Chapter Twelve
Diana adjusted the clean brat about her waist, wanting to make sure she looked appropriately dressed after openly spending the night with Torr. The clothing had been a gift from him, and she truly appreciated it, but today there would be a lot of talk about her relationship with him. The night before he had called her to the high table to toast her before the king for discovering Graham’s clan and for fighting off the Comyn.
He had followed that with an embellished tale of their ride and their fight, leaving out her episode of sickness and drawing out the fight twice as long as it actually took while making it sound as if it took half the time, thanks to his skill. It would be hard for anyone to see either of them as anything but heroes. Then he had taken her hand and simply walked out of the Great Hall with her to his room—the message clear. Smoothing the folds of the long material, she took a deep breath and left Torr’s room.
Many people sat at the tables on benches eating breakfast. Seeing Nessa at a table with Evan, she headed in that direction.
“Diana.” Torr’s voice was not overly loud, but everyone looked up. Dickens, so much for sneaking in.
She pivoted and went to the high table. King Robert was not there, but Kerr and Fergus were, as well as the new man. “Yes, Torr.”
He reached out and took her hand in his, pulling her closer. “I would like ye to meet the newest member of our clan. He came in yesterday, but I failed to introduce ye. Angus, this is Diana.”
The man wouldn’t meet her eyes and simply nodded his acknowledgment of the introduction. Warning bells went off in her head. They were only three days from the battle and this man could be the Disruptor! With her heartbeat racing into overdrive, she took in his appearance, from his short stocky build to the dark, cropped hair and graying beard. He had a large nose and full cheeks making his eyes appear squinty. She’d bet money he was the one.
Torr turned his attention to her. “I don’t want ye in the bakery today. I think ye should rest after yesterday.”
She started to shake her head, but he pulled her close, his arm around her waist. “Ye were honest when you told me ye wouldn’t do as I told ye, weren’t ye.”
It took her a moment to remember the conversation they had in fun before the attack. She raised her brows. “Aye.”
He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Then you force me to distract ye from yer chores.”
“What?” Nervous now, she stiffened, but he squeezed her waist with his hand.
“Go ahead and have yer breakfast. I’m sure ye be hungry.” He dropped his arm and turned his attention back to the men who avidly watched their exchange.
She left the high table, feeling the eyes of all four men follow her as she sat down next to Nessa. That woman, of course, could not refrain from commenting, but at least she did so in a whisper.
“Ye are not only a hero but the laird’s woman. Do ye realize what an honor that is?”
She bent her head as a shudder of foreboding shook her frame. “What do you mean?” She made it appear unimportant as she took a bannock from the trencher and smeared jam on it.
“The laird has never shown such favor to a woman before, right, Evan?”
The serious man gave a simple nod.
Nessa continued once her statement was validated as true. “Everyone is talking about how much time he is spending with ye and only ye. They are saying ye may be our next mistress.”
She stilled in the process of lifting the oatcake to her mouth, dread crawling under her skin, and not from the expected bland taste of her breakfast. “What?”
Even as Nessa confirmed it, she scanned the room. Many were talking in whispers and throwing furtive glances her way. One in particular did not seem pleased at all, but she quickly dismissed Douglas and brought her gaze back to her breakfast. Her blood began to pound at the implications of what it could mean for history.
This was not how her mission was supposed to go. She’d never made such a mess of things before. Sure, on her first assignment, she’d caused a few hiccups in the Timestream when she accidently referred to the Midwest as the Dust Bowl a year before the event happened, but nothing of significance had come from that. Her eyes started to sting as the feeling built that she’d completely failed. Jules’s voice in her head when she was given the mission came back to haunt her. “Consider this a Gremlin. The ramifications might be even more serious for the future than we are seeing right now.” What if even now, her mission had been upgraded to a “Situation”?
Dropping her breakfast, she stood.
Nessa’s voice sounded as if from far away. “Where be ye going?”
She shook her head, her throat too tight to allow any sound through, and she ran from the room. Once outside, her vision blurred, but her need to be alone was strong. Her feet took her to the postern gate, and she slipped through. Once outside the wall, she dropped down on the grass with her back up against the still-cool stone of the fortified wall.
