie felt her blush deepen. Jeez, was she that obvious? All this time she’d thought she’d hidden her growing feelings for Blair. Had she been mooning around like a love-struck teenager after all?

  Desperate to change the subject, Georgie said, “How is Sean? You’ve been spending a lot of time together recently.”

  Clara raised an eyebrow, as if amused at Georgie’s attempt to deflect her. She brought over a clean dress and began helping Georgie into it. “He’s wonderful. Kind and thoughtful and brave...” She trailed off.

  Georgie laughed good-naturedly. “Now who’s the love-struck teenager?”

  Clara burst out laughing and Georgie joined in. After the difficulties of the last few days, it felt good to blow away the cobwebs. Clara helped her to finish dressing, brushed her hair, and then they left the room.

  Georgie walked slowly, trying to keep the dizziness at bay, but she managed to get to the hall without stumbling. It was busy with people eating breakfast and as she stepped inside, the buzz increased. Oswald shot up from his seat and came hurrying over.

  “Georgie!”

  Before she could say anything, the tall youth enveloped her in a bear-hug. “I’m so glad ye are all right! It was all my fault ye got injured, I understand if ye willnae forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you!” she replied with a laugh. “Because there’s nothing to forgive! Now, you’re going to have to let me go, I think you’re cracking my ribs!”