Chapter Fifteen
“Well, fuck me. Here I thought I was the one who bent the rules, but you broke them completely and sent them down the garbage disposal.”
She cringed at the shock in her friend’s voice. At least Katz had waited until they were in the van and on the highway headed north. She thought Katz would say something when one of the nurses mentioned the sword wound, but luckily, she’d kept silent.
“I had no choice.”
Katz’s brows furrowed, her dark brown gaze darting toward her before returning to the road. “No choice? How about leaving him in medieval Scotland where he belonged.” Katz grinned. “Wow, now anything I’ve done is going to look tame. Great for me, but not so much for you.”
She tensed. She needed Katz’s support on this. If anyone would support her it had to be Katz. She always broke the rules, though to be fair, she was a bit more subtle about it. “I love him.”
Katz pulled off the highway into a rest area and put the van in park. She turned to face her. “You love him?” Her voice rose in absolute disbelief.
“Aye, I mean yes, I do. I love him with all that I am.”
Her fellow agent shook her head. “Does he love you?”
She looked out the window. “I don’t know.”
Katz threw her hands up. “Well, that makes a whole lot of fucking sense. I can see you risking everything for some ultimate love across time story, but if he doesn’t love you back, then why bother?”
Her eyes welled with more tears. Stubbornly, she wiped them away.
“You haven’t told Jules yet, have you?”
“No. I’m not sure it’s worth the telling if Torr never wakes up. If he stays that way for…forever, then he will have no impact on history. Amber told me that Great Britain exists, so I guess my mission was successful.”
“Diana.” Katz grimaced. “Jules is going to be furious.”
“I know. But technically, I didn’t break a single TWI rule.”
“Yes, you…no.” Katz’s eyes widened, and she grinned. “Fuck, you’re right. You didn’t technically break a rule.” She laughed. “This is going to be freakin’ great.” She sobered quickly. “What if he does wake up? How are you going to explain to him that he is now in the twenty-first century?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about that when he was bleeding to death on my lap.”
“Honestly, I haven’t a clue what that would be like. It sounds like you really love the big bruiser back there.”
Diana sighed and slumped in her seat. “Yes. Even more than TWI, though I’m hoping that’s not a choice I have to make.”
“You’re going to be making a shit load of choices in the very near future, and I don’t think any of them will be a walk in the park.” Katz faced forward again and shifted the van into drive.
Diana looked back at Torr resting peacefully on Javier’s custom-made bed. That Javier’s PTSD made him feel he needed to be separate from the rest of them on occasion, had always made her sad, but at this moment, she was grateful for his little home away from home. After what she’d witnessed, maybe Torr could help her trainer…if he woke up.
…
Diana sat next to Torr in her bedroom as Katz led the nurse from the house. Stonehaven was back to the way it was supposed to be, with fields and woods and coastline surrounding it. No slums anywhere in sight. She’d accomplished her mission by accident. Now, if only Torr would regain consciousness.
She hadn’t dared put him in another room, not with Mouse home. The woman was too smart, and she would tell Jules in a heartbeat if Jules contacted her.
She had to be the person to tell Jules, but since she had no clue when that would be, she was hoping to keep Torr a secret. She clasped his hand as she had a hundred times in the last two days. He covered much of her oversize bed, and she lowered the sheet after the nurse left to expose his well-muscled chest. She didn’t want him heating up. She laid her head on him to enjoy the beat of his heart. It was a good heart, and she’d made the right decision. Now if he would just—
The chest beneath her head moved with a cough, and she quickly sat up. A groan followed.
She touched her hand to his face. “Torr?”
His brow furrowed and his now-smooth cheek ticked beneath her palm. Maybe he was having a bad dream, like Katz so often did. Leaning on him, she placed both her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could help someone who was unconscious. She focused her thoughts on the warm memories she had of Scotland. The mountains strewn with heather, the half moon shining on the south field at night, Torr’s arms as he held her in bed.
Her eyes flew open. Torr’s arms were around her! “Torr?”
“Diana. I dreamt about ye.” He pulled her up and kissed her.