Taking deep breaths, she tried to gather herself. Remembering Torr’s hand upon her arm after the battle, she put her face in her hands and thought of him holding her. The warm peace flowed over her again and her tears receded. Lifting her head, she stared unseeing across the east fields.
The mission was no longer her priority. That was why she’d messed up so badly. Her subconscious had known she was falling in love with Torr and despite her rational brain’s best efforts, her actions were sabotaged by her heart.
The fact was, she could not allow Torr to die.
She pulled her knees to her chest and stared unseeing at the sheep moving across the field. Her decision went against everything she was taught. It went against how she lived her life. It even went against the TWI rules and goals, especially the number one goal of changing history back. She would fail. Despite this or maybe because of it, her acceptance of her decision solidified, as her confidence grew.
She would not allow Torr to die. It was that simple. However, she would find the Disruptor who saved him. She had to do that for Jules. There would be hell to pay when she returned to Stonehaven, if her home even existed by then, but she didn’t care. Torr deserved to live.
She froze. She actually agreed with a Disruptor! That in itself disturbed her, but it didn’t change her mind. Saving the man she loved was paramount. Showing him how much she loved him was also a priority. How would he take her disappearance after the battle was won and he returned to the castle to find her gone?
A shimmering to her left caught her attention, and she quickly scanned the fields and wall-walk for any witnesses. When she returned her gaze to the spot, Go-Lucky stood there studying her, his impeccable royal blue suit making his well-groomed orange hair pop, though he now had it tied back in a small ponytail.
He pointed his finger at her. “You are a hard one to get a hold of.”
She nodded. “Aye, I’ve had a lot of company at night. Actually, being alone here at any time is no easy task.”
He stroked his chin. “And you are beginning to think like them as well. Good thing you only have a few days left. Have you discovered the Disruptor?”
“I’ve narrowed it down considerably based on what we know. I think it’s one of three people. My best guess is the man who just showed up yesterday.”
At Go-Lucky’s raised brow, she nodded. “Yes, a man, but there’s something else that I’ve found. I think there’s a pattern to what the Disruptors are doing. It seems like they drop into history, follow a person like Torr, and then make life turn out well for that one individual without a care as to how their actions affect history, but I’d have to confer with the other agents to see if this is consistent with their assignments. Is Mouse back yet?”
He leaned against the wall. “Yes, she came back last night.”
She cocked her head. Though Mouse had never accepted her overtures of friendship, the woman was the smartest of the five of them and had gathered more information on the Disruptors than all the districts across the globe. “When you can, tell Mouse that I’m starting to think instead of trying to determine what a Disruptor looks like, maybe we should focus on the change they make and see if we can’t figure out their motivation. What do you think?”
Go-Lucky nodded slowly. “You may have something there, and even if you don’t, it can’t hurt to have agents gathering information on the changes and the targets. Yes, I think that’s a very good idea.”
She relaxed against the wall, glad to have one piece of the puzzle off her shoulders.
Go-Lucky placed his hand on her arm, and she tensed. “There have been some small changes in the Timestream because of this mission.”
Her stomach clenched. “Oh no. Anything important?”
He squeezed, his sympathy reaching her, soothing. “We’re not sure yet, but anything you can do to keep these to a minimum would be helpful.”
“What kind of changes? Is Stonehaven still mine? Is Scotland still part of New France?”
Go-Lucky hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. “There was an attempt to burn down your home.”
“What?” Her stomach clenched. “Is everyone all right? Is anything left? You have to be honest with me.”
He shook his head. “The south wing was totaled, but we were able to move everyone out in time.” He gave her a stern look. “We don’t know why that happened. Rafter is following the thread when he can, but obviously you need to minimize your interactions with others. Are you having problems?”
Yes, about a zillion, but none he could help her with. Guilt crept through her veins as she thought of what she was about to do. Would she have a home left if she continued down this path? She moved so she could look Go-Lucky in the eye, dislodging his small hand. “I know I’ve changed a couple events just by being present. Not interacting in this small space is a tall order. Has anyone ever failed a mission?”
