Highland Fling Part 13

"If you do not recall the twenty-first century, then you can't appreciate how much easier life is. You should seeyou in the twenty-first century. Aye, you are quite fond of the good life." Darach braced himself on the edge of the stone worn smooth by time and the elements. "There are medicines and machines that can save a person's life that we willnae have in our lifetime. And she is not likely to be slaughtered because she is aMacTavish where she is now. Katie is in the safest place for her."

"You know that decision is not totally up to you. Mayhap Katie doesn't want you to keep her safe." The wind increased, howling around them, as if taking up Hamish's cause. "If she decides this is where she wants to be then there is naught you can do to change that."

That's where Hamish was wrong. If Darach could find a way to save his people, he could find a way to save his wife from doing something foolish, too. And he already had an idea...

KATE STARED OUT OF HERwindow at the lights of the city and the Christmas decorations that seemed to be everywhere. One month. Thirty long days and nights since Darach had left. She'd started her period within days of him leaving, so she didn't even have the comfort of his child to hold on to.

As she did often at work and far more often in the quiet loneliness of her condo, she wondered what Darach was doing. How were his plans progressing? Did snow blanket the grounds yet? Was he well? And as usual, her questions remained unanswered.

How ironic. To an observer, there was no visible sign that her life had changed. Things were just as they had been. She went to work. She came home. No one could tell she'd changed forever, irrevocably. She'd told herself time would help. How much time would it take? She still felt as cold and empty as she had that day in New York when Darach had heeded his call to duty and forsaken her world for his.

She leaned her head against the cool gla.s.s and closed her eyes. When would it change? When would it get better?

Never.

Like a brilliant flash of light in the darkest hour, she realized with brutal insight that she'd lied to Darach. She'd told him the price of what they'd found together wasn't too high.

Yet, here she sat in her comfortable condo, alone, because his obligations would never free him to be here with her and she was too cowardly to walk away from all her comfortable life offered.

What, other than a few logistical details, was to keep her from going back to New York and walking through that portrait, back in time and back to the man who meant more to her than any of this ever could?

Whoa, sister. She'd had just a taste of the past and hadn't particularly liked it. How would she fare with a steady diet of no technology and roughing it for the rest of her life?

But then again, would she enjoy living this way indefinitely? This wasn't living, this was existing. She'd had a taste of living and that's what she wanted, even if it was a couple of centuries ago.

She pushed away from the window, feeling more alive than she'd felt since Darach had left. She had plans to make, details to see to, for she was about to take a journey of a lifetime, for a lifetime.

DARACH STARED INTOthe fire in his room and tried to put the thought of visiting Katie from his mind, but the idea refused to quiet. Preparations for their journey were coming along nicely. Nonetheless he could not, would not go forward to see Katie. What if he got there and couldn't come back? What if he got there and couldn't force himself to return to the people who counted on him?

Every day he thought of her, longed for her. Every day he fought this battle with himself. How long before he lost the battle and his self-respect? And what of Hamish's prediction that Katie would come to him? Would he have the strength to send her back? Could he bear to let her go yet again?

Resolute, Darach turned back from the fire that had held no answers and faced the portrait. The answer lay within his heart. He knew what he had to do.

KATE PAID THE CAB DRIVER, stepped out onto the New York City sidewalk, and stood before the museum housing the s.e.x Through the Ages exhibit.

What a difference since she'd stood in this same spot nearly two months before. Christmas had come and gone and she'd celebrated the season and her impending new life. She'd been incredibly busy wrapping up the details of this life and preparing for the next. And now it was all done and there was no more hectic activity to occupy her. She felt a heady, almost giddy sense of freedom. She didn't allow even a smidgeon of trepidation.

A pedestrian jostled past her and she wrapped her coat more tightly about her and walked up to the museum door. She purchased a ticket and didn't bother to tell the woman who pointed her in the direction of the exhibit that she well remembered it from before.

Early afternoon had brought few museum visitors and Kate wandered about by herself, searching for Hamish. She could've called him on his cell, but she'd wanted to simply show up, a fait accompli. Her heels clicked on the hard-surface floor, heralding her arrival. He looked up about the time she spotted him near the historical d.i.l.d.o display.

His smile offered a genuine welcome. "Kate. What a surprise." He hugged her. "You're looking well. A bit thinner perhaps."

All the years she'd longed to drop ten pounds, who'd ever known it was as simple as having no appet.i.te because you missed someone so desperately? But that was about to change.

She returned his hug and dropped her arms to her side. "Thankyou. You're looking very well yourself."

His smile faded and he took her hands in his. "Kate, I need to tell you..."

