Time of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #12) Page 9

  “I’m a fool,” he growled. “I should never have trusted ye. I should have guessed ye were a spy.”

  Chapter 7

  Georgie stared at him, her eyes wide, her face pale. Fear flashed in her gaze. Good. She should be afraid of him. How could she betray him like this? He’d offered her his protection, brought her right into the heart of his stronghold. What a fool he was!

  “I see it now,” he said. “It was a brilliant plan. They throw ye into jail with me, ye act the innocent, I fall for it, break ye out and bring ye here. What were ye going to do next? Return to yer masters and tell them everything? Is that it?”

  He could barely contain his fury. He was so angry he was shaking. But it was not just anger. Beneath that, he felt something else as well. Hurt. Betrayed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Georgie cried.

  “Why else would ye break in here where ye know ye are not permitted? Why else would ye have a parchment that shows that arch? Damn it all, woman, ye had me fooled. Ye are obviously an accomplished liar.”

  Georgie’s nostrils flared and anger flashed in her eyes. “A liar?” she snapped. “You’re calling me a liar? How dare you? You, who have told me exactly nothing about what is going on here? What is this fortress? Why is there an arch through time down here?”

  She was good, he had to give her that. She played the part of the confused innocent well. But he would not fall for it again.

  “Dinna try to distract me,” he growled, taking another step closer. “What did Campbell promise ye in return for spying on me?”

  “I’m not a spy!” Georgie cried. “Everything I’ve told you is the truth!”

  “Really? Then why did ye break in here?”

  “Because you won’t tell me anything!” she shouted. “Because I saw that symbol on the door and knew I’d seen it somewhere before!” She brandished the parchment at him. “Because I saw it on this and realized that you and Adaira Campbell and Irene MacAskill and the whole bloody lot of you are all in on it! What did you want me to do? Sit around and wait patiently for you to explain what the hell is going on?”

  She was angry now, as furious as he was, but he didn’t back down. There was too much riding on this for him to make a mistake now.

  He reached out his hand. “Show me.”

  She hesitated. Then she slowly held out the parchment and allowed him to take it. He examined the drawings that filled the page. His heart began to thump. No. It couldn’t be. He stared, disbelieving. The torn parchment was the mirror image of the one he kept in his room.

  “Where did ye get this?” he breathed.

  “I told you, Adaira Campbell gave it to me. I don’t know where she got it. I used the drawings to replicate the stonework for the arch she was restoring. Not the big one in the middle—that’s got half the diagram missing—but one of the smaller ones around the edge.”

  Blair said nothing. He suddenly felt trapped, like he was being corralled down a path he did not want to tread. Georgie was watching him. Anger had brought a faint blush to her cheeks, and she glared at him with flashing eyes.

  “I thought we had a deal,” she said.

  “We did,” he snapped. “But that was before ye broke into this place, knowing that nobody is allowed down here! What am I supposed to think when I find ye in here with...with this?”

  “How about you believe what I tell you?” she cried. “How about you listen to what I’m saying instead of accusing me of lying and being in league with Adaira Campbell and God knows what else? I’ve been honest with you from the start! Can you say the same?”

  She barged past him, but he grabbed her wrist. “Where do ye think ye are going?”

  Fire blazed in her eyes. “Away from you!”

  “I dinna think so. Ye have seen too much.”

  “So what are you going to do? Throw me into jail?”

  “Dinna tempt me, woman,” he growled. “Dinna tempt me.”

  Her expression tightened, and if anything, grew even angrier. “So much for your word, eh? So much for promising you’d protect me!”

  His stomach knotted with fury. “Dinna presume to question my honor! My word holds, even if ye are a spy.”

  “Are you deaf?” she yelled. “I am not a spy! It was Irene MacAskill that sent me here—not Adaira Campbell. I thought we’d already established that! Damn you, Blair, let me go!”

