CHAPTER TEN
Battle was invigorating. Maggie found it suited her well. And not just because she’d spent a lot of time studying the history of military strategy, but because it was a damn lot of fun anticipating an enemy’s move and squelching it before it could come to fruition.
She had been right about the clumsy tower. Two iron bolts fired straight into the treads of the front wheels stopped it short. That it stalled close enough for them to rain fire upon it was an added bonus.
They launched the Molotov cocktails first of course, soaking the structure in oil. When the flaming arrows hit it, the conflagration was spectacular. They had the same luck with the cart carrying the battering ram.
The poor Camerons were being trounced. When a ladder came up over the castle walls, her men doused it in more oil and lit it on fire. Then they pushed it back down with long spears. Whenever the enemy amassed to launch another attack, they received another bumble of bees. Any time they ventured too close, her archers let fly.
Just before midday, the enemy drew back, but Maggie didn’t have any delusions that they were giving up. Indeed, the silence was unnerving.
“What do you think they’re up to?” she asked.
Dominic, who had remained by her side, set his arm around her shoulders. “They probably need a rest. So do you.”
She frowned at him. “This is warfare. There’s no naptime in warfare.”
“It concerns me that you are enjoying this so much.” But he said this with a smile.
“It’s kind of fun.”
“Will you at least come down into the bailey and eat?” A table with food and drink had been set up for the fighting men along one wall.
“All right. But I want to know the moment anything changes.”
Dominic glanced at Declan who stepped up to take his position. “You heard the lady. The moment anything changes.”
“Aye.” Declan fixed his gaze on her. She was gratified to see it lacked his usual derision. In fact, there might have been a hint of admiration in his eyes.
Dominic led her down the stairs, holding her hand to keep her steady. Though she hardly needed his help, she liked the feel of his fingers laced in hers. “You were right, you know.”
“Hmm?”
“About the ambush.”
She nodded. “I know.”
His head whipped around and he gaped at her. But then he chuckled. “Are you right all the time?”
“No.”
“Thank God for small mercies.”
“I didn’t know the Camerons would attack.” Indeed, they hadn’t. At least, not in the history she knew. But then, she’d changed history, hadn’t she? When she’d saved Dominic and his men from the ambush, she’d changed the course of the river. Of course that would cause ripples. It stood to reason the Camerons would attack if they’d failed in their attempt to take out the Macintosh.
She had to wonder what other effects her small act of mercy would have over the next few millennia. Hopefully nothing too drastic. She’d hate to go home and discover something terrible…like the Nazis had won WWII or that Starbucks only served decaf.
The thought palled.
And then another thought hit her and hit her hard.
Go home?
Her stomach clenched at the thought.
Oh, she loved coffee and cheesecake and couldn’t say enough about the miracles of fast food restaurants and reality TV, but the prospect of living the rest of her life without Dominic…well, it made her want to weep.
She glanced up at him, studying him. Trying to picture him in Seattle.
An old woman came up to him and handed him a cup. He took it with a smile of thanks and exchanged a word with her, and with another. It was there on his face, his dedication to these people. To his lands.
He would not be happy in Seattle.
He would not be happy leaving his homeland.
He would hate the frustrations of modern times. Traffic and pollution and man’s inhumanity to man. Mostly the fact that he would be able to control none of it.
He was very much the kind of man who liked having control of his own destiny. Very few people did in her world, though they liked to pretend they did.
No. If they were to be together, she would have to stay—if he wanted her to stay.
He turned and caught her gaze on him. His smile faded and he came to her, cupped her cheek in his broad palm. “What is it Maggie-mine?”
Ah. She’d never thought to hear those words from him again.
“Have you forgiven me for what I did?” she asked, staring up at him, half afraid he would step away.
He stared at her. “For what? Saving my life? My brother’s life?”
“Technically, I just warned you.”
“Technically, you saved my life. Without that warning, without your interference, I would no doubt have been slaughtered with my kinsmen.”
“You would have been.”
“I appreciate what you did. I apologize for my anger at you. Can you forgive me?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That depends.”
He paled. His hand shook, just a tad. “On what?”
“Will you believe me next time?”
“I will…but Maggie?”
“Yes, Dominic?”
“Have a care who you share information like this with.”
“I…of course.”
“Because at best, they’ll think you’re mad. At worse, they’ll accuse you of being in league with the devil.”
