check her for fever, too. “She’s in shock,” he said.
“Aye,” Ewan agreed. “A walk through the woods and a stiff whisky ought to help. ’Haps a nap while we figure out what day it is, and if the word is out that we’re missing. And ye—” He pointed at Rory. “We need to get ye off the road. There are many people searching for ye.”
Moira’s gut clenched. This didn’t sound good.
“Aye. Henchmen, too.” Shona shivered.
Moira did the same. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
“Dammit.” Rory studied the woods around him as if expecting one of the henchmen to make himself known, then he, too, yanked on a fallen limb to create a walking stick.
“What happened?” Shona asked. “I know ye didn’t do what they’ve been saying ye did.”
“What are they saying?” Rory asked.
“Murder. Betrayal.” Ewan’s gaze was steady on Rory, his eyes assessing and Moira got the sense that if he’d been born in present day—well, if he’d stayed in present day—he would have been a great addition to MI6.
“They’re wrong about murder. I’ve never killed anyone who didna need killing.”
“That’s not exactly a good answer.” Shona rolled her eyes.
“Battle, lass.”
“And betrayal?” Moira said, her eyes welling with tears. She bit the inside of her cheek, fearing the answer.
Rory seemed to struggle for the words, the muscles in his jaw clenching and a vein beginning to throb in his neck.
“We’ll discuss it more at the tavern, away from the road,” Ewan said. “If anyone sees us, he’ll be recognized.”
They all agreed without consulting Moira, not that she expected them to; in fact, she ignored them, her mind reaching and failing to grasp the newness of her reality. Whatever her little ghostlike friends wanted to say was fine by her. She’d changed her entire attitude about this situation. She was here for the fun of it until she woke up. Hell, already she’d learned she wanted to break up with her boyfriend. Maybe she’d learn a thing or two more about herself before the dream was over.
They started toward the woods with Ewan saying he was pretty certain he knew where the road was from the glen. Moira shook her head. Definitely a dream, because not one of them questioned his sense of direction in a circle of land where all the trees looked the same.
As they walked, Shona talked more, rambling on, with barely a breath drawn, and Moira listened, nodding, as she was certain she was supposed to do. “…Rory had been missing for two years. It was hard to move on without him, but I fell in love. We wanted to have a child. We went out to a clearing, where there is a magical stone, and we began to… pray. Ye see, at the time, I didn’t know exactly who I was. I couldn’t remember much of anything other than how Rory had helped me settle here. As far as I’d always known, I was from the Highlands, born in the 1500’s, except for these flashes of memory. Over the years, I became half-certain that I had somehow come from another place, and half-certain I was going mad. When Rory disappeared, I made do on my own, odd healing jobs for people in need, and eventually made it all the way to the castle as a healer. I suppose, our little tea and spice shop helped with the knowledge I had. I’d spent the last five or six years thinking I was a trained healer by trade. That perhaps I’d come from a family of healers. Can ye imagine? I mean, maybe we do. Perhaps somewhere down the long line, the Ayreshires were great healers. Maybe even wizards.”
Ewan stopped suddenly in his tracks, probably because he was lost. His face had paled.
But the question he asked next had Moira once more trying to pinch herself awake.
“Did ye say Ayreshire? As in the Earls of Carrick? As in Turnberry Castle, as in descendants of Robert the Bruce?”
Chapter Nine
“What are ye saying?” Rory asked. Forget the danger of henchmen looking for him; the fear for Shona and Moira in Ewan’s
“Aye,” Ewan agreed. “A walk through the woods and a stiff whisky ought to help. ’Haps a nap while we figure out what day it is, and if the word is out that we’re missing. And ye—” He pointed at Rory. “We need to get ye off the road. There are many people searching for ye.”
Moira’s gut clenched. This didn’t sound good.
“Aye. Henchmen, too.” Shona shivered.
Moira did the same. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
“Dammit.” Rory studied the woods around him as if expecting one of the henchmen to make himself known, then he, too, yanked on a fallen limb to create a walking stick.
“What happened?” Shona asked. “I know ye didn’t do what they’ve been saying ye did.”
“What are they saying?” Rory asked.
“Murder. Betrayal.” Ewan’s gaze was steady on Rory, his eyes assessing and Moira got the sense that if he’d been born in present day—well, if he’d stayed in present day—he would have been a great addition to MI6.
“They’re wrong about murder. I’ve never killed anyone who didna need killing.”
“That’s not exactly a good answer.” Shona rolled her eyes.
“Battle, lass.”
“And betrayal?” Moira said, her eyes welling with tears. She bit the inside of her cheek, fearing the answer.
Rory seemed to struggle for the words, the muscles in his jaw clenching and a vein beginning to throb in his neck.
“We’ll discuss it more at the tavern, away from the road,” Ewan said. “If anyone sees us, he’ll be recognized.”
They all agreed without consulting Moira, not that she expected them to; in fact, she ignored them, her mind reaching and failing to grasp the newness of her reality. Whatever her little ghostlike friends wanted to say was fine by her. She’d changed her entire attitude about this situation. She was here for the fun of it until she woke up. Hell, already she’d learned she wanted to break up with her boyfriend. Maybe she’d learn a thing or two more about herself before the dream was over.
They started toward the woods with Ewan saying he was pretty certain he knew where the road was from the glen. Moira shook her head. Definitely a dream, because not one of them questioned his sense of direction in a circle of land where all the trees looked the same.
As they walked, Shona talked more, rambling on, with barely a breath drawn, and Moira listened, nodding, as she was certain she was supposed to do. “…Rory had been missing for two years. It was hard to move on without him, but I fell in love. We wanted to have a child. We went out to a clearing, where there is a magical stone, and we began to… pray. Ye see, at the time, I didn’t know exactly who I was. I couldn’t remember much of anything other than how Rory had helped me settle here. As far as I’d always known, I was from the Highlands, born in the 1500’s, except for these flashes of memory. Over the years, I became half-certain that I had somehow come from another place, and half-certain I was going mad. When Rory disappeared, I made do on my own, odd healing jobs for people in need, and eventually made it all the way to the castle as a healer. I suppose, our little tea and spice shop helped with the knowledge I had. I’d spent the last five or six years thinking I was a trained healer by trade. That perhaps I’d come from a family of healers. Can ye imagine? I mean, maybe we do. Perhaps somewhere down the long line, the Ayreshires were great healers. Maybe even wizards.”
Ewan stopped suddenly in his tracks, probably because he was lost. His face had paled.
But the question he asked next had Moira once more trying to pinch herself awake.
“Did ye say Ayreshire? As in the Earls of Carrick? As in Turnberry Castle, as in descendants of Robert the Bruce?”
Chapter Nine
“What are ye saying?” Rory asked. Forget the danger of henchmen looking for him; the fear for Shona and Moira in Ewan’s
Similar Books