  Blair didn’t. He tightened his grip on her forearms, not enough to hurt but enough that she couldn’t struggle. She glared up at him, her eyes ablaze, chin lifted defiantly. Lord, she was a wildcat. Strong and brave and beautiful. He had no doubt that if she had her hands free, she would have tried to hit him.

  She met his gaze, unflinching, and sudden arousal rushed through his body. He found himself pulling her a little closer. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met. She was infuriating and captivating in equal measure. An urge to kiss her came over him. It was so strong he began moving his head towards hers before he realized what he was doing.

  With an effort of will, he released her and stepped back. “I apologize,” he said. “I didnae mean to hurt ye.”

  She said nothing. That faint blush on her cheeks deepened and her breathing had quickened, her breasts rising and falling against the tight fabric of the dress in a wholly unsettling manner.

  He pushed the thought away. It was dangerous to go down that road. He turned, giving himself time to gather his racing thoughts.

  AS BLAIR LOOKED AWAY, Georgie took the opportunity to run a hand through her hair, take a deep breath, and try to gather herself. For one second there, she thought he was going to kiss her. And for a second she had wanted him to. She had wanted to feel his lips on hers, feel those strong arms around her, feel that hard body pressing against her flesh...

  Stop it!

  She should be furious with him. Stupid, stubborn, infuriating man! But her fury had been washed away by the feel of his warm hands and the nearness of his body.

  She pressed a hand to her forehead. “You never answered my question.”

  He turned to look at her. Some of the fire in his eyes had dampened, but she still found her heart skipping under that piercing gaze.

  “What question?”

  “I’ve been honest with you right from the start. Can you say the same?”

  He watched her for a long moment, saying nothing. A tangled knot of secrets surrounded this man.

  “We had a deal,” she repeated. “You agreed that we would work together to stop Beaumont and Campbell. How can we do that if you won’t be honest with me? How am I supposed to trust you if you keep everything hidden?”

  “Trust goes both ways,” he said quietly. “And must be earned.”

  Her nostrils flared in annoyance. “Yes, it does. So let’s make a start. I’ve told you where I’m from, how I got here. And I’m sorry I came down here without your permission—but I’ve explained why I did that. What have you told me? Precisely nothing.”

  He remained silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he nodded. “Aye. Ye are right. Very well, what do ye wish to know?”

  She blinked, a little surprised. “For a start, everyone in this place defers to you and I’ve heard some of them call you lord. Why?”

  He let out a long sigh. “Because they are under my command. My uncle is Logan MacAuley, laird of Clan MacAuley. My father is his younger brother, Camdan, chief of his warband. I spent my childhood in a castle many miles from here. It’s called Dun Ringill.” His expression softened slightly as he looked inward at memories only he could see.

  Georgie nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. “And how come you know so much about time travel?”

  “Because I grew up on tales of Irene MacAskill and her power to bring people through time.” He lifted his eyes, met her gaze. “And because she brought my mother here that way. Bethany MacAuley was originally from yer time. From the twenty-first century.”

  Georgie gaped at him, astounded. “Your mother is a time-tr
aveler? Did she step through an arch like I did?”

  “Aye. Irene MacAskill brought her here to help my father break a Fae curse. But she fell in love with him and stayed. The same is true of my aunts as well. Like I said, we are a family well acquainted with time travel.”

  Georgie blinked, digesting this in silence. There were others like her? Others from the twenty-first century who had managed to survive, even make a home for themselves in this time? No wonder Blair had recognized her as a time-traveler the moment he saw her. For somebody brought up by a twenty-first century mother, she must have stuck out like a sore thumb when she’d been dragged into that dungeon.

  She gestured to the space around them. “And why are you here? Why are you fighting against Charles Beaumont?”

  He paused. His expression closed and Georgie feared she’d pushed him too far. Then he let out an explosive sigh, gesturing helplessly.

