"Laird MacKinnon's raid caused Margot to be lost in time. And for that you never forgave him—or yourself. You have made countless people live in torment for your own twisted bitterness, Father Martin. Rather than accept that you were responsible for Margot never being able to return, you were determined to make everyone else suffer all the more."
Ellie glared in disgust at the 'holy' man before her. "You make me sick. And what did you promise Liam for his help? Wealth? Land?"
She edged her way along the stone, as the old priest stepped toward her and produced a small gold coin suspended from a length of cord.
"Let us just say the lad is easily influenced. Liam will be rewarded for his loyalty to me."
Shit.
Of course. The way Laird MacKinnon muttered to himself over and over again. It all made sense. She'd seen similar occurrences happen in a few of the more remote tribes off the coast of Indonesia. A combination of drugs and hypnosis had caused victims to literally will themselves to death through starvation and self-blame.
"You have Ewan's father in a trance, don't you?"
An eerie smile snaked across the evil priest's mouth.
"I have to say I'm impressed, lass. Nae many of this time would know of such things. But whereas Margot's strength lay in her ability to travel with ease, and Jonathon's the ability to send her, mine lay in the unique talent of persuading some folk to ma will."
He held out the token and began to swing it before her face.
"And you think I will be one of those people?"
The dark morning sky opened up, releasing heavy drops of rain, followed by streaks of lightning in the distance.
The priest produced a small dagger from within his robes, and prodded her side.
"Pity I won’t have time to give you a proper demonstration. It's been a delight chatting to you, lass, but it's time to move to the altar. Your beloved should be here at any moment. We'd both regret it if he were late."
Ewan was coming for her?
Her heart leaped at the knowledge, just as a terrible feeling of dread welled in the pit of her stomach.
Liam was waiting for him.
"Welcome, cousin."
At the sight of Liam's smug expression, Ewan gripped the reins of his horse so tightly he felt blood ooze into the palms of his hands. If only he could get hold of the bastard's traitorous neck.
The fact his cousin's face was still bruised and swollen from their encounter at the MacTavish keep gave him little consolation, but it would have to do for now.
"Where's ma wife, you bastard?"
He didn't believe in mincing words.
"She's well enough for the moment—in the hands of our good Father Martin."
Ewan glanced from side to side, keeping watch for any other men Liam may have planted as an ambush. "It's good to see you can follow instructions, Ewan. I considered you may have decided against coming alone."
"You think I'd be worried about facing you on ma own?" He nudged his mount onward, pulling up close to Liam. "It isn’t I who has to hide behind a woman's skirt, you pathetic piece of shit. Now, take me to her without delay."
Liam glared at him and started off towards the clearing.
"You have always had a way with words, cousin."
Ewan's horse picked up pace and trotted beside the man who'd soon pay for his sins.
"I always took you for a pretentious prick, Liam, but I never dared to think you'd betray your own kin."
"You have only ever considered me kin when it had suited you. You and Collin—thick as thieves. MacPherson too. Always so generous with his own sons. What did he ever give me?"
"Did it nae occur to you to be man enough to make your own way?"
"Aye, Ewan. It did, in fact." A smile of pure evil lit up his cousin's face. "And, that's exactly why you are here."
Liam stopped his horse and motioned for Ewan to move forward. He hated the feeling of having the backstabbing bastard at his back—the same feeling he had on the eve of the Munroe battle.
Son of a bitch.
A smile crept to his mouth as he shouted out for his cousin to hear, "I dinna suppose you still have ma dagger? Or do you intend to use it again?"
Just another good reason Liam should die.
Though still midmorning, the heavy rain and dark sky made it seem like early evening when Ewan stopped in the midst of old stone ruins.
Trepidation trickled along his spine.
The pagan site.
"Ewan!"
At the sound of Ellie's voice, he dismounted so quickly, anyone might have mistaken him for falling. With his weapon drawn, he bolted to the altar where he'd once seen his mother vanish into oblivion.
Soaking wet, with tears streaming down her face, his wife stood against a large flat piece of stone—a knife held against her throat.
"Dinna move, Ellie." Tearing his gaze away from his frightened wife, he fixed an icy stare at the old priest. "Let her go, Father."
The man pressed the dagger harder against her, until a small stream of deep crimson ran down her throat and joined with the ripples of rainwater staining the front of her cream linen dress.
The terror in her eyes set his soul ablaze with a fury like none before it.
Heart hammering in his chest, he fought the primal urge to lunge forward and rip the man's lungs out from where he stood. Hell, he was suffocating with the need to save her.
"Dinna take ma for a fool, MacKinnon. Did you bring what I asked?"
Not taking his gaze from the priest for a second, he reached down and took the object from a pouch tethered to his belt.
The evil man's eyes lit up.
"You shall nae have it until ma wife is set free."
The sharp tip of a dagger against his back told him perhaps more negotiation would be necessary.
"Toss it over to me, MacKinnon, and careful as you do it. Any trickery from you, and your lovely wife will pay the price for your foolishness."
He glanced back at Liam, then gently threw the object at Father Martin's feet. As it landed, a glimpse of gold shone against the green grass.
"Ewan, no!"
Ellie's hand shot out, but Father Martin hauled her back.
The priest's eyes shone with greed, as lightning began to strike all around. The fool was going to try and go to the future.
His mother was there.
"Liam, guide our friend to the center of the stones, and wait for me there. Hurry about it now, I dinna have much time." As Ewan made his way to a small space amongst a scattering of white rock, he held his breath. The priest stepped forward, Ellie still in his grasp, and made her pick up the amulet from the ground.
"You have nae idea how long I've been waiting for this, Ewan. Ever since your mother disappeared. But now it is ma turn to travel. And, who knows, perhaps I might see dear Margot again?"
