That was one reason she wasn’t harder on him when he became too protective. She would think about the seven-year-old boy who believed it was his fault that his baby brother died. That made her want to wrap her arms around him and take the weight from his shoulders for a while. Then there were times when she wasn’t so understanding. When she just wanted to scream at him to wake up and realize he couldn’t change the past, that he couldn’t protect her and the world every waking minute just because he believed he hadn’t saved Liam or stopped the Civil War. Her sweet, sweet, chauvinistic, chivalrous alpha man. How would she ever make him forget all the pain he’d suffered?
“I wish I’d never told anybody about the bloody lass,” Faelan muttered. “Can we figure out who this poor blighter is that’s been dumped in a hole without even a marker?” He jumped down inside the grave.
“Should we call the police?” Bree asked.
“Not until we have a look,” Faelan said, examining the wooden coffin. “First I want to know who used the place where my time vault was buried.”
“I’ll come down and help you open it,” Bree said.
“No, you won’t,” Faelan said. “Don’t even think about coming down here.” A good solid glare showed her he was serious. “Ronan, keep her up there.”
Ronan grinned and whispered, “If we hurry, we can sneak away before he climbs out of the hole.”
“And I’ll chop you up into little pieces,” Faelan’s muffled voice said.
“You need to get over yourself,” Ronan said. “Move over. I’m coming down.” He jumped down beside Faelan and studied the grave. “It’s not every day you see a wooden coffin. Well, I guess you did, since you’re so old.”
Bree moved closer to the hole. Half her foot was over the edge. “The wood is rotten. It’s certainly old.”
“It can’t be older than Faelan,” Ronan said, examining the lid. “Not if this is the hole his time vault was buried in. Let’s open the coffin and find out who’s inside.”
“Looks like someone already tried to open it,” Faelan said. The lid creaked as they pushed it aside. Both of them went still, hunched over the coffin.
“Who’s in there?” Bree asked. Faelan and Ronan’s shoulders were blocking her view.
“He’s wearing a kilt,” Faelan said, his voice hushed.
“A kilt?” Bree moved around until she could see. The body was just a skeleton, with bits of shrunken flesh and scraps of clothing attached to some of the bones. The shirt had been light colored at one time, and the kilt primarily red. “I wasn’t expecting a kilt.” She looked at Faelan’s kilt and light shirt and felt a chill. So much for the farmer or soldier theory. “Can you tell from the kilt how old he might be?”
“You’re the historian,” Faelan said.
She studied history. He’d lived it. “Oh, this might help. I found something underneath the coffin.”
Faelan glared up at her. “Under the coffin? Did you climb inside this grave?”
Ronan grunted and shook his head.
Bree lifted one shoulder. “Sort of.”
“Sort of!” Faelan said. “How do you sort of climb into a grave? You’re pregnant, carrying my bairn, and you climbed into a grave!”
“Good grief. It’s not even that deep. I’ve been in much worse places than this.”
“We know,” both men said at the same time.
This was one of those times she wanted to hit Faelan. And Ronan too. Instead, she pulled the dagger from her waistband and held it up. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Ronan took the dagger from her. He hadn’t examined it before. He’d been too busy pulling her out of the grave. “Looks old.”
“I figure it’s eighteenth century,” she said. “Maybe seventeenth.”
“Eighteenth,” Faelan said, his voice just above a whisper.
“That’s pretty impressive,” Bree said. Then she saw he was staring at the dagger, his face ashen. “Are you OK?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ronan said.
“I’ve seen this dagger before.” Faelan reached for it with trembling hands. “It was my brother’s.”
Bree’s eyes widened. “Your brother’s?”
“It belonged to Tavis. I gave it to him for his birthday.” Faelan looked back at the bones in the coffin. “I think you’ve found my brother’s grave.”
CHAPTER TWO
WE’LL GIVE HIM a real burial,” Ronan said to Faelan. Several of the warriors had met at the Albany castle to discuss the grave. The elders were in another part of the castle meeting about the same thing. The entire clan was disturbed by the discovery of the grave, but Faelan was taking it particularly hard. He’d already lost Tavis once. Lost his whole family. Now he had to deal with his brother’s death all over again. That must suck. Ronan could sympathize. It had taken him a long time to get over Cam’s death, if he had. He couldn’t imagine having to face it all over again.
“Shouldn’t we check DNA?” Cody asked. “Sam might be able to pull some strings and get it done quicker.”
Cody’s friend Samantha Skye was with the FBI. She sometimes helped the clan cover up activities that couldn’t be explained by normal means. She complained that she risked losing her job, but they all knew she loved the danger and excitement. And she had the hots for Jamie, Shay’s ex-fiancé, which made Cody happy since he was still jealous of the warrior who had almost married Shay. He watched his bride-to-be like the crown jewels in a den of thieves. Especially when Jamie and Ronan were around.
“It has to be Tavis,” Faelan said. “It’s his dagger, and the kilt was the right color. We know he was here. He helped dig up my time vault and move it.”
“Why does everyone think he was buried at sea?” Shay asked.
Ronan felt Declan move behind him. He didn’t even have to see his twin to know he was there. “Probably a cover story,” Declan said. “They wouldn’t want his grave connected to Faelan’s hiding place.”
Faelan nodded, and his hand found Bree’s. “We’ll have the funeral and put Tavis to rest.”
Bree leaned closer and put her other hand on his chest. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she started sliding off the couch.
Ronan shot forward, but Faelan had already caught her before she hit the floor. “Bree! What’s wrong? Is it the bairn?” Faelan held her close, his face pale. “Get Tomas. Someone get Tomas.”
“He’s not here,” Marcas said. “I’ll find Coira.”
Shay knelt beside her sister. “Her pulse is strong. I think she’s had one of her visions. Bree, can you hear me?”
“She did get that distant look on her face.” Faelan’s voice was hopeful. He was terrified of losing the baby. And Bree. Like he’d lost everyone from his life before. Ronan was doing everything he could to see that Bree and the baby remained safe.
“These spells affect her more now that she’s pregnant,” Sorcha said, her tone edgy. “It can’t be healthy for the baby.”
She wasn’t even flirting with Lachlan, who sat next to her. Of course Duncan wasn’t here to witness her show.
“What do you want me to bloody do about it?” Faelan asked, scowling.
Ronan shook his head at Sorcha. “You’re good with a sword, Sorcha, but you don’t have crap for tact.”
Brodie scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I lived back in Faelan’s day, when we didn’t have to deal with female warriors.”
“I can fix it so you don’t have to deal with a female anything,” Sorcha sneered.
“Back off, Sorcha,” Ronan said. “Go yell at Duncan.”
“That’s her problem,” Brodie muttered. “Duncan’s not here, so we’re taking the brunt of her bitchiness. I wish they’d just jump in the sack and get it over with so the rest of us could live in peace.”