  “Because who will if I dinna? He’s an English border lord with a tenuous claim to MacGregor lands through his grandmother’s line, but when the elders of Clan MacGregor didn’t accept him he decided to annexe MacGregor lands anyway. He brought up his English armies and took Dun Halas. He’s been expanding his lands ever since.”

  Georgie frowned. “MacGregor lands? Not MacAuley ones?”

  He shook his head. “We stand on land belonging to Clan MacGregor. Beaumont’s castle—where ye came through the arch—was once the seat of Clan MacGregor. Its name is Dun Halas, and it had never fallen to an enemy in all its long years. That is until Charles Beaumont came with his cannon.”

  “So you are fighting to help the MacGregors?”

  “I’m fighting to help the whole of the Highlands,” he snapped. “Ye dinna understand the threat Charles Beaumont and Adaira Campbell pose. And besides, what happened to Clan MacGregor...is my...is my...” He trailed off, looking away.

  “And Adaira Campbell?” she asked quietly. “How does she fit into all of this?”

  “Several years ago Adaira and her brother were involved in a plot to take control of a Fae gateway – just like the one on Beaumont’s lands,” he said. “Her brother was successful and came to this time. Whilst he was here he tried to gain control of Fae magic. My cousins and I stopped him. He died.”

  “That’s what she was talking about!” Georgie exclaimed. “Adaira said she wanted to avenge her brother! It made no sense at the time but that must be what she was referring to.”

  “Aye. His name was Artair Campbell, but he didnae act alone. He had help from the laird of the MacGregor—Benneit MacGregor—who was killed in the same battle that killed Artair Campbell.” He met her gaze. “Killed by me. And into the power vacuum I created, came Charles Beaumont. Who knows what Beaumont found when he took Dun Halas? But whatever he discovered, it was enough to put him on the trail of the Fae arches and open one to communicate with Adaira Campbell.”

  His gaze was slightly haunted. “Charles Beaumont threatens the Highlands because of me.”

  “So that’s why you’re here,” Georgie breathed. “You’re fighting him because you think it’s your fault.”

  He said nothing. She couldn’t read his expression but his eyes were troubled.

  She stepped closer. “Blair, listen to me. If Adaira brings through all those people I saw at the site, along with their weapons, they will overwhelm this place. You need more men.”

  “There are none.”

  “Then what about your uncle? Your cousins? Wouldn’t they help if you sent word?”

  Blair hesitated. Then shook his head. “They have their hands full fighting the summer wildfires. They dinna have the men to spare.”

  “Then what about Clan MacGregor? Why not ask them to join you? You’re fighting to save their lands after all.”

  That strange expression flitted across his face again. “Nay. The MacGregors must do what they think best. I willnae lead them.” Then so softly, she could only just make out the words, “Not again.”

  “I’m sure if you put out word—”

  “I said no!” Blair’s eyes blazed, his hands clenching into fists. “Leave it be, woman!”

  Georgie snapped her mouth shut. Blair held out a placating hand and spoke in a softer voice.

  “My apologies. I didnae mean to snap. Come. We’ve lingered here long enough.”

  Georgie bit down on her questions and followed Blair out of the room and through the crypt. She felt the eyes of the effigies on her again but with Blair nearby they didn’t hold the terror they had previously. They stepped into the corridor and Blair pulled the door shut behind them.

  He turned to look at her. “Only Brody knows of this place. Ye must speak of it to nobody.”

  “Sure, but I’d like to study that arch. There has to be a reason Adaira had that parchment.”

  He watched her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “All right. I will find ye a key. But ye must tell nobody else of what’s down here.”

  She nodded. “You can trust me.”

  A small smile pulled at his lips. “Aye. I think maybe I can.”

  He was looking at her that way again. Georgie’s stomach fluttered. What would it feel like to reach out and run her hands through that silky blond hair of his?

  He cleared his throat and stepped away. “This way.”

