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Two weeks and two days since they’d left the farmhouse, Iain and Abby walked into the port town of Uram. Abby straightened her back. She was excited to finally stop traveling and ecstatic at the thought of getting the orb back from Sir Thomas. Her shoulders slumped. Once she had the orb, she would go home. She was already beginning to miss Iain and the time they had spent together.
Abby had never in her life wanted a man as much as she wanted her Highlander. He was gentle and caring, and although Abby hated traveling across the country, she loved being close to Iain.
She glanced back over her shoulder. Iain was stone-faced. He didn’t believe her about time travel, and she hoped he wasn’t about to change his mind about getting the orb back for her.
“We need a boat and supplies before we find Thomas,” Iain said. “A stable boy will know what’s about.”
At the inn, he stopped and pulled her close into his side. “Stay by me,” he said.
She turned her face up to his and was immediately drawn into his dark gaze. His lips touched her hair as she leaned into him. His head bent forward, and sure he was finally going to kiss her, Abby tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
He let out what Abby could only comprehend as an impatient sigh and quickly moved away but clasped her hand in his. Abby snapped her eyes open. She felt like a fool . . . an eejit, as the Scots would say. She blinked back tears as she stood there, not knowing what to do or say. It confused her, but soon, anger bubbled up through her, and she bundled the blanket of belongings close to her chest as if to keep a barrier between them.
Iain handed some coins to the young stable hand. “Where can we get supplies?”
“There be a store ’alfway b’tween ’ere and the port, m’lord.” His eyes flashed with recognition. “M’lord, the army is ’ere in search of Jacobites.”
Iain nodded. “Where?”
“They’re going from door to door, sir. Searching all the alleyways and warehouses. They’ve searched here already and are on the other side of the dock last I heard.”
Iain’s brows furrowed more.
“Thank you,” Abby said, smiling at the boy.
Color shaded his freckled cheeks as he bowed. “Thank ye, m’lady.”
Iain whispered as they walked away, “I think ye have another admirer, m’lady.”
Abby smiled. “Another one? I never knew I had any.”
“Aye, ye do.”
She cocked her head and raised her brows. “You?”
“Aye. Now no more talk. We need to gather supplies.”
He had tried to sound lighthearted, but Abby winced at the worry tingeing every word. Oh, she understood he wanted to confront Thomas on his own terms. That was why his eyes often darted from side to side, peering into the distance and scowling as if he could smell the soldiers. But he confused her with all but saying outright he admired her when at other times, he snubbed her to the point of nearly bringing her to tears.
She hoped they could get the time device from Thomas. Then once she’d disappeared before his very eyes, he would have to believe her. Of course, that wouldn’t do her any good. She’d be home with her brother and sisters, probably pining away for her Highlander until she died.
Abby gazed at his profile. His lips were drawn tight, and his jaw twitched. He still had her hand in his, but the warmth had dissipated. There was a cold fury emanating out of his very pores. He yanked on her hand, nearly pulling her arm out of its socket, and whisked her and himself around the side of the inn.
His hard eyes alighted on her upturned face. He scowled a warning to be quiet.
He didn’t need to warn her. She wasn’t stupid.
Was he regretting having to drag her around with him, his promise to get her treasure? She was slowing him down; she knew that.
First, three soldiers marching shoulder to shoulder stomped down the road, and then two more followed in their wake.
Abby stayed perfectly still and held her breath until no more stomping of boots sounded.
She held back when he tugged her to go. “Maybe you should go ahead without me?”
Hot fury flashed in his eyes, and then they filled with what Abby could only guess was fear.
“Nay.”
Fear? Of course, he would fear the English.
He tugged her hand. “Ye wouldna last an hour here on ye own.”
Together, they skulked close to the buildings. The sun was setting, and shadows had Abby jumping so regularly, Iain must have thought she was being bitten by something.
Someone shouted behind them, “Laird Iain MacLaren.”
Iain snapped his head back. “Damn.”
Pulling Abby with him, he set off at a run. Guns fired. He and Abby ducked and scampered around a building, not stopping until they had traversed the smelly and muddy dirt—at least, Abby hoped it was mud—to the other side of the building. Iain stretched his neck and looked around the corner.
Abby bent under his arm and looked too.
Sir Thomas Sutherland stalled at the alleyway. “I know you are there, MacLaren. Go get him, men.”
His men surged forward and out of sight.
Iain guided Abby back down the road and rounded another corner into the main thoroughfare. Wagons, horses, and people were hurrying in all directions. Some arriving, some leaving, some going home to their dinners and family, and some making their way into inns.
Abby was glad to see the road so busy. Surely Thomas wouldn’t risk firing guns in the crowd.
Iain and Abby moved into a group of loud ruffians, trying to lose themselves in the throng.
Finally, Iain shoved his way through the door of a store, dragging her behind him. “Act naturally,” he whispered. “Ye don’t know who ye can trust.”
He plucked fresh bread from the baskets and plopped them on the counter and grated out the rest of his list. “Two pounds of dried meat and one pound of cheese.”
The bell above the door sounded, and Abby glanced up. Thomas and two soldiers stood there. Thomas laughed, his eyes sinister and bloodthirsty.