“You won’t let them burn me at the stake, will you?”
Her joke went awry. His expression hardened. “Promise me you will be careful. Promise me you will keep this a secret. I couldna bear it if you were harmed.”
Her heart lifted with this declaration. Hardly a loverly vow, but close. “Oh?” She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. “Do you like me then? Maybe a little?” It was wrong to tease him, but she couldn’t resist.
“You know I like you. A lot.”
“I like you a lot too.” A whisper, but she barely needed to speak up, as his head was descending. His lips touched hers and it was heaven. There was no telling how much time they might have together, but she wanted to spend every moment she could just here, with him. Like this.
A cry arose to her left and Dominic’s head jerked up. His expression twisted in fury.
Maggie glanced in the direction of his glare and was horrified to see a horde of blue-clad Camerons pouring from the castle into the bailey, bristling with weapons.
To her dismay, she saw that one of the men held Liam prisoner with a blade to his neck. Her heart froze.
Oh God.
She had changed the course of the river.
Liam had been the only Macintosh to survive the massacre at Urquhart. He had gone on to be the Laird of Dundragon in Dominic’s stead; he had fathered a wealth of sons—one of whom had been her great-great-great-whatever grandfather.
Should Liam die, she would never be born.
She had to do something. Something to save him. She wiped the sweat from her brow as her mind whirled. The sun was cresting the clear sky. The day was hot.
“Macintosh!” One of the Camerons yelled. She took from this that he was the leader. “Stand down or your cousin dies.”
At her side, Dominic bellowed, “Torquil, you will hang for this.”
“Will I?” Torquil Cameron stepped forward. His face was a moonscape of bumps and bulges that could have been beestings…or an early manifestation of the plague. His features were harsh and lopsided. His eyes were piggish, his nose flat and squat with prominent nostrils. His chuckle was coarse, like gravel. “Word is, ye and yer men killed every laird who attended the convocation. I’ll be lauded a hero for taking you down.”
“We dinna kill anyone and you know it.”
“Yet you are the only laird of the confederation to survive. Convenient, that. A logical pick for chief. Nae doubt the other clans will see it that way.”
“Will they?” Dominic pulled himself to full height. “We’ve sent word to Cattanach telling of your collusion with MacPherson. By now everyone knows of your perfidy.”
Torquil’s nostrils flared, which was something, because they were already quite large. “You bastard.” He lifted his sword and lunged forward.
Trepidation curled in Maggie’s chest. Dominic had no weapon and no protection.
Thinking quickly, she lifted a heavy pewter platter from the table and slapped it against his chest just as Torquil’s blade landed. It hit hard, sending Dominic back a step, but with all the force Torquil had invested in the blow, the heavy claymore bounced off and clipped him on the ear.
He howled and whirled on her. “Who is this woman?”
“She is mine.” A snarl.
Cameron narrowed his gaze on her and lifted his sword.
Maggie knew she had to do something, say something drastic. If she did not, Torquil would attack again and Dominic might die—a platter was not much of a weapon, even though it was made from a toxic metal.
She stepped forward and loudly proclaimed, “Torquil Cameron, if you value your life you will cease and desist at once.”
The Cameron froze, mid-swing. He looked her up and down; though his eyes glimmered, his face twisted in a sneer. “I like your bravery lass,” he hissed.
“Tis not bravery.”
“It is. To challenge me like that.”
She laughed, though it cost her. “It’s no act of bravery to challenge a dead man.”
Silence fell over the bailey with a dull clang.
Cameron peered at her with one eye half closed. “What did you say?” Her hackles rose at his tone, but she could not allow herself to sink into fear. There was far too much at stake.
With all the nonchalance she could muster, she picked up a flagon from the table and took a sip. She couldn’t hide her grimace. She didn’t care for mead, she decided. It tasted a little bit like honey-flavored shit.
“Woman. Answer me.”
She set the cup down. “I think you heard me.”
He stilled. His face went a trifle red. He lunged for her.
He should not have. For one thing, he gave her far too much warning. As he approached, she stepped forward, into his attack, grabbed his arm and whipped around, pulling him toward her. Then she used the leverage of his momentum to toss him over her shoulder. He landed on the stone cobbles with a shuddering thud.
As a huge gasp rose up among the gathering, she plucked an errant thread from her sleeve.