He fist clenched. “Like Hell, you bastard.”
"Ewan." Ellie gazed at the amulet, then at him. He knew what she was thinking. "How did you find all the pieces? Your father scattered them—"
"I watched where they were hidden, Ellie, and I dug them up. Father Martin said that if I dinna come with the complete amulet, he would kill you."
She nodded and gave him a weak smile, her pretty face pale and frightened. Christ, what he wouldn't give to hold her.
"Right." The priest looked up into the raging storm above, then at Ewan. "Take the golden ring from your wife."
"Why?"
"You stupid fool. You have the power in your veins, just like your mother, only you’re too daft to realize it. Without another, I'm nae powerful enough to travel."
He reached out and took the amulet from Ellie's shaking hands, as Liam circled the three of them slowly, dagger ready.
"Take the woman, Liam. Hold her until the deed is done."
Ewan's anger surged, as Liam grabbed hold of Ellie's waist and held her against him.
"But what of ma lands? You promised, old man? I haven’t spent all this time at your beck and call for nothing."
Father Martin knelt down before Ewan in the pelting rain. The warrior held the halo of gold above the priest's head like he'd seen his mother do.
"The MacKinnon laird will soon be dead, Liam. And Father Gregory is in possession of several letters stating my word to the effect that Ewan was responsible for the poisoning of Laird MacTavish. As I promised, Keep MacKinnon and all within will soon be yours."
A snarl crept to Ewan's lips, as he looked down upon the man responsible for twenty years of misery, hardship and murder.
"I'll see you in Hell first!"
Two bolts of lightning struck close by, the intense heat searing the side of Ewan's thigh. A third hit in front of him, engulfing his body in a familiar brilliant light that pulsated through every nerve and shot him back across the clearing.
Dazed and face down in the dirt, Ewan tried to pick himself up, but felt the sheer agony of each and every muscle wanting to collapse at once.
What had he done?
He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, only to find silvery speckles dancing before them. He couldn't see.
"Ellie?" Crawling onto his side, he mustered every ounce of his strength, and forced himself to stand.
He shook his head, the sound of bells still ringing in his ears. As he stumbled forward, his vision began to clear, and the stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils.
Father Martin.
In a burning mass on the ground before him, lay the charred remains of the damnable priest. Justice had finally been done.
He spat on the man, then turned to find his wife.
A tiny figure in cream and plaid lay curled up on the ground near the altar. With feet of clay, he stumbled toward her inert body. Pangs of fear and anger took hold of his chest, as a thousand icy needles pierced his heart.
She can't be . . . .
A familiar figure moved into his path.
He reached for his sword, but it was gone. Liam had taken it from him when he'd arrive. No matter. He'd kill the traitor with his bare hands.
"Do you really think I'd have let the Father go without some kind of guarantee?" Ewan stopped and glanced at Ellie's pale face. Her lips had turned blue, and there were dark circles under eyes.
"Your pretty wife will die without a special tonic. Aye, but the Father was clever, was he not? His blade was tipped with a slow poison, one that will send her into a permanent sleep, unless I get her the remedy soon."
Ewan struck out and grabbed his cousin by the throat. "Nae, you bastard. I will take nae more." With strength dredged up the from the darkest part of his soul, the bones in his lecherous cousin's neck cracked one by one beneath his fingers, until the wretch's lifeless form hung limp within his vice-like grip.
Without an ounce of emotion, Ewan let his cousin's body drop to the ground.
Dropping to his knees, he gently scooped up his love, held her close, and went in search of his horse. "Stay with me, Ellie. I won’t let you die. You can’t go, do ye hear me? I love you."
Six weeks later...
"What a horrible headache."
Ewan rolled over and pulled his complaining wife close. "How are you feeling, love?"
Aye, how he loved the sound of her voice—whining or not.
"Like a train wreck—never mind." She reached over and grasped a mug of cool water. "Do you think this morning sickness will ever end? It's turned into morning, day, and dead of night sickness."
He placed a hand on her swollen belly and flashed a wicked smile. He'd never thought a pregnant woman could be so damn sexy.
"Hah. Don't even think about it. You've gotten me into enough trouble as it is."
Ignoring her, he hovered above her half naked body and leaned in for a tender kiss. "What would I do without you?"
"I dread to think."
She reached up and touched his cheek, as he began to nuzzle her neck. "I'm serious. You never did tell me exactly what happened when you rescued me from Liam and Father Martin."
With a sigh, he pulled away and lay on his side, his head propped up on a pillow. "I've told you before, the lightning struck the old priest, but instead of sending him through time, he was killed instantly."
"But why didn't it work?
He reached out and drew a little circle around her budding nipple. Damn, but he could almost taste it.
"When Father Martin demanded I bring him the amulet, I realized that I'd left ma piece in that future. So, I had ma blacksmith melt down some of the family gold to make a false piece to fit. I counted on him not noticing."
She nodded and smacked his roving hand away.
"I guess in all eagerness to make the lightning strike, he never bothered to take a closer look. I'm just thankful you found someone else who knew enough about herbs to make me a cure for the poison. There would be few people I'm sure who'd have such a detailed knowledge. And the fact your father is now well enough to walk around is a miracle. What did you say the healers name was again? I'll have to thank her one day."
He glanced over at his plaid sprawled across a small wooden chair. A tiny glint of gold peeked out from beneath the hem.
He smiled. "I'm nae certain when she may be back in our lands, but when she does I will be sure to tell you."
"Good. The main thing is we are together." She reached up and drew him down for a soft, sweet kiss. "I love you, Ewan MacKinnon."
"And I love you, Ellie." He brushed his lips over hers, then moved down and placed a warm kiss upon her stomach. "You will nae ever be without me again, I promise . . . both of you."
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