Chapter Eleven
I breathed a heavy sigh, gulped some air and began.
“This is not just my secret,” I said, “but given that we don’t know what the future holds, you need to know about me...and I guess about Dylan, Ann and Cynthia. I really hope I’m not blowing things for them.”
“Blowing things?”
“Making things difficult for them.”
“I am known for discretion,” Iskair said. “I have my secrets as well.”
I nodded. “Yes, I think you do.”
“Where is this dagger that ye speak of?”
“In the water off the beach near the boathouses on Dun Eistean. It was dragged offshore by a wave, and Dylan and I couldn’t retrieve it. I don’t think it was taken out to sea though. It’s pretty heavy.”
“A strange place for a dagger.”
“Yes.”
“What is the significance of the dagger?”
“It’s a bit of a talisman. It facilitates traveling through time for certain people.” I tried to speak as dispassionately as possible. The darkness helped.
“Beg yer pardon?”
“It’s a talisman. Certain people who hold it have traveled through time, all from the twenty-first century to the sixteenth century as far as I can tell. And all women, with the exception of Dylan, but he was holding my hand when we traveled.”
Iskair didn’t respond right away, and I waited, my heart racing. Time passed, and I prompted him.
“Iskair? You heard me, right?”
Iskair cleared his throat.
“Aye, I heard ye. But I dinna ken what to say. I am thinking on yer words.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling my knees close and resting my chin on them. “I’ll wait.”
At length, Iskair spoke. “Ye are telling me that ye and yer brother have come from the future?”
“Yes.”
“And others? Ye suggested there were others? Women?”
“Yes. This part is hard. I hope I’m not making an awful mistake, but their husbands know, so...”
“Cynthia and Ann,” he said.
“Yes.”
“The four of ye speak the same. No all were raised in Constantinople.”
I grimaced. “I’m sorry. That was a lie.”
“Aye. I suspected as much.”
“Catherine had asked about my accent, why it wasn’t English, and I gave her some silly story...forgetting that Ann and Cynthia have a similar accent.”
“Yer brother speaks wi a Scots accent.”
“Dylan isn’t my brother. He’s really from Scotland.”
Iskair drew in a sharp breath. “No yer brother?” he repeated. “Ye did seem verra close to him. Who is he to ye then?”
“Dylan and I were...” I paused. “In a relationship. We were close, as you say.”
“How ‘close’?”
I heard the anger in Iskair’s voice. I felt judged, even though I knew rationally that Iskair was a man of his time.
“Close, Iskair! Close. We dated, spent time together, you know!” I snapped.
“No, I dinna ken. Ye did this ‘dated’ wi’out benefit of chaperone?”
“It’s different in the twenty-first century, Iskair. We do not have the same restrictions that you force upon women now. We’re more liberated. We have more say over our lives, what we do, how we live.”
“So it seems!” he ground out.
“Anyway, this isn’t really about Dylan. I hoped you would be more understanding, more tolerant of what I told you.”
“That ye have traveled wi a man out of wedlock?”
“No!” I said irritably. “That I have traveled through time.”
“Aye! Traveling through time indeed. And when do ye plan to return to yer time?”
“When I find the dratted dagger!”
“It is a pity that we cannot return to Dun Eistean to collect it for yerself and yer man.”
“He’s not my man! We broke up last year.”
“Broke up? What do ye mean by ‘broke up’?”
“Ended our relationship. It wasn’t permanent, as it happens.”
“I should say no given yer ‘liberated’ ways!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! It wasn’t my choice to end the relationship really. Dylan seemed to have fallen in love with Cynthia.”
“Cynthia! But she is married! Yer man is quite the bounder! I kent that the first time I laid eyes upon him.”
“I don’t think they acted on it. Cynthia was in love with Torq Morrison. Oh, I don’t know why we broke up! Maybe it had nothing to do with Cynthia and everything to do with lying. Dylan knew that Cynthia and Ann had traveled through time, and he lied to me about them. I hate lying!” I finished my rant.