His eyelids lowered slightly as he stared at her. “No.”
She sighed. “This one has been particularly difficult.”
“Will you be able to complete it?”
She looked away, toward the east woods. “I’m not sure.” There was a certain amount of relief that came with her confession, as if by warning him it wasn’t a sure thing, she could protect herself.
Go-Lucky remained silent and for that, she was thankful. Coming to terms with her own failure and her plan to break the rules was difficult enough without having to talk around it. Finally, she looked at him. His eyes appeared wiser than his thirty-three years. He guessed something, but wouldn’t push. She was so lucky to have him as her handler.
He took a step back from her. “I have to go now. Do the best you can. We can’t ask any more of you than that.”
She gave him half a smile. “Thank you.”
Go-Lucky’s blue shimmer lasted but a few seconds, and he was gone.
Though her conscience wasn’t completely satisfied with her decision, she had a new goal and needed to ensure it happened. Standing, she brushed off her brat and walked toward the postern gate.
When she was but three steps away, Douglas came through it. “So this is where ye ran to.”
She halted, all her senses on high alert. “Aye. Torr didn’t want me in the bakery, so I came out here. I should probably go back inside and see what he wishes for me to do.”
She made to step around him, but he grabbed her arm and held on tight. “I’m sure he is busy with training the men.”
She looked down at his hand, before meeting his gaze. “And isn’t that where you should be?”
He pushed her against the wall hard, her head banging into the stone.
“Ow. What do you want? I’ve told you, I’m not interested in you and yet here you are…again.”
He pushed his body against hers, his erection pressing into her abdomen. “True, but what ye want and what is good for ye are two different things.”
True, it was 1306 Scotland, but the man’s attitude still irritated her. The question was, should she keep her actions in line with the time period and simply knee the man in the groin, or should she use a more modern technique and save his jewels? Lowering her gaze so he couldn’t read her decision in her eyes, she noticed a shadow move behind him. “But if that’s true, then I think our laird should decide, don’t you?”
He sneered, the anger rolling off him in waves. “You are just one of many to provide him release. He doesn’t care about you.”
“But I do care.” Torr voice was calm, but she’d been around him long enough to know he was furious.
Douglas stilled, his breaths increasing even as his erection softened. At least the man knew when he was in trouble. With Torr here, she only worried that he might be too harsh on the man.
Unfortunately, she should have stayed more alert.
Douglas had a dirk at her throat before she realized his intent. Holy Hamlet, she needed to pay more attention. The man’s persistence would be the end of her if she wasn’t careful. Was he the keystone for the attack on her home?
Torr stepped forward. The rage clear in his hard stare.
Douglas, with his back to Torr, looked over his shoulder and pressed the dirk against her skin. “Don’t come any closer. I will kill her. She is not good enough for ye.”
She lowered her brows at Torr, aware his battle reflexes were ready for action. As long as the man could wait to play hero, all would be fine.
Somehow, Torr seemed to sense her capability to handle Douglas, or maybe it was just luck that he stepped back and took a relaxed stance. “But she is good enough for ye?”
Douglas stiffened. “Aye. I’m not the laird. Ye should not waste yer time with a lass like her. I told ye not to trust her.”
“True, which is why I have kept her close. To watch her. I would think ye would approve of my strategy.”
Douglas relaxed his grip slightly. He obviously couldn’t see the rage in Torr’s eyes despite the calm voice.
“Ye don’t trust her then?”
Torr shook his head. “Nay. What do ye take me for, an idiot?”
Douglas’s hold loosened. “Nay, not at all.”
It was time. Diana grabbed Douglas’s leine at its opening, leaned her body away from the dirk and moaned as she started to sink toward the ground. As Douglas whipped his head around to look at her, she pulled hard and sent his head crashing into the stone wall above her.
Douglas crumpled to the ground beside her, groaning. Torr leaped forward and lifted her into his arms, holding her tight. She settled into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, completely content to be out of harm’s way and in his embrace. He lifted his head to the wall-walk and yelled for Braigh.
