To Conquer a Scot (A Time Traveler’s Highland Love) Read online

  “I’m sure if she was concerned about anything, she would’ve told me. I had hoped Aedan would make her his wife. They seem so well suited.”

  “Aye, I canna disagree with ye there, lass, and we have until the morn to change Abigail’s mind. If I come across her in my travels, I’ll make sure to have a word or two.”

  Gwen clasped his arm, smiling. Ben’s heart thumped loud behind his ribs. “You’d do that?”

  “I’ll always be here for you and your clan, Gwen. And try not to worry, we’ll change Abigail’s mind.”

  “Thank you, Ben. You’re too good to us.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aedan cast another look toward his sister and Abigail and again, the two women were somber, both lost in their meals, not full of chatter like they usually were.

  Something was wrong.

  He took a sip of mead and leaned toward Abigail seated next to him; she smiled up at him, but the gesture didn’t fill her eyes. “What’s troubling ye, lass?”

  She fidgeted with the sleeve of her gown. “Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?”

  He raised his brows. “Tonight, something seems amiss.”

  She laughed, the sound hollow and a spike of fear entered his gut. “Nothing. I assure you.”

  “Abigail, I want the truth. Now.” She paled a little, meeting Gwen’s gaze before slumping back in her chair. “I think it is time that I return home. I found out today that it’s possible.”

  The impact to his gut felt like a sword had sliced through his innards. “What?” He glared at Gwen, wanting to reach across and murder her.

  “The residual magic has worn off,” Abigail whispered, the breath of her words tickling his ear and making him miss her already. “Gwen thinks it’ll be safe for me to return to my time.”

  He didn’t want her going anywhere. “And if you end up in some other time, alone, vulnerable, what then? I’ll never know if ye made it home safely or not.” He paused, fisting his hands to stop their shaking. “Ye cannot go. I forbid it.”

  Abigail gaped at him, and he looked away. Perhaps if he ignored her, this whole nightmare of her leaving would disappear, too.

  “I beg your pardon. You don’t have the right to forbid me from this. It isn’t your choice, Aedan.”

  “’Tis my choice, and I forbid my sister to allow ye to leave.” His voice sounded high, not the even-tempered tone he usually spoke with. He cleared his throat. “For the time being, at least.”

  “No.”

  “No?” He narrowed his eyes, not liking the determination in her tone. She was stubborn, probably more stubborn than he was. It wasn’t a good mix.

  “No,” she repeated, lifting her chin. “I have to go sooner or later and tomorrow is no different than any other day.”

  Her words cut him to the quick. He couldn’t let her go. Just the thought of her no longer within his castle walls, warming his bed, smiling at him whenever their paths crossed, left a hollow crevice in his soul.

  “Aedan,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “You knew I’d go eventually.”

  He stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything at all. “I don’t want ye to leave.” And that was the truth. Hell, he never wanted her to leave. Over the last two weeks that she’d graced his halls he’d come to admire her inner strength, marvel at her courage, and love her heart, when she wasn’t annoying him, of course.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and his panic increased. “Abigail, lass, is there something more yer not telling me? Surely, by now, ye know ye can trust me.”

  She bit her bottom lip and sniffed. She looked out toward the trestle tables, her face paling. Aedan followed her line of vision and locked gazes with Rory Kirk, the bastard playing with a dirk in his hand, his face one of pure hate.

  A chill swept across his spine, and he swore. “Abigail, look at me. Did something happen today that yer scared to tell me? Do not try and protect me by staying silent. Ye best explain now and not later when it’s too late for me to help ye.”

  She shook her head and stood. “Truly Aedan I’m fine, just tired. I’m retiring for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He watched her leave and then looked to make sure Rory Kirk stayed where he was seated. The bastard followed Abigail’s progress, but didn’t rise. He turned to his right and said to Ben, “I think Rory Kirk has threatened Abigail in some way. She’s afraid of him.”