“Please doona do that again,” she said in a warning tone. She hoped he would be warned, but he was a bull of a man and they tended to be dense. She decided to go on the offense. “I would hate to be the one to end you.”
Cameron struggled to his feet and gaped at her.
She met his ominous glower with a simper. “I do deplore violence.”
He seemed as though he was considering another rush at her, so she tipped her head to the side and fixed him with an imperious look. “Dinna the Macintosh tell you what I am?”
He glanced at Dominic, whose expression went bleak. “Nae, Maggie-mine. Donna tell him.”
“Tell me what?”
“I am no’ just a mere lass.”
“Are ye no’?”
“I come from a land, far to the west. Beyond the great sea.”
The Cameron snorted. “There is no land to the west beyond the great sea.”
Maggie sighed and glanced at the sky. She tried to appear blasé in her perusal, but she was not. She had to time this just right…and she sincerely doubted she could, for she didn’t know everything. She didn’t know everything at all. She had to pray her memory was clear, that some future astronomer hadn’t gotten a date or a declination wrong. Her pulse pounded.
“Ah, but there is. A great land. Blessed by God. Flowing with milk and honey. Amber waves of grain and all that.”
Torquil narrowed his eyes. It made him look even more like a pig.
“I come from The Emerald City.”
Dominic frowned. “I thought you said you came from a place called Seattle?”
“With flying fish,” Declan added.
“Aye. But it is also called the Emerald City.”
“What sept are you from?”
Um, sept? She cleared her throat. “I belong to a sept called…academia. We spend all our days studying the acts of men.”
The Cameron’s nose curled. “This tale is entertaining, but does not explain your impudence.”
She laughed. “All women are impudent where I come from. And with good reason. We are highly educated.” She leaned in and grinned. “And we know things.”
Many of the men reared back, apparently appalled at the prospect of educated women.
“Why did you call me a dead man?”
“Because. I have foreseen it.” She had. Torquil Cameron would be murdered by his brother at the age of thirty-six. Poison, if memory served.
Murmurs rose amongst the Camerons. One or two crossed themselves. Dominic groaned but Maggie flashed him a confident smile.
“You are a seer?”
From the crowd, whispers of “witch” and “succubus” rose. She waggled her fingers at them. “Oh, pish. I am no’ a servant of the devil. But I know the good Lord doesna smile upon your betrayal of Clan Chattan.”
Torquil bristled. It was not attractive. “I dinna betray Clan Chattan!”
“Did you no’?” She fixed him with what she hoped was an unnerving stare and murmured, “God knows all things, Torquil. He sees all. He can glimpse inside the hearts of men. And his vengeance canna be escaped.”
His throat worked. His little piggy eyes shot around.
“Oh, doona worry. It is not my place to punish you for what you have done.”
He seemed to gust a sigh of relief.
“But God willna forget.”
“You doona speak for God, witch. Tis blasphemy to suggest it.”
“Aye. I doona. God speaks for himself. To show his disapproval of your ways, he will send a sign.”
Cameron stilled. Stared at her. “A sign?”
“He will blot out the sun.” Dear God, she hoped she had her dates right. She hoped she had the time right. From what she recalled the eclipse that had sent the highlands into a frenzy of fear and ominous predictions had occurred about 12:47 GMT on the 25th of August.
It seemed about that time. As far as she could tell. But it hardly mattered. She could not hesitate now, not that she’d begun on this path.
With melodramatic flair, she threw out her arms to the sun.
All the men in the bailey stared at her—including Dominic—but then, slowly, they lifted their gazes to the sky. Silence thrummed for a long long while.
The sun beamed merrily down.
Maggie’s heart skittered in her chest. Her throat closed. Sweat beaded on her brow. Still she held her pose.
She hoped her ploy would not be the death of them all.
“Well, fook,” Cameron growled after several minutes. “Why are we even listening to this folderol? Kill them all.” He pulled out his blade and headed for Dominic.
“No!” Maggie raced between them, shielding her man with her body.
Dominic muttered something foul and thrust her behind him.
Cameron chuckled. “I’ll happily gut you too lass, if you’ve a liking for it. But later, after I’ve had you and handed you to my men.”
She leaned around Dominic’s bulk and glared at him. “You are a revolting creature. I’m glad your brother murders you.”
From her left, a man squawked. Cameron’s eyes lowered. His head swung around and he pinned the red-faced Scotsman with a glower. “It isna true, Torquil!” he wailed. “I would never do such a thing.”