“Do ye now? For a woman who hates lying, ye certainly do a fair amount of it. Do ye ken ye can even tell me yer real name wi honesty? Is it Debra? Are ye a Morrison or no?”
“It is Debra! Debra Donaldson, if you must know! And no! I’m not a Morrison. Not even close!”
“Hold yer voices down!” a man hissed in the darkness. I gasped and looked up to see a group of men surrounding us. Iskair and I had been too angry with each other to hear them move in.
I jumped up.
“Ye will bring every Macleod within a hundred miles down on us with yer jabbering!”
Iskair rose more slowly.
“John, cousin. Ye have come.”
“Aye, Iskair. I dinna ken what ye two are shouting about, but Iain brought word that the Macleods were after the bairns and that ye were bringing the people here to Knockbost Castle. If ye meant to hide here, ye should no be shouting here in the dark.”
The tall man turned to me and bowed.
“And ye will be the new arrival? Iain said ye came wi yer brother?”
“Brother!” Iskair said with a snort.
I gritted my teeth. The group of mostly tall men intimidated me. Having seen Iskair in action, I supposed them all capable of unadulterated violence.
“Yes, I’m Debra.” Unsure of who knew what in the group, I avoided using my last name. “Iskair, you need to tell him.”
“Tell me what? How is my lady, Iskair? The babes? Sarah and Archibald? Are they upstairs?”
“The castle is dark. Does everyone sleep?” another man asked.
“Iskair,” I pressed.
“Macleod took everyone. I dinna ken about the lads, but they took the women and children.”
A fist flew out of nowhere, and with a growl, the last man to speak tackled Iskair, knocking him to the ground.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Stop! He’s hurt! What are you doing?”
I threw myself into the melee as the two men rolled on the ground. Somehow, I took a punch to the side of my jaw. My head spun.
“Stop this at once!” John bellowed. “Ye’ve hurt the lass, Torq!” He grasped Torq by his jacket collar and pulled him off Iskair.
“I am verra sorry, mistress,” Torq said before turning to Iskair, writhing on the ground in some pain. “Why did ye no protect them? Ye sit out here under the stars and let them take our women and bairns?”
I covered Iskair with my body.
“He fought them off, but they shot him. He just killed two of them less than an hour ago. You people are so violent!”
“How badly is he injured, mistress?” John asked.
“I don’t know now. I got the bleeding stopped earlier, but he’s been through a lot since then.”
I lifted the hem of his kilt to check for moisture at his bandage site, but Iskair fought me.
“Leave me some dignity in front of the men, lass,” Iskair panted, rolling over to his knees to rise.
“I’m sorry. I was just checking your bandage.”
“See to him, mistress,” John said as the men moved in unison, running toward the castle.
“You guys!” I muttered. “So that was Torq.”
“Aye,” Iskair said. “He is verra angry. I dinna blame him.”
“Well, I don’t blame him for being upset, but he’s pretty quick to anger. Are you in pain? Can I check your wound?”
“Torq is easily angered. I am fair sore.”
He pulled aside his kilt just enough to let me feel the bandage. I couldn’t see if he bled in the darkness, but the bandage felt far too wet.
“I think you’re bleeding again. We have to get back to the castle so I can see what’s going on.”
“Aye.” He pushed himself up and wobbled a bit. I wrapped my arm around his waist, momentarily forgetting my fear of him, and we walked back toward the castle.
A light flickered inside, and upon entering, we saw the fire had been relit. Several men, including one young teenage boy, fashioned crude torches before scattering in several directions to investigate the rest of the castle.
Iskair moved over to the fire and dropped down, pressing his back against the wall. I wanted to check his wound but waited until the men had moved up the stairs. I pulled the bandage away to see that a renewed stream of blood flowed.
“We have to do something. I wonder if one of them knows how to stitch.”
The teenager reappeared at the bottom of the stairs just then.
“I ken the laird could stop the bleeding with his sword and fire. He has done it enough.”
