Page 55 of Beloved Enemy
“'Tis a scheme ye’re playing at now,” he accused. “To trick me to climb the mountain with ye so that I might be moved in time as well. I’ll nae be played a fool. What designs have ye that ye want me to—?”
“It’s not a trick. I have no agenda,” Charlotte insisted, fisting her hands with her frustration. “Oh, my God, you’re back to thinking I’m a witch, aren’t you? Fine, whatever.” Charlotte drew a deep breath and released it, and said in a level tone, “Reid, I’m pretty sure your friend is safe and happy, that’s all I wanted you to know. And now I’m going home, whereIwill be safe and happy. Goodbye. Again.”
Chapter Fifteen
Reid watched her stomp away, marching toward the trees as she began to climb the mountain. Annoyed by the entire exchange—and what he suspected was a sudden and convenient memory of Marcus—he ground his teeth together and smacked his hands on his hips. Of its own volition, his narrowed gaze settled on her curvy behind as she left him.
Damn, but he would miss those trews.
Once more, his jaw worked back and forth and his teeth were briefly bared, considering her outlandish story about having seen Marcus in the future. Rather than appease him, as she clearly expected it should, it only solidified his belief that she wasn’t what she proclaimed to be, merely an innocent woman lost in time, but that she was in fact a witch or one of the fae folk. What her purpose was remained unknown, but Reid had to imagine some nefarious plan was afoot.
And yet....
She’d just walked away from him, as if she didn’t have plans to cause him harm or trouble.
Hmph, he snorted quietly. Like as not, she expected that he would follow her to that place where she claimed was her best chance of being moved.
He wouldn’t though. He’d let her go. He would be glad to be rid of her. Small disturbance had she been at Kingswood, but he would be pleased to have his home returned to a peaceable place, where he wasn’t constantly searching out her face in a crowd. Too much of a distraction, that one.
“Makes nae sense,” said Tavish. “Why would she nae meet with her kin here at the base? Why rendezvous up the side of the mountain?”
“Safer, I imagine,” Reid said shortly, not wishing to engage in a debate with Tavish. “We’ll abide here for a while. We canna abandon her if nae one shows.”
“We should,” Tavish challenged. “Indeed, we can.”
Reid had only a suspicion about the reason behind Tavish’s constant ill-will toward Charlotte, supposing it stemmed from having witnessed himself Marcus and Autumn’s disappearance. Like Reid, he might suppose Charlotte herself was a witch, as they’d agreed about Autumn. Unlike Reid, though, Tavish did not allow for the possibility that he might be mistaken, that Charlotte posed no danger to them, but was actuallyindanger.
He ignored his cousin’s challenge, issuing further commands. “Send out a unit to scout the valley here. And post patrols here while we wait.” He considered this: if any part of Charlotte’s fantastic tale were true, if a witch might come to transport her, if she might simply vanish into thin air, he wasn’t sure he wanted his men to witness it. But he left the orders in place, having some intuition that Charlotte’s proclaimed wish to be returned to another time was unlikely to actually occur simply because she’d returned to this location. Surely such a fantastic event could not be so easily beckoned.
Reid himself took charge of one of the patrols, finding nothing amiss anywhere near the vast range of mountains. With little to do, minutes and hours crawled by. Neither Reid nor the majority of his men idled well and in the early afternoon, far sooner than he’d planned, Reid climbed the mountain, meaning to either discover that Charlotte was gone or advise that it was time to return to Kingswood. He expected the latter would come into play, a part of him still unwilling and unable to accept the likelihood of the former.
He thought to give some caution to Tavish, something about if he didn’t return, but refused to give any credence to the idea that such a scenario was possible. Instead, he said only, “I’ll beback anon, with or without her. Have the lads ready to march home within the hour.”
There was no trail, and the ground was dry enough and Charlotte small and light enough that there were no obvious tracks to follow so that he simply pursued what seemed the easiest route upward through the trees. He imagined that Charlotte would avoid low hanging boughs and any route with thick tangles of brush, taking the path of least resistance, which he attempted to follow. Still, he had to climb for quite some distance and time, unable to locate her. He paused at several different plateaus, surveying the area around, above, and below in his search for her and yet it didn’t dawn on him until ten minutes had passed that she might be gone.
As implausible as it still was, he wondered if she had indeed gotten her wish and was no more in this life, in this time, but returned to her own. Reid wondered briefly if she would seek out Marcus in the future she spoke of.
A shadow of displeasure crossed his face, and he continued to climb, knowing he wouldn’t leave the mountain until he was sure she was no longer here. He wouldn’t abandon her. He regretted that he hadn’t gone with her—she’d been correct; he was concerned that he might be transported through time if he were anywhere near her—and began to move faster through the trees, climbing higher.
As he ascended, the wind whistling through the trees and narrow gaps in the rockface became louder, the trees swaying in unison, adding a creaking groan to the growing noise.
His pulse quickened with growing uneasiness. What if she was gone? What if, like Marcus and Autumn, she'd simply vanished back into the future, out of his reach forever? The thought of her slipping away into some distant, unfathomable time shook him profoundly.
Through the gaps in the trees, he saw a figure—still and unmoving, lying down in an area of tall grasses and sparse foliage upon another level plateau. His breath caught, and he quickened his pace, heart hammering in his chest, until he was close enough to see that it was indeed Charlotte.
Reid exhaled, feeling the knot of tension unravel inside him. She was still here.
And yet...she was unmoving.
He approached cautiously, the wind tugging at his hair and his clothing.
Charlotte lay on her back, her hands folded over her middle, as if in repose. Her dark leggings and sweatshirt contrasted against the wild grasses, and for a moment, Reid's heart clenched with a sudden, irrational fear—she was so still, so serene, that for a breathless instant, he wondered if she might be dead.
His gaze locked onto her face, pale but peaceful, eyes closed as though she were merely resting. But her chest...was it moving? He strained to see any sign of breath, and with each step closer, his pulse quickened, that small sliver of panic growing stronger with every moment she remained unmoving. He dropped hard to his knees beside her, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
“Charlotte?” His voice was rougher than he intended.
The moment the word left his lips, her entire body jerked, as if shocked out of some deep slumber. Her eyes snapped open wide, and she bolted upright with a sharp gasp, blinking rapidly in disorientation.