  His friend leaned forward on the table with a relaxed air that was anything but. Beneath his benign visage, Aedan knew the man was on full alert, as was he.

  “And you think this is why she’s wanting to return home?”

  “You know?”

  Ben shrugged, meeting his gaze. “Gwen told me this afternoon that Abigail had asked to return home.”

  “Well, that explains why they’re quiet tonight.” He paused. “Why did ye not tell me? I’ve been wondering what’s wrong.” Aedan finished his drink, slamming the goblet down on the wooden table.

  “When I spoke to her today, she said not to. That she’d find the right time to tell ye.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. And it seems too coincidental that the moment Clan Kirk arrives, Abigail wishes to leave. Especially with how Rory thinks she’s his lost betrothed.”

  “Aye, ye have the right of it. I was watching the clan today. They’re trouble, Aedan. I wouldn’t turn my back on them while they’re here. Rory Kirk is as slippery as an eel.”

  Aedan swore. “I’m certain he’s threatened Abigail, scared her enough that’s she’s running.”

  “Perhaps the Laird of MacLeod is also worn out and needs an early night.”

  “Mayhap you’re correct.” He stood. “Watch him and don’t let him out of yer sight. Also, tell Braxton to sleep outside Gwen’s door tonight. I want her safety ensured as well.”

  “Consider it done,” Ben replied, leaning back in his chair, as if nothing was amiss.

  Aedan walked from the room and headed upstairs to where he could keep Abigail in his sight, where she was safe.

  ...

  He entered her room via the tapestry, heading for the door to ensure she’d locked it.

  “What are you doing here?” She sat up in bed, her hands clutching the sheet to her chest.

  He came to stand at the end of the bed, leaning against one wooden post. She looked so vulnerable and scared. He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her, revel in her for as long as he could. Her hair was unbound and tumbled about her shoulders, pulling his gaze to her slender, beautiful neck. “What did Rory Kirk say to ye, lass? I know he’s threatened ye in some way, and I need to know how.”

  “I can’t. He said if I said anything, he’d hurt Gwen. I can’t put her safety at risk.”

  “Gwen is being watched by the man who loves her. She’ll be safe, I promise ye. Now tell me, please.”

  Tears slid down her cheek, and his resolve not to touch her until she’d explained what was going on crumbled. He walked around the bed and sat beside her, pulling her into his embrace. Her hands came about his back and held him. Nothing in his life felt as right as this, Abigail beside him, trusting him.

  “Are you sure Gwen’s safety can be ensured? I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her.”

  “I promise. She’s well cared for.” He remained silent, knowing she’d tell him when she was ready.

  “Rory Kirk did threaten me. He found me alone today and continued to hound me, insisted I am his missing fiancée. He’s steadfast that I’m his betrothed. It’s ludicrous. He wouldn’t listen when I explained, again, I’m not who he thinks I am.”

  “What was his threat?” Rage boiled up in his blood, and Aedan kept his focus on the mantle across the room, the flames licking the wood as hot and wild as his temper. He’d spoken to the troublesome laird after breaking his fast. Warned him to cease his insistence that Abigail was his missing Coira lass. That the man had stood before him, lying to him that he’d already let the similarities between the two women go, made his temper
soar.

  “There were two,” she muffled against his chest. “The first one was to rape me. The second was against Gwen. He said she’d have an ‘accident’ while out riding. He mentioned her falling and breaking her neck.”

  Aedan swallowed, unsure if speech was possible. His grip tightened around Abigail. Clan Kirk would pay for such threats, as the O’Cains would. He thought back to today’s games, having thought all his guests were enjoying his home and hospitality.

  How wrong had he been? All the while, the vile Rory Kirk had been threatening his woman. Had abused her peace of mind.

  I’ll kill him.

  “Did he hurt ye? And dinna lie. I want to know everything.”