Before Abby could react, Iain threw a bread basket at Thomas’s face with one hand, drew his sword with the other, and lunged forward. Thomas sidestepped but soon regained his balance and leapt out of the way. Iain fought the two soldiers, baskets and shelves falling in their wake. The storekeeper kept shouting, “Nay. Ma store. Ma store.”
Thomas was edging around behind Iain. Abby threw her hand over her mouth. The bastard was going to attack from behind. Coward. Abby snapped her head around, looking for a weapon, anything that would stop Thomas’s advance.
She grabbed a poker that was leaning against some shelving and crept forward. Thomas lifted his sword high, and as his shoulder twitched to bring the blade down, Abby whopped him over the head with the poker.
He cried out and spun around on his shaky heels. His face raged red, and he brought his sword around, ready to lop off Abby’s head, but stayed his hand at the last moment. His beady eyes ogled Abigail’s torn shirt.
Abby knew she should have hit him harder, but at the last minute, she had instinctively reduced the impact. Stupid. She was in a kill-or-be-killed situation, and she didn’t knock the creep out? Max would be furious with her if she were there.
Thomas turned back to the fight, and Abby’s gaze caught the top of a white object poking out of his pants pocket. Her orb. Abby glanced up. Iain had felled one soldier, but the other one had him up against the wall.
“Kill him, soldier,” Thomas demanded. “This on—”
Before he’d finished talking, not making the same mistake again, Abby swung the poker through the air and landed it full force against his left shoulder.
Darn.
She had aimed for his head.
Thomas side-skipped into a great bag leaning on the wall. The jars above tittered and then fell off the shelf. Glass and honey shattered over his dirty coiffured wig. His eyes were open but glazed. Abby took her chance. She plucked the orb out of his pocket. “This is mine, you jerk.”
Iain used the snag in his opponent’s concentration to haul a heavy rope Abby recognized as a ship’s hawser around the soldier’s neck and disarm him.
Abby scooted past Thomas and into Iain’s arms.
“Is that your treasure?” he asked, nodding to her orb.
“Yes,” she said, and grinned.
Not having time to explain any further, Abby took Iain’s hand, and they fled the store where more soldiers waited for their commander. With her nails biting into Iain’s hand, Abby kept her hold as if she would die if she were to lose it.
Thomas must have gotten his wits back, because his voice bawled out behind them, “Get them!”
Boots pounded the dirt road, and guns fired. Iain and Abby dodged and swerved, swerved and dodged, yelling all the while for people to take cover just as a horse’s clomping hoofbeats echoed in the air around them.
“Sir Thomas, Sir Thomas!” someone shouted.
“What?” Thomas’s voice bellowed over the top of the gunshots.
The first voice answered, but Abby couldn’t make out his words above the muskets, above her thudding heart. Thomas couldn’t have either, because he yelled for his men to halt.
Iain wasn’t going to let the chance go by, because he yanked Abby beside him, and they skidded around the corner at the end of the street.
No bootsteps followed them, and they stopped and listened, Abby taking great gulps of air into her burning lungs.
“What?” Thomas again.
“An order, sir.” The first voice.
Silence ensued while Abby got her breaths under control, but her heart was still dancing a jig against her ribcage.
“I can’t read it in this light,” Thomas said. “What does it say?”
“Lord Cumberland has ordered your regiment to France.”
“When?”
“Immediately, sir. It seems he thinks you are in Aberdeen and tells you to wait for him there.”
Abby’s heart leapt, and she smirked at the string of curses ensuing from Thomas’s lips.
Iain hugged her and whispered, “We are to be safe.”
“Find MacLaren now!” Thomas hollered, and the sounds of stomping boots heading in their direction filled the street.
“Quickly,” Iain said, tugging at Abby’s hand.
Abby faltered.
“Faster,” Iain said, nearly pulling her feet off the ground.
She gritted her teeth and dug her nails harder into his flesh, and bringing her feet in line with her body, she coursed beside him along the dock. A large rowboat bobbed behind a large ship. Iain untied the rope from the dock and threw it into the boat. “Jump,” he shouted into Abby’s ear.
A bullet whizzed between them. Abby glanced back at their pursuers, and with adrenaline screaming at her to take flight, she leapt into the boat. Iain landed less than a second later and crashed both their bodies to the floor of the boat. Musket bullets sang over their heads and splashed into the water behind them.
Iain scrambled up, grabbed the oars, and began rowing. “Keep down.”
Abby did as she was told as Thomas shouted threats and curses.
Her eyes widened in realization that she was now an outlaw. She held the orb. She wasn’t sure how to use it, but even if she knew, should she take Iain and disappear into time? What would he do? How would he react to her modern time? She didn’t care; she had to save him. She put her hand over the top of the orb and tensed her fingers, ready to twist the top so the leaves aligned. She was sure that was what she’d done at home, but she stilled. What if the orb didn’t take her home? What if the stupid thing took her to an entirely different time and place? Should she risk it?
“We’re out of range,” Iain said, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.
Warily, Abby raised her head and looked back to the dock. Little plops in the water told her the bullets couldn’t make the distance to the boat—to them. She clutched the orb to her chest and fell, exhausted, onto the boat floor. Her head swirled with thoughts of traveling to different times, but she knew she’d have to use the orb sooner or later. She decided that later was her best option for the time being.