Page 4 of Love Beyond Time
“Son,” Alasdair’s chest began to weigh down on itself, begging him not to say anymore, but he refused to let his body fail before he said his peace, “I doona want ye and Arran to mourn me for long. I have had a full life. Everything I ever wanted, I have possessed.”
“I don’t want to hear ye say another word about that, Father. Just get some rest, and ye will feel much better come morning.”
“Ye can hold your lies, son. My body may be weak, but my mind is sharp. Ye know as well as I do that I am dying. I need ye to make peace with that as well. For I expect ye to continue with the wedding plans as if nothing has happened. Ye will be laird of Conall Castle within the hour. It falls to ye to watch over not only our territory but the MacChristy’s as well, by marrying Blaire.”
* * *
Dread crept up Eoin’s spine at the thought of going through with his marriage to Blaire, but he refused to dwell on such things right now. He had never argued or denied his father anything, and he certainly wasn’t going to start tonight.
“I want ye to send word to Laird MacChristy come sun up. Suggest that Blaire come to reside here at once, so that ye can make yer preparations together. I believe the wedding should be set for three weeks’ time. I know she tries yer patience, but I expect ye to treat and cherish her as I did yer mother.”
Eoin didn’t believe himself capable of showing anyone the kind of adoration that his father had shown his mother. He didn’t really think anyone other than his father was capable of loving that deeply, especially not himself. Despite having had significantly fewer partners than Arran, he was no less talented at lovemaking. But he had never met a lass who made him, even for a moment, dread spending the rest of his life without her.
He would not tell his father that, so instead, just as Alasdair Conall took his last breath and left this world to meet his beloved Elspeth once more, Eoin vowed, “I promise Father. I promise to marry her, and I promise to try.”
Chapter 3
Over the Atlantic Ocean—Present Day
“Bri, they’re about to serve breakfast. Why don’t you wake up and we’ll talk about our plans for after we land?”
I started at the sound of my mother’s voice beside me. I was in a deep sleep, and—as I tended to do when I slept sitting up—I snorted slightly as I came awake and threw my arms up to stretch, smacking the man sitting beside me as I did so. Only semi-conscious, I didn’t take notice of my mistake until I caught the man’s glare out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m so sorry.” By reflex, I reached over and touched the man’s arm as if he were one of my students who had fallen down on the playground. “Are you okay? I was still half . . .” I trailed off when I saw the man’s glare transform into a lingering smile, urging me to snatch my hand away with a little more force than was probably necessary.
“That’s alright, sweetheart.” The man’s eyes roamed over me as his grin spread.
I quickly faced my mother and scooted away from the man as much as was possible in the few inches that lay on either side of me.
“I was having the most horrible dream. I dreamed that Anthony, my ornery one, led a class revolt against the substitute. They had her tied to a chair and there was finger paint everywhere.” I cringed at the images of sticky wet fingers smearing themselves across the classroom rug and bookshelves.
Mom laughed as she took a cup of coffee for each of us from the flight attendant. “Honey, they’re five years old. They can’t even tie their own shoes. They won’t be taking the substitute hostage.”
“I know, but the finger paint is certainly a possibility. I really should’ve locked that up in the cabinet. I’m just exhausted. I was up at the school until one this morning planning lessons and getting materials organized and making sure Mitsy had a handle on all of the plans.”
“It’s all going to be fine, Bri. What did your principal say when you asked for time off?”
“He wasn’t thrilled, but I think more than anything he was shocked. The only personal days I’ve taken since I started were when I came down with pneumonia last winter, and then it was only because I truly thought I was going to die. He knew it must be important. He just asked that I try to be back by the Monday after Thanksgiving and to make sure that the substitute had adequate plans.”
“Well, that’s great. See? You have nothing to worry about. Just try and put all that out of your mind, dear. I really do need your help. I can’t let this grant money go to waste.”
“You’re right. I won’t mention it again. I’m here to help in any way I can.” I smiled when I saw my mother’s eyes lock on the food cart that was headed our way, and I knew our conversation was over. Mom was one of those few blessed people who could eat all she wanted and never gain a pound.
I watched as she inhaled the powdered eggs and cold croissant that sat untouched on my own tray and tried to focus my mind on something other than the pity I felt for the courageous substitute that was filling my shoes.
As I tried to rack my brain for something to ponder, I realized the sad truth: I had little in my life that was out of the norm to focus on. My drastic social decline since moving to Austin had me well on my way to becoming the Miss Havisham of the Lone Star State. I spent every spare second either working on my home or working on my classroom. While I loved the kiddos in my class, I was ashamed that I’d let my life get so unexciting.
I was at a point where many of the goals I’d set for myself had been met. I’d worked my way through college, I was happy with my job, happy with myself, and I owned my own home. But I was ready for my life to encompass more than just myself.
I wanted a friend, a husband, a lover. I wanted children in my life who’d call me “mom” rather than “teacher” or “Ms. Mothgomfrey.” But with my social circle filled with PTA moms rather than eligible bachelors, my chances of finding anyone were pretty dismal.
Maybe a handsome Scot will sweep me off my feet? Because that happens to teachers from Austin every day, and there’s sure to be a lot of eligible bachelors at the castle ruins . . . where no one has lived in four hundred years.
I shook my head, embarrassed at my little daydream, and tried to pull myself back to reality. “Okay, Mom. What’s the plan?”
“Well . . .” I watched as she spoke in between mouthfuls of food, “When we land in Edinburgh, we’ll pick up our rental car and drive to the National Museum of Scotland. They’ve been keeping all of the documents we found at the site. I already have clearance, so I should be able to take a lot of things with us. We’ll start there by combing through the documents we already have and see if that brings to light anything we might have missed during the first dig.”
“Ok, sounds good to me. Did you make any hotel reservations when you booked our flight?”
