four boys and one determined man, and an apparent extended family, bound by the common goal of living each day with hope.
Catherine wanted to hope. Nathan and Nora could thrive here, and with a bit of encouragement, they could not only learn to trust again but look ahead instead of over their shoulders.
And maybe she could, too. She would start with Robbie MacBain. The next time he touched her, even if it killed her to do so, she would not panic and pull away. She couldn’t very well expect her children to be brave if she couldn’t even control her own reactions to a simple, innocent touch from a man.
Ronald Daniels would not win.
It was just as she told her kids. They had five guardian angels, and now the offer of a stout stick, to back them up.
Chapter Nine
Robbie held thelow-hanging branch out of his uncle’s way, thinking he should have the boys trim back the edges of the overgrown tote road running between his home and the ski resort. Ian leaned on the stick he’d left in the forest so no one would see him using a cane to steady his eighty-five-year-old legs. Robbie hid his smile and tucked his hands behind his back, matching his stride to that of the old warrior’s.
They walked in companionable silence up the gently rising road for several minutes, until Robbie quietly asked, “What’s on your mind, Uncle?”
“Death.”
“Death in general or of someone in particular?”
Ian looked at him from the corner of his eye. “My own. Thinking about one’s mortality is an everyday event at my age.”
“I imagine it is.”
“I don’t want to die here, Robbie.”
“I don’t think you have a choice, Uncle. None of us does.”
The old man stopped and canted his head. “It’s not death I’m thinking to avoid but the place. I’ve a wish to see my children before I die. And I’m needing to wrap my arms around my wife and bury my face in her bosom. I miss the smell of the village fires, the heather in the fields, and the clanking swords of sparring warriors. I want to go home, Robbie,” he whispered. “And I want ya to take me.”
“I can’t do that, Uncle.”
“Aye, ya can,” he softly contradicted. “Ya was given the task of watching over Daar for us, not because you’re the eldest but because you’re our guardian. And I’m thinking ya have the ability to grant my request.”
“Have you spoken with Grey about your wanting to go back?” Robbie asked, neither affirming nor denying Ian’s claim.
“Nay. Only you.”
“What about Kate? The two of you have been companions for over twenty years now.
Are you willing to leave her?”
“It was Kate who gave me the courage to finally ask ya,” Ian said with a nod. “She’s always known my heart belongs to my wife, and she’s been after me for some time now to find a way to get back to Gwyneth. We’ve had a good friendship, and I care a great deal for Kate,” he added. “She’ll not only understand, she’ll be happy for me.”
“And the rest of us?”
“You will be happy for me, too. Grey and Morgan and Callum and your papa have wives and children and grandbabies now. Their home is here, and mine is back there.
That’s why Kate kept encouraging me to go speak with Daar.” Ian laid his hand on Robbie’s arm. “But I’d rather bring my matter to ya. It’s you I trust.”
Robbie led Ian to the edge of the road, and they both sat down on a fallen log. “But the journey itself could kill you, Uncle. Surely you remember how violent it was thirty-five years ago.”
Ian’s face paled. “You’ve been,” he whispered. “You’ve already traveled back, haven’t ya?”
Robbie said nothing.
“It was three nights ago, wasn’t it?” Ian speculated, taking hold of Robbie’s arm again. “I heard the thunder and felt the entire mountain shake. And the next morning, I heard it again.”
He pointed at Robbie’s waist. “That gash on your side. It was made by a sword, I would bet. Ya went back and nearly got yourself killed.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The little lass, Nora. She told me they found ya lying in the woods, and that they thought ya was dead. She said her mother used thread from her kit to sew up a cut in your side.” He pointed at Robbie’s face. “Ya didn’t get that bruise on your cheek from bumping into a door, and ya didn’t go to Libby so she could heal ya, because she would realize how ya got hurt.”
Robbie sighed and stared across the road at nothing. “They mustn’t find out,” he finally said, looking back at Ian. “Grey and Callum and Morgan and my father—they can’t know about this. Did Grey hear the storm?”
“Nay,” Ian said, shaking his head. “He and Grace are down visiting Elizabeth at college.
And the others live too far away to have heard it.”
Robbie nodded. “Then please don’t tell them.”
“What are you and that crazy priest up to?”
“It’s… complicated. I went back to try to get a new book of spells for Daar.”
“What?Ya know how dangerous it will be for us if that old fool gets his hands on the spells.”
“But if he doesn’t,” Robbie quietly explained, “then your wish will be granted on this summer’s solstice. But you won’t be going back alone.”
Ian went utterly still, his face turning pale again around his widened hazel eyes. “All of us?” he whispered.
“Aye,” Robbie gently returned. “In three months, if Daar can’t extend the original spell that brought you here, all five of you will go back.”
Ian looked away, saying nothing.
“I won’t let it happen, Uncle.”
Ian looked back at him. “I can help,” he said, squaring his age-stooped shoulders. “I’m old, but I ain’t dead yet. I can’t wield a sword anymore, but I know that time, the people, and the land. I can help,” he repeated with a growl, grabbing Robbie’s arm again. “Take me back with ya.”
Robbie gently pulled Ian’s hand free and held it in his. “I saw Gwyneth,” he quietly told him. “When I went back, it was ten years after you had left. She never remarried and lives with your daughter, Caitlin.” He smiled. “Caitlin is married to a fine warrior, and she has three bairns.”
A huge grin spread through Ian’s beard, and he squeezed Robbie’s hand. “How did my Gwyneth look?”
“Beautiful,” Robbie whispered. “And very busy spoiling your grandbabies.”
“Did ya actually speak to her?”
“Aye. I told her I was a distant relative, and had been away for several years, when she wondered why she didn’t know me. She fed me and spoke of her husband, asking if I remembered Ian MacKeage.”
“What did ya say?”
“I said I remembered a giant, ill-tempered, wild-eyed warrior who scared little children when he walked by.”
Ian snorted and pulled away, clasped his hands together, and looked up at Robbie with eyes far more shining than wild. “And Niall?” he asked. “Did you see my son?”
“He’s Laird Niall now.”
“No!” Ian grabbed his chest. “But how can that be?”
Robbie shrugged. “He was elected, I gather, a few months after Greylen disappeared.
You’re all legends, Uncle. Grey and Morgan and Callum and you, you’ve all become the talk of the campfire.”
“And Megan and James? How are they?”
“Megan married a Maclerie warrior and has five bairns, Gwyneth told me.” He took hold of Ian’s hand. “And James died three years after you left, in a hunting accident. I’m sorry, Uncle.”
“It was hard times back then,” Ian said, turning away and swiping at his eyes. “The cost of mistakes was high.” He turned back to Robbie, his sad eyes looking worried. “What would happen if I suddenly showed up? How would I explain where I’ve been?”
“With the boldest lie we can think of,” Robbie suggested. He stood up and helped Ian off the log. “Not that I’m saying youcan go back. I need to think about the ramifications,”