"Wait. I have some exciting news. I resigned from my job, sold all my possessions and I have two bags packed in the hopes they can make the trip with me. That's why I'm here. I want to go back, Hamish. I'd rather live in the 1700s with Darach than the twenty-first century without him."

Hamish winced, looking decidedly agitated, and gripped her hands tighter. "You can't go back, Kate."

She disengaged her hands. She knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but Hamish was hurting her. "I know Darach didn't think it was a good idea." She smiled when she imagined the look on his face. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's not going to be happy with me but he'll get used to the idea. He'll have to." She crossed her arms over her chest, the way her stubborn husband usually did. "Because I'm going."

Hamish shook his grey head, pity s.h.i.+ning in his blue eyes. "No. You don't understand what I'm telling you. You can't go back, Kate, because you have no way to get there. The painting was destroyed." Her stomach dropped. What? He had to be mistaken. "We're still trying to figure out what happened. It seems to have been a freak accident. Nothing else in the exhibit was damaged."

Kate sank to the bench in the middle of the room, not sure her legs could continue to support her. No longer sure of anything. "Destroyed? How could that be? How is it possible nothing else was harmed?"

Hamish sat on the cus.h.i.+oned bench beside her and wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulders. "I think something happened to it on Darach's end. EitherGlenagan was overrun or something happened and the painting was destroyed..."

He paused and she sensed his reluctance. "Or?" Her voice came through as little more than a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Or Darach destroyed it himself. Either way, neither of you can get to the other, because your portal is gone."

No! Kate swallowed the primal scream that resonated though her head. She felt as if Hamish had kicked her in the gut, expelling all the breath from her body, replacing all the air with water. The tears that had refused to come before welled up and spilled forth.

HAMISH HAD HANDLEDseveral different situations over the centuries as he'd floated through the universe. The one thing he really, really couldn't handle was a crying woman. All his knowledge flew out the proverbial window and he simply felt helpless. And Kate wasn't just crying, she was mourning as if her heart had been ripped from her body.

He patted ineffectually at her shoulder. "There, there. If you'll just stop crying...don't cry now...if you can stop...that's it, don't cry...we'll see if we can't think of something."

"What can we do?" She mopped her face with the back of her hand and sat up straighter. "I'll do whatever I need to do. Just tell me what to do."

No more tears was a good place to start. "I'm not sure what to do yet, but don't start crying again. We'll put our heads together."

She narrowed her eyes and he could all but see the wheels turning in her head. "I'm sure all the items in the collection are insured andcataloged . Is there a photo of the portrait?"

"Yes."

She stood and paced to the wall and back, shoulders back, head up, resolute. "Then we'll find an artist to recreate it. We'll have an artist copy it."

How to tell the la.s.s the next bit of news? "I'm not sure that having another artist paint it will give it the same portal properties."

"It's worth a try."

"Well, I think I may have someone for you." Could he still do it? Would he have lost his touch? After all, it had been nearly three centuries.

"Great. I want the best. Money's no object."

He'd be glad to help...if there was any help to be had. "There's no fee involved."

"How can that be-" she whirled to face him, comprehension dawning "-wait...you. It's you, isn't it? You were the artist." Accusation shone in her eyes. "I asked and you said the artist was unknown."

He nodded. "I painted it over two-hundred sixty-five years ago. I could hardly tell you then that I was the artist and later...well, it seemed gratuitous to bring it up. I'm not sure if I can do it now. And even if I did there's no guarantee that it will work the same way. You have to understand that."

"I understand." She nodded. Ready to move on to the next matter of business. "How long do you think it will take? How soon can you start?"

"I'll need supplies-"

She interrupted. "Make a list. I can have them ready today."

"Okay. So that means I can start tomorrow. Two weeks. Tops. Maybe less."

"Tell me where to have them delivered and they'll be waiting for you."

He scribbled out a supply list and his address on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

"This should get me started." G.o.d knows he didn't want her to start crying again, but she needed to think this through. "On the outside chance, and it is an outside chance, that this painting serves as a portal, what will you do if you get there and Darach is gone? If the portrait was destroyed, there's a good chance Darach could be dead. And I could very well be dead too. What will you do then?"

"First, I don't believe he's gone. He and I have such a strong connection, I know I would feel it if he was dead." She seemed so sure, so confident, he wanted to believe it as well. "But, if he is then I'll carry on theMacTavish legacy as best I can. This is the thing-my life here is over. I've felt dead inside since Darach left and I finally realized why. I was dead inside because I no longer have a life here. My life is with Darach."

He'd yet to meet two people that belonged together more. "I'll try my best for you, Kate."

Her eyes held his. "It has to work."

He hoped for her sake it did.

"EVERYTHING IS RUNNINGaccording to plan. We're right where we should be according to my time line," Darach said to Hamish at the end of yet another day. Each seemed to now run headlong into another.