“Cauterizing!” I exclaimed as the youngster walked up to us. “Who are you?”
“Andrew Morrison, mistress. Torq is my uncle.”
“Andrew is a cousin to me,” Iskair said, his face pale even in the reflected red light of the fire.
“Well, it follows that you are all related. You’re all Morrisons on a small island.”
John reappeared, his broad shoulders sagging. Blond and as handsome as a Viking, I could see why Ann had fallen for him. He looked so very discouraged.
“I see no blood other than one area. I think the Macleods took everyone without injury.”
Iskair nodded. He looked up at John. “I am so verra sorry, John.”
“Ye were shot, Iskair. There was naught ye could do.”
“I know this isn’t the time, but Andrew here says that you could probably stop Iskair’s bleeding. It started again, and he’s losing a lot of blood. I removed the pistol shot earlier.”
Dark-red liquid seeped down to the floor beneath Iskair.
“Let me see the wound,” John said.
I reached for Iskair’s kilt, but he stayed my hand and lifted the hem himself. John shot me a quick glance and then pulled his sword from his belt.
“Aye, I can tend to his wound. Ye may wish to turn away, mistress. The wound is in a delicate area.”
“I’m the one who has been bandaging his wound. I know exactly where it is.”
Iskair stared at the sword that John set into the fire.
“Dinna let yer blade slip, John!” he growled.
“Nay,” John said. “If ye will stay, mistress, pull the bandage away.”
I removed the cloth, setting it aside.
“Ye ken this will pain ye, Iskair. Is that a flask I see there near the wall?”
“Aye,” Iskair said. He reached for it.
“Ye had better drink some. Then we must decide what to do about rescuing my people.”
Iskair gulped the whisky.
“We will give it a moment,” John said. “Know that I am grateful ye came to warn the people and took them away.”
“But to no avail. Angus found us.”
“Aye, he did that, but they canna get far with the women and children. We could catch them.”
“Overland?”
“Nay, we have the birlinns. We will set out at first light.”
Iskair nodded.
“Are ye ready?”
“Aye, burn the flesh.”
John pulled the sword from the fire and without hesitation, he applied the tip to Iskair’s wound. Iskair groaned and grabbed my hand. His grip was painful, but I covered it with my own. The smell of burning flesh almost gagged me.
“Okay! That should do it!” I cried out when it seemed John wouldn’t lift the sword. He lifted the sword, and I looked down to see the hole charred and blistered, but the bleeding had stopped.
Iskair closed his eyes, his face mirroring his pain. I wiggled my aching fingers, and he opened his eyes.
“Forgive me! Did I harm ye?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “You might feel better if we leave the wound unwrapped for the rest of the night.”
Iskair didn’t answer, but John did. He settled himself on the floor, setting the still-hot blade by his side.
“Aye, a good plan.”
I readjusted myself to sit next to the silent Iskair. I wondered if he had fallen asleep. Across the fire, John looked at me.
“Ye are cousin to my wife, Ann, then?” He threw a warning glance in Iskair’s direction.
I shook my head. “Iskair knows,” I said. “I just told him. I know it wasn’t my secret to tell, but I had to tell someone about myself and that I wasn’t alone.”
John didn’t appear angry, but in fact nodded.
“I understand. I ken who ye are. Ann and Cynthia mentioned ye. Iain said a man came wi ye. Dylan Morrison? Though he called young Dylan yer brother, I ken he is no such. Ye are courting, I believe? Cynthia told us of her return to the future and about ye and Dylan.”
I shook my head. “No, that ended last year.”
“Auch, I am sorry to hear that. Is there no hope?”
“No, none. I don’t even know where he is right now.” I hated the sob that crept into my voice.
“I hope he is alive. Ann told me of Dylan, that he is our descendant.”
“Yes, he is. So despite all this darkness and violence, you, Ann and the children do survive.”
“So I have heard.”
I looked at Iskair, silent, eyes closed. “What are you going to do now?” I asked.
