“Robbie’s your enemy?” she whispered, taking another step back. “But he’s your nephew.”
Ian sighed. “It’s a long story, Catherine, but I suppose it’s one ya should hear before we go to the village.”
“Don’t run,” Robbie said when she took another step back. “There’s no place to go.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m going home. This is crazy. You’re all crazy. We can’t be standing on a mountain in Maine one minute and in Scotland the next. And certainly not in the thirteenth century.”
“Aye, but we are,” Ian said. “The storm brung us here, with the priest’s help.”
“Th-the priest?”
Robbie pounced the moment her attention turned to Ian and captured Cat before she could bolt. She lashed out with a yelp of surprise, pummeling him with her tiny fists as she twisted to get free. He used his weight to drop them both to the ground and stilled her legs by throwing his thigh over hers, grabbing her fists and pinning her hands beside her head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t let you run. Give me your promise to stay with us, or I’
ll be forced to hobble you.”
“I just want to go home,” she whispered, her face as pale as new-fallen snow. “Please, just let me go home,” she ended in a sob, her eyes tearing and her chin quivering.
Robbie leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Nay, little Cat, I can’t. Not for several days yet.”
“Days!” she cried, twisting beneath him again. “No! I have to get back to Nathan and Nora. I can’t be gone for days!”
“You won’t,” he assured her, lowering his weight to stop her struggles. “Catherine,” he softly entreated. “You’ll be back by sunrise, I promise.”
She stilled and stared up at him. “But you said… you said days.”
“Aye. The last time I left, I was here a week, but when I came back, I’d only been gone from sunset to sunrise. That’s how it works.” He let go of her wrists, waited to see if she lashed out again, then brushed the hair off her pale cheek. “Even if we stay here a month, you’d be back before Nathan and Nora woke up.”
She used her freed hands to swipe at her eyes. “H-How’s that possible? People can’t travel through time.”
“Aye, we can,” Ian said, crouching beside her and touching her shoulder. “Thirty-five years ago, the priest caused a storm exactly like the one we just went through and brought ten of us warriors, including Robbie’s father,” he added, nodding toward Robbie, “forward to your time.”
Catherine snapped her gaze to Robbie. “Your father comes from here, too?”
“Aye. And Winter’s father, Greylen MacKeage. And my uncles Morgan and Callum.
They were all born in twelfth-century Scotland.”
“That’s not possible,” she repeated. “It isn’t!”
“Nevertheless, it happened. The priest is really adrùidh. A wizard,” Robbie clarified.
“He has the power to manipulate time.” He cupped his hand over her cheek, using his thumb to still her trembling chin. “Catherine, you won’t believe any of this until you see it for yourself. Tomorrow morning, we’ll take you to the MacKeage village, and you’ll finally understand.”
She tried to get up, but Robbie wouldn’t let her. “Your promise first,” he said. “That you won’t run.”
“I—I won’t run,” she whispered.
He hesitated, then slowly lifted off her, standing up and reaching out his hand for her to take.
She stared at him, then put her hand in his and stood up. “Wh-what happened to my clothes?” she asked, tucking her plaid back into place. “Why did they disappear and yours didn’t?”
“Your clothes were made from modern materials,” Robbie explained, guiding her over to beside Mary and urging her to sit down. “Nothing that wasn’t invented by the thirteenth century could come back with us.” He smiled down at her. “Which includes spandex and elastic and nylon. Uncle,” he said, turning to Ian, “do you think you can build us a fire?”
“Is that wise?” Ian asked, looking around them. “I’m guessing we’re on Crag Mountain, and that’s not far from the MacBain border.”
“We’re safe here,” Robbie said, reaching down and picking up Catherine’s stick that had come through the storm. He handed it to her but was unable to read her expression now that night had finally settled over the forest. “Here, this should make you feel a bit safer.”
She clutched the stick to her chest and tugged the hem of her plaid down over her bare knees. Ian headed out of their tiny clearing in search of firewood, and Robbie took off his sword, set it on the ground beside Cat, and looked at Mary.
“We could use something for breakfast,” he told the owl. “A plump rabbit would be nice.”
Mary silently opened her wings and lifted off her rock toward the night sky.
“Y-you talk to Mary?” Cat asked. “And she understands?”
“Aye. She even talks back, though not out loud,” he said, sitting down beside her.
“Remember the magic I spoke of? And my duty?” She nodded, and Robbie shifted to face her more fully. “I truly am a guardian, Catherine, charged with the duty of watching over my family. And I, too, have powers that allow me to manipulate not only time but other things as well.”
“You mean that wasn’t only an expression? You don’t just consider yourself a guardian angel and onlyfeel that you need to take care of everyone?”
“Nay. It’s my calling, ordained by providence.”
“Robbie,” she said, leaning toward him and placing her hand on his arm. “Magic isn’t real,” she whispered, as if trying to break the news to him gently. “It’s what we tell children when we can’t explain something, like how Santa Claus can go to every house in one night and how tooth fairies can take a tooth from under their pillow without waking them up.”
Robbie decided he would give up his sword to have Libby or Aunt Grace here with him now. How in hell was he supposed to explain to Catherine what he was just beginning to understand himself?
“Cat,” he said, covering her hand on his arm. “It’s as real as the sunrise. The magic is everywhere and in everything; it’s the miracle of life itself, the air we breathe, the blood that pumps through our veins. It’s been with us since the beginning of time, and it’s only been in the last few centuries that man has thought to explain it with science.” He reached up and gently ran his knuckles over her cheek. “But magic is the foundation of that science, Cat. That some of us can manipulate it only proves how real it is.”
“Are you a… are you saying you’re a wizard or something?”
“Nay. I’m only a man who’s been given the duty of protecting my loved ones.”
“Protecting them from what?”
“From the magic itself, should it be used improperly. And from those who would change destiny to suit themselves. Fromdrùidhs like Father Daar, who have the power to bend the laws of nature.”
“Father Daar is bad, then?”
“Nay. He’s merely an ancient who can’t see beyond his own wants. He brought Greylen MacKeage to our time thirty-five years ago to sire his heir. That my own father and Ian and the others got sucked into the storm with Grey is proof that Daar needs watching over. He’s selfish and often manipulative, but his intentions are not evil.”
“But why do you keep coming back here? Did Ian come with you each time?”
“Nay. My father and the others don’t know anything about my journeys here, and that’s why I couldn’t tell them. They can’t know because they would want to help me, and that would only upset their wives and families.”
“Help you what?”
Robbie sighed and pulled Catherine into his lap, pleased that she didn’t shrink away but leaned into him instead. “The spell that brought the Highlanders to modern time will reverse itself on this summer’s solstice, and they’ll be sent back to their original time. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen. And to do that, I have to find a tree of spells for Daar, so that he can stop it.”