"Aye. We will get through the winter and with the coming of spring, we should be on our way to a new life." Hamish s.h.i.+fted from foot to foot, a sure sign he had a question he wanted to ask but was hesitant about doing so.

"What is it man? Speak up." Darach knew his tone rang sharp but he was soul weary. His days were long but the empty nights were longer still.

Hamish gestured toward the empty spot on the wall. "What happened to the portrait?"

"I broke it into pieces and I burned it." It had been akin to gutting himself with his own dagger.

Hamish paled. "But...now Katecannae come to you or you to her."

He knew a grim satisfaction. "Exactly."

"But what if all was not as it should be?"

Was Hamish yet once again playing devil's advocate or did he know something? It mattered naught.

"Then 'tis time for it to be. Katie belongs in her world and I belong in mine. Ne'er the twain shall meet again."

Hamish wrung his hands. "I am not so sure you did the right thing. Not so sure at all." "You don't have to be. I am." He was laird ofGlenagan and no one need second guess his decision, noteven Hamish. "When you go down, send upCoira ."

"For what?" For the second time in as many seconds, Hamish questioned him.

"What do you think, man? She is a comely wench."

Hamish looked horrified. "You do not mean to tumble her?"

He ignored the sick feeling in his gut. "Aye. I've said it before and I'll say it again. When it comes to a

tumble, one la.s.s is as good as another." This pining for Katie was driving him mad. He'd thought destroying the painting would staunch the endless need for her that coursed through him like a burn tumbling swift and cold through the landscape of his heart. He'd pledged her his troth. Now, surely if he broke that vow it would release him from this ravening hunger, this need.

"You don't want to do this, Darach," Hamish said.

"I think you forget yourself. Leave and send meCoira ."

Hamish left without saying another word, anger and disapproval marking his stride from the room.

Darach tried to put the images of Katie from his mind. Her standing before the fire in this room, her lying

on his bed, the wash of moonlight over her cheek, the sound of her laughter, the echo of her moan as she came beneath him. Her memories plagued him like demons, driving him mad. It mattered not that Hamish neither understood nor approved. Darach needed to banish those memories andCoira seemed just the way to do it.

Within a few minutes a knock sounded. He crossed the room and opened the door. A comely la.s.s with flaxen hair and a generous bosom stood on the other side. Her skin was not quite so fine as Katie's and her hair wasn't shorn short in the manner of Katie's, but in the shadows, away from the fire's light, she could pa.s.s for the other woman.

"Hamish sent me, my laird."

The voice was definitely different. It definitely wasn't the sweet melody of Katie's voice. "Aye, at my order. Enter,Coira ."

Coira'shusband, much older than she, had died last year.Coira , being a widow, was said to be up for a bit of sport.

"If you have a need my laird, I am here to serve you." She boldly stepped forward and ran her hand down his chest. Her touch did nothing to warm him.

"Mayhap I've a need or two you could help me with," he said, s.h.i.+fting her out of the firelight. She smelled of peat fire, which wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't tease his senses and arouse him the way Katie's scent did.

Coirasmiled and without further ado tugged her s.h.i.+ft over her head. She stood before him, all ripe curves beneath her thin chemise.

The devil curse him. He couldn't do this. What was he thinking? He could tumble every la.s.s from here to Glasgow and it would do nothing to erase Katie from his heart and his mind. 'Twould only blacken his soul.

"Put your clothes back on, la.s.s. 'Tis not that kind of need I have." Better that she be a bit embarra.s.sed than have the whole clan think him daft, which was, at this point, a distinct possibility. "I have a need of another s.h.i.+rt. I understand you are clever with a needle."

Coiratugged her dress back on, her face flushed red. "Aye. Forgive my boldness. I misunderstood."

"Nay. 'Twas my original intent. But I find that my heart belongs to another and 'twould not be fair to any of us to put you in that position."

Far from being angry,Coira beamed in near adoration. "That is so romantic. You are a man of honor and I am honored you would think oftumblin ' me. She is a lucky la.s.s."

That struck him as a bit of convoluted female logic. MayhapCoira , though comely, was simple of mind.

"Nay, I am a lucky man."

He was two-hundred sixty-two years behind her and destined for a life of celibacy because his wife had ruined him for any other woman.

"TA DA." HAMISH PULLEDthe cloth off and revealed the painting beneath it.

"Other than the fact that it isn't aged like the previous one and it's acrylics rather than oils, it looks the same to me," Kate said. The same longing she'd always experienced, the same frisson of antic.i.p.ation, the same scent from Darach, all a.s.sailed her. She felt alive, gloriously happily alive once again. "And it feels the same."