Page 75 of Dark Victory

Sam cried out, “Why the hell not?”

With inimitable timing, Kit poked her head into the door. “Can I bother you guys for a minute? I found something on An Tùir-Tara that is really interesting.”

Nick gestured her in. “Join the party.”

Kit entered, casting a worried glance at Sam. “You’ll want to hear this. I found this quote in a first edition from Oxford University Press. The pub date was 1922. It’s only one reference to An Tùir-Tara, but I will try to back it up.” She had memorized the sentence. “The great rivalry between the ladies of Melvaig and Blayde ended that day in the fires.”

Sam stared, paling. “I knew it. I knew she was there.” She faced Nick. “Tabby is a gentle soul. She abhors violence. She is going to have a really hard time adjusting to life in the Middle Ages. I have to go back and help her through this—and I have to protect her from Lafarge. She doesn’t even know Lafarge is out to destroy her.”

She was too involved. “You’re not going back. And that is final.”

“Nick, this is really important to me.”

Nick closed the file. He stared at Sam. “Rose, we both know your sister will be just fine. We both know she had to go back sooner or later. You’re not going back—but I am.”

Sam jerked. “Without me?”

He sighed, because she was spitting fire, and turned to look at Jan. Jan started. Instantly understanding, her eyes widened. “I am not going back with you,” she said flatly. “Never again!”

“You’re taking her?” Sam cried. “Are you kidding?”

“Don’t worry,” Jan said. “I am not a field agent.” She walked out.

He was sorry she was upset, but she’d have to get over it, because his mind was made up. “I’m going after Lafarge,” he said. “But I’ll check in on your sister while I’m at it.”

“I don’t believe this.” Sam strode out.

Kit hesitated. “I’m more than happy to do the dirty and go down under.”

He gave her a scornful look. “You’re a rookie, you haven’t finished your PST, goodbye.”

Kit kept her face impassive but he saw the disappointment in her eyes, and she left his office.

He got up and went to the door. Jan was on the phone and she ignored him. He felt her distress.

He decided to remind her that they weren’t going back to the days of the Roman Empire, and that in the Middle Ages, torture did not include crucifixion.

She lifted her green eyes. “I am not going back…It’s a miracle you and Sam made it home in one piece and you know it. Forget about going back, Nick. Forget Lafarge.”

“You know I don’t give a rat’s ass about Lafarge,” he said easily. “But I can feel that she’s the lead to the real bad boys. You can start packing.”

She stared furiously, trembling.

“At least you won’t need lipstick,” he said.

“Damn you to hell!”

He thought about the flashbacks and didn’t bother to tell her he might already be there.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AS ABRUPTLY AS IT had begun, the rain had slowed to a mist.

Tabby didn’t notice. She stumbled outside, the ground in the bailey now muddy, clutching the plaid like a hood to her head. A pair of dogs rushed over to her, tails wagging, but she ignored them. A knifelike pain was going through her breast, and it felt suspiciously like heartbreak. But that was impossible. Macleod was going to execute that boy—unless she stopped him.

He was horrible, cruel, heartless and terribly violent…and she had justified and rationalized it so she could have a torrid affair and live with herself afterward. Well, she couldn’t live with herself now.

She had to save Coinneach. It wasn’t an option; it was her priority. She had no right to this acute sense of loss. She was not suffering; Coinneach was suffering.