But whether that would be enough or he’d be sentencing even more people to death, he didn’t know.
All he knew was that he was not ready to say goodbye to Kate. And all he could do was fight.
Kate paced the woods. When she’d seen Ian and his men go into battle, she’d brought the horse closer to the action in case they needed immediate help.
Her hand on Ian’s dagger, she paced between two trees, her eyes glued to the orange-red glow in the small valley below.
Shadows and figures flickered there. Men fighting with swords, with fists, men throwing each other in the fire. The scent of burning hair and flesh was like a sickening barbecue. Cries of pain, fury, and surprise reached her, as well.
She didn’t know how long she waited. Time lost its meaning while the images of Ian wounded and hurt invaded her mind. They knocked the air out of her lungs and made her gasp like an asthmatic.
“Oh, Ian,” she whispered over and over again, “please be all right.”
Then, surprising herself she prayed, “God, please keep him safe.”
A tall, muscular figure walked towards her from the direction of the farm, holding a sword in one hand. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but his broad-shouldered stance, like he was ready to take on the world, could only belong to Ian. Relief flooded her, filling her lungs with freshness and life.
“Oh, thank God!” she cried and flew into his arms.
He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. He smelled like smoke and iron and sweat.
And he was alive.
She leaned back too look at his dirty, blood-sprayed face. From behind him, two more men approached, and Kate tensed.
“We won, lass.” He grinned. “My cousins arrived with help. Owen was in Falnaird with Craig and Amy. We won.”
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered again, mindlessly stroking his dirty, bloody coat which served as armor.
He kissed her, quickly, almost roughly. The rush of the battle must still be thundering in his veins. Kate’s head spun, her body weakened, but one of the men cleared his throat, and Ian stilled. Then let her go unwillingly. He turned and shook his head with a friendly chuckle.
Kate studied the men. There was an undoubtable resemblance between the three of them, although the other two looked more similar. All three were tall—giants compared to her. Ian was the most muscular. One of the cousins was a little older and had dark hair reaching his jaw, whereas the second one had hair the color of pale gold. Although it was hard to see their color in the darkness, both had catlike eyes. The three shared gorgeous, high cheekbones, square jaws, and straight noses any Roman statue would die for. Both of his cousins were handsome, strikingly so, but she only had eyes for Ian.
“Craig, Owen, meet Kate Anderson,” he said, gesturing at first the dark-haired and then the blond cousin. “Kate is the best cook I’ve met in my life.”
The cousins studied her, assessing, and Kate felt an urge to make them like her. In another life, if she were from this time and she didn’t need to go, maybe she’d hope for his family to accept her, to welcome her. She felt Ian straighten next to her, his shoulders tensed and rose. Did he want them to like her, too? The thought warmed her cheeks.
“Good evening, mistress,” Craig said with a small, polite smile. He watched her intently, and Kate had a strange sensation of being under an X-ray machine.
“Good evening,” Owen said and flashed a smile. “I canna wait to taste some of yer cooking that has impressed our Ian so much.”
Kate’s face flushed a little and she smiled, fidgeting with the edge of her dress.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you from Ian.”
Craig’s smile fell and he frowned. So did Owen. Both glanced at each other, then back at Kate.
“Where do ye come from, mistress?” Owen asked.
Oh no. What should she say? Again, her accent must have betrayed her. She glanced at Ian but then raised her chin. She’d just be evasive.
“From far away,” she said.
“How far?” Craig took a step towards her.
Ian moved closer to her. “Why, Craig? What does it matter?”
Craig continued drilling Kate with his eyes. “It matters because the lass speaks with a peculiar accent and manner. So peculiar, I’ve only heard it from one other person.”
One other person? Could it possibly be he’d met another American? A time traveler like her?
“Who?” Kate said, her throat dry.
“My wife, Amy.”
Kate cleared her throat. “Your wife?”
“The one and only.”
“H-how did you meet?” Kate said.
“’Tis a good story. Involving an underground storage room in Inverlochy Castle. And a tunnel.”
“Through time?” Kate exhaled.
A smile spread across Craig’s face. He clapped Ian on the shoulder. “Ye bastart. Did ye find yerself a woman from the future, too?”
Owen eyed Kate with an open mouth.
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Ye marrit one?”
Craig nodded.
“So she’s staying with you—forever?” Kate said.
“Aye.”
Ian looked at Kate, and she returned his gaze, which was full of sadness. “I’m envious,” she said. “I can’t.”
Ian’s jaws played, pain thundering in his eyes.
“Let us go, lass.” He turned to Craig and Owen. “I must deliver her to Inverlochy. She needs to return home.”
Both men nodded in understanding.
Kate’s throat clenched. “To Inverlochy?” She swallowed to relieve the feeling of sandpaper in her mouth. “Already?”
“Aye. Fortifications will arrive soon, and I’ll be needed here again to throw this attack back. We’ll have to call the MacKenzies and other allies for help.”
He took her by the elbow and led her towards the horse.
“Goodbye, lass,” Owen cried after her.
“Take care of her!” Craig added.
Kate’s heart sank. This was it. She needed to go back to her duty, too. And sacrifice her happiness.
They came to the horse. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s just that I thought we’d have more time…”
He shook his head and looked down, hunching. “I had hoped for more time with ye,