Within seconds, Braigh signaled others and two men arrived to haul Douglas away, the man still moaning, giving them no resistance. Served him right. Maybe she’d finally made an impression on his thick skull.
Torr continued to hold her tight, not allowing her to move, tremors moving through his body. When they were finally alone, he pushed her back to arm’s length, his grip tight on her upper arms. He stared hard at her, his brow furrowed. “Where did ye learn to move like that?”
She shrugged, trying to make light of it. “My cousins used to try to hold me when they wanted something, though not with a knife. After many failed attempts, I figured out how to get away one day.” It sounded weak to her own ears, but she prayed he would accept it.
Slowly, he backed her up until the wall was once again her support, but the man in front of her was all she ever wanted. She gazed into his light eyes and watched a range of emotions fill them.
He cupped her face in his hands. “I need ye.”
“Aye.”
His lips came down and claimed hers, even as he pressed into her. His large body surrounded her, making her feel safe and wanted.
He lifted his head and stroked her cheek. “Ye make me feel things I do not wish to feel.”
“Maybe that’s because I love you.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but now that it was said, she accepted it, completely.
Torr’s gaze turned tortured. “Ye should not love me. It will only bring pain.”
True, she was quite aware of that, but if she could have two days with him, then she would take them. “I cannot help it.”
He looked past her, at the wall, his breathing ragged. She watched as his Adam’s apple moved with his swallow. His heart pounded hard against her. Finally, he returned his gaze to hers. In an instant, he took her mouth in a desperate kiss like that of a dying man, which she would make sure did not happen.
Understanding some of the emotions swirling through him, she met his passion with her own. His hard body pressed her into the stone as his hands roved her body, touching every place he could reach while his mouth ravaged hers.
She broke the kiss only because of her need for air.
Torr growled deep in his throat, sending her nerve endings into hyper-drive. With a speed that belied his bulk, he lifted her in his arms and strode back into the castle, all the way to his bedroom. And for once, she didn’t care.
…
She loved him.
Torr sat at the high table. No one occupied the Great Hall but himself. He should not have allowed it to happen, but his needs had broken his own rules. Not that he had rules, he just…
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. She loved him. She seemed well aware of the consequences and yet she still did. Women. He thought she was different.
She was different. He enjoyed her company even when not in bed. She seemed steady, calm, as if she had an acceptance of life instead of fighting it. Yet she fought better than some men, as had already been proven. He still didn’t believe her explanation of how she got away from Douglas.
He’d witnessed the Comyn prisoner’s jaw turn black and blue by time they moved him into the pit. She’d caused that somehow when they were fighting in the north hills. The woman was a puzzle. Maybe that is why she fascinated him. That, and her body.
“Damn.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. Even in bed, she didn’t act like any other woman he’d had. He should sleep alone for the next couple days, so she wouldn’t develop any expectations. Aye, that is what he would do.
But even at the thought, he pictured her roaming the wall-walk in the middle of the night, and his protective instinct swamped him. For a woman who needed little protection… He slammed his hands down on the table and stood. He had more important things to do than ponder his desire for a woman. He had a king to protect.
Torr strode to the kitchen and grabbed a tankard of ale before heading for the east tower stairs. As he descended to the lower room, he paused. It was anything but silent. That was not a surprise considering how crowded it had become. He needed to ransom or kill someone.
“Ye need to let me talk to yer laird. I have important information for him if he’ll let me go.” The man’s voice was not loud, coming from the pit. Henry.
“Aye, let the man talk to Torr. I need to tell him what really happened. The woman enticed me, I swear.” Douglas was much clearer, being chained to the tower wall as he was.
He heard Braigh sigh. “Henry, the laird will get to ye in due time. Douglas, I was on the wall. Diana did not entice ye. If the laird hadn’t been there, I would have called men myself. What were ye thinking, accosting a woman of this clan?”
Henry laughed. “Thinking was one thing he wasn’t doing.”
A cough sounded. That had to be Graham. Perhaps he should put the man out of his misery. Continuing down the steps, Torr entered the room.