  Abigail looked up at Aedan. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m more concerned about what you’re thinking.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, the touch soft and far too quick. This would be their last night together. The last thing he wanted to do was spend it worrying about a man not worthy of the name.

  “Tell me, lass.”

  ...

  Abby ground her teeth, hating the fact he could read her so well. But what good would it do to tell him what Rory had done? Nothing. Aedan certainly couldn’t change the events of the day, no matter how much she may wish it.

  “I know what you’ll do if I tell you, and so I won’t. I’ll be gone soon enough. No need to cause you or your people any more trouble.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Abigail. Tell me. That bastard cannot treat anyone under my protection in such a way. I’ll not have it.”

  She sighed, her stomach knotting. “Aedan, please.”

  “Tell me. Now.” His voice brooked no argument.

  “He hit me, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Does it make this situation any better? No. It doesn’t.” When Aedan didn’t say anything, she glanced up at him and stilled at the murderous rage she could read in his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “He’ll not harm you or anyone else from this night on. I promise ye that.” He stood and walked to the door, pushing a large chest in front of it. “Leave it locked and with the chest there. I’ll be back before dawn.”

  Abby jumped from the bed, following him toward the tapestry. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to gut the bastard, make him bleed, and possibly kill him before his men.”

  “You cannot do that! Aedan, surely there’s another way.” He stared at her, seemingly not hearing anything she was saying.

  “Not in this time there is not.”

  His words plummeted her heart into her stomach. The thought that Aedan could be injured, or worse, killed by the unhinged Rory Kirk was too much to comprehend. “Please, you can’t. I didn’t tell you so you would go off and seek revenge.”

  “But I will and there’s nothing ye can do or say that’ll stop me.” He paused at the tapestry, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “Should anything happen, hide in the secret passage until help arrives. No one will find ye there. If ye manage it without assistance, the passage leads out under the southern wall where ye can escape or seek help.”

  Abby swallowed her gnawing panic. “Aedan, please. Don’t go.”

  He didn’t say anything, merely turned and left, the tapestry falling back into place as if he never was. Abby slumped onto the stool beside the fire, her stomach churning with what tonight would bring.

  Again her mind replayed the events of the day. Of Rory Kirk’s threats, his laughing, sadistic gaze. What’s more, a niggling thought plagued her that the bastard laird had threatened her in the hopes that she would tell Aedan. Had she unwittingly led Aedan into a trap?

  Noises sounded outside, and she crossed the room and looked out the window. From here she could make out the land that the games were used for. Torches burned bright in the night sky, the sounds of clansmen enjoying drink and good company whispered on the wind.

  The moon caught her eye and she cringed seeing it was full. A bad omen? Or the sign of new beginnings? That she wouldn’t know for some hours. The longest she’d ever lived in her life.

  ...

  She jumped at the loud bang against her door. She sat up in the window seat, touching her cold cheek that had been leaning against the stone wall. The banging sounded again and she stayed where she was, frozen and unable to decide if she should speak or run for her life.

  “Who is it?” Her voice sounded timid, pathetic. She cleared her throat. “Who is it?” she said, loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.

  “It’s me, mistress. Your chamber servant. Laird MacLeod sent me up to check on ye, and ensure you were settled for the night.”

  Relief poured through her as she crossed the room, sliding the trunk to the side. “Yes, I’m fine, Betsy.” She opened the door and gasped, trying to shut it as Rory Kirk stood on the other side, knife to her servant’s throat. He was too strong and pushed his way into the room, throwing the woman to the floor with enough force that she didn’t get back up again.

  “Foolish woman, Abigail, if that’s what yer calling yourself these days.” He laughed, shutting the door and bolting the lock across. “I thought it’d be much harder gaining entrance into ye room. Seems ye still as daft as ye ever was.”

  “What do you want?” She backed toward the fire, the closest place in the room that had some sort of weapon, the fire poker. If only she could reach her bed and grab the small knife she’d stashed under her pillow. The fire poker could only do so much, and against this brute she doubted it’d give him a bruise.

