Page 12 of Darach

Emery Parker paced up and down the passage in the garrison corridor, swatting at her dark brown hair when tendrils of it escaped her untidy bun. She wished she had an excuse to barge into Darach’s chamber so she could find out what was going on, but that would probably only further startle the new arrival. From what the garrison guards had told her husband, Darach had carried in the pale-haired woman, who had been wounded. Had it happened during the jump back to the past, or had she been in trouble in the future? Not knowing an answer was Emery’s least favorite thing.

“This is taking forever,” she complained as she stopped and glared at the door.

“You need acquire some patience,” Taveon MacRoss said as he leaned against a wall and watched her. The tallest man in the clan, the war master’s gleaming black hair framed a clever face so pale it looked as if he’d been carved from snowy marble. That and his ability to remain unruffled in any crisis had earned him the reputation of having ice for blood. “’Twill only seem longer if you fret thus.”

“I’m not fretting. I never fret,” she told him, swatting the air between them. “I just have a lot of nervous energy. Stop giving me the black stare of disapproval.”

“Aye, my lady.” He grinned as she glowered at him, as she did every time he called her that. “’Tis your own fault for wishing to stay with my brother for eternity, and then wedding him after the Fire sword granted your wish. Forever shall you be our Lady MacRoss.”

“I may be married to your lord, but I’m still an American, and we don’t do titles. So for the rest of eternity call me Emery, or I’m going to kick you where it hurts boys every time you Lady me.” She let out a frustrated breath as she leaned against the opposite wall and folded her arms. “Do you think Struan taking over the Carack Clan is the reason the Fire sword brought this woman back to us?”

His brows arched, giving him a slightly devilish look. “You wish to blame the sain disappearing on Callum’s successor?”

“Well, who else?” she countered. “He worked as the Carack’s war master, and the vassal grapevine says that he was Callum’s only full-blood brother, too. Geez, probably all the guy thinks about now is attacking us.”

Taveon sighed. “Aye, as raiding Dun Deigh and killing Carack, ’tis all ever I ponder. You ken naught of war mastering.”

“I stopped a clan war, didn’t I?” she reminded him. “So what’s Struan’s deal? From the five minutes I spent with him he seemed polite, even if he wouldn’t listen to me. He was nothing like Callum, though.”

“Never should anyone call Struan a hot head like his brother,” he told her. “He didnae kill the laird when he rode alone to Dun Deigh to bring Callum’s body back to his clan. He even bowed to Luthias and thanked him in front of the other Carack. ’Tisnae him that worries me.”

“A-ha. So you are worried. I knew it wasn’t just me.” Emery wagged her finger at him. “We both know that the sword wouldn’t have disappeared unless the threat to the clan went to DEFCON 1 again. Now it brings back this woman in the middle of the night. There has to be something triggering the enchantment, and the saving part might not take weeks the way it did with me. We might need her to do her thing like tomorrow morning, right?”

“I cannae tell you,” the war master admitted. “’Tis only happened twice now.”

“Okay.” She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms. “Then who do you suspect is the threat this time? If it’s not Struan, then could it be the bone cobbler. He has to be the one who murdered Athdara Martin, and tried to burn me and Luthias along with Callum.”

“We’ve seen naught more of that crazed fack or his filthy works,” Taveon said, “and we yet dinnae ken who killed the Carack laird’s lover.”

Emery made a face at him, but she knew he was right. Someone had tortured Athdara before drowning her to make it look as if she’d killed herself, and then attempted to frame Luthias with a suicide scroll claiming he had used and abandoned her to starve. Emery had examined the dead woman’s body and proved she had been murdered, stopping a war between the clans. When she had convinced both lairds to meet her at the place where she believed Athdara had been killed, however, they had been ambushed. The Carack laird had saved her and Luthias, only to die in the fire she was sure the bone cobbler had set.

“This is giving me a headache,” Emery complained. “I just want the killing to stop. Enough people have died.”

The war master made a soft sound. “You yet blame yourself for Callum.”

“I don’t want to, but it was my fault.” She eyed him. “He would never have gone there to talk to Luthias on his own. I nagged him into doing it because I wanted them to make nice. Then those two refused to let me search the barn by myself. If I’d just made them stay outside while I looked for evidence–”

“Then you’d be dead, and Callum, for my brother would have blamed him for your death, and cut him to pieces,” the war master assured her. “And Luthias wouldnae stop with one dead laird. He’d have gone to war to end the rest of the Carack, and killed the rest of us seeking to do thus.”

“You know what? That totally ended my guilt trip. Thank you.” As Darach’s chamber door opened Emery hurried over to her husband. “Is she okay? What’s her name? Where did she come from? Is she a scientist like me?”

Luthias closed the door. “She’s wounded, but no’ badly. Her name, ’tis Charlotte Walsh. She came from Toronto in the twenty-first century, and she paints.”

Emery blinked. “She what?”

“She paints picture books for bairns.” He gave Taveon a wry look. “I cannae fathom how such a lady should save the clan, but at least she doesnae wish to return.”

“A kid’s book artist from Canada. This is like trying to solve crossword puzzles without any clues.” Emery tapped a finger against her lips. “How did she get hurt? Did she cut herself with the sword?”

“She’s been hounded and attacked by a vicious brute in her time,” Luthias said. “He nearly killed her before she came back with the blade.” He hesitated before he added, “Mistress Walsh told me she saw her own death before the sword took her.”

“Just like I did before it dropped me here.” Emery didn’t like to think about the vision she’d had just before the Fire sword had saved her by bringing her to the MacRoss; she’d seen herself on the floor of her museum’s storage room with a broken neck. “I need to talk to her.”

“No’ tonight, my love. She’s yet terrified, so we need to treat her gently and give her some time to calm.” Her husband regarded the war master. “When shall the healer return from Skye?”

“We expect Mairi and her family back before the new moon.” Taveon frowned. “If the lady needs tending I may summon Duine.”

“Probably not a good idea,” Emery put in. “The master had been so upset since the blade vanished again that Cook has been keeping a pot of calming brew simmering just for him all day.”