“A little advice?” Maggie smirked. “Get a food taster.”
It probably wasn’t wise to taunt a bear. Especially when he had a sword. A long, sharp sword. His hammy fingers closed around the hilt and he growled, “Shut your lying mouth, bitch.”
“How rude,” she murmured, mostly to herself, but no one would have heard anyway because just then a hue and cry rose in the bailey.
Also, the sunlight dimmed.
Maggie whirled around to stare at the sky. Her heart lifted as the shadow of the moon rose, blotting out the sun.
Oh, thank God.
Thank God she hadn’t screwed up her dates.
* * *
Dominic stared at the sky as the moon swallowed the sun.
He should not have been worried.
He should not be surprised.
He should have known she was right.
She usually was.
He glanced around the courtyard, at all the men, Camerons and Macintoshes alike, who stared in awe at the sky. They were utterly stupefied, Torquil among them.
It would be folly to waste this opportunity. He pulled his dirk from his boot and whipped behind Torquil, setting his knife to his enemy’s neck.
“Drop your weapons, all of you.”
The Camerons whirled, but taking a cue from their laird, all the Macintosh men sprang into action, surrounding them. A clatter of metal rose as they dropped their dirks and swords.
His pressed the knife into Torquil’s neck. “How did you breach the castle?” he asked softly, but in the silence, his question wafted on the air.
“I…ah…through the sally port.”
“And how did you know where it was?”
To Dominic’s disgust, Torquil’s gaze flickered over to his men and landed on Liam. Who paled.
Hell and damnation.
“Liam? It was you?” Liam, who had brought him the news of the deadly meeting? Liam, who had stayed behind to lock the gate? Liam, who stood to inherit everything if Dominic and Declan died?
Fury scoured him.
The look Declan shot him made clear he’d worked it all out too. He hustled over and grabbed his cousin by the arm. Ewan and Harry joined him, making sure Liam could not slither away. Not until justice was dealt out.
“Tie the Camerons up and throw them in the dungeon,” he commanded and his men scurried to do his bidding. “I hope your family is inclined to pay a healthy ransom,” Dominic muttered to Torquil as they led him away.
He turned to Liam and his nose curled. “As for you…”
“What are you going to do to him?”
Dominic stilled and glanced down at Maggie. The tone of her voice, her panic, the despair, made his blood go cold. He hated the fear in her eyes…because it was on Liam’s behalf.
“Why do you care?”
She tugged his sleeve. “Please don’t kill him.”
Hell. This was more than a soft-hearted woman’s worry over someone being hurt. This was more. He didn’t like it in the least. “Why not?”
She went up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “Because Dominic. He’s my ancestor. If he dies…I will never be born.”
He froze.
Oh. God.
Oh God, oh god oh god.
He couldn’t bear such a thought.
“Doona worry. I willna kill him. But the punishment must fit the crime.”
“I understand.”
He turned to Liam, surrounded by a circle of his once-friends, a criminal, an outcast. “Liam MacBain Macintosh. For your crimes of betrayal, I sentence you to—”
“Nae!” Liam issued an inhuman snarl. He lurched forward, breaking the hold the men had on him and, grabbing a fallen dirk, he ran toward Dominic. There was a crazed light in his eye. One that made clear his intention to commit murder.
His intention to murder Dominic.
* * *
It all moved in slow motion. Liam racing toward Dominic. Dominic raising his blade. The two men colliding chest to chest, falling to the ground, rolling. The shouts of the others, a flurry of action, of panic.
Dominic’s men converged on the tussle and peeled the two men apart. They were both covered in blood and breathless.
To her horror, Liam collapsed to the ground, with his eyes wide, staring, unseeing at the sky.
And Dominic?
Dominic had a blade buried in his chest. He lay there, still and silent. Limp.
Maggie stared at the horrific scene, unable to speak or move or breathe.
Her mind spun. Her pulse slowed. She felt her field of vision shrinking, shrinking, closing in. Her muscles began to crumple. Her soul shriveled. She could feel herself lightening, as though she might waft away into nothingness.
No. No. No!
She fought to retain consciousness, presence in this world. She would not allow this to happen. She could not.
But she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the wheeling of the earth or the racing of her broken heart.
Darkness descended and took her.
She did not know whether to be grateful or to grieve.