“We finish this.” A hardness settled over John’s face. Before I could ask more, a light appeared in the stairwell, as if some of the men returned. The large man named Torq appeared first, followed by Andrew. Others joined them. They spoke in Gaelic before several of the men went outside and others went back up the stairs. Torq and Andrew came over to where we sat. Andrew set his torch into the fire before sitting next to John.
Torq crouched on his knees in front of the fire. He spoke to John in Gaelic. John nodded and turned to me.
“I assume ye dinna speak Gaelic. Torq said he set men to watch outside and others up to the garret. If Macleod sent two men back to the castle, he must be looking for something...or someone.”
“That’s what Iskair said.”
Torq eyed me silently. Andrew watched me too.
“Hello,” I said. “You should know that I had to tell Iskair about me, about Ann and Cynthia, so...”
“It is a pleasure to meet ye, mistress, under the circumstances,” Torq said.
Andrew nodded shyly.
“You too.”
“We heard ye brought young Dylan wi ye?” Torq asked. “How is it that he could travel? I kent it was only women, and students of Scottish history at that.”
“I found the dagger, and Dylan had hold of my hand. When we awakened, we had both traveled through time.”
“Where is the dagger now?” John asked.
“In the water off the beach near the boathouses on Dun Eistean. A wave carried it off, and we couldn’t recover it with the incoming tide. We had no chance to get it before we had to leave the stronghold.”
John clucked and shook his head.
“Ye will need the dagger to return home.”
“Yes, I will have to go back there and try to get it.”
“I dinna ken when that will be possible,” Torq said. “Angus will have left some lads at the stronghold if he didna find ye there.”
“Did you stop by there on your way here?” I asked.
John shook his head. “No, when Iain told us the news, we came straight here.”
“By boat?”
“Aye.”
“I need to get the dagger,” I murmured, almost to myself.
“I will help ye fetch the cursed thing!” Iskair offered, opening his eyes. “When all is settled and I ken Dun Eistean is safe, I will get yer dagger. Ye and yer man, Dylan, can return to yer home.”
I reared back at the anger in his voice, anger that reminded me he was capable of great violence.
“Good!” I bit back. I saw John and Torq glance at each other. I had no idea what they were thinking.
“Sorry! Iskair and I have been bickering, and I’m not really sure why. Probably stress.”
John’s lips lifted slightly, softening the obvious worry in his face.
“Aye, stress, as ye say.”
Iskair closed his eyes again, and I tried to inch away from him without notice. When I had scooted away by about a foot, I looked up to see John, Torq and Andrew watching me. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Am I going with you?” I asked.
“Aye, of course,” John said. “We canna leave ye here, though in truth, ye might be safer here.”
“I don’t know if Iskair should travel.”
“Mistress, no only must Iskair travel, but we need him to fight,” Torq said. “We dinna have enough men as it is.”
“How many men do you think the Macleods brought with them?”
“We were about to ask ye that, mistress,” John said.
“I was away from the castle when they attacked. Down by the beach. I ran back, but I fell and hit my head. I blacked out. By the time I got back, it was over, and everyone was gone.”
“Iskair?” Torq said.
This time, Iskair did appear to be asleep. His curly head had slumped sideways. In repose, his full lips softened, and he looked like a handsome overgrown boy.
“He sleeps,” John said.
“He was with me on the beach. He hid me in the woods and then ran back. As I understand it, he was shot as soon as he reached the hall upstairs.”
“Let him sleep,” Torq said. “There is plenty of time to ask him questions when we set sail.”
“Aye. We should all sleep. Ye as well, mistress.”
“Debra,” I said, watching the men unhook the sashes of their great kilts to spread them around their shoulders like capes. Andrew promptly lay down.
“Debra,” John agreed. “Rest now.”
“I’ll try,” I said, moving over even further so that I could lie down. The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was John and Torq still sitting up, silently staring into the fire with no obvious intention of sleeping.