  They emerged into evening sunlight. This time of year the summer days were long and Georgie guessed there was another hour or two of daylight left. It was a golden evening, with sunlight still shining on the mountains in the distance and the smell of flowers wafting on the breeze. As they stepped into the courtyard, Georgie stopped, taking it all in.

  “Beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

  Blair nodded. “Aye,” he agreed. “It is.”

  “My lord!” came a shout from the other side of the bailey. Georgie turned just as one of Blair’s warriors came running. It seemed that he couldn’t have a minute without people clamoring for his attention.

  “What is it, Thomas?” Blair asked.

  “Scouting party came in about ten minutes ago,” Thomas said. “Waiting to give their report.”

  Blair stifled a sigh. “I must deal with this. Will ye be all right?”

  She smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded then walked off across the bailey towards the keep, Thomas striding at his side. Georgie watched him go, feeling an unexpected twinge at his absence.

  She looked around the bailey. Despite the lateness of the hour, it was still busy. Over by the wall she spotted the master mason and his group of workers still trying to shore up the wall. They’d removed the planks that had been used to plug a gap and shaped stones lay nearby ready to replace them. The master mason was busy measuring them whilst his workers took the opportunity to lean against the wall and rest.

  The mason straightened and even from here Georgie could see the scowl that twisted his features.

  “Fools!” he snarled. “I’m surrounded by fools! Are ye deaf as well as useless? Look at the faces of these stones! Rough as a badger’s arse! How will they fit together if they aren’t smooth? Or maybe ye are of the opinion that a wall with gaps between the stones makes a good defense?”

  The workers stirred, muttering amongst themselves. Then one of them pushed away from the wall. “We’re not bloody masons, Aibne,” he said. “We came here to fight, not carve blocks of bloody stone!”

  “And fighting ye will be, sooner than ye would like, if we dinna get this damned wall fixed!” Aibne shouted.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Georgie found herself striding across the courtyard towards the group.

  “Maybe I can help,” she said.

  Aibne, who’d been about to launch into another tirade, snapped his mouth shut and turned to her in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’d like to help.”

  He looked her up and down. “Ye are the lass who rode in with Blair. Well, unless ye know where I might find a half-decent stonemason in this God-forsaken wilderness, I fear there’s naught much
ye can do.”

  “My thinking exactly,” she said with a smile. “I know exactly where to find a stonemason—a half-decent one if I do say so myself. Me.”

  Aibne’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Ye? I dinna think so, my lady.”

  Georgie crossed her arms. “And why not?”

  From the corner of her eye she could see Aibne’s helpers grinning and elbowing each other, enjoying Aibne’s sudden discomfort.

  Aibne snorted. “Ye are a woman!”

  Georgie smiled sweetly. “So I am. What has that got to do with anything?”

  Aibne stared at her as if she was speaking in tongues. As if addressing a child or somebody hard of hearing, he said very slowly and loudly, “Women are not stonemasons.”

  A flicker of annoyance ran through her. Sure, she knew she had to adapt to this time and realize that women had very different roles, but that didn’t mean she had to put up with being spoken to like she was an idiot. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her hammer and chisel and strode over to the nearest block of stone.

  Looking it over with a critical eye, she realized Aibne was right. The sides were not uniform and far too rough. Even with plenty of mortar between them, they would not sit flush against each other and the wall would be weaker as a result.

  She cocked her head one way and then the other, deciding how best to approach the problem. Then she crouched next to the stone, placed her chisel, and began chipping away.

  She was dimly aware that Aibne and his workers had gathered around to watch and the master mason had crossed his arms and had a half-annoyed, half-bemused frown on his face. But as always happened when she worked with stone, the outer distractions soon fell away until she found that center of calm inside herself. Looking at the stone she could feel its inner contours, knew instinctively where to carve, what to shape.

  The clink of her chisel against stone, that old familiar sound, was like a soothing balm. She soon forgot everything: Irene MacAskill, Adaira Campbell, the arch through time. She even forgot Blair. There was only her and the stone and the shape she was trying to coax out of it.