His Gaelic words and sweet lips brought tears to her eyes as pure joy hit her like a crashing wave.
His large hand cupped her head as he made love to her mouth. When he broke the kiss, he brushed her hair down her back. “Ach, what is this? Why do ye cry?”
She gazed into his clear blue eyes that seemed somehow brighter, a deeper blue. “You have been unwell for a long time.”
“I have?” He looked around and his body tensed beneath her. “Where am I? This is not my room.”
She took a deep breath. “You are in my home.”
He scowled. “Yer home is Gealach.”
At some point, he had to learn the truth, but despite days to think about it, she had no idea how to tell him. “Actually, I do have another home. The one my parents left to me.”
He glanced beyond her before meeting her gaze again. “It is a large home then?”
“Aye. And very far away. Not just in land, but also in time.”
Torr raised an eyebrow. “Time? What are ye talking about, lass?”
“I know this may be difficult to understand, but I have the ability to travel through time. I went back in history to meet you. But I had to bring you forward to my time to save your life. Do you not remember anything?”
He scowled. “I remember us in my bed before the battle.” His face cleared. “Aye. We fooled the Comyn and surprised them.”
She stared into his eyes. “Do you remember jumping from your horse and saving Kerr from a Comyn bent on killing him?”
He stared into the distance. “Aye. I do.”
“And then Kerr saved King Robert?”
“Aye, and then…” His face fell and he looked at her in awe. His voice was barely audible. “I was run through. I was dying.” He looked around the room again, but when his gaze met hers it was filled with anguish. “Kerr?” The worry in his voice squeezed her heart.
She wanted to calm him, but he had to find his own balance. “He’s fine. He claimed the victory.”
He nodded and closed his eyes in relief.
She waited. Waited for his brain to make connections or not make them. Her heart pounded. Would he hate her for what she’d done? She couldn’t live with that. Not that.
His eyes opened again, and he stared at her with a mixture of doubt and distrust.
Her stomach clenched. It had been bad enough when he thought she was a spy, but if he shut her out now… She forced her fingers to release their grip on his shoulders.
“I believe I may be in another country from the strange furniture, but ye say I am in the future?” Torr’s hard voice was like the screech of a gull to her nerves.
She swallowed. “Seven hundred years in the future.”
He grasped her arm, his grip tight. “Nay. Do not be telling me a tale.” Torr’s gaze bored into her, his anger barely kept in check.
“I know it sounds fantastical, but you are here. It was the only way I could keep you from dying. Today, we have the knowledge to heal people with wounds such as yours even though we do not use swords anymore.”
He let go of her arm and pulled the sheet off his body, exposing not only his stitched wound, but a whole lot more. He ran his hand over the stitches and tensed his abdomen. His grimace revealed that he still needed more days to heal.
She resisted the need to touch him, reassure him. He had to come to terms with this on his own, at least that was what her gut told her. So she sat silent and watched as his gaze left his stomach and slowly examined the room. This time he studied every object. She tried to see it through his eyes, but it was difficult.
It was far less modern than other parts of the house. With a mother who had been a British literature professor and a father who taught Greek and Roman mythology as well as Latin, her home itself was decorated in past eras, and yet it was far in advance of his own.
He kept his thoughts to himself even as his gaze rested on the digital clock longer than anything else in the room. He finally looked at her, staring at her loose tank top, before returning his gaze to her face. “Why?”
Of all the questions she had expected, that was not one of them. “Because I love you and you were dying. I couldn’t let you die when I had the means to save you.”
He shook his head. “But if I was dying then it was meant to be. To die in battle for a worthy cause is honorable.”
Her heart constricted at his simple reasoning, a reasoning she feared she’d hear from her boss when Jules discovered what happened.
The bedroom door opened and Katz walked in. “The nurse said we…” She stopped, her eyes widening in appreciation as she took in the view of a naked Torr. “Well, shit. He’s awake.”
Torr stared at Katz. “Is she a Moor?”
Quickly, she pulled the sheet up to a more modest level before laying her hand on his arm. “Nay, she’s, um, part of my clan. Her name is Katz.”