Braigh stood immediately, his usually unreadable face clearly showing his irritation.
Torr handed the man the tankard. Guarding prisoners was thirsty work, especially when they talked too much. He nodded at Braigh as the man lifted the tankard in silent thanks before taking a gulp.
Douglas stood, his chains rattling as he moved. “Laird, ye must listen to me. It was naught but lust. I promise not to go near the woman again. But ye must let me go.”
Torr noticed the large bump swelling on the man’s forehead, but other than that, he ignored him. Instead, he studied Graham, who remained seated, his head down. Aye, he suffered, but only from a physical ailment. The man had no doubts about his cause, which Torr grudgingly admired. Too bad Graham’s loyalty was misplaced. Every man killed now was one less for Scotland once Robert was on the throne for good.
“Laird MacPherson? Laird, are ye up there? Ye must listen to me. I have valuable information. Yer very life and that of yer king’s may depend upon it.”
Torr took a step toward the grate and spoke to the floor, but he looked at Braigh. “What is it?”
Sloshing sounded as Henry stood. The water poured upon Graham had produced mud in the pit. “Nay, first we must make an agreement.”
Torr shook his head. “Ye are in no position to bargain, Henry. Tell me this information.”
“I must have some assurances first. If I tell ye this, I will be a broken man. I will have to find another clan.”
Torr crossed his arms, though the man couldn’t see him. Of course he’d be broken for he would betray his own clan. Torr glanced at Graham again. Henry could learn something from that odd man. “Then why tell me?”
There was silence.
Torr moved closer to the grate and looked into the blackness. The man’s eyes revealed his fear as the torchlight reflected off his face. It would not take long to gain the information needed. “Henry?”
“Please. I just need to get out of here.” The panic in the man’s voice made it clear he feared something about the pit itself. Even better.
Torr squatted. “I promise if yer information be helpful, I will have ye taken out of there.”
“Aye. Aye. Listen then. The Comyn is coming back here.”
Torr scowled. “Of course he is, otherwise ye would not have been so close to Gealach.”
“Nay, listen. He plans to attack on Sunday, when all yer people are spread about. He plans to kill ye and take Robert to King Edward. And between us, I should tell ye, yer women folk will not fare well.”
Torr stood, not liking the implications of the man’s last statement. Diana’s face beneath him in his bed the night past rose to torment him. He took a deep breath to dispel the image. “This is good information, Henry. If the Comyn attacks the day after tomorrow, Braigh will release ye.” He looked at Braigh, who nodded at the silent order.
“Thank ye, laird.”
Torr turned on his heel and strode up the steps, his jaw tight with purpose.
Douglas’s voice followed him. “Laird! Ye will need me! Let me help kill the bloody Comyn! If I’m not there, ye are sure to die!”
He ignored the man. Douglas thought too much of himself. They had a battle to prepare for and little time. If the Comyn attacked Gealach on Sunday and Torr wasn’t prepared, he could lose many more of his small clan. And if Henry hadn’t still been alive…
Though he had started for the wall-walk to find his brother, he found his footsteps headed toward the bakery. Nessa came from the well, and he intercepted her. “Is Diana baking?”
She shook her head. “Nay, she went to the kitchen to talk with Beth.”
Torr was about to thank her when he caught Evan watching them in his peripheral vision. He laid his hand on Nessa’s shoulder. “Thank ye for helping Diana fit in with us.”
Nessa blushed and bowed her head. “It truly is my pleasure.”
Torr grinned as Evan approached them, his stride purposeful, his body rigid. He faced the man. “Evan. Gather Fergus and meet me in the Great Hall.”
Evan pointedly looked at his hand on Nessa’s shoulder. When would he ask the patient lass to marry him? Torr kept his smirk to himself and stepped away.
Evan finally met his gaze. “I will be there in a moment. I need to speak with Nessa.”
Torr barely stopped himself from laughing at the man’s possessiveness. Instead, he simply nodded. He turned from the couple and ascended to the wall-walk. First, he’d have Kerr gather his leaders, then he would talk to Diana.