  “Don’t fight me on this, lass. You’re comin’ with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Her hand clasped the cold metal and she held it behind her back, hiding it in the skirts of her gown. He advanced on her, a menacing beast she knew she’d never win against. “Where’s Aedan?”

  “Taken care of.” He smiled, showing off his rotten front teeth. “He’ll not be looking for ye tonight.”

  Despair washed over her, nearly crippling her limbs. “Is he dead?” Her breathing came in quick succession and she clasped her throat, finding it hard to catch her breath.

  “Not yet. But one day, and hopefully, one day soon. Now come.” He stepped toward her, but stopped when she backed away.

  She sidled around him, trying to get closer to the door. Knowing it was now or never to make her move, she threw the poker at his face and bolted toward escape. He swiped at the projectile like it was an annoying moth and flung it to the floor. Unharmed, he caught her at the door, pushed her up against the wood and undulated against her bottom, the strength of him hurting her, her hipbones grinding against the wood sent pain ricocheting up her abdomen. She cried out as the air in her lungs was squeezed out.

  His hand slid about her throat, and she stilled. “Do not run again, lass. I don’t take nicely to be treated with so little respect.”

  “Screw you.”

  He laughed, squeezing her neck until blackness flickered before her eyes. “Later yes, but right now, I need ye to shut up so I apologize for what I’m about to do. It pains me more than it’ll pain you, I assure ye.”

  “Bullshit.” Abby tried to push him off before something hard slammed into her skull. That it did hurt was the last thought she had before blackness consumed her.

  ...

  The cold wind pierced her face, her head feeling like it would split in two from the pounding headache. Slumped over a horse, her hands fastened behind her back and her ankles tied, left her feeling unbalanced and vulnerable. Her skin burned where they were latched together, and with every clop of the horses’ hooves, the bones on her ankles rubbed.

  Dawn was breaking in the morning sky as they galloped to a destination she’d never seen before. Mountains rose on either side of them, and it looked like a dry riverbed, if the amount of stones the horse tripped over was any indication. On either side of the bank, heather rose up across the lower hills, its purple flowers the only ornament on an otherwise barren landscape.

  The
man holding her on the horse shouted out orders in quick succession, his voice loud enough to send pain spiking through her skull. She cringed.

  “Awake are ye?” He patted her bottom, his hand squeezing painfully against her flesh. “’Tis about time. There is nothing more boring than having a woman when she isn’t conscious.”

  “You’re a vile pig.” Abby tried to wiggle off the horse, death by a brain injury would be better than having to stay one more moment with this vile being.

  His hand held her fast, and he made an awful noise of displeasure. “Try that again and I’ll slit ye throat and bleed ye over me horse’s neck.”

  Abby remained silent as something told her he’d do exactly that, should she push him too far. Aedan would come for her, of that she was sure. She needed to keep this man’s hands and sword off her until he did.

  Easier said than done.

  “Where are we going?”

  He laughed, the sound tinged with mockery. “That’s the brilliance of my plan. I’ve sent half my men with a woman from Clan MacLeod headed toward the eastern borders. Last reports have your stupid laird following them instead of us. We’re headed for O’Cain land, where me and my men will all have a turn of ye, before I kill ye stone dead.”

  “I’m not the woman you seek. I have never met you before our introductions at Castle Druiminn. I don’t know why you won’t believe me.” Her voice rose in panic. The thought of being passed around, a play toy to these men made her stomach lurch. She’d never survive it. And what did it matter if she did, they were going to kill her, anyway. “If you have any moral fiber in your body you’ll let me go.”

  “You are who I seek, no matter what you say. You’ve proven yourself a lying wench, and I’ll have my revenge.”

  They stopped, and he clasped the back of her gown, wrenching her backward and throwing her off the horse. She landed with a thump, sprawled on her ass.. The muscles in her back screamed in pain as she tensed to stop her head from hitting the ground.