Torr nodded once in greeting, but didn’t take his eyes off her dark-haired friend, even when she walked to the upholstered chair by the fireplace and perched on one arm.
“So sleeping beauty is awake. Was it a kiss that woke him?” Katz’s voice was smooth as silk, sensuous and enticing.
Diana translated Katz’s statement into Gaelic.
He returned his gaze to her, his blue eyes clouded with confusion. “I should not be here.”
“No. He shouldn’t be here.” Mouse’s authoritative voice in perfect Scottish Gaelic came from the doorway where she leaned against the doorjamb. Triumph made her hazel eyes glow as if she was the cat that just ate the canary. Her short, delicate frame belied her strong personality. Even her soft brown hair gave the impression she was a sweetheart. “I knew something was going on. What have you done, Diana?”
“Diana.” Torr grabbed her attention. “You lied to me. You said you had no one, no home.”
She shook her head. “I had to. I can explain.”
Mouse jumped in. “She lied to you in other ways, especially if she told you that you could stay here. You need to go back to whatever century you came from.”
Diana whipped her head around to face her adversary. “No. He can’t go back. Back there he’s dead.”
Mouse shrugged. “So. From his looks and his size, I’d say he wouldn’t make forty in medieval Scotland anyway.”
Searing pain hit her chest at her fellow agent’s callousness. She rose to her feet. “He stays. I accomplished my mission.”
Mouse unfolded her arms and stared keenly. “I don’t think so. Jules is definitely going to be angry. You’re in for it now.” With those prophetic words, she left the doorway and disappeared down the hall.
That Mouse could figure out so much in so little time was bad enough, but if Jules contacted Mouse before herself, it was going to look really bad. She just wanted to save Torr’s life. Maybe she could explain that to Mouse and get her to at least wait. She stepped forward to go after her fellow agent, but Torr grabbed her wrist. She looked down at him, confused.
“You betrayed me?”
Her heart squeezed at the accusation in his eyes.
“I’m pretty worthless here without knowing his language.” Katz rose from her seat and sauntered toward the doorway, but turned to face her before leaving. “I think I’ll find the big man some real food.”
She closed her eyes for a moment as Katz retreated and then opened them again to find Torr studying her. What could he possibly think? His welcome was the exact opposite of what he’d shown her.
“Yer Katz sounds like she speaks a form of English. What have you done to me?”
“I swear, I haven’t betrayed you to the English. This is a different country, but not England. That I promise you.”
He dropped her wrist, his voice unrelenting. “Explain.”
She sat back down. Folding her hands in her lap, she made herself comfortable. This would take a long time, and she had the sinking feeling that in the end, she would not be seen in a very good light.
…
Torr stood before the window that was far larger than himself. The ocean waves reminded him of tall Highland grasses on a windy day. Though the sun shone, making the white foam appear brighter than a passing cloud, his mood did not lighten.
He was in a strange land, and Diana, whom he’d trusted, tried to tell him he was in a different time as well. While her home, or rather room, did have strange objects and the speech of Katz sounded somewhat like English, he did not believe her. The question was, why did she lie? Did she think he would believe her and not attempt to return to Gealach?
He had witnessed a desperation in her since he’d woken that he had not seen before. For some reason, she wanted him to stay, but if she’d lied to him and taken him from those he’d sworn to protect, she had to know he couldn’t forgive her.
She had betrayed him. It was as simple as that.
A niggling doubt remained. She claimed she had spirited him away to save his life. Supposedly, this new country he was in, that she wouldn’t name, had better healers than his. He did not doubt that as the two healers he’d met in his life had not saved their patients. But if that was the only reason she’d brought him here, why did she refuse to allow him to return? She knew how important it was for Robert to stay on the throne and for him to protect his clan.
He had been fooled. His hands formed fists of their own accord. He’d believed she loved him and that had softened his heart toward her. She didn’t care about Robert or Nessa or any of the MacPhersons.
His hand gravitated to the wound just to the right of the center of his torso. It had been a good strike, except it had come from behind. His clan thought him dead. They would be pleased to find he still lived. The need to return and make sure Kerr survived grew urgent. He and the rest of the MacPhersons must live on, and it was his duty to ensure that. He could not fail them.
Diana told him to remain in the room, which meant he must be a prisoner. She had lied about not having a home, and she clearly lived with her clan. Whatever reason she had for keeping him here would not be enough now that he was mending. He had to return home. Quietly, he approached the door and put his ear to it, but he heard no guard. Turning the handle slowly as he’d seen others do, he was surprised to feel it open. Did that mean he wasn’t a prisoner? Why would she insist he stay in this one room and not lock him in? Maybe her clan had never had prisoners.
He looked into the area outside the door. It was long but too narrow to be a meal room. No one was in sight, only more doors, and at one end a window and at the other what looked like a great hall. More confused than before, he stepped back, silently closed the door, and scanned the room. Despite her request, he would venture forth, but first he needed clothing.
Meandering around the room, he looked for cloth. He must not have been asleep for long based on the growth of his beard. He rubbed his chin, the hair length unusual for him. How long would it take to return home? Had she moved him by boat? He had no idea what country he was in. He could still be in Scotland. So far only Katz didn’t speak Gaelic.
Hope rose. Diana may have lied about this being a new country like she lied about a change in time. It was possible he was simply farther south than he cared to be. Maybe it would not take long to return. His clan needed him. To return and resume his duties, he would have to leave Diana. The thought should have been triumphant, but his chest above the wound tightened.
He had to forget her. Nothing she’d said was true. Then why was she so desperate for him to believe her? Did someone threaten her? His protective instincts rose and he squashed them. He was conflicted, but he’d never been so before he’d met her. Something had changed inside him as if he was Torr but not. Shaking his head, he started to cross his arms, until the sharp pain in his abdomen halted him. He had to go home, where he belonged, where he was needed.
A rap on the door interrupted his brooding. “Aye?”
The door opened and a man no older than Fergus walked in, but he didn’t move like Fergus. He shuffled across the floor in trews far too large for him and a short leine that hung over them. His gray beard was much longer than his hair and altogether he looked as if a gust of wind would pick him up and blow him away.
He waited for the man to close the door. Why would Diana send such a frail person to him? When the man finally looked at him, he was struck by the liveliness in his eyes. Curiosity burned intensely there, so much so that Torr found himself looking away.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were completely without clothes.” The words were spoken in perfect Gaelic, which put him more at ease than Katz’s strange tongue.
“I apologize. My mind has been elsewhere.” He grabbed at the blanket on the bed, but the man stopped him.
“Don’t apologize. I have brought you something that might make you more comfortable.” He stepped forward as if afraid to come too close, but actually wanted to, and held out a piece of material.
Torr took it and gave the man a half smile. “Thank ye for the brat. Is there a—”
“Here you go. A belt and the leine is beneath, but I’m not sure it will be large enough.”
He found the linen and pulled it over his head. It was snug and only hung to his thighs, but it would do. “Thank ye.”
The older man nodded. “My name is Arthur. Would it be quite all right if we talked for a bit?”
Not sure if he wanted to endure the pain of wrapping the material about him yet, he dropped the brat on the bed. “Are ye a clansman of Diana?”
Arthur took a seat in a large soft chair and motioned him over to the one next to it.
He sat gingerly, not used to so much softness.
Arthur’s gaze brightened. “I work with Diana, yes. I am a person who loves history and as you are from a time period far past for me, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about when you lived.”
He persisted in the time difference, too. Why? If it was to distract him into divulging the secrets of his keep, it was a wasted effort. Just the fact that the man admitted to being part of Diana’s clan was enough to distrust him.
He studied the older man. Now that he was closer to him, everything about him appeared gray—from his wavy hair and long beard to his clothes—but if he was anxious for information about life at Gealach, then perhaps Torr could get his own questions answered as well. One of which was how he could return home from wherever he was, but he would not reveal everything. His clan still came first, and he would not put them in danger by telling too much. “I think we can make an arrangement to satisfy both our curiosities, don’t ye?”
Arthur looked puzzled for a moment before he nodded and a slow, gleeful smile spread across his face. “Of course, I think that’s an excellent idea.”