He leaned over the kitten and kissed Catherine’s nose, then straightened and grinned.
“Are you ready to wake up from your dream now?”
She blinked at him, then looked across the lake at the army of MacKeages. She let her gaze travel to the MacBain warriors sitting on their horses on a distant ledge overlooking the dry Snow River, then down at the flaming logs in the dam, and then up at the scarred side of Snow Mountain.
She stiffened and pointed toward the summit. “Wh-Who is that?” she whispered.
Robbie looked where she was pointing, and Catherine felt him stiffen as well as they stared up at the silhouette of a tall man standing on a point of ledge high above them, a sword in one hand and his long, dark hair blowing in the breeze.
“Cùram.”
“The wizard? What’s he going to do?”
“Nothing,” Robbie said softly, looking down at her. “There’s nothing he can do. His tree of spells is destroyed.”
“He’s lost his power, then?”
“Nay, only his ability to plague us,” he said, taking one last look at Cùram before bringing his gaze back to her and smiling. “Are you ready to go home?”
The boulder they stood on suddenly started to vibrate, and the earth began to rumble with gentle vibrations. A tiny trickle of water started near the logs, sputtering the flames into steam, until geysers suddenly spewed in a dozen different directions, shooting the logs free, breaching the dam with an ever widening wall of water.
Catherine nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to go home.”
Robbie gathered her in his fierce embrace, leaving only enough room between them for the kitten and tree root. “Then hold on tight, wife!” he shouted above the wind howling down the mountain, covering her head as the air sizzled around them. “And finally decide that you love me!”
Chapter Twenty-two
The only thingRobbie had to decide during their violent journey home was how he was going to explain to his wife that it didn’t matter if they had stood in front of a priest in modern or medieval times, they were still married in the eyes of God.
The ever tightening vortex exploded with a deafening boom, the winds quieted to a gentle breeze, and the storm disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. Robbie sat up and loosened his grip on Catherine enough to brush the hair from her face so she could look around.
Her eyes swimming with confusion, she stared at his plaid-covered chest, dropped her gaze down to her own clothes, and then lifted her trembling left hand and stared at the ring on her finger. “We’re back on TarStone, but I didn’t wake up,” she whispered.
“But you are awake, Catherine,” he assured her. “See, the sun’s just risen, and that’s the trail of a jetliner making that streak in the sky. And there’s Pine Creek. See the lights in the homes? You’re back in modern time, but you didn’t dream all that’s happened, because you lived it.”
“But… it’s not… I can’t… ”
He covered her lips with his finger. “It’s okay, Catherine. You don’t need to understand how the magic works, only accept it. Embrace the journey we shared, and know that you helped reunite an old man with his family and saved my father and uncles from a great tragedy.”
She couldn’t quit staring at her hand.
“It won’t come off, wife,” he told her. “Not while there’s still breath in my lungs.”
She snapped her troubled eyes to his, her face as pale as the snow-covered summit of TarStone Mountain. “But I don’t want to be married.”
“You’ve decided you no longer think you love me?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” She took a shuddering breath and looked down. “I just don’t… I can’t… can we discuss this later?”
“Aye,” he agreed, lifting her chin. “Until you’re ready to accept our marriage, we will continue as we were before.” He reached out and tugged on the knot of her shawl. “I wonder if our stowaway is ready to give up his security blanket?”
She gasped and looked down at her chest, undoing the knot and pulling out the shivering kitten. “Oh, it’s scared to death.”
Robbie took the cub from her and held it against his own chest, ignoring its attempts to bite him as he worked the tap root from its tiny claws. “Our fierce little friend left its teeth marks in the wood.”
“Should we have brought it back with us? Was that wise?”
Robbie shrugged and handed the kitten back to her, keeping the root. “Why not? Its mother likely drowned.” He canted his head and smiled. “We’ll give it to Winter. She’ll be thrilled to have another spitting hellcat to keep her company.”
“Oh, yes,” Catherine said, scrambling to her feet. “That’s perfect.” She suddenly looked worried again. “But what about Mary? She didn’t come back with us.”
Robbie stood up and tucked the root in his belt. “She’ll be along when she’s ready. She probably stayed behind to see if Angus keeps his promise to stop warring.” He looked around them. “We’re not far from where our clothes should be,” he said, taking her hand and leading her up the ridge toward the summit.
“Can I keep these beautiful clothes?” she asked, looking down at herself, only to gasp suddenly. “My stick! It didn’t come back with us.”
“I’ll make you a new one.” He smiled at her crestfallen face. “Unless you’d like a sword instead. I have a small one my father made for me when I was four.”
“No. No more swords. But I would like a new stick.”
She let go of his hand because she needed both of hers to control the kitten. “We should probably let Winter name it,” she said, laughing as it gnawed on her finger.
Robbie snatched it from her, held it up, then gave it back with a smile. “It’s a him,” he said.
“Winter could call him Snowball, since he came from Snow Mou—ow!” she yelped, sucking her thumb. “He bit me!”
Robbie chuckled. “I don’t think he cares for that name. And he’s not white, he’s coal black.”
“But that’s only his baby fur,” she said, tucking him safely inside her shawl, then taking Robbie’s hand as he helped her down a steep incline. “There’s Father Daar.”
Robbie looked where she was pointing and saw the old priest striding toward them, his weathered staff looking more frail than he did.
“God’s teeth, I’ve been worried,” Daar said, stopping and glaring at Catherine. “Ya should have left her there!” he snapped. “She nearly got us all killed.”
“Be thankful she was with me, priest,” Robbie said softly. “Or you wouldn’t be having a tree to grow.” He took the root from his belt and held it up. “I couldn’t have found this without Catherine’s help.”
“Now who’s telling wild tales?” she whispered out the side of her mouth. “You’re worse than Ian.”
Daar’s entire countenance changed, and his glare turned into a huge smile as he rushed up to Robbie and grabbed the root. “Ya got it!” he cried, examining the root. “Aye, it’s a strong piece,” he whispered, closing his fist around it as he looked at Robbie with shining eyes. “I knew ya could do it, MacBain. I knew it. God’s teeth, what’s that?” he shouted, stepping back and pointing at Cat’s chest. “Holy Mother, ya brought back a demon.”
“He’s just a kitten,” Cat said, lifting her shawl to cover Snowball’s spitting face.
Daar pointed at her but glared at Robbie. “Ya drown that accursed thing,” he hissed. “It’
s a panther cub, and if ya found it in Scotland, it only means trouble.”
Catherine turned away, as if to protect her charge from the priest’s anger. “Nobody is drowning him! He’s a present for Winter.”
Daar suddenly gasped again. “What’s that on her hand? And yours!” he cried, looking at Robbie’s left hand. He lifted his startled gaze. “Ya’re married?” he whispered.