Page 23 of Cottage in the Mist
“Yes. They were going slowly. And silently. They were dressed oddly, too. In kilts with blankets or something.” For a moment she stopped, taking in his attire. A roughly woven linen shirt and a kilt that wrapped around his waist and twisted up over his shoulder. “They were dressed like you.”
“The same colors?” he asked, his gaze probing.
“I couldn’t see. They were too deep in the shadows. But the pattern was different from yours. Bigger maybe. If that makes sense.”
“Aye. I’m afraid it does. Can you tell me exactly where you were?”
“I can’t say for positive. I haven’t really seen much of Duncreag yet. But the gorge was to the left of the tower. I could see it high on the opposite ridge to my right. There was a large outcropping of rock. Almost like a ledge. Do you know it?”
“Aye, that I do. ’Tis the entrance to the tower. Iain has men at the gate, but they’ll no’ be expecting intruders at this hour.”
The fear she’d felt while standing on the ridge rose again. “They’re on their way now. I can feel it. You have to go. You need to warn Iain.”
“But I canna leave you.”
She could see the flash of worry cross his face. “I’ll be fine.”
“What if I lose you again?” Pain crested in his eyes. How in the world had they come to this place so quickly?
“You can’t lose me,” she whispered, reaching up to caress his face. “I’ll always be right here.” She touched his chest and he covered her hand with his. “Now go.”
He sat for a moment, still holding her hand as it lay against his chest, indecision warring. And then as if something else had taken control, the room started to shimmer again.
“Lily.” Bram reached for her, but she could barely feel his touch.
“Go,” she urged again. “Please. Protect yourself.”
“I willna let you go,” he whispered fiercely, even as he started to fade from her sight. “I promise you that.”
As if in defiance of the words, the room flickered once and he was gone.
Lily closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. The moonlight still cut a swath across the floor and she recognized her suitcase in the corner. There was no longer a sense of danger, but she still felt a chill work its way up her spine.
Whatever door between worlds had opened, it had closed tightly again.
And be it real or fantasy, she was certain that her heart lay on the other side.
8
“You’re sure that Lilly was right?” Iain asked as they held their horses at the top of the gorge.
“Aye. She was certain. And afraid for us. If nothing else convinces me, that would.”
“Then we advance.” Iain waved his men on, and Bram marveled at how much faith Iain had in his word. It had only been hours before when he’d woken his cousin to tell him of Lily’s warning. And all credit to Iain, he’d not questioned the demand, instead acting immediately, without doubt.
The night was dark save for the waning moon and the twinkle of stars in the sky. The wind moved restlessly through the canyon and Bram sat his mount, waiting.
Below, the valley was quiet. But silence was deceptive, and as they waited, beyond the dark, they heard the whinny of a horse. Lily had been right.
Bram looked to Iain, waiting his command. Behind him, he felt the restless energy of Iain’s men.
“Wait for it,” Ranald whispered, and somehow the night came to life.
“Now,” Iain cried, and the horses leapt forward.
Bram had been in battle before but not in such close quarters and never when the stakes were so high. The screams, both horses and men, echoed off the walls of the gorge.
He brought his claymore down against the weapon of an enemy, the contact ringing through his arm, pain singing through his brain. The man fell, but another threatened just beyond, and again Bram swung his weapon—two-handed, the blade cutting deep